Walking through the quiet corridors of section 01 was unsettling. Technically nothing much had changed, but it was the little things that Donovan noticed. The missing sounds from one of the recreation rooms where his guards would cause a ruckus while waiting for their shift to start. He couldn’t hear the muffled shouts from the training cages nor the low thump so common for the firing range. There were no techs shuffling through the corridors after spending hours hooked to the mainframe. Still, he pressed on, even though his footsteps echoed in his ears like nails hammered into a coffin. All the Chief wanted was for all of this to be an exceptionally vivid nightmare.
Against his better judgment, Donovan took the turn that would take him through Medical. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but he had to see what had happened to Kodiak and Team 9. He was doubtful that such knowledge would help in any way. After all, he saw what happened to Gad and the Mo-Saa. No, he had to see with his own eyes what the bastard was capable of, and the only way was to do this. As far as motivation went, it was a poor one. However, the Chief was grasping at straws in an attempt to preserve his sanity. Rounding the corner, he could see the first corpse at the end of the dimly lit corridor. Stopping for only a second, Donovan looked back. The passage was way too long for anyone to cross it without being seen, and there were no signs of gunfire.
“How?” He demanded, hoping that the dead man would share the answer. Examining the injuries which had killed Boa-Li didn’t help either. Instead, they were the source for even more questions. There was only one thing Donovan was sure of, and that was that the guard was killed close. But he hadn’t the faintest idea what weapon was used. Standing up from the crouched position he had assumed, the Chief rounded the next corner and saw the next bodies. The sight was far more gruesome than he expected. Roni was laid in a pool of his own blood, his head almost removed from his shoulders, and Jan was slumped in a sitting position against the opened door to the examination room, his brain leaking from the back of his head. It was like someone had taken a pneumatic hammer to the man’s skulls.
All Donovan could do was curse the awful layout of Lost Hope. The lack of a clear line of sight was what had killed his men. That and the skill of their attacker, of course; however, because of the poor design, they stood no chance to begin with. One thing was becoming clear: the people who had taken over HQ were military and weren’t Mo-Saa. The killing was brutal, for sure, but it was also fast and quiet. Entering the examination room, Donovan stopped at the door, looking at the ruined remains of Kodiak and Zheng with dejected horror. Unlike the other, those two were shot with what had to be a high-calibre Gauss gun. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His people were killed in a manner that would suggest three different groups. Donovan’s tormentors were as brutal as Gad, moved quietly, were as disciplined as Task Force 36, and favoured close-quarter weapons like the Consortium’s Jujun’na. There was simply no one like that. For good or bad, the major powers trained their special forces in a very rigid way, denouncing all other forms and methods as inferior. That’s why it was easy to guess who had done what, even if it was impossible to actually prove it.
It wasn’t the smartest approach, but every nation wished to find its own identity after escaping the tyranny of the Third Empire. And the UR was no exception. That was why Donovan was confused and angry at the same time. The way the members of Team 9 were killed just didn’t make sense. But more than that, he was mad that his people hadn’t fought back. Sure, they were piss poor at their job, but all of them were hardened killers and murderers.
“Damn it! Fucking farmers wouldn’t go down without a fight! Fuck!” The Chief screamed, giving voice to the storm raging inside him.
Taking a moment to calm himself, Donovan finally noticed that Kurtz and Dr Saiko were missing. As far as he could tell, there was no reason to take either one as hostage. Well, he could understand why they might take Hiroshi but not the Second Officer. And dragging them out of the examination room just to kill them somewhere else was less than likely. From what he was seeing, these people didn’t have a problem leaving bodies out in the open. Donovan rocked his brain in an attempt to come up with an explanation that sounded remotely reasonable. It was then that he realised that King wasn’t among the dead. The last time the Chief spoke with HQ, the comms operator had left his post, presumably heading for Medical. With each passing second, revealing the truth of what transpired here was drifting further and further away. A vital piece of the puzzle was missing, and Donovan knew where to find it. But his every instinct screamed that he should head for the nearest shuttle and never look back, and as much as he wanted to do exactly that, the Chief knew it was no longer possible.
