Subject B395

B395 sat on the stretcher in the overly bright room, kicking his legs out as he watched the nurses rush around. The tiny puncture on his arm from the injection stung a little, but he was used to pain, so it did not bother him much. He wondered when the nurses would let him go. He had yet to complete his latest training exercise and he knew the section instructor would not let him rest until he had done so.

The small boy let out a wide yawn, rubbing his blood-shot eyes. He laid back down on the stretcher, where he could take a curious peek at the holographic screens Nurse Rian was swiftly flipping through. From what little he could glimpse or understand, it seemed to be a report on how well his body was adjusting to the enhancement drugs.

“Oi! No looking!” Nurse Rian snapped. She raised her hand threateningly, her fingers positioned as if to snap them together. Instinctively, B395 flinched, his body freezing in an involuntary reaction towards the pain to come.

Two snaps. Jolts of electricity shot out from the metal collar around his neck and the bracelets around his ankles and wrists, coursing through his body with blinding agony. But B395 knew better than to scream. He gritted his teeth until the only sound he allowed himself to let out was a small pained whimper.

While the pain faded away as quickly as it came, it left him panting and gasping on the bed, his body covered in a sheen of cold sweat.

“This is classified information, brat!” Nurse Rian snarled. “If I see you trying to take a peek again, I’ll send you to the labs!”

“I’m sorry.” The small boy whispered timidly, looking down as he wrapped his arms around himself. Nurse Rian let out an irritated huff as she went back to her report.

Don't be curious. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. B395 learned quickly. He didn't repeat his mistakes.

He knew the pain was to condition them. To discourage errant behavior. If he did something bad, it would hurt, and he would never do it again.

As for the labs, that was for the hopeless cases that required physical adjustments to enhance their obedience, or performance. B395 was ashamed to admit that he had been sent there before once. They had cut his scalp open and shoved in some kind of pain sensor, then proceeded to break each bone in his body, all while injecting him with strange drugs that prevented him from moving or passing out. That was where he learned never to scream, anyway.

Lying on the bed, B395 closed his eyes, deciding to take this opportunity to get as much rest as he could, even though he knew he might be punished if the nurses found out he had fallen asleep. However, he really could not help himself any longer. He had not slept for the past 72 hours. At least a punishment from the nurses would be preferable to one inflicted by the instructor if he were to perform poorly in the exercise later due to exhaustion.

B395 was not sure how long he was out for, or whether he had dozed off at all, but he woke up to the thunderous sound of blazing sirens. The next thing he knew, a group of nurses ran into the room, wheeling a stretcher on which there was a bloody mass of flesh that vaguely resembled a human form. His blood ran cold.

His stretcher was shoved out of the way and the nurses rushed the newcomer to the operating table. Much of what proceeded was blocked from his view as the white-coated figures encircled the table, but occasionally there would be an agonizing scream that made him want to bury his head under his pillow.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sirens stopped. One of the nurses stepped away and announced, “Subject number B431, time of death 9.00pm, standard Adelphian time.”

Subject number B431? B395 felt his mind go into shock. That could not be right. There was absolutely no way that this was possible. He had simply misheard the nurse. The latest casualty could not be number B431. There was absolutely no way the latest casualty was his closest friend in their platoon, right?

B395 got out of the bed, his mind and body numb. He moved through the towering white-coated figures, ghost-like, towards the stretcher on which the body was being loaded onto. It seemed as if time had slowed to a crawl. He heard shouting, possibly at him, but it was only a dull buzz in his ears. It was just him and the body on the stretcher.

The body on the stretcher gazed at him with cold, dead brown eyes. Most of his face had been reconstructed already and every familiar feature B395 took in was like a punch to his stomach. Yet, he could not look away.

“Hey! Get back here you brat!” Strong arms seized him by the shoulders. Desperately, he reached out, his fingertips stretching towards the limp form of his friend who couldn’t, couldn’t be dead.

“No! Stop! Stop, you can’t take him away! Get away from him!”

Pulling himself free, he rushed at the nurse attempting to pull a blanket over the body. He managed to grab onto her leg before he heard it.

Three sharp snaps.

Excruciating pain flooded his body until he collapsed onto the ground and screamed.

He screamed and screamed, clutching at his head, pleas spilling from his lips in between incoherent shrieks of agony.

“Please! Please, don’t take him away! Not him!”

Then, a needle was shoved into his arm and everything went away.

