"Oh look how curious! The apes do try so hard with their little weapons. The hirelings, oh the hirelings, look how they waddle!"
"Those 'hirelings' have done well enough against the frontier folk, they are going for their capital. Do not be arrogant Admiral. Do you not remember New Babylon?"
"But Kessler dearest, was it not you who failed to defend that world those centuries ago?"
"Yes and I have learned from my errors."
"Mmmm. We'll see. They are going for the Capital, no?"
"Yes. They believe upon entering the city they will prompt a capitulation."
"Oh the poor fools I almost feel pity."
"They aren't people Admiral. Not really. Dust before the cosmic wind."
"Your promotion is far too recent Kessler so you are still all in on the Reislaufer nonsense so I'll tell you: it was a figure of speech."
"I could tell as much, but I had to say it nevertheless."
"Oh back to business you young fool."
"I am-"
"Yes but I am twice that once again as you know so please do not interrupt me. The Doctor, he has been dispatched?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. I don't like the wretch being in the homeworlds, such arrogance on him."
"It is not unfounded."
"I do not care."
"Regardless, let us review the agenda.”
>>>Duros
They had done quick work, he had to admit. Before the Doctor were just a pile of stone with random shavings and scraps of metal about his feet. Yet if the Columbians had arrived but a few months after they did then this would have been a complete facility for upgrading the citizens of Duros. The poor fools. They had traded long and happy lives for the democracy of money that would - should he fail - transition into an occupation by oligarchs seeking to nickel and dime them. Well, if they were to refuse such a glorious fate then perhaps the most horrid one that would befall them would be the only thing they deserve.
He turned around to face the pack of seven Varadi soldiers he had managed to find. They truly were a mess. An efforted attempt to imitate the perfection of Neohumanity, but not quite arriving there. They did not have the stations to facilitate the full set of surgeries upon their biology that transition to a true biological Homo Novus required, and the cybernetic augments that the CCN had unloaded upon them were - at least by their own standards - outdated by a century. Even then they had to be considerably under-clocked such that their brains wouldn’t veritably burst under stress of controlling such machinery. But that was far from all. They were all in far from… ideal condition. Underfed, missing parts of their bodies, or in one case having both of his optical implants shattered if still present. To say they weren’t much would be an understatement but he had to start somewhere did he not?
“Why the hell are we here?”
“...Hmmmm?”
The Doctor looked up from his musings, eyes locking onto the soldier who had spoken.
“What are we doing here? Its just fucking rubble people could drive by any moment!”
In a heartbeat the Doctor ran over to him lifting the man up by the neck. “Vital reconnaissance. It would appear the enemy has not found the true import of these stations.” the Neohuman said, turning the man in his grasp this way and that. “Pardon an old man’s memory, did I ask for your input?” he queried, before dropping the man knowing the answer would be ‘no’.
The truth is there wasn’t much purpose to being here at all, the story of reconnaissance and some hidden purpose to the facilities being a farce. But he couldn’t let these men question his actions, his authority had to be cemented.
“Come on. It’ll be night time soon.” he said, walking on to the little camp that the group had formed. “We have much work to do.”
He had to admit they had worked together well. Every day to enter and leave their hideout they had moved aside stones before once more piling them such that few would bother trying to enter the cave with just enough cracks to make oxygen enter the place while they slept without giving off light. Within the hideout the situation was not much better. Eleven graves were within four of which were of the comrades of the living seven, one of which was of a traitor, and the rest was of people who had wandered too close. The traitor was a… disconcerting exhibit. But The Doctor was well old enough to know that centuries past there were some such cases amongst his kin when they were not yet far enough along the path of ascension and thus it wasn’t surprising that these half-breeds he couldn’t yet find a better name for had such amongst their ranks.
Chimeras? Yes that would be a better descriptor for the Varadi. Not quite the outdated ape of Homo Sapiens but not quite the perfection of Homo Novus. They were a resourceful lot, that was for sure. The group had hauled much to the little cave from parts of a garage to a surgeon's automated gear. Primitive but all potentially useful. These seven of course were not the only Varadi left on Duros but they would form their own autonomous cell, one of many to be made to sow fear and terror into the masses of the Coalition forces whilst putting doubt in their government amongst Durosian civilians.
Morning came in a glimpse, the Varadi having spent the night sleeping whilst the Doctor was working on… something, the Varadi couldn’t tell. He had all his beakers arranged right by the running generator they had hauled in. Their augments let the men breathe through the smoke but that didn’t mean they had to like smelling it. On the other hand the previous day let them know better than to argue with the man.