With an exhausted sigh, Donovan left the examination room and began walking in the direction of the Command Centre. All the while, he re-evaluated his decision to go there alone. Yes, he could have brought every guard under his command and would’ve achieved nothing. They didn’t have the equipment to deal with Executioner turret platforms. Hell, the Mo-Saa didn’t have the proper gear to handle something like that, and their stuff was a few grades above anything Security had in their armoury. When he first arrived at Lost Hope, Donovan spent hours trying to convince the Overseer and the Commodore to have the damned things dismantled. The techs couldn’t get them operational because they couldn’t understand how the bloody platforms were wired. Of course, like his predecessor, Oliver had jumped on that excuse, afraid that touching the turrets might cause a cascading system failure. So, like cowards, everyone pretended they didn’t exist. The Chief knew that he shared part of the blame. At the very least, he should have stripped the Executioners of their ammunition in case of a malfunction. Something that the tech had warned was possible. But no, Alexei had put his foot down, content with the idea that no one could find a way to make the bloody things work. Well, the bastards who now had control of HQ had found a way.
“This is all Tharks and Neverok’s fault,” Donovan grunted as he leaned against the wall.
His thoughts had accidentally triggered the recording again, forcing him to watch Renata and her people get gunned down like rabid animals. Warning messages danced at the corners of his eyes while he gagged. It was all because of stress. Donovan had seen worse when the miners got the primary forge complex running. However, when the blast door separating the access corridor to HQ from the rest of the station opened, he reconsidered. Seeing the video loop was one thing, but standing here amongst the mutilated chunks of flesh and bone, which were once people, was a different matter altogether. The smell alone was nauseating, but the worst part was that it clawed its way down his throat. He could taste it; this was the taste of death. Donovan stood frozen in place at the entrance, too afraid to take a single step forward. The Chief never liked Gad. Damn it, he had wished her dead more times than he could count. She was a sadistic piece of trash that ravelled in the suffering of others, but despite all that, this was no way for a person to die. The turrets had somehow failed to kill the Mo-Saa with a single bullet, which meant that the poor sods were alive for a handful of seconds after their bodies had been torn to shreds.
Forcefully Donovan tore his eyes away from the mutilated corpses and looked at the Executioner platforms. The trio of high calibre twin-linked chain guns, evenly spaced along the ceiling of the corridor, were aimed at him and tracked his every movement as he began to walk. It took him close to a minute to cross the fifty meters separating the two doors. It was the longest minute of his life. Countless scenarios played in his head as Donovan tried to understand what he was doing here. There was no need for him to talk with bastards who were inside his Command Centre, apart from the implied threat. Even so, nothing was stopping him from continuing with his original plan. It was going to be a costly endeavour. However, it was still possible to take back HQ by force. No, the Chief corrected himself; his people would break. They weren’t soldiers that would charge into a meatgrinder when ordered.
Stepping in front of the reinforced blast door leading inside the HQ, Donovan could see a dozen scorch marks where the .50 cal rounds had impacted. It boggled the mind why the nerve centre of a bloody mining complex would require this kind of defence. He could understand the emplacements in the docking bays. Not for the first time, the Chief wondered what the Third Empire had been hiding here. Pretending that it was none of his concern was a mistake. Now that Donovan had ruled out all other possibilities, it was painfully obvious that the attack had something to do with that. Because sure as hell they weren’t here for the ores in the cargo holds. Sadly the time for speculations was over. One way or another, he would get the answers to all his questions.
The blast door opened with a hiss, and Donovan had his first glimpse of one of the attackers—a tall, well-built man in bronze-coloured armour very similar to the one issued to the guards. However, unlike the one the Chief wore, it was a lot thicker and body moulded. A custom design, if he had ever seen one, and not the cheap kind any idiot could buy over the civilian feed. There was no mistake; this man was a soldier to his bones. It wasn’t only because of the gear that Donovan reached this conclusion. It was in the way he stood at ease, the position of his weapons and their number. A Ripper rifle attached to his back. Heavy Gauss pistol mag-locked to his right upper thigh, and a combat knife in a sheath built into the chest armour. There were also several multi-use pouches fixed around the belt area. Yes, this man’s appearance screamed special ops. Although Donovan was glad that at least one of his theories had been proven correct, he was worried that he couldn’t tell what the bastard’s allegiance was.
“So, you’re the Demon,” Donovan narrowed his eyes, noticing that one of the Executioner platforms on the ceiling turned his way.
