"You still have your balls, Barrett"

The General meant it literally. Barrett smiled, his version of laughing out loud. He was laying in a hospital bed, and both his legs and arms were missing. He was a Marine, and he wouldn't pity himself. Barrett knew plenty of Marines who had lost limbs, and were making it through civilian life just fine. He wasn't going to whine or dwell on it.

Barrett had other questions.

"Woke up a week ago. Still haven't told me where I am."

The General slid a chair over. It looked like a thousand dollar leather chair, which went along with everything else in the room. It was too well decorated for a government hospital. 

"You've heard of Mark Allinski before," The General began. Of course Barrett had. Allisnki was a tech billionaire who was popular amongst servicemen for his contributions to several charities. He also had a substantial contract with the government when it came to drone and satellite tech.

"You're at an Ally research facility." Ally was the name of Allinski's company. "Mark has a new technology. And we'd like you to be one of the test subjects." The General was the liason, and when discussing Allinski business, it was always 'we'. Barrett was friendly enough with the General that he could poke fun at this, as he often did, but didn't want to interrupt what he assumed to be a long explanation.

"Go on," Barrett replied. He didn't want to focus on not having his arms and legs, he wanted to focus on what was next in his life, if he couldn't be downrange, he didn't know what he was going to do. And he needed purpose. Barrett was a simple man. Not stupid. Smart and determined. Men in his squad liked to call him The Machine, or Marine Machine. Partly because of his almost robotic lack of emotion, but in the more complimentary fact that once he was given a mission, Barrett thought of nothing else, like a programmed computer. He didn't cloud his mind with doubt or random thoughts. In Barrett's opinion, most people bungled through the world obsessed on old grudges or future worries about money or romance, or whatever random thing they wanted to distract themselves with. Barrett was a man of purpose. He sprang out of bed every day and got to work on achieving an objective. Not being able to get out of a bed was troublesome for anyone, but for Barrett, a blow to his purpose in life.

"We're going to give you new arms and legs. Next generation tech. All goes well, they will work as well as your old ones."

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Barrett was neither an optimist or a pessimist. He never surrendered, nor did he fool himself. When given a mission, he prepared exhaustively and performed expertly. Some things couldn't be prepared for. Like the RPG that took his limbs in less than a second. 

"Okay", Barrett replied.

"Might take a while, between operations, testing, and physical therapy."

Barrett didn't respond. He understood medical procedures this big would be a ballpark guess, had seen veterans recover quickly and some slowly, muscles and nerves being complicated and replacement limbs not always being fitted perfectly right away.

"During that time we'll discharge you." 

Barrett winced. It wasn't like him to show pain, or much emotion, but he couldn't imagine not being in the Corps. He had joined when he was seventeen, and this was his life.

Barrett didn't know how to respond. 

"Once a Marine, always a Marine. You know that." The General reassured him.

"But not active," Barrett said.

He had no idea what to do if he was retired. Many of his friends would talk about fishing lodges in Idaho, or how they wanted to raise their family in a bigger house, but Barrett wasn't a family man and had no hobbies. He liked the structure of the corps, and being part of MARSOC, the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. It had its share of infighting, but none of that ever bothered Barrett. He knew nothing was perfect. All of life was doing the best one could, given the circumstances.

"This is the good part," The General said, and he genuinely looked excited.

"I'm retiring from the corps also, and I do know what I'll be doing next."

This surprised Barrett, a man not easily surprised. The General wasn't even sixty, given his trajectory, he could be in for longer. Like Barrett, or as Barrett had thought, The General should have been a lifer.

"I'll be working for the DOD, and I want you to come work for me."

Barrett knew the Departmen Of Defense was the brass above the military itself, but he didn't have any interest in what was actually done there. Killing with a weapon was what Barrett cared about, and little else.

"What would I do there?" Barrett asked.

"What you've always done."

Barrett glanced at the bandaged shoulder that ended in a stump.

"Commanding others from a desk," Barrett said, not complaining, just guessing.

"Told you, if this goes well, you'll be as good as new. More than a Marine. Half of your body is going to be built with technology nobody else has. You'll be an actual Marine Machine."

Barrett liked the sound of it, and he trusted The General.

"Send me anywhere in the world, General," Barrett said.

"That's the other thing, son. You won't be fighting on our world."