----------

The child sat on a cold hard chair within a dimly lit office. His head drooped, dark bangs falling into his eyes. His gaze was dull, unfocused, and dried tear stains were streaked across his cheeks.

When he had first regained consciousness, there was but a single thought within his mind. B4 is dead.

A numbness seeped through his veins. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, but found that his wrists and ankles had been shackled down, rendering him almost immobile.

B431 was dead and he was about to go the same way. But did it even matter anymore what happened to him?

A brutally scarred man sat opposite of him, scanning through a report.

“Subject number B395?” The man looked up, raising an eyebrow.

Bethel would be sad if you died. He thought to himself. She cried when they took B392 and B393 away. You promised her you’d come back. You don’t want to make her sad, do you?

“Are you mute? I believe I asked you a question, cadet!”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, his voice hollow.

“Speak up! I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, I am B395.” He tried to keep his voice from trembling. “Sir.”

“I am Commander Ragnoroff, the Chief Disciplinary Officer of Hesperus Space Station. Do you know why you are here, B395?”

When B395 remained silent, the man pressed on. “Do you think your behaviour in the medical bay today was acceptable?”

“No.” He replied softly.

“I should think not! Disrupting a red light emergency, disobeying direct orders to remain immobile, assaulting a medical officer- ”

“I didn’t attack her! I just wanted to stop her, to stop her from-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Commander Ragnoroff reached over and backhanded him viciously across the face.

He felt a sharp pain on his lip and a trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. His cheek burned as if it was on fire. He fell back into his chair, eyes blank with shock.

“Cease your nonsensical blabbering! You will speak only when spoken to, young man!”

The man studied the papers for a bit more before continuing.

“How old are you, B395?”

“…I will be turning 9 in three months, sir.”

“You seem to be a good cadet. You’ve only ever been sent to the labs once throughout the entire duration of your training. Can you tell me what prompted this sudden regression in your conduct?”

“I…” He hesitated, worrying at his already torn lip. “B431 was my friend. My friend was the one they were operating on during the emergency.”

“I know that. The reports have documented your apparent attachment to subject number B431 in your daily activities. However, this does not explain why you felt the need to involve yourself in a medical emergency and behave in a most uncivilised manner towards the medical officers.”

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t know why I did that. I felt u-upset. I didn’t want them to take him away.”

“Did I hear you correctly? You were upset? You are a soldier, B395. Were you not trained to refrain from experiencing such frivolous emotions?”

“Yes, sir…” Hot tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. His shackled wrists prevented him from wiping them away before Commander Ragnoroff could notice.

The commander frowned.

“Do not show me your crocodile tears, cadet. Need I remind you for what purpose you and your kind were created?”

“You were created nine years ago in this very space station as part of Project GENEsis. You are a genetically-enhanced soldier designed solely to help humanity triumph in our conflict with Sercapria.”

“You are a clone, B395. That is what you are and what you will always be.”

“You are a tool to be used in the war. A weapon. Nothing else.”

“Do you understand that?”

The empty feeling at the pit of his stomach threatened to swallow him whole. He wanted to scream and to shout. He wanted to wrench himself free from his bonds and slam his fists into the commander's ever so smug face until they pulled away bloody. B431 was dead. Why did anything matter anymore?

A soft voice echoed in his mind. “You’ll be careful, won’t you? Promise you’ll do what they say and you won’t make them mad? Promise you’ll come back to me?”

He swallowed, the words tasting like bile in his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” The commander smiled at him, a cold, mirthless smile. “I am fond of you, B395. You have the best test results out of all the B3 clones we have created. You could possibly be the best soldier that we have ever trained. If it were any other clone, you would be long dead before you could even have the chance to step into this room.”

“Personally, I do not wish to have to dispose of you. However, if you continue to behave in an irrational manner, I would have no choice but to remove you from our program. Do you understand?”

The boy took a deep breath, unclenching his tiny fists. “I understand, sir. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. I will not make the same mistake twice, sir.”

The commander nodded slowly, his great head bobbing up and down.

“Good, good. Then perhaps I shall forgive you this time. But if I were to receive news of one more transgression from you, you will be terminated. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do not think you will go unpunished this time. Based on the severity of your transgressions and your past records, you will be sent to the labs for correctional discipline for the next three months.”

Three months. Three whole months. B395 stared at him, his blood chilling with dread. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to let him go back to Bethel. He promised that he’d behave!

Had there even been a clone who survived three whole months at the labs?

Commander Ragnoroff smiled lightly.

“Consider this a small mercy on my part.”