Chapter Four:

Beta Quadrant, Sector 187, Pyillos, Pyillos III, Unknown Location.

April 2, 7215

Brandon awoke with a start. His lungs were on fire and felt like they might explode. On instinct he opened his mouth and gasped. A second to late he realized that he was in some kind of liquid. Eyes flying open as his lungs filled with liquid instead of the much needed oxygen.

He was inside a large cylinder filled with an amber liquid. The liquid burned his eyes, making it impossible for him to clearly see outside the tube. Even with its walls appearing to be completely clear. Beginning to panic he reached out and slammed a fist on the glass. Between a surprising weakness and the friction of the water his fist barely thumped upon the glass.

If he had been in any reasonable state of mind he may of noticed that there was red lights flashing outside his tube. The faint sounds of an alarm could also be heard. Yet, these facts were completely lost on Brandon’s oxygen starved brain. Instead he Banged and slammed with no effect upon the glass of the tube. Going as far as to even kick and even slam his head on the clear prison once.

His vision had begun to fade and the world around him was losing clarity when suddenly he was being sucked downward. With a splash and wet slap of flesh on metal, he stopped with extreme prejudice.

The impact had two effects. First it knocked the liquid out of his lungs in an explosive gush. Second he discovered he was utterly nude. He did not even care that he could suddenly breathe! Instead he curled into a ball on his side and screamed, covering his freshly skinned sausage.

A few minutes later he slowly became aware of voice talking above him. With tear filled eyes he opened his eyes and looked up. Three figures stood above him. One man and two women all dressed in black pants, purple and silver uniform looking shirts with white lab coats over them. One of the women held some kind of tablet while the other two figures studied him with clinical interest.

Finally coming to himself enough his battle hardened mind kicked in. Rolling on his side he twisted and put his feet under him. In a low crouch he glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon. The scientists, for that is what Brandon assumed them to be, did not seem to be surprised by his movements. In fact the man looked at the woman with the tablet and clearly instructed her to do something.

It was at this point that he realized they were speaking a language he did not understand. With a finger pointing at him the man smiled a look that did not reach his dark brown eyes behind thick glasses, and said something else to the two women, then turned and began to walk away.

The woman now holding the tablet frowned as she saw the man turn and walk away. Her eyes met Brandon’s and a look of displeasure flashed over her eastern Asian features. With a deep inhale she sighed.

“Fine, I guess your my problem.” Her Russian was worse than his if that was possible, but still understandable.

Glancing around again for weapons, escape paths or anything else he paused. Getting his first good look around he noticed all around him were 3 meter tall cylinders. The bottom and top were some kind of Machinery . While in the center was a glass like tube containing people. Then suddenly he remembered.

A split second after he remembered, the white space, the advisor, and the newly discovered purpose of his ‘life’; more information rushed into his head. Histories of people, families, cities, and Nobles flashed in his mind’s eye. Followed by what amounted to years of etiquette and communications classes. Ways to properly show respect, while working to further his own goals with honeyed words.

After that was memories of how to pilot a Titan. These images were so vivid and real he could nearly feel the controls in his hands. Even though he knew he had never once touched a Titan, he just understood them. Ultra-Light 15 tonners all the way to the colossal 300 ton Duplo machines that required two linked Jocks to pilot. He knew them all.

Hatchetmen, Vipers, Astros, Braves, Ants, Firebugs, Odins, even the massive Ra. He knew the feel of each of their cockpits. Knew their unique textures. It was like he spent years learning about 100 different types of war machines. However, his knowledge for most was basic. Those that fell into the Medium tonnage range though. Those he had a special familiarity with.

The information overload came so suddenly that Brandon lost situational awareness for nearly a minute. By the time he returned he had been helped to his feet. Embarrassingly he was now being dressed in a hospital gown by the slightly chubby woman who had held the tablet earlier.

“I can dress myself damn it!” He didn’t mean to snap, but everything together had put him in a foul mood.

The assistant looked at him with honey colored eyes and smiled. “Yes, honey you can. But, I’m still going to help you.”

Her Russian was smoother but still had a really awful accent to it. Almost bad enough to make him second guess his understanding. Sighing he resigned himself to be dressed by the oddly chipper woman…

When he was dressed the other woman pulled out a device that looked like a garage door opener. Pointing it at Brandon she pressed a series of buttons. Suddenly Brandon’s skin began to crawl.

