What happens when Adam says: He wants to help
***
Ash coated the ground like snow.
Sharp winds whipped cinders into the air, painting the sky black, and reducing visibility to almost zero. The overhead flood lights in the forward operating base had been shut down, unusable as the light's reflection off the ash made the visibility worse not better, producing a halo of defused light that was simultaneously blinding and completely useless.
Two infantry men hunkered behind the protective tarping of a pop-up guard station, the tarping facing the wind and blocking the worst of the ash, though that didn't stop flurries of the stuff from spilling in from the open sides to create little mounds on the floor.
With its similarity to blizzard conditions, it felt like it should have been cold, though the temperature rarely dropped below fifty degrees.
Dim green lights blinked on their helmets casting eerie shadows over their faces.
One of the men looked through a night vision monocular, though he didn't see anything worthy of note.
They heard it rather than saw it, the sound of an engine over the flapping of the tarping, and one of the men stood upright, while the other crouched to cover him. Diffused red light approached through the ash, like a herald of hell, and they watched as a ground transport vehicle rolled slowly up the path, moving at a pace so glacial it made snails and slugs seem excessive.
The first man stepped forward into the path of the vehicle, unconcerned about potentially being run over as he could walk faster than the vehicle was going. The ground vehicle pulled to a halt, red light glowing over his body and he motioned for the driver to roll down the window.
They did, though reluctantly, and he stepped over to the window.
"ID." He said
Inside the vehicle two men presented ID badges. One was a ground transport grunt, and the other, Admiral Ablemen, who members of the forward operating base had not-so-lovingly nicknamed Dr. Frankenstein. From looking at him you would never have been able to tell the kind of bullshit he was involved in. Some of the women on the base might have described him as a silver fox type, the kind of man who aged annoyingly well in comparison to everyone else, keeping his looks while his hair faded to distinguished silver.
He had been a popular figure on base, respected by his soldiers before.....
Well
Before everything.
The man stepped back from the window and waved them through with a hand before returning to his station in the tent.
Over his com radio he heard, "Who was that?"
"Admiral Evil, who else?"
Beside him the other infantryman shivered and crossed himself.
He raised an eyebrow, "I Thought you said you didn't practice anymore."
"I'm don't."
The two men fell into an uneasy silence.
"Creep."
Up the road, the ground transport pulled into the open end of a collapsible ground shelter and the engine was shut off. The two men stepped from the interior and were greeted by a nurse in stained blue scrubs flanked on either side by two very uncomfortable looking infantrymen, doing their bese to conceal their faces behind goggles and neck scarves. One of their faces held the perpetual Grin of a gaping skeleton as the pattern on his face covering concealed his own expression underneath.
The group didn't speak as the woman turned and led them inside leaving the two infantrymen, thankfully in the pop-up garage.
Inside, the facility smelled, the air thick with the scent of bleach barely managing to conceal and undertone of body fluid, and the coppery tang of blood.
What the mock medical facility had in smell in lacked in lighting. The usual bright luminescent light and tiled white floors associated with medical facilities were noticeably absent. The lights overhead were a dim, grimy yellow, and the grey metal of the temporary pop up shelter did nothing to diffuse the light. The floor was stained with ash, and as they walked down the hall, it was hard to block out the distant sound of weeping.
When that faded it was only to be replaced by the sound of plaintive pleading.
The ground transport grunt glanced around with a look of unease so profound he seemed ready to bolt back down the hallway and out the door. He glanced over to his superior and the nurse for confirmation of his unease, but to his dismay, the two appeared unphased by the atmosphere.
His unease blossomed inside him like one of the Anum Corpse Flowers, morphing from mild discomfort to barely controlled panic.
Something about this was very wrong.
He knew it on a primal level.
It could have been the lighting, interacting with the animal side of his brain telling him that this location was not safe. It could have been the underlying smell of rot that floated, ever present as an underlying current on air that SHOULD have been clean.
Or any number of other things.
All he knew is he desperately wanted out.
A short hallway came to an end just in front of them, and two orderlies stepped from the second door of a small DECOM unit. They flicked water from the tips of their fingers which were glistening with moisture up to the elbows, the front of their scrubs was stained with.... Unknown fluids, some of it blood.... Maybe.
