My Idea Box

ORIGINAL IDEA: An Old Soldier's Thoughts

"Old soldiers never die. They just fade away." The ancient Earth quote stuck in Baz's mind for some reason. He never knew who said it or why. It certainly wasn't to be taken literal. After fifty stellar cycles, Baz knew that much.

Baz's left arm twitched, and he pinned it to the table with his right hand. "Stupid thing," he grumbled over the whirling machinery in his shaking limb.

"Trouble with the arm, again?"

Baz's veered his gaze to the tile on the almost circular wall. "That obvious, huh?" he deadpanned to Doctor Ajman calling in. As much as Baz hated doing this, his condition often required the good doctor, even when he was away.

The lips of said doctor relaxed into a smile. "Let's see how it is," he said, his hands moving from his end.

More machinery from the table whirled to life. First, a pair of cuffed extended and cuffed themselves around Baz's left hand. Then, as he relaxed in his seat, skeletal replicas for hands hovered over and leaned in closer. Small needles extended from the fingertips, and the doctor, controlling the hands miles away, began to work.

Baz winced a little at the tiny sparks arising from the gray excuse for an arm. He kept still, unable to keep away from it. Even if he could, he was too stubborn and paranoid to remove himself from it, lest he needed all limbs for an attack. Any other time, Baz would have watched in amazement. It was like watching a puppet being pulled on strings and wondering how the puppeteer kept out of sight so well. It was unique yet simple, not as advanced as in the Gemini Alliance (which probably would have a hologram for a doctor) or the Tauran Flotilla (which definitely would have a machine blurt out every symptom imaginable to the universe and expect you to fix it). The kids back home certainly would take a liking to it...

Another spark flashed in front of Baz, who realized he was too old for tricks. "So," he began to pass the time, "how's your family? It's been a while since I've seen them... I hear your daughter is trying to get into the family business."

"She and Sa'id have been well. You know how it is with children once they hit puberty," Ajman said. Baz shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not questioning his doctor's flat tone. "I'm having Hajar meet with the Axonite doctor. You know, the one the governor has been letting to see the Dome?"

"Haven't seen her," Baz grunted, the graying hairs of his beard frisking against his lips. "I'm surprised you or Samra let a complete stranger come near Hajar."

"She needs a teacher. Samra doesn't have the learning, and I'm away most of the time. If Hajar wants to become a doctor, then she'll need to get as much knowledge as she can."

"Are you sure that's the only reason? Like you said, this woman is from Axon. I hear their golden skin is appealing to the eye."

"I'm a married man, Baz..."

"Yes, with two wives-ow!" Baz's gruff voice went high as a spark flew off his shaking hand, the unintended jolt tearing the smirk off his face.

"That's what you get for distracting me," Ajman chided before he continued. "Besides, my own marriages are legal and none of your concern."

Baz frowned, ignoring his limb turned on its side for further inspection. "They might not be, but I don't know if your first wife would like to see you marry a third time." A silence fell on Ajman, and Baz huffed from the pangs of regret. "... Sorry. I didn't mean it like that-yeow!"

After delivering his more deliberate jolt, Ajman deadpanned, "You are forgiven."

Baz stayed in his seat, giving up any thoughts of vengeance on a man who was another planet away. So, he was content to counting the seconds away while the doctor went about his work. His eyes trailed around the gray insides of Ajman's "junk shop," noting how clean it looked compared to the other times he had visited. Baz put any snide thoughts away and dared to turn his eyes back to his arm, cut open like a man on a surgery table.

A man's insides were too familiar to Baz, but the inside of his own prosthetic unnerved him every time. There were tiny scraps over the dull bronze plating, signs of the doctor's previous attempts to cut it open. The best Ajman ever did was to apply more modifications, the same glassy blocks he had removed. The skeleton for a hand twitched slighted, and Baz frowned seeing a blackened, almost scraped, insignia: a pair of horns curved downwards.

The symbol of the Tauran Flotilla.

"Still no way of getting rid of that, huh?"

"Sadly, no," Ajman answered Baz's question. "I'll be getting new mods in a quarter of a cycle. Until then, you'll have to deal with these."

"Like that's anything new," Baz sighed, resting his head on his other, fleshy hand.

The minute his chest met his knuckles, the entire room went from gray to yellow. It was a brief second, but Baz understood what it meant. "Being summoned?" Ajman asked.

"Seems like it," Baz said, letting the doctor put the mods back and free his arm.

"I'm not exactly done with this, you know."

"Don't worry, you can finish it later," Baz said, rolling his sleeve back down as he stood, "Tell your kids I said hello."

Ajman smiled. "You can tell them yourself when you bring the money."

Baz smiled back and watched the other man vanish from the screen. The floating hands had returned to their original station, moving aside for Baz to head to the door. It slid open, and he readied himself to step out.

As he did, Baz thought back on that old quote. Whomever said it had been wrong, he realized. It should have been "Old soldiers never die. They just fall apart."

His left arm twitched again. On his way out, Baz whacked it on the door frame. This time, it stayed quiet.