One of the Varadi soldiers started to push out rocks blocking the cave entrance, poking his head out to see a child standing outside. The man cursed, realizing that the smoke of the bloody generator had announced their position to a rather wide area. “Come here!” he called to his comrades to see. “There’s a fucking boy here!” he cried to the Doctor, confused at the apparent calmness of the man after his shouting.
“Oh, I am very well aware. Bring him here.”
The men looked to each other with some confusion, but one eventually went forth after the child breaking into a run to catch his quarry when it started to flee. The boy was brought in by the confused men and carried over to the Doctor, the head of the man turning in entirety to survey the boy before the rest of his body followed. In either hand he had surgical implements that the group had never seen before, and though his face wasn’t visible it was clear he had a very intent expression about him. “Put him on the table.” he said, stepping aside for the Varadi to carry out the order before turning himself. They boy started to get up but a needle pierced the skin on his head and in the very same instant he fell back.
“What are you doing?” one of the men demanded as he drew a pistol. “Oh put that away you wouldn’t get a chance to use it even if you had need or opportunity. I am not going to harm the child.”
“Answer the question!”
“I am implanting memories.”
“...What?”
The Doctor sighed. “The child will remember things that didn’t happen. He will remember a story of drunken Columbian troops on shore leave trying to do rather awful things to him before your noble Varadi brothers in arms rescued him.”
“Look at his age you think he knows what any of what’s been happening is?”
“No, he doesn’t. But that’s why I am not putting ideas in his head as you may believe. He won’t know Varadi or Columbian. He’ll simply remember the uniforms and your dashing metal augments.”
All seven men recoiled as a drill went into the skull of the kid. Before any could exclaim the Doctor continued speaking. “By the time I am don this little opening will have healed to nothing more than a bruise. Calm yourself or I might find I no longer have need of you. Now then, in that crate there’s some men. Shoot them, we’ll need the corpses later. Now, if you please.”
Confused, the group did just that having found some sleeping men in Columbian uniforms. Their hatred lead them to not ask any question about a task they did with such joy, but once done they again turned to The Doctor. “What are we to do?” one asked.
“You are to grab the bodies and come with me.”
Behind his visor the Doctor was smiling. “We are to create the past, thereby changing the present and so giving us the reigns of the future my friend.” He couldn’t see this dreg as a friend but the many ideas in his head had left the Doctor in far too good of a mood for him not to say such.
The child was walking in the distance with its hands outstretched as if trying to grab some flies flying about the boy’s waist. The Varadi looked down at the men about their feat, one of them uneasy. “Rigor mortis, I read about that way back. When they find these guys they’re going to check when they died.”
“Taken care of.”
“Ho-”
“Taken care of.”
The Doctor thrust into the hands of the largest one of the group who had the shattered eye lenses a small package, before walking off. “When you get back to the cave open it. You will have instructions on how to use what is within. Take care.” They would never see him again, not in person.
“Next.”
“Oh, uh, got all my papers ready Sir.”
“Hmmm. Says you already served to get the Varadi out of here. Why’d you take the break?”
“Well the wife got pregnant. Twins sir, twins!”
“I see. Congratulations. You won’t be reenlisted as Corporal but we can bring you back as Lance Corporal.”
“Great! When will I get started?”
“You’ll have to go through the bootcamp for a week and you’ll get deployed right after. Welcome back to this man’s army.”
“Last call, everyone get on!”
The ranks of men were waving goodbye as the ramp to the shuttle that would ferry the unit over to Varad was closing. Lance-Corporal Kurtis Greene was one of them, turning to the voice of one Private Singh who had asked which one was his. “Redhead over there.” Kurtis motioned. In fact the Doctor knew that this woman didn’t know him one bit, but nobody would bother to check and this would only help endear him to the unit. As the ramp had fully closed most of the men went off to the little barracks that they had for the short rest they would have before being dropped into the hellhole of Varad. The Doctor lingered a moment, his face shifting into the one that he was born with centuries ago for just a few moments such that he could yet again smile before it shifted into the form known as Kurtis Greene. Putting on his army cap he ran after the rest of the troop, calling “Yo wait for me!” to the men that would inevitably die by his hand.
This was of course the price of progress, the price of perfection; if these men knew the true value of the work the Doctor was doing they surely would not have minded their deaths?