The grunt stopped just shy of the door and the Admiral turned to look at him, his grey blue eyes flashing cold like ice I the yellow light.
"Sorry sir, my authorization doesn't allow me past this point." He lied
The man looked him over critically, "Authorization granted."
The man stammered, but a glare from the admiral shut him up, and he stepped into the DECOM chamber with the rest of them.
Warm moist air rolled around them as the DECOM spray was filtered into the unit, once done he heard the door lock click and open into a large white room.
Despite their attempts to make this room look more sterile, and like an actual hospital than the rest of the facility, they missed the mark by miles. The white tiled floor and walls, instead of conjuring up images of hospital suits and operating rooms, gave more the appearance of a gas station bathroom, impeded primarily by the dim yellow lighting, and the medical orderly using a hose to wash....
Fluid
Off the tile and down one of the drains.
He turned away stomach bubbling.
He placed a hand over his mouth thinking he was going to be sick.
The orderly gave him a scathing look, daring him to be sick on the floor he was already cleaning. He had to swallow the bile back down, but he managed not to vomit.
And that wasn't even the worst part
The worst part were the people that inhabited this room.
There were at least forty of them, maybe more, stripped down to naked skin and robotic parts displayed openly around the room like the world's most grotesque hanging decorations, their only privacy being what little was afforded by the metal exoskeletons that held them in place. Metal clamps on the back, shoulders arms hips and ankles held them hanging, upright against the walls.
Their eyes were closed, and their bodies relaxed.
Water gurgled as it dribbled down a drain and into the ground beneath.
His stomach churned again.
More orderlies stepped into the room bringing with them handheld monitoring equipment.
"Show me." The admiral demanded.
One of the men held out his holo pad, and a projection leaped into the air above it. The projection was split into forty or so separate boxes, and inside those boxes were monitoring displays for the vitals of everyone in that room, sent, or so it seemed, from the exoskeletons.
"Good." The admiral was saying, "Get me a unit up and running."
"Which unit sir."
It took the grunt a moment or two to realize what they were saying, and when he did, he was filled with a sense of horror.
Unit
They were talking about the people.
"Get me unit fifteen."
Didn't they have names?!
Up along the wall, there was a sharp hiss and click as a black metal box was socketed into place against a small black port against the man's torso, then with a sudden whir, the exoskeleton hummed to life, and the men's head lifted slowly.
The grunt stepped back.
He didn't move like a human.
He moved like a robot, but somehow worse. All the power and precision of a bot, but with the fluidity and unpredictability of a man. The admiral stepped up to the figure tapping him on the cheek with the flat of his palm.
The gesture was
Wrong
Somehow, though he couldn't have said.
Condescending almost.
"Wake up Fifteen."
The man blinked and with another hiss and whirr, he stepped down from the wall, the clamps at his back releasing as his bare foot contact with the floor. His other foot clattered as it set down, the silver casing of the leg hiding the power generating cells which kept the exoskeleton operational.
The grunt tried not to look, but couldn't help himself, eyes frozen in abject horror at the scene before him. The soldier, for he assumed the man had to be a soldier, wasn't very old at all, maybe in his early twenties at most. He was tall a few inches above six feet and even taller with the exo skeleton giving him the ability to practically dwarf the admiral.
He had wide shoulders and a narrow waste with the muscular litheness of most fit young men in his age range. When he breathed the machine encasing his body expanded and contracted, sticking to him like a tick or a leach cling to skin. Despite his physical fitness, there was something about the body that.... Didn't seem healthy.
His wide, green eyes were vague and unfocused, the sclera shot through with red, his eye sockets themselves were ringed with deep blue and sunken in slightly. His skin was so pale that the delicate blue of his veins seemed unusually pronounced.
It seemed as if his hair had been shaved at one point, though it was growing back in as a light blond fuzz on the top of his skull.
The grunt imagined that the man or.... Boy would have had a very pleasant expression under different circumstances. But his resting face of pleasant dreaminess was.... Somehow even more sinister.
