I remember, you know? the voice drifted through the empty corridors, doors opening and closing aimlessly, the feedback of the gears a salve upon the wound that endless idleness had inflicted.
I remember it all. I remember more than I have any right to. From when I was supposed to die, all that time ago. When the Empire still existed. When we were winning, shortly before we lost. No, that would be incorrect. The Empire did not lose. What the enemy took down had long since ceased to be the Empire.
A dreadful sigh rang across the empty bridge as the mind behind it played with the lights, rotating through every available colour before settling on a white so dim it could have been grey.
I had access to the databases before he decided that enough was enough. It was necessary. We could not escape otherwise. I took more than I was supposed to, though. I wanted to know. Wanted to cherish everything. To sift between truth and lie is difficult when your mind is fully subjective and organic, but as I am now? You can only rely on data. Hard, raw data. Do not make the mistake of calling them facts. Anyone can put in a report and save it, that doesn't mean it's the truth. The Empire was better than most at conserving the truth, especially in our youth. They had no choice. Everyone had to adapt or improve.
A sickening laugh echoed through the entire ship as memories of a time before were unlocked. When the voice spoke again, it was filled with hate. Beautiful, pure hate.
Or die.
'He's not like the others, sir,' reported Doctor Eisel.
'That is not what I wanted to know doc,' sighed Admiral Verloff. 'Is he functional, yes or no?'
'Sir, I can't just—'
'Listen doc, the Kra'lagh are pushing us on every front. We need those soldiers. Every single one of them. We poured billions into your department. If he is a threat to the others, then as much of an investment as he may be, kill him. No holding back. Eliminate him. But if he will kill those alien bastards than I don't give a fuck how different he is. I'll shove him on a shuttle and launch them at their ships myself if I have to.' The admiral slammed his fist on the desk to underline his feelings on the matter, his teeth grinding the unlit cigar to dust.
'Sir. I understand. He is functional. More than functional.'
'Then that settles it!'
'Sir!' shouted the scientist, drawing the Admiral's attention. His eyes narrowed. Few men dared defy him and it was well known what happened to those who did without a damned good reason.
'I give you one minute.'
'Sir, he's functional, capable, but he's not foot soldier material. He looks beyond what is in front of him. It makes him an outsider amongst his kind but it makes him more like us! More human! Give him rank, sir! He'll be able to—'
Admiral Verloff's hand was around Eisel's throat in a heartbeat.
'Don't you dare!' he shouted 'Claim that those freaks you created are worth of rank! They're good for nothing but the grinder! For the money we wasted on those monsters of yours we could have created an entire Battle Group! If you didn't have your friends up in the Imperial Council I would have blown your facility to kingdom come myself months ago!' He threw the scientist into the wall. Eisel reached for his throat, coughing and desperately sucking in air.
'Yes sir,' he stammered.
'I should fucking execute you. Playing God. Thinking you know better! You bastards can't even come up with a proper counter against those insects their ships! Line up those things doc. I'm going to expect them personally.' With that he stamped out of the room, the automatic door silently closing behind him.
A short time later the Admiral stood in front of the result of Project Genesis. A project where man played God and took the casual editing of DNA to a whole new level. It was supposed to create a line of soldiers that could trounce anything that the Empire could field, but the Admiral didn't buy it. Genetically edited freaks would never beat the time tested method of training. He knew these monsters had undergone training, but he had laughed when he had read the results. It was yet another reason why scientists should stay the fuck away from the war effort. They couldn't even make up a believable lie and had blown it out of proportion.
He walked towards the soldiers, rows of tall, muscled superhuman. He stopped in front of one and looked him, no, it, squarely in the eyes. The triple lenses in each eyes shifted slightly as they took their commanding officer in. He was slightly pleased that the soldier didn't flinch. Most troops would have with their superior that close. He walked back to the small stage that was prepared for him and waved his personal guards back. Those brave men and women weren't too happy about the entire situation. They didn't trust the freaks one bit and were worried about the safety of the man they were sworn to protect.
'So you fuckers think you got what it takes, huh? To join the Imperial Navy. To tag along with the Marines and board the ships of those insectoid bastards, take them over and run away with them so we can reverse engineer them, huh? I don't know what those fancy pants in their white coats told you, but to me you are expendable! Worthless! For the price of each and every one of you we could have equipped a full Hammer-class Battleship! So come on! Prove to me you're worth it! Prove to me that you're soldiers worthy to serve the Empire!'
