Vitality Medical Station in Human-controlled space, 2502. One week after the raid on the Elunari Facility.

“Draining Bio-Sculptor. Warning. Draining Bio-Sculptor,” repeated a synthetic voice. 

I sloshed out of the Bio-Sculptor tube onto the cold, white floor. I began coughing my lungs up as I attempted to clear my system of this awful gel-like substance. I imagine this is what bleach tastes like. 

After coughing for a good few minutes, I looked up at the man dressed in all white with a datapad standing over me. “Commander Kronos of Hades Squad?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” I croaked. 

Damn, this gel really dries your throat out. The nurse tossed me a warm bottle of water, which I promptly destroyed in seconds. Ah, much better. Although I need to consume much less water than a Human, the water was still refreshing.

“What is the last thing you remember, Commander Kronos?”

“Being admitted to Vitality Station to regrow my left hand.” I fired back.

The nurse began tapping away at his datapad and continued. “And last question. How old are you, Kronos?"

“Fifteen standard years old,” I replied. 

The nurse looked confused at my answer and knitted his brows at me as if I was lying. I was currently naked and standing over him by nearly two feet. My appearance betrayed my age. However, I really was only fifteen.

After a few moments of swiping away at his datapad, he responded with a nod, “So you are…what on Earth did they feed you?”

“Nutrient paste,” I answered non-committedly. 

With a look of slight disgust, the nurse furrowed his brow and said, “Nutrient paste, huh…” He shrugged and continued talking. “Anyways, you don’t seem to have any side-effects from the Bio-Sculptor. You will be aboard Vitality Station for another three weeks while your hand finishes the regrowing process. Head Doctor Suárez will be your primary care physician while you are on board… and your room is one one seven in the blue east sector. Clothes are on the table before you leave. Any questions?”

“None.” 

The nurse gave me another nod and walked out of the room. I tried to flex my leftt hand but realized I currently didn’t have fingers. My wrist and palm had regrown over my time in the Bio-Sculptor, but it would take at least a week or so for my fingers to come back. I walked over to the jet-black sleepwear they left for me and slipped it on.

I disliked this three-week waiting period. But, I was at the mercy of the medical staff while I was here. There wasn’t much for me to do in this kind of situation. I didn’t need to eat or sleep as often as Humans. There was nowhere I could train at this station where I wouldn’t cause damage. And I didn’t do anything else but train or go on missions. So with nothing left to do, I just opted to sleep. Maybe it will help my hand grow back faster, and get me out of here sooner.

—

I jolted out of bed, sweating and breathing heavily. Damn, another one. It’s only been seventy-two hours since I rolled out of the Bio-Sculptor and this is the second time I’ve had the same dream. Or I guess people might call this a nightmare. 

The events on Odeus 5 replay over and over again until I wake up in a cold sweat. I hear the final words of that Xeno child and watch as I fail to grab him. 

I’m not sure what’s more problematic. The fact I’ve never had a dream in my entire life until now or that this event is somehow affecting me. Not wanting to think about it, I rolled out of bed and hopped into the sanitation unit, cleaning myself. The chemical dispenser hissed and sprayed my body, cleaning everything in just under a minute.

I strode through the halls; the recovering marines or medical personnel were moving out of my way. Thankfully, these hallways were much broader and higher than usual so I could walk comfortably down them. The mess hall was a large room with rows upon rows of benches and a serving counter where people dished out food to recovering soldiers. 

I grabbed a tray and avoided the lunch line. Instead, I headed straight to the nutrient paste dispenser, which didn’t have a line. Does nobody ever grab this stuff? It’s really good for you.

I sat down in the corner of the room and began chowing down. I had come to enjoy the taste of nutrient paste. I often heard the regs complain about how bland the stuff was, but it wasn’t bad. It was also the most efficient thing a soldier could eat anyways.

I sat alone and looked out into the vast room. Everybody was sitting a healthy two whole tables away from me like I was a disease. But it didn’t bother me. It was par for the course actually. I was about to finish my food when a short Hispanic woman wearing a dark blue lab coat walked over to me carrying a meal tray.

