Rourke wrestled through the armored doorway. “What the hell happened?” he asked. Sweat trickled down the side of his red face. “Iʼve been on the radio for a fucking hour trying to get these doors open.”

“Iʼve been trying to get them open, too,” said Ian, shaking his head. “What did Hines say? Did he fuck something up trying to get the automated systems online?”

Rourke took a few breaths. He mustʼve been screaming into the radio nonstop. “He denies messing with the security systems. Says he just tried to get the inventory servers back on, as well as the automated machinery.” Rourke waved at one of the robot arms. “As far as I know this is a separate self-contained system, so I know he fucked something up.” He marched to the back of the room. “All right, show me the cube. You had plenty of time to get this done.”

Ian handed Rourke a laser burned cube and Rourke held it in front of his face for a moment.

“Well the numbers match.” He patted Ian on the shoulder, making him flinch. “Iʼm glad you finally came around. Like I said, youʼll have your answers soon.” He gestured back at the doorway. “Now letʼs get some sleep before that weird asshole comes back, and before these doors seal themselves again. Iʼm gonna give Hines a few more inventory tasks.”

They marched down the hall and towards the armored door of the transfer center. Rourke activated the door.

“Whatʼs wrong?” asked Ian.

“I want to make sure this door works and everything in here is okay.”

Ianʼs eyes widened. “But what if the door locks behind us?”

Rourke grinned. “Then Hines is going to be given a yearʼs worth of paperwork. Heʼll forget how to strip his rifle when heʼs finally done processing actual paper.”

As they stepped through the door, an antiseptic smell invaded their nostrils. Rourke wrinkled his nose. “Ew. I canʼt fucking stand this place.” He looked over the equipment and monitors. “Did we recently bring someone back?”

“Sergeant K…Kane,” said Ian.

“Right,” said Rourke. “I forgot. Between that cloned body and his lame personality I canʼt pick him out in a crowd.” Rourke shrugged. “Honestly, I avoid working with cloned bodies. Theyʼre so fucking creepy. I gotta see about getting them altered or something. Put some fucking identity into them.”

Ian gave a series of nods. “Yeah, yeah. I feel the same way.”

“I thought you said they didnʼt bother you?” Rourke raised his eyebrows. “Said you could easily pick people out by the way they moved and carried themselves, or some bullshit like that.”

Ian shrugged. “I guess the truth comes out when Iʼm tired.”

“Ha!” Rourke waved a hand at him. “I think we just make shit up as we go along. Letʼs try to get a nap before morning.”

Ian followed Rourke out of the transfer center. As they made their way down the hall towards the barracks, a uniformed soldier stepped out of the showers and saluted.

“Morning, Captain.”

“Evening.” Rourke tilted his head to read the soldierʼs name patch. “Sergeant Kane.” He looked Kane up and down. “Thereʼs not a patrol change at this hour is there?”

Kane shook his head. “No, sir. Morning duties start in a few hours and I need to get a jump on some paperwork.” Kane remained at attention.

“Whatever,” said Rourke as he turned away. “Just donʼt bother me for a couple of hours and tell everyone else the same. Itʼs been a long fucking night.”

“Yes, sir.” Kane saluted at the captain’s back and watched the two walk away.

Rourke shuddered. “That creepy fucking pale skin. I really need to do something about that.” He turned to Ian. “Do you remember what Kane said about his body? I know he likes it, but I canʼt remember why.”

Ian put his hands up. “I donʼt remember, sir.”

“What?” Rourke stopped and stared at the Staff Sergeant. “Are you okay, Ian? Did burning that cube traumatize you that bad?”

Ian winced. “No, Captain. I just really, really need some sleep.”

“Youʼre not kidding.” Rourke put a hand to his mouth and whistled. “Hey, Kane!”

***

Ian fought the urge to collapse as he stood by the lockers in the cloned body. He found Sergeant Kane’s locker and donned his uniform after he scrubbed the preservative goop from the body storage. A migraine threatened in the back of his eyes as his mind tried to adapt to the new host.

Everything felt different. Everything looked different. Colors appeared off in both eyes. Ian even found distance hard to judge. Clive said his brain needed time to adapt to the new body’s structures. Clive had the newer model cube and strode out of the room in Ian’s body like he’d just changed clothes. That fucker. Ian also picked the worst person to imitate, Krazy Kane. That guy went through coffee like an Abrams burned through gas. How could Ian mimic Kane’s jitteriness when he felt like he just did squats for an hour?

