They stepped on and he pressed fifty-four on the input pad. The transport lifted higher through the air, zooming past levels of metal cases as it went.
"These all have waste bodies in them?" Nova asked, horrified at the sheer number.
"Oh no, not yet anyway. Eventually we want to store the soldiers in them, a kind of stasis until they're required."
Nova nodded but didn't say anything.
The transport pad came to a stop high above their starting point at a particularly wide platform. They stepped off and Orland led the way to an imposing door set into the wall of the large room. He pushed it open and they stepped through into a blinding white space. People in white coats stopped to stare at them as they came in but went back to work at Orland's pointed glares.
Four creatures stood inside the room, the same monstrosities that Nova and Aart had faced twice already. Only instead of the rampaging, unstoppable beasts she'd seen before, these were broken bodies. They stood leaning against the white walls, whimpering with pain.
As she watched, the creature closest to the door let out a particularly loud cry and its right arm dropped clean off. One minute it was attached and the next minute it fell to the floor where it landed with a wet splat. The nearby scientists rushed in and dragged the fallen limb away from the creature, dissecting it two seconds later. A bloody section of bare muscle hung from the creature's shoulder where the arm used to be.
"That's disgusting," Aart said, lifting one arm to cover his nose from the overpowering smell.
"It's always the same," Orland said with a sad shake of his head. "They'll be fine and then after a time they just start falling apart. That keeps happening until all of their skin and muscle sloughs off and they collapse into a lifeless pile of flesh."
"How can this happen?" Nova asked.
"If I could work that out I'm sure I'd be a very rich man," said Orland. "Nobody knows. We think it must be something in the process, it sets off a timer, perhaps an increased rate of DNA mutation."
"I see. Obviously this is a major concern to the Confederacy," Nova said, forcing herself to remain cold and calculating.
"Of course," Orland said, bobbing his head up and down.
"Perhaps we should see the processing in action," Nova said.
"Of course you can," Orland said, staring at his feet. "It's just that many people find it quite disturbing. It's all been approved by the Minister of course, but still…"
"I assure you, we won't have any problems," Nova said. Aart nodded from behind her shoulder.
"Please just let me know if you would like to leave at any time." Orland glanced down at the screen in his hand. "Another bout of processing is happening in ten minutes, if we hurry we should make it."
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Nova gritted her teeth, while the rest of her features remained frozen, expressionless. She forced her hands to stay relaxed at her sides. Her feet spread shoulder-width apart in front of the doomed man.
Aart wasn't nearly as composed. Rage, despair, and guilt contorted his face. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides and he bounced from foot to foot as he stared at the man before him.
Nova tried to block Orland's view of Aart. At least for the moment the scientist was occupied with the 'processing' that was about to take place. The room surged with people in white coats. They moved around checking dials, turning on switches, and making notes. The room smelled of heady chemicals that rose up Nova's nostrils and sent her mind into a daze.
Bright white lights filled the room and made it feel even more sterile, hostile. The sterilized benches and glass vials belonged in this room far more than Nova did, or the man being strapped down.
His head lolled from side to side as a pair of scientists pushed him up against the body-shaped depression in the wall. They held him in place while others rushed forward and attached straps. The metal clasps clamped over his wrists, arms, chest, and neck, but he barely moved.
"We always drug them beforehand. It makes it easier you know, if they don't struggle," Orland said as if reading Nova's mind. She nodded in response.
The man was naked beneath the metal clasps. His red skin glowed in the white light and multiple bruises covered his body. His matted hair hung in unkempt tangles and thick stubble sprouted from his chin. His origin tattoo claimed that he was from Cupron in the Resources District, not that that would matter to anyone in the Confederacy.
Dirt and blood covered him while grazes created angry red spots on his knees and hands. But behind the scratches and the drug-induced stupor bulged rippling muscles. More than that, on the one occasion when his eyes opened, Nova saw a deeper strength. It swam under the surface, a defiance, an inability to lie down.
The man was strong in every sense of the word; exactly what the Confederacy needed for its super-soldiers.
"Just step back a few paces," Orland said, gesturing to a thin black line painted onto the floor.
Nova and Aart stepped to the other side of the line. Aart felt like a ball of electricity at Nova's side. He jerked every few seconds as if he was about to run forward and try to save the man. His breath rasped in and out next to Nova's ear, grating at her worn nerves.
Her own breathing was more steady, but only because she forced herself. There was nothing they could do for this man now. He was at the mercy of the Confederacy, just another puppet in their ongoing game. He would either die here during processing or die later. She fought an internal battle, one part urging her to pull her gun and save the man, the other warning that it would expose them all and ensure that her friends would die.
She understood Aart's response. In his eyes, every victim was a close friend, a family member, someone that he should have protected. She understood, but she wished he'd hide it and calm down. If he gave them away then there would be no way for them to save anyone, let alone the man before them.
"Begin," Orland said, nodding to the scientist standing beside a large computer monitor. She nodded and flicked the switches.