“Seat taken, Commander?” I motioned to one of the many open seats around me. And, of course, she sat down directly in front of me. The Doctor in front of me was probably in her early thirties. Brown hair and eyes, average height. Let’s see, and she’s th—

“Are you checking me out, Commander Kronos?” she asked innocently with a smile on her face, wrapping her arms around to cover herself.

“That’s not the word I’d use, Head Doctor Suárez. I’m just simply investigating you, that’s all."

“Ah, well, you’re no fun,” Suárez said dejectedly. The Doctor straightened her lab coat and gave me a professional smile. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you, Commander Kronos. I’m the lead Doctor on this station. And I apologize that I haven’t had time to speak to you since you have arrived. I was a little preoccupied with a fresh batch of marines off of Odeus 5.”

“It’s fine. I’m just passing the time at your station. I don’t need any extra care while I’m here.”

“Nonsense! I pride myself on being the most passionate and compassionate doctor in the Navy! It’s unforgivable that I’ve neglected you these last few days, especially someone as important as you, Commander!” Suárez stated, standing up from the bench and striking a pose with her spoon in her hand. 

Not wanting to draw any more attention than I’m already getting, I attempted to defuse the ranting doctor. “Yes, yes, of course. It’s fine. My hand is growing back fine, and I’m in no pain to speak of. I’m sure there are plenty of people on this ship who need your help far more than I do.”

“I suppose you are right, however, I want you to come in for some checkups next week.” I was about to protest when she hit me with “non-negotiable checkups, Commander.” Not wanting to risk the wrath of the doctor who decides when I get to leave this station, I simply nodded and agreed to her terms.

Death Commandos were in a weird gray area in the military. We weren’t technically part of any branch of the military. Instead, we were directly under the control of the big wigs on Mars and almost a sub-branch of the military in the Federation. Although we did obey the chain of command, I suppose we were more like a… private army of sorts. But I knew where my loyalties lay.

“However, there is something I want to discuss with you, Commander. I have to admit this is the first time I’ve met a Gen 1 Commando. There aren’t many of you guys left out there after all,” she said with a tint of remorse.

“It’s fine, really. To be expected even. We were merely weapons to be used in the service of Humanity.”

“Huh… so it is true,” Suárez said incredulously. “I read some reports about the evangelists being pretty aggressive with you guys and how you often diffused the situation just by agreeing with them. But do you really believe you aren't a real Human, Commander Kronos? That you don’t have a soul?” 

Here we go again.

I've already had this conversation an infinite amount of times. When I was first deployed, many were so zealous in their efforts to demonize us Gen 1s, spouting how we weren’t real Humans and we lacked a soul. 

Of course, I agreed with them. This would often surprise the vast majority of them. It was hard for these people to call out the thing they were complaining about when I just sat there nodding my head agreeing with them. I never considered myself to be an actual Human—just a weapon for Humanity to wield. I was grown in a tube on Mars, after all, and I doubt I had a so-called “soul” if those even existed.

“If you have read my file, Doctor, then I am sure you understand my opinion on these matters. I, along with all of my comrades, understand what we are and what our purpose is. There is no mistake. We are not real Humans, and we never will be. Doctor Octario created us in a lab. I spent my first few months of life in a tube, only to come out as an adolescent. Before I even reached my first decade of life, I was already a man being sent into battle. We are soulless, intelligent weapons, not Humans,” I stated with conviction. 

Doctor Suárez stared at me with a look of shock for a few moments while tapping her rice with her spoon. “Have you ever heard the saying, Commander, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck? Well, you look like a Human, walk like a Human, talk like a Human, so you’re probably a Human, Commander.”

“Such a simple line of deduction doesn’t apply to us, Doctor. We are merely weapons masquerading as Humans.” The doctor’s wristwatch let out an alarm as she sighed. “Duty calls. This conversation isn’t over, Commander. You and I are going to have lunch together every day until you leave this station.” 

I raised my finger to protest when. “NON-NEGOTIABLE! A prescription of a daily lunch with the cutest Head Doctor on the station for Mr. Commander Kronos!” 

I sat back down as she beamed at me with her spoon in hand, pointing at me. Flinging rice onto my face in the process. I simply nodded to confirm as she picked her tray up and left. I enjoyed the remainder of my cold nutrient paste in peace and silence.