“Demons do not exist.” A modulated voice boomed from the speakers.
“Why don’t you show yourself? I’m here, ain’t I? You can show the same fucking courtesy.” Donovan raised his voice, looking around the room.
The first thing he saw was Kurtz and King behind one of the consoles. They were avoiding looking at him. While Felix hid his face with his meaty hands in a pose that spoke of a man regretting his choices, Zoë leaned against the back row of stations, eyes buried in the floor. However, there was no mistaking the pistol in her hand. Try as she might appear as a child waiting to be scolded, all Donovan could see was a traitor. Two actually. There was no way the Demons, or whatever these people called themselves, could’ve taken control of the Command Centre without the tech’s help. The Chief swore to himself that he would find a way to make them pay for this betrayal.
Somewhat reluctantly, his gaze moved away from the turncoats, stopping on Dr Saiko, who was in the process of treating one of the techs. The man was missing one of his arms, and Hiroshi was doing his best to keep him alive. This explained why they kidnapped the physician. But what Donovan didn’t expect to see was Dr Werner. She was supposed to be in her quarters awaiting investigation while he sorted this mess. One look at Virginia sitting in a fetal position while Anton Kruger whispered in her ear, most likely to calm her down, was enough to tell him that she wasn’t here by choice. And a little further back from the eggheads were the remaining six techs who were on shift.
“Your request is impossible. Technically speaking, you are standing inside of me.”
Donovan’s ears perked at this. An AI? No, this had to be some trick. As complex as artificial intelligence constructs were, they weren’t capable of mimicking human speech. Still, he had to make sure because if this was a sentient AI, the situation was no longer complicated; it was grim. The mining complex would have to be destroyed before the thing could find a way to escape.
“Please. I’m not that stupid to fall for such a blatant lie. You already have me at your mercy. There is no point to insult my….”
“It’s a Control AI,” King interrupted in a low, resigned voice as Donovan’s blood froze in his veins. “It has taken over most systems.”
“Your explanation oversimplifies my function. However, it will do for now.”
“Enough.” The man standing by the connection half-pod spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly calm, considering they were all doomed. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Chief. It’s nice to put a face to the title, and a name would be even better.”
“Officer First Class, Rex, Donovan. Chief of Security, United Republics mining complex Last Hope.” Donovan blurted out as he was taught at the Academy. For some reason, he thought he was being interrogated, which wasn’t far from the truth, and his training kicked in before he could think any better. Thankfully, he regained control before standing at attention.
“Armita…,” Helix whispered or informed someone over a secure feed before adding in a clear, crisp tone. “Helix. My rank and designation are… not important.”
There was no way the Chief would believe that; however, he had to pick his words carefully. “Operating under a secrecy protocol, I see. Then why contact me? Why reveal yourself?”
“I see you’re a practical man, Chief Rex,” the man removed his helmet, revealing a face far younger than Donovan expected. But while genetic therapy and surgery could easily mask a person’s age, they failed to hide the decades of experience in the man’s piercing amber eyes. “I’m hoping that the two of us can reach a compromise.”
The side of Donovan’s lip quivered. He abhorred that word. It was a fancy way of saying that he was going to get fucked.
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Avoiding the Chief’s scorching glare was difficult. It told Zoë everything, and she wished she could crawl into a hole. There was no turning back. Not anymore. Helix had closed any potential escape with one masterful play. Her only option was to throw her lot with him if she could hope to survive. Alas, she had no idea what that would mean in the future. All the Second Officer was certain of was that from this moment forward, Security was her enemy. This wasn’t how the girl imagined her day to go while she fondled the edge of her lucky jacket.
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“Lucky, my ass,” Zoë murmured to herself, too preoccupied with dealing with her own problems to pay attention to the conversation between Helix and the Chief. Technically, the old piece of clothing had saved her life. It was because of it that Helix had spared her life, mistaking Zoë for a Black Confessor. Although, it was also the reason he kidnapped her. Besides that, ever since she put it on, her life was a string of escalating crises. Maybe her instructors at the Academy were right, and she had no place being on active duty. The Evaluation Corps always needed extra people, and they weren’t overly bothered by troublesome backgrounds. What if the job was physically tasking and boring as hell? Filtering out cadet applicants on some backwater world was something Zoë could do in her sleep. But no, she insisted on finishing the Officer programme, and here she was now, not paying attention to yet another important event in her life. And if that realisation wasn’t enough, the Chief’s angry shout was a very convincing reason that she should listen carefully to the exchange.