Gasping he looked down and froze stunned. The white hospital smock had turned into a liquid that was now rearranging itself over him. It flowed like liquid mercury clinging and ebbing. In less than 30 seconds the white smock was gone. In its place was a perfect duplicate of the Purple and silver military dress uniform he wore in the white space.

“Close your mouth. It is unbecoming of a Jock. It is simple Nanofibers.”

She handed him the device and with a few simple instructions showed him how to operate it. The nanofibers could adjust to over a hundred different outfits in any visible combination of colors. Best yet the fabric was able to adjust to protect the wearer from a decent range of temperatures. It would loosen its threads to provide a thinner lighter fabric if the wearer grew warm. Then it would thicken and tighten its fibers if the wearer grew chilled.

“Now come along. For some reason you awoke a full hour earlier than your vat mates. It seems the Verric nanites complement your natural biology better than most.”

The two women led him passed rows and rows of humans in vats. There were men and women of every ethnic group, size, and shape.

“How many of us are there?” Brandon asked the back of the women.

For a minute he thought they may ignore him. But, when they came to an intersection of two paths they stopped.

The plump kinder looking woman tilted her head then said, “In your Offling there was originally two thousand. After equipment failures, nanite rejections, and cullings there is 1,102 left. I would think that if everything works as normal then after basic there will be about 750. Then job training will claim another 250 or so.”

Brandon blanched. She only expected a quarter of them to live through training?

“Now I have to get a cleanup bot to clean your mess and then check on the others. Percimil here will lead you to your muster area.”

Without so much as a good bye she turned and left. The taller woman turned down a different path and walked off at a quick pace. Brandon had to jog to catch up. Thousands of questions flew through his mind but he could not decide where to start, so he kept quiet instead.

Brandon followed the woman out of the gigantic room full of tubes into a hallway large enough to fit a football field and still have room. Pilotless machines zoomed in neat orderly patterns that no human mind could of kept up with.

As they walked briskly down the corridor Brandon thought he was about to get hit twice. However each time the vehicle in question moved around them, avoiding impact by less than a foot. When the woman made a sharp right in to a doorway that Brandon had not even noticed he nearly lost her.

Entering the large room he was eerily reminded of the Whitespace. The only difference was this room had what must be a thousand empty egg shaped chairs, with an equally white set of shelves next to each chair.

The woman gestured at the seats. “Find a seat and wait. Once the others awake, the processing will start.” She spun and started heading out the room as soon as Brandon looked from her to the seats. The door behind him closed before he could even glance back.

“Well shit. They are not big on customer service here…”

Not seeing any difference between the seats he walked over to one near the back corner where he could see the only noticeable doorway into the chamber.

To his surprise he didn’t have to wait long. Other recruits also dressed in purple and silver uniforms entered the room minutes later . The door had barely closed before it opened again and a steady stream of people began to enter.

Over the next twenty minutes people filed in to the chamber, slowly filling it’s massive capacity. Many were men, but a fair number were women. All ethnic groups and body types were represented.

Brandon remained by his corner watching and listening. One interesting point though was that just because they all seemed to be part of the same military now. Their benefactors did not grant them the ability to understand each other.

For every new group there was just as a wide of range of spoken languages. The only thing they all seemed to have in common was a certain disposition that made Brandon think they were all past military. Or he reconsidered. They had been members of some military in the simulation.

Finally the door stopped emitting more people. If there wasn’t a thousand people in the room, Brandon would guess it was close. Slightly more than half had already found a chair and at most was trying to talk with their neighbors. The others were going from person to person trying to find someone they could talk to.

Some had success, like the group near him that was slowly growing. They were speaking some rapid fire Spanish that Brandon could only catch a word out of five. All together it created a setting where the volume was slowly growing to an uncomfortable level.

Suddenly the lights went out causing the white room to turn utterly black and all conversations to stop immediately in shock. Then the lights came back on once more.

At the front of the room the wall there lit up like a massive projection screen. Everyone turned to the screen. Those close to an empty seat sat quickly.

Rapid colors began to flash and a series of high pitched wails echoed from unseen speakers. The little shifting and movement in the room stopped. Those not near a seat or seating moved toward a chair almost robotically.

Part of Brandon’s mind struggled to remind him of something even though he could not take his eyes from the screen. In his inner mind a war was raging. Part of his Special Forces training was kicking in, while other parts dare not look away. He dare not, else he insult his master and Lord. His one true master Lord Nubran.