Shattered Stars

Departure

The unconscious soldier lay suspended in midair inside the chamber. Neval tweaked the magnetic field, raising the soldier higher off the floor. He double-checked thousands of settings in an instant, then initiated the transformation process.

Several mechanical arms popped out of the sidewalls. Each spawned two curved appendages that wove over and under the soldier and connected with the opposite appendages, forming a dinosaur-size rib cage around the soldier. The air inside the cage simmered with energy. It lit up like the midday sun, the glare obscuring even the ribs of the cage. I almost had to squint at the hologram.

The light maintained its intensity for a few seconds, then it dissipated. In place of the human body was a Drake, its red scales glimmering in the afterglow of the transformation. Neval ran a few safety scans on the new body. The soldier's brain was alive and well, with the implant successfully implemented. The arms detached and retracted, seemingly proud of their work. The magnetic field lowered the Drake to the floor as if it were a newborn child.

Neval leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and legs. "Soldier five hundred eighty-six has been upgraded."

"Thaht'll be Ferris, I buhlief," Latrobe slurred. He contorted his muzzle in irritation. "Are yeou certain you cannot mohdify our motor cordexes to bypahss this speesh learning curf?"

"It is a waste of computing power to change what you will master in a few hours," Neval said, watching with amusement as the newly transformed soldier gaped at his new hands. "In addition, these chambers are meant to reconstruct cargo, not tamper with individual neural pathways. Installation of a neural implant is easier to execute."

Latrobe took a deep sigh, emitting a low rumble.

"Are you guys going to become Drakes as well?" I asked, pointing at Neval and Neila.

"Among many others, I have decided to stay as I am." Neval said, his six-fingered hands danced over the holographic screens as he prepared the next transformation. The screen switched to a different chamber with a yet-to-be-transformed soldier lying unconscious in the middle. "Our small size and dexterous hands are still of use."

Neila grinned at me and bobbed her head sideways at Neval. "What he said."

Over the next few hours, we had a few good laughs at the soldiers' reactions after their transformations. Most were calm acknowledgements, but there were a few incredulous stares and celebrations. Then the reactions were cut short when the soldiers remembered they were supposed to be emotionless. Chester had indeed chosen to become a Drake. In fact, all soldiers had opted in.

When less than a dozen soldiers awaited their turn, footsteps echoed in the bridge entrance. Kyrom walked beside Nylis mumbling to her in an unknown language. Skylar, along with a red Drake with a black underbelly, trailed behind.

While the aliens walked past me, the red Drake approached me and extended a hand with a warm smile. "You are the new Slayer, correct?"

I looked past him at Skylar, trying to make eye contact with him. He kept walking with his head low and shot me a dark look from the corner of his eye. I flinched inwardly, then snapped my attention back to the red Drake and gave a firm handshake. "Oh uh, yes, I think that's me."

"Lieutenant Thayre," he said with pride. "I am pleased to be your acquaintance, Private Gaymon."

"Likewise," I replied, unsure if that was true. Should I have been pleased to meet the Marine who'd command me into battle to my own death?

"Under normal circumstances, I'd let you and your brother say your goodbyes, but..." he mumbled, eyeing Skylar across the bridge as he met up with his own Lieutenant. "I have a feeling that wouldn't be worth it."