“You want me to roll out the welcoming matt while I’m at it? Have my guys and girls salute whenever they pass you in the corridors?”
“Chief Rex, that’s all up to you. One way or another, I have obtained control of the station.” Helix shrugged, unperturbed by the furious outburst.
“Submit or die ain’t much of a compromise!” Donovan blared in a voice that would usually have any member of Security shrink. “You’re in no position to make this kind of demand after admitting you’re alone. And even if that accursed abomination of an AI has control of my HQ, it doesn’t change the fact that I can have my people hunt you down like a fucking animal!”
“It would appear you underestimate how little I value your life, Chief Rex.” Zoë flinched as she saw the smile disappear from Helix’s face. “I would prefer to avoid further bloodshed if possible. However, understand this, it is well within my capabilities to kill anyone and everyone who becomes a threat. If that means I turn this place into a tomb, so be it.”
“Bloody hell, Chief! It’s not like anything will change,” Zoë yelled without thinking.
She couldn’t watch Rex be murdered for being a stubborn asshole. He, better than anyone else, should be able to see the writing on the wall. Half the teams would switch sides the moment they realised there was someone scarier than Donovan. Not even the threat of the Commodore’s judgment would change that. On the contrary, they might actually become bold enough to push Neverok out of an airlock for a spacewalk without a protective suit. And although Zoë wasn’t sure what Helix’s plans might be, she was confident enough that they wouldn’t have as much of an impact on the day-to-day life on Lost Hope as everyone might be thinking. Sure, it was mostly a gut feeling, but she couldn’t shake the idea that his main goal was just to survive. At least it would be if Zoë found herself in an unknown place after being stuck in cryo-sleep for who knew how long.
“Shut your mouth, traitor! Or I swear, I’ll fucking kill you the next time you open it, even if it’s the last thing I do!” Donovan barked at her, his words cutting at her like razor wire.
“Now, now, Chief Rex. That’s no way to thank Miss Kurtz for saving your life. She makes a valid point. All I ask is that you and your people ignore my presence.” Helix gave her a charming smile which Zoë was growing to hate with a passion. “Pretend I don’t exist. In exchange, you continue with your operation on the station. Under my supervision, of course.”
“Let’s assume I agree to this,” Donovan spoke after a moment of tense silence. “And let’s assume I somehow convince my people to ignore the fact that you murdered their friends. I still will have to deal with the Commodore and Overseer Tharks.”
Zoë lowered her head in defeat. The Chief had a point, and she felt stupid for suggesting that nothing was going to change. The other guards would want blood for the deaths of Kodiak, Hunter, Zheng and the others. As for Neverok, well, she hadn’t the faintest idea what he might do, but it was going to be something cruel. Come to think, the only reason Security feared the old Commodore was because, despite all their flaws, they were trained to obey the chain of command, and Alexei Neverok was the one standing at the top.
“We can blame it all on the pirates,” Zoë ventured in a hushed voice after stealing a glance at the monitor to her right showing the aftermath of the carnage outside.
The Second Officer froze as she saw Chief Rex reach for the pistol at his hip. She couldn’t even close her eyes, transfixed on his hand wrapping around the handle. However, he never detached the weapon from the mag-lock as the barrels of one of the turrets began cycling into life. In the next moment, Helix crossed the distance separating them and had Donovan pinned to the metal floor, a polished titanium blade pressed against the stocky man’s neck. It all happened so fast, yet sluggish, that Zoë was convinced she was dreaming. Either that or her implants had just delivered an overdose of enriched adrenaline. And considering the taste of burned plastic in her mouth, it was the latter. She felt faint, and her knees began to buckle, but somehow, she managed to remain standing. Now was not the time to appear weak, and she could only hope her damaged heart could endure the strain.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Miss Kurtz,” Helix’s compliment was almost lost in the ringing in her ears. “Don’t you agree, Chief Rex? You should listen more to your Second Officer. She is smarter than she appears.”
Somehow the last comment felt more like an insult, but mustering the strength to speak her mind was out of the question. She could barely stand at this point, and her hands were starting to shake uncontrollably.