Out of the ceiling above the man swung two metal arms. At their ends sprouted needles the size of Nova's arm. The points glinted in the bright lights and rocked towards the prisoner. The needles didn't pause for dramatic effect; they slammed through the man's chest, one on each side of his sternum.
The points slid between his ribs and punctured the tissue beneath. The man gasped. It could have been a cry of pain but through the drugs, who could tell? The plungers pushed down and the green fluid from the needles siphoned into the metal tips and disappeared into the man's body.
"We inject them with growth hormones," Orland said as the needles pulled away. "And then we basically cook them, increase their metabolism, and begin the growth process."
The tips retreated into the ceiling; the glinting metal disappeared into an alcove above their heads. Bloody holes gaped from each side of the man's chest. They leaked a trickle of blood that dribbled down his abdomen and caught on the metal clasp about his waist. The blood pooled until it spilled over and splashed onto the floor.
The metal clasps holding the man lit up. At first Nova though it was a kind of UV light display but then she realised it was actually the blue glow of electricity. Thousands of volts shot through the man's body and fired out the other side.
"He should be dead," Nova breathed.
The blue electrical glow filled the room and Nova had to narrow her eyes to see the man through the glare. It cast stark shadows of the people and the equipment scattered around the lab.
"Yes, he should. The pod provides a resuscitation function. He's basically dying and being resurrected over and over again. It's the best way we've found to stimulate the growth process."
Even the drugs weren't enough to keep that kind of pain at bay. The man writhed against his metal clamps, his muscles straining against them, glowing in the blue light. His head whipped sideways, but it was cushioned in place. He screamed with all the pain and agony anyone could ever feel. The processing continued.
Te
ars streamed down his face and his eyes begged with Nova. He stared at her with a mixture of hatred, pleading, and confusion. How could she stand there and watch? His eyes said. She didn't have an answer for that.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
"Turn it off," Aart said through clenched teeth. His voice was so quiet that only Nova heard him. She grabbed hold of his upper arm and gave him a stern jerk. He glared at her but clamped his mouth shut. Nova stared at him with hard eyes before returning her gaze to the prisoner.
"As you can see, the treatment is starting to take effect. After this point we have to loosen the clamps but don't fear, you're perfectly safe," Orland said.
As if on his command the prisoner's body began to deform. Muscles bulged out and didn't relax. His arms ballooned. The metal clasps groaned as the automated machine loosened them to match the man's new size. His neck grew to three times its original size, the tendons straining as he screamed.
The rest of his body followed suit. It was as if someone had pumped his body full of gas; he became a seething mass of muscle and pain. He grew taller until his head brushed the roof. Miraculously, the metal clasps remained intact.
"What's that?" Aart said, pointing to a new machine descending from the ceiling. It had a sharpened point, much bigger than a normal needle. A hose extended out of it leading back into the metal roof.
"Ah, one of my personal inventions. We can't have the super-soldiers going off mission you see."
"You take away their free-will?" Aart whispered.
"You could call it that. I prefer to think that we're giving them peace in their duties."
"Is this where the processing failures usually occur?" Nova asked.
Orland frowned. "Yes. As I said, some of them just can't handle processing."
The metal spike extended and poised itself just behind the prisoner's head. Somewhere above them a motor whirred into life. As quick as a snake, the spike shot forward. It slammed into the back of the man's head and burrowed through.
From her position in front of him Nova couldn't see all of the gruesome details but her imagination gladly filled in the rest. The hollow spike drilled into his head and severed the vital connections. The internal mechanisms attached wires to the lobes of his brain and these wires threaded back through the spike and into the hose beyond.
As the spike penetrated, the man's screaming stopped dead. His head lolled forward and his eyes rolled back. Every part of his body stopped moving and he hung like a dead pig. Seconds later, the spike withdrew with a sickening squelch. It trailed a bunch of wires that disappeared into the back of his skull.
As the spike pulled away, white-coated people ran forward. They laid their hands on the man's wrists and neck. They looked into his eyes and patted his cheeks. A man turned to Orland and nodded once.
"He made it!" Orland said with a grin, clapping his spare hand down onto his clipboard.
After checking his vital signs the scientists got to work hooking him up. One climbed up onto a small set of steps and grabbed the cables coming out of the man's head in one fist. She pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket and cut through the coloured wires.
Another scientist stood below and handed up an open-faced metal helmet. Nova had seen the like before, a few times now. This one was blue with no crests or signs of identification.
The first scientist took the helmet in hand and with infinite care she attached the wires in her hand to the matching ones in the helmet. When she finished she lowered the helmet over the unconscious man's head and it clicked into place. Nova knew that if she looked down at the man she'd see a gaping hole in the back of his head, his weak spot, at least now she knew where it came from.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. "Why are you processing so many new soldiers?"
Orland glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Oh… I wouldn't want to speculate."
"Answer the question. I'm not here to arrest you for spreading rumours."
