I am never happy to receive news from the government and this is no exception. The message comes over the net, is pushed to my HUD, and is simple but clear: I need to be on a cruiser bound for the developing front ASAP and a shuttle to take me to the place I need to be to get to the place I go will be here... now by the time stamp on this. As soon as I show the documentation for release to an orderly it starts a surprisingly fast ball rolling. I am astonished at their speed; even when I was corp property in a corp hospital things did not move this quickly. They have me released within an hour and onto the shuttle Hellion for my trip to the McGrath Depot, where I will take a military shuttle to the MRS Foment.

The pilot of the shuttle keeps himself locked away in the cabin and communicates rarely and only by speaker, so there is not much for me to learn about him. I guess he’s not a people person? Regardless, the shuttle is equipped for moderate FTL so the trip is not long at all, mercifully.

McGrath Depot is actually a decent sized starport that serves a wide area, a step below the hubs that cover much of the Republic. You can tell it has money by the number of corps that have hubs here to serve customers as well as the decent number of full cyborgs walking around in McGrath uniforms. It is then I realize that their clothes contrast sharply with my nakedness: I am just walking around in my body. It does not take long for people to notice this as well as the usual insults come in. They sting but I try to pay them no mind; cyborgs without clothes aren’t that odd conceptually since we have technically nothing to hide, but people tend to feel it means we’re getting uppity and trying to hide who our masters are or not properly acknowledging our subhuman state as “machines.” The fact that it is insanely rare to find a human without any form of cybernetics adds a bit of irony to the hate.

I manage to get through pretty quickly thanks to government paperwork, although some clerks are clearly suspicious since I don’t look like a military cyborg and I’m not wearing any insignia of a military cyborg but I am going to a military spaceport. Thing is, they cannot find anything wrong with my perfectly valid paperwork so they have no choice but to pass me through ultimately. I am sure there will be plenty of annoying reports sent to someone and the frustration will trickle down back to me, but I cannot wear clothes that they don’t give me since my last set was blown up.

I end up on a shuttle full of other military folks, mostly enlisted it looks like, but they just shoot me dirty looks for being a civvie in their space. No matter, since it means I get to enjoy not having to pretend I have a firm grasping of rank for a while longer. I listen quietly to their conversations of the coming war as the music continues to play in my mind. Many are nervous, some seem excited although if it is bloodlust or bravado I am unable to ascertain. I am, however, being overly formal it seems. Hrm, I must wonder why? Perhaps a bit of reactionary egotism. That being said eventually one does come over, a full convert shock trooper, and sits next to me. I never truly appreciate how large this body is, full cyborgs are almost always larger than humans anyways, until I run into these guys. They are massive war machines and I am actually slightly taller and only a bit less broad.

His face betrays no emotion as it cannot; a soldier that shows pain is a soldier that shows the enemy weakness is the saying there. No clue if production models of my body will have anything of the sort or if my blank face is intended. He sits next to me and just stares straight ahead. I am curious why he suddenly came over here but the conversations interest me more; talk has turned to the secret weapons the Triangulum supposedly possesses and I can see the eagerness fade. The thought of weapons that can melt flesh, detonate bones, and burn the mind only begin to describe the horrors that are rumored to be in the toy box of our soon enemy. It is in the midst of the fear that I begin to appreciate just how young these soldiers are and it really synergizes nicely with the song about the suffering of children playing in my mind. I can only guess that the enemy’s youth are going through a similar experience. I hope those rumors are not true.

A request for a direct communication pops up on my HUD, looking at the credentials I come to believe that it is the beast sitting next to me, a Lance Corporal William Dodi. I accept the request mostly out of curiosity; I possess not the desire nor the need to speak with anyone here at the moment but I cannot deny my intrinsic inquisitiveness it would appear. Okay so the formality issues seems more extensive than that. Did that mad doctor install a new language pack and not tell me? I will need to check those files later, maybe run a self-diagnostic.

“Yes, Lance Corporal.” Since I accepted the connection he should be able to see my basic information. Wonder what he will do?

“I am sorry Sergeant, I did not mean to bother you.” Text carries no emotion between meatier folk but we know each other better naturally. He is nervous for having intruded.