“You struck me as a practical man, Chief. Also, as someone who has much to lose and even more to gain. Do yourself a favour and consider Miss Kurtz’s idea. I’ll give you thirty minutes to cool off before hearing your answer.”
With that, Helix helped Donovan to his feet and unceremoniously shoved him through the blast door. Zoë let out a tired sigh. She felt utterly exhausted and slid down to the walkway between the rows of consoles. Her vision had turned foggy, and all she could hear was the mad thundering of her heart. So, it was a bit of a surprise when she felt Helix’s hand lift her chin. The Second Officer wanted to slap him for daring to come this close to her, for his insufferable, charming, seductive smile that made her head spin... For ruining her life. Alas, her hands no longer obeyed her. His amber eyes bit into her very soul, and the corners of his lips twisted slightly upward while he whispered words Zoë couldn’t hear. A sudden jolt of pain exploded at the back of her neck, bringing her out of her stupor. As quickly as it appeared, the pain dissipated, replaced by a warm sensation slowly spreading through her body.
“You really should try to avoid stress while recovering.” The young psychopath spoke softly with a hint of playfulness to his tone.
Zoë gave him what she hoped was a coquettish smile, ready to explain whose fault it was she was in this state in a manner that would make the instructors at the Academy blush. However, before a single word formed on her tongue, her stomach tied itself into a knot, and she wretched violently.
“Lucky, my ass,” Zoë thought as she observed the vomit covering her jacket before bending over and emptying the last contents of her stomach on the metal steel plates of the floor.
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Lucas allowed the relaxing sensation to linger a moment longer. Mainly because he knew that it would be a long time before he would feel it again. But mostly because he needed a moment to remember his comrades, his friends, and his family. It was all gone now. Everything crumbled and eroded over an age he never realised had passed. And here he was, pretending to be something he was not. The mental strain of the conversation with the Chief was comparable to a twenty-four-hour-long search-and-destroy mission. In a way, Lucas had a better appreciation for the work the Oni did behind enemy lines. He was sure he had failed at the very start when he froze, unsure what to say. This moment of hesitation allowed the AI to reveal itself, something the medic wished to keep a secret from Rex for as long as possible. Worse, what followed after that was a prime example that Lucas shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a negotiation. If not for Miss Kurtz’s timely interventions, his plans would’ve crumbled faster than a hypo-thread privacy curtain under macro cannon bombardment.
The main reason for this poor turn of events was his lack of proper training and experience. But another major factor, Lucas realised too late, was his lack of knowledge regarding the new inhabitants of the station. It was also why he gave the Chief such a long extension to hear his answer instead of forcing him to choose on the spot. Even the medic knew that allowing an enemy to consider his options was a bad idea. However, there was no way around it. Lucas couldn’t continue failing upwards. That was a recipe for disaster and not a sustainable operational mode. The Demon required more information and knew exactly where to find it. There was just one small problem; he had to give the AI unrestricted access to the entire mainframe.
He scanned the room with the hope that a different solution would present itself. The giant Felix and Zoë were once again chatting after her little episode. Adrenaline implant overdose was a fairly common occurrence amongst the Demons, especially during their earlier years. Injecting a renal booster cocktail into her spinal cord solved that little issue. Besides, it was a procedure Lucas could do in his sleep. However, the girl would need to undergo a cardiac replacement sooner rather than later. The vital organ was working on borrowed time, which brought his attention to the physician.
Dr Saiko was done treating the wounded tech and had joined the other scientists. There was no need for Lucas to talk with the man to know that the first thing to come out of his mouth would be a demand that his patient be taken to a proper medical facility. Other than that, the physician’s face was unreadable, calm and collected, and fast to take action – the attitude of a true veteran. Approaching him would be tricky, yet, his work spoke louder than words to Lucas. He knew exactly how to deal with the honourable doctor of medicine. Sadly, it wasn’t what the medic was looking for right now.
As for Dr Werner and her companions, they looked at Lucas as if he was the missing link, which was supposed to explain all the mysteries in the universe. Sure, they were all an invaluable source of reliable information, but not the kind he required. Not to mention that talking to them would be an arduous task in their current state of mind. Lastly, there was the small group of techs; however, one look at them was enough to discard them altogether. He couldn’t expect anything from simple pawns, and not good ones at that. The speed with which they abandoned their posts was staggering.