A red blush crept over his cheeks. "I think – that is to say – I've heard, that the Minister is planning to move on the other Quadrants if they don't cooperate."
Nova nodded, keeping her face emotionless.
"Of course, he has to get rid of the bounty hunters first." Orland's eyes darted over Nova's face and he seemed disappointed to find no response.
Nova nodded and pretended to write on her tablet.
The scientists clipped the rest of the man's armour into place. The metal clasps had been released and he stood upright thanks to the massive metal legs which had been attached to his unconscious body. In minutes, armour covered his body and just like that, he looked like any one of the other super-soldiers who had attacked The Jagged Maw.
"Activate," Orland said.
The man's eyes sprung open. They ran over the collection of scientists and onlookers before returning to stare at Orland. The man's face was fully alert with no sign of the drugs or pain that had clouded his mind just a few minutes before. He stood to attention like any good soldier, and awaited his next command.
"Forward two paces," Orland said.
The soldier stepped forward two paces, his feet rocking the ground.
"Please, enjoy," Orland said, waving his hand at the soldier.
Nova stepped around to stare at the back of him and forced Aart to do the same with a swift tug on his arm. Thick armour plates covered the man's back, smooth and beautiful. If it wasn't for the grim circumstance Nova would have liked to study it further, to find out who had made it. A suit like that would give her a distinct advantage in her next mech fight.
Aart stayed frozen to the ground, staring at the monstrous half-human with a clenched jaw. His eyes glinted with repressed rage and hatred. Nova ignored him for the moment; she had to learn everything she could about the creature before another group of them showed up on her doorstep. She couldn't see any weaknesses in the suit. Even standing this close, with the creature right in front of her, and no threat of being shot, she couldn't see a chink in the armour.
The only sign of weakness was the one she already knew about; the gaping hole in the tops of their heads. The metal spike drilled in, attached wires, and then the helmet slipped over the top. But they couldn't block the hole completely. Whatever they did to the man's brain it must need air because his helmet, just like the others, had a hole at the top that looked down into his skull.
"You said they don't last long?" Nova said, stepping back from around the super-soldier and looking at Orland.
"Yes, it's a side-effect of the excess growth. It causes multitudes of tumours to spring up all over their body. The tumours will grow over the next few weeks and before you know it his heart and lungs will collapse. Not so super after that," Orland said, chuckling.
Nova nodded. She looked up into the man's eyes but the pain and anger were gone, they were barely human at all. The poor man had been taken, tortured, and would die not even knowing it.
She shook her head, she could mourn the man later, now was the time for vengeance.
"The only other room of interest is where we store them before processing. It's not much to look at though," Orland said, staring at the two of them.
Nova took the lead. "Our report requires us to see all the major facilities. Please lead the way."
CHAPTER FIFTY
Another trip on the transporter took them to another level, the biggest yet. Massive double doors led off of the platform and into the room beyond.
"We just ask that you don't try to talk to any of them. It tends to get them excited," Orland said as he led the way through the doors.
Nova stopped dead as soon as she passed the threshold. Glass walls lined the wide corridor, looking through into square boxes filled wall to wall with people. They shuffled against one another, vying for positions next to the walls so that they could lean for a time. There wasn't enough room for them all to sit, standing room only.
Some of them turned to watch Nova, Aart, and Orland as they entered the compl
ex but most of them stared with dead eyes at the blank walls. Cubicle after cubicle ran along both sides of the walkway, with hundreds of people squished together. Urine pooled on the floor, the smell would have been overpowering if it hadn't been for the glass walls that separated them from the prisoners.
"What?" Nova said, struggling to maintain her composure.
"This is where the subjects come from. We always pick the strongest for the trials; the weak ones never make it through processing."
"Steelon, Amcon, Cupron," Aart said as he stepped up to the glass and recited the origin tattoos he saw through the glass.
"Yes. As I said, we've been taking most of them from among the rioters. They're trouble-makers after all."
Nova grabbed hold of Aart's upper-arm and pulled him away from the glass. He resisted at first, staring at the prisoners trapped on the other side, red blotches appearing on his cheeks.
"Of course," Nova said. "What happens to the weak ones?"
Nova swallowed the bile rising in her throat and clenched her fingers tight around Aart's arm. Her previous panic galvanised into rage and the need for justice.
"Sorry?" said Orland, his brows drawing together.
"You said only the strong ones are selected for processing. What happens to the others?"
"Oh, I wouldn't know about that. You would probably know more than me. I don't ask questions, of course."
"Of course, good man," said Nova.
Her blood boiled at Orland's apathy. Don't ask questions, keep your head down. That seemed to be his philosophy, but didn't that make him just as guilty as the rest of the Confederacy? More so maybe, as it was his idea.
"Well, I think that's everything I have to show you," said Orland. He stood staring up at Nova with wide eyes, ready for his assessment.
"You've done very well here," Nova said, choking on the words even as she said them.
"Thank you, of course, just doing my duty," Orland spluttered, blushing.
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