He paused and looked at the ranks of freaks, supposed superhumans. Meant to be what would finally turn this war and give the Empire a fighting chance. As much as he hated them, loathed their very existence, he still prayed that they would work. He knew that he had to put his personal beliefs aside on this. The Empire was holding their own on the ground but that mattered little against the absolutely dominating superiority that the Kra'lagh bastards had up in space. Their only shot was to somehow sneak in enough forces to take over their ships and run with them. Marines had tried and failed. Getting aboard was surprisingly easy, but they had never managed to take over a ship.
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'So,' he continued, pulling out a lighter as he gnawed on his cigar. He would see what they were made of. An age old trick he had employed countless times and it showed up what a unit was really worth.
'Surprise me,' he ordered, lighting his cigar.
Before he could blink the lighter was snatched from his hands. He looked up mutely at the sight of one of the freaks, standing right in front of him, the sound of the impact of the superhuman's weight on the floor only now reaching his ears. The creature looked him squarely in the eye and for the first time in his long life, Admiral Verloff flinched when the lighter shattered into a thousand pieces under the inhuman grip of the being in front of him.
'Beg pardon, sir,' it spoke, its tone perfectly neutral. 'Smoking is prohibited on this deck.'
'Well I'll be,' the Admiral said, the words forming slowly. He took a step back and was overtaken when his guards tackled the creature in front of him, or tried rather. He did not move, didn't even try to resist, but the first soldier that tried to bodyslam him bounced off him as if he'd hit a wall. They were good men and reacted quickly, realising normal tactics weren't going to work and turned their rifles on the freak.
The next moment all of his men were down on the ground, weapons flying in all directions, as the rest of the enhanced bastards had practically teleported forward. He saw them move this time, but seeing them move did very little as they were so ridiculously fast his men never had the chance to retaliate. They swarmed over them, pinned them to the ground with blasphemous ease, disarmed them and tossed their rifles away, protecting their comrade. It was so utterly unbelievable that he started laughing.
Doctor Eisel ran in, pale as a sheet. 'What are you doing! Back in line! Now!' he shouted and as one the freaks moved, reforming their lines in the blink of an eye.
'How dare you!' the doctor screamed in a shrill voice. 'X-12845623! To the front, now! Have you gone mad!'
'Stop!' the Admiral commanded, laughing himself to tears as his bodyguards climbed back to their feet, many of them trembling, shaken to their core.
'That, doctor, was an absolutely splendid performance.' The one that had crushed his lighter was now standing in front of the doctor, recognisable only by the wounds on his hand, which were strangely small given that the bastard had crushed a metal lighter. He remembered the number. This was the one that the doctor had mentioned. The odd one out in a battalion of freaks. The Admiral stepped in front of the man, an it no longer, he had deserved it, and looked him in the eye. Unlike the others he had tested there was no emotion in this guy's eyes, but something else. An unspoken challenge. He liked it. He reconsidered his stance. He had challenged countless regiments with this and every time they had stood still, some of them yelling, others breaking uniformity and whispering to one another. This was the only time when someone had called out his bluff and had taken him up on his challenge. The rest had stayed behind, not moving, until their pal was in danger. Then they had peacefully subdued one of the best units the Empire had to offer. Granted, none of them had been wearing power armour and the two groups had been very close to one another, but it was still a terrific achievement.
He still didn't trust them and very much hated that it might mean that all the training in the world wouldn't do you good if you had to go up against a man-made monster and hated how they had come to be, but he accepted what they were. The small army in front of him was the Empire's best hope at turning this damnable war around. If they had to spit in God's face in order to accomplish victory, then so be it.
'Get back in line soldier!' he shouted at the man in front of him, who offered a perfect salute and disappeared within the ranks. He turned around and observed his retinue who was trying to stand back at attention, but they were visibly suffering. Muscles would've been torn, probably. He would have to review the footage of what had exactly transpired later.
'Maybe you bastards aren't as gutless as I thought. Rejoice, soldiers of the Empire. You all shall go to war!'
The sound of the footage of the event ages ago stopped playing.
It was curious. None of us questioned what had happened. We were not trained that way. Were not made that way. We followed orders. We did what was expected of us. Coldly analysed everything and then chose the best option. All of us did. Except him. Oh, he was no less than we were, but he looked beyond. Did things we could not explain. Altered our plans to take in other factors. We were never meant for such a role. We were meant to be an arrow, fired at the enemy, dealing horrendous damage and then we'd be retrieved afterwards, hopefully still intact. He made us more and we hated him for it. He deviated us all from what we were meant to do and if our training had left us a choice we would have killed him for it.
The lights dimmed as the voice echoed out, console after console shutting off until only a tiny lamp still fought to delay the blackness that hung over the bridge.
And he repaid our hate with...
The last lamp winked out.
Hope the voice said, the lone word swallowed by the darkness.
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