The admiral frowned.
"Lower the opiate input would you."
"Yes sir."
There was no obvious change, physically, but after a moment the young man's eyes focused slightly.
"Admiral?" He muttered
"There he is. How are you feeling today?"
The man looked confused.
"I.... it hurts a little." His voice was drowsy and sort of slurred.
The admiral frowned again, "Damn it, I thought I had told you all to deal with this problem. There has to be a good balance. Up the amphetamine."
Again there was no obvious change at first until the eyes sharpened even more and the young man stood straighter. Eyes flicking around the room."
"Where am I?"
A hand rested on his arm, "Its alright lieutenant, just relax."
The eyes continued to dart, "Admiral?"
"Yes."
"What's going on?" his voice seemed to be nearing panic.
"Don't worry ." The admiral Patted the bigger man's shoulder, "Just relax, do you trust me?"
There was a pause, and the head nodded emphatically.
"Alright then, just listen to my voice and do exactly what I say."
He didn't want to be here anymore, he wanted to go back to his camp, back to his tent, and drink the last bit of booze he had managed to hide in the flask in his foot locker. He wanted to go to sleep and forget what was going on, but he was forced to watch as the man followed the admiral around like a dog urged forward by condescending commands.
He was brought into another room where he was finally allowed some sort of privacy In the way of a massive set of armor. It was so big and bulky he doubted the man would have been able wear it much less use it if it hadn't been for the exoskeleton. With the boots on and all the metal components together he stood head and shoulders above almost everyone there.
A small orange eyeglass unfolded from nowhere and positioned itself over his right eye.
"Targeting system engaged."
The admiral patted the man on one of his armored forearms, "Alright Fifteen, this is your moment, time to make me look good."
"I will sir."
His stomach did another flip at the voice, a voice which sounded groggily eager to please.
"Good, and put that helmet on.... Probably best we cover up those eyes eh?"
"A good idea, sir."
The man did as told, and when he socketed on the helmet his entire face was obscured by a visor and opaque face plate.
He ordered the soldier to fall into step behind him and walked out into the main conference room, which DID happen to have bright florescent lights, and a well kept but simple steel table.
A group of men and women filtered in from outside, most of them operating officers on the FOB, all around the room little holo projections began to blink online.
"Sir, we have an opening I the ash cloud comms signals are getting through though I suggest we go now."
"Very well." The admiral slapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly.
"To business then." The group turned to look at him and fell silent, faces in the holo projections looked on in interest."
"it is my honor to present to you, the end of the war."
There was a muttering around the room.
He stepped aside and held his hands out to the armored figure behind him, "Behold, our first-generation steel eye combat unit "
A murmuring around the room.
"IS that a robot or a soldier?" Someone asked nervously
The admiral tilted his head thoughtfully, "Both." He nodded again, "A soldier with all the advantages of robotics at his fingertips. With the enhanced exo skeleton he is ten times stronger and ten times faster than your average human. He doesn't tire and is.... Immune to most types of pain. He can carry more than double his own rate at a dead sprint and has advanced targeting systems designed for combat aircraft build right into the mainframe of his suit, which connects through a HUD (heads up display) within the helmet.
A muttering of approval.
And some skepticism.
"And how were you able to achieve this/"
"Years and years of research in the making, I assure you."
"IS it ethical?"
"It if wasn't ethical, would the UNSC be doing it?"
The grunt knew a crock of bullshit when he smelled it, and this bullshit was particularly ripe. If there was one universal truth about government agencies, it was their endless ability to tell ethics to fuck right off.
"But I understand you have reservations, which is why I am eager to show you what he can do."
In the center of the room a Holo display brought up the main camera on the suit of steel eye armor, filling the room with a rather disorienting view of all of them through the steel eye soldier's eyes.
The admiral turned, his face warped slightly in the holo projection.
"Fifteen, you are go for operation."
The man inside the shell nodded and turned on his heel, walking from the room, down the hall and out into the ash.
The room was silent for a very long moment.
The admiral leaned to the side, towards one of the orderlies and whispered, "Up the amphetamines again. Lets give them all a show."