Luckily, Captain Rourke had walked by without giving Ian a second look. He knew cloned bodies freaked him out. Once Rourke and Clive got further ahead, he’d trail behind until they separated. Then he’d grab Clive and get the fuck out. Going AWOL felt terrible, but so did being asked to execute a defenseless civilian. That was never in his job description. If Rourke could cross that line blatantly for one of his closest NCOs, what did he do behind Ian’s back? Only Clive could answer.

Ian let out his breath as Rourke and Clive reached the end of hall. The two stopped and chatted, Rourke looking concerned at Clive. Ian felt like he was watching a trippy film of himself. He didn’t bother trying to listen with his half-awake ears. His heart sank as Rourke turned to him and whistled.

“Hey, Kane!”

Fuck. Ian ambled over, each leg feeling like fifty kilos of numb flesh as he struggled to maintain posture. He did his best to imitate Kane’s spastic speech. “What can I do for you, sir? Reports from Hines? Coffee? Amphetamines?”

“Fuck no.” Rourke’s lips scrunched together. “Your new body –”

“Yes, sir! I love it! Iʼm in the best shape of my life. Never better. Never fitter. Never had more energy. Never –”

Rourke put up a hand. “Kane, for fuck’s sake. When did you get put into the new body? Iʼm drawing a blank here.”

Ian nodded far too many times. “Yes, sir. Let me think here. March 16. I was noodle-legged for a few days, and then I havenʼt felt better since!”

Rourke placed a hand on the wall and looked Kane up and down. “I couldʼve sworn it was early April.” He stared off. “Youʼre pretty stiff this morning. I donʼt think Iʼve ever seen you not bouncing around. Itʼs like standing still drains your life force or something.”

Ian nodded again. “Sir, I havenʼt had my coffee yet. I helped Hines a bit yesterday, and it was quite a drain.”

“Right.”

Rourke reached out and dropped his meaty hand on Ian’s shoulder. Ian’s knees buckled and he reached out for the wall with both hands to steady himself.

“Noodle-legged?” Rourke showed off those fucking horse teeth. “Think youʼre smarter than me, Ian?”

“I think I am.” Clive drove his fist into Rourkeʼs face.

Rourke stumbled back and reached for his pistol. Ian grabbed at it, his weak hands unable to get a grip on the cool metal. He threw his weight into Rourke and slammed him against the wall.

A deafening burst of fire rang down the halls. Ian staggered back and slumped against the wall on the other side. His hands clutched wounds in his chest and gut. Rourke stood there, eyes wide. Shaking himself, he turned in Cliveʼs direction.

“Donʼt worry. Iʼm sorry, Ian, but–”

Clive pistol-whipped the captain across the side of the head, knocking him out. The big man slumped to the floor.

“Iʼll be right back,” said Clive. He grabbed the captain by the ankles and dragged him back down the hall, grunting the whole way. It felt like an hour before he returned.

“What did you do with the captain?” croaked Ian. He coughed blood onto Kane’s uniform.

Clive kneeled down. “I locked him in the transfer station, his favorite place.” He picked Ian up off the ground. The new body had little muscle tissue or fat, allowing Clive to move at a light jog. “Man, youʼre in really good shape.” Clive eased them through a set of double doors.

The fringes of Ianʼs vision darkened. Colors faded away. The blood rushing in his ears grew louder with every step Clive made.

“I pull people from burning buildings, remember?” Ian whispered. He closed his eyes until he felt the outside air. From what he could tell, they went out the north entrance to the rear courtyard. He felt them enter a small dusty building. The gardenerʼs toolshed?

When Clive set him on the ground, Ian started another coughing fit. He spoke in between gasps of air.

“I donʼt think youʼre gonna find medical supplies in here. You might as well just make a run for it. Theyʼll either put me in a new body, or have me deleted.” Between his fading vision and the dim light, Ian couldnʼt make out anything in the shed. He heard Clive working an ancient pull-start engine. “What the fuck are you doing? I think they just cut the grass.”

The shed filled with a roar Ian had heard in horror movies. “Clive! What the fuck are you doing? Thatʼs not a good weapon!”

Clive walked into view with the revving chainsaw. “Iʼm sorry, but this is the only chance you got.” He moved closer with the chainsaw pointing at Ian. “Just lean back and it will be over in a second.”

“Clive. Wait. Clive. Clive –” Ian leaned back until his head hit the concrete floor. The spinning chain drew closer and closer to his eyes.

He wailed as the teeth tore through his eye sockets.