“Hey, big guy.” Lucas returned his attention to Felix, certain that this was his only valid option. “How long will it take you to disable the no-void connection?”
“Uh… A few seconds… sir.” He could see Felix’s indecision if he should salute or keep rubbing Zoë’s shoulder.
“And no one will notice that a facility of this size has suddenly gone dark?” Lucas couldn’t believe that such a thing was even remotely possible.
“That is… We’ve had many glitches, drops… and things like that. It’s considered normal… for a few days of downtime… Longer than a week… will trigger an emergency signal….” The large man’s voice was unsteady and filled with fear.
“Helix, I do not comprehend why you would try to cripple me.” The AI objected.
“Good. Do it. After that, you’re to build an independent server to communicate with the relay. No connection with the mainframe. Manual input only.” Lucas said before switching back to his native tongue. “Access all personnel records on the mainframe. Compile a comprehensive psychological profile for all people of interest. Exclude civilians, and prepare the data for mnemonic imprint.”
“I must object to this course of action. The human mind cannot handle the strain. I do not think you understand --”
“Okay… I don’t think you…uhm… understand the --”
“You do not understand. I’m not asking. I am ordering you,” the medic didn’t have the time nor felt the need to explain himself.
Glad that neither man nor machine continued with their objections, Lucas carefully peeled off the synthetic piece of skin behind his right ear, covering the maintenance port of his cortex implant. Connecting with the half-pod was going to take him a couple of minutes. Demons weren’t meant to hard-link to equipment outside of the specialised facilities at Osiris. None of them, except for Preacher, had a standard port. The only reason they had the maintenance one at all was to make Lucas’ job a little easier. Otherwise, whenever he had to fix or extract information from the valuable implant, he would need to cut open the heads of his brothers and sisters. Not that this bothered the ordained scientist, but it was the loss of efficiency that had tipped the scales. Because of this, Helix, with some help from Balthazar, designed a simple one-use adapter. Each one could be used for roughly ten minutes before the microprocessor burned out due to the heat. He had a dozen of the thumb-sized things at his sleeping quarters, along with other odd tools which weren’t mission compliant. Although, with the station’s current state, they might as well be on the other side of the galaxy. So, Lucas had to get creative with his cybernetic limb maintenance kit. Of course, it was permanently damaged by the time he was done tinkering with the half-pod’s existing cable. But that was a problem for the techs. The AI interrupted him when he was about to plug the connector into his port.
“Helix, what you are about to do is dangerous. In fact, it borders on suicide. The amount of information that needs to be imprinted is too much for a human to handle. There is a ninety-four percent chance you will suffer a fatal stroke, ninety-six percent of a brain aneurism, and eighty-nine percent that your cortex will liquefy the contents of your skull.”
“I think I made myself clear,” Lucas tried to remain calm, although he had to agree with the construct. Those weren’t favourable odds. “Besides, you forget that I’m a Demon.”
“I have accounted for your… unique physiology in my calculations. Otherwise, the chances of death would exceed one hundred percent.” The artificial intelligence continued in a tone that indicated it would not tolerate further arguing on this topic. “I do not understand your kind’s attraction to risky behaviour. But in this case, I have no other choice but to intervene. I will comply with your order if you agree to limit the number of people to no more than ten.”
This was more than what Lucas expected. It was still not enough to properly understand the people running the station, but it was better than nothing. Somewhat reluctantly, he nodded, aware that the AI monitored his every move.
“Pushing list of names to local display 22T1A. Please confirm if they are to your satisfaction.”
Lucas scanned through the list that appeared on the small screen built into the half-pod, happy and a little worried that the AI had anticipated who he was most interested to learn about. There was only a minor adjustment that had to be made.
“Change the last two with Dr Virginia Werner and the man she’s talking to.”
“Understood. You may begin when ready.”
Without further delay, Lucas pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the connection half-pod. He couldn't come to terms with being trapped by the security harness of the seat, no matter what. For him, it was no different than entering into a cage. This way, although very uncomfortable, would at least allow him to keep his mind relaxed enough for the mnemonic imprint to take effect. Steeling himself for the coming pain, Lucas plugged the cable into the port behind his ear.
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