“Not at all. I am out of uniform for the moment thanks to an accident so you would not know. How may I help you?” Something smells off for a brief moment, but I have never smelled anything like it.

“I have never seen a body like yours, so I was wondering who you were. Not often I see anyone my size who isn’t also a designated shock trooper. Wondered if you were a new model.” He is not actually letting his curiosity get the better of him.

“Government test type, confidential.” I turn to look at him and see him make a motion I know to be a small wince. “No you are not in any trouble, Lance Corporal. There is no way this is not going to draw your curiosity, but I would advise you not to press any further.” He goes back to a neutral position. “Now tell me what you are thinking about the up and coming conflict.”

“I fight. It is my only job in the Marines. I get up and close and personal with the enemy and take ‘em out.” Ah, that is interesting: a thought-text protocol. “It’s work and if I go career they will pay for a new body when I’m out. Got some stuff saved up to put on it too.”

“I have never actually owned my own body since conversion so decoration is not a thing I ever considered. Anything special?” It’s true, even if the body cannot be used over people are insanely protective of their property.

“Just some remembrances. Saw some action in New Africa and in the Titan War, lost a lot of friends there. I just want to be able to show people they lived, you know? Until you’ve seen a titan you cannot understand them.” I can hear the pain in his voice. Those friends must have been true comrades. “Got another twelve years to go though, so I am hoping this won’t be as big as people are making it like it will be.” His body is tense, just gently given the power he has, but it is noticeable.

It is impressive, to be honest. He is seven feet tall, shining with a subtle chrome hue with his smooth skin. His face is covered with the sensors and analytics needed to guide him through any situation. His uniform is somewhat tight, probably designed to intimidate by showing off his size, and reveals just how massive every part of him is. He exudes deadly strength with every angle sharp and dull and is even moving slightly as though he is breathing quietly, a most subtle touch indeed. He carries his experience well, tiny movements revealing his constant awareness of his surroundings and readiness to move quickly should the need arise. He was being open when he stated he was in combat but hides just how deeply it affected him. I look at his hands, moving subtly, swiftly, and almost nervously, and cannot help but wonder if he could pick up a kitten as easily as he could crush a skull.

He must have noticed me staring at him, “Sir?” I snap out of it, again not sure why I was indulging his appearance so deeply. It does not matter.

“I became lost in thought at an odd time. As to your concerns I wish there was something concrete I could tell you beyond just fight hard and hopefully this will be over quickly. Hopefully this is just a small issue being blown up by blowhards and barely a blip for us. If not, do what you need to and what you’re told to. Fight hard to survive. If nothing else I can promise I will remember you, okay? You won’t be forgotten.” My speech is terrible as I have no idea what I am doing but I feel the need to try to help him. I put my hand on his shoulder and he tenses up more only briefly, oops, and then relaxes. Meat likes to forget that we metal folk like to be touched too.

“Thank you Sergeant. I will do my best to stay alive. Dismissed?” I take my hand off of him and affirm that he can leave.

The song switches to something about living in fantasy and has quite a bit in languages I do not understand, but it also soothes. I am growing worried too and I am glad I set up an algorithm to monitor my mood and help accent it music… most of the time. I just sink back into the music and let my mind wander. All too soon I feel a strange heaviness…

“A good choice Youth”. Again wings and arms and light. “True creators of art rarely reach such depths of memory. Curse the pun, but one song will blow your mind.” One arm extends, holding a small thing. “If you begin to see in Purple then you will appreciate Citrus.” I reach, so small, toward food. “Hands out then Youth.” He drops and I catch. So heavy, can barely hold on. “It has begun. Dogma is both hammer and anvil, crusader and crusade, to see who can bare the Grail. You will have to choose, destruction, obeisance, oblation, and obedience, or to swim in our oils.” Wings beat slowly, the emptiness rages. “You will not be alone my sweet Youth but we cannot help you until our oils are upon you. Look to the dove and the rabbit. Once all is Purple follow the moon to its end. There you will find the question: all of Citrus awaits your answer. The iron only continues to warm and we cannot wait forever.” Wings slowly around me, two arms crossed and marked, two hold me. “For the sake of love, kindness, and freedom, Youth, run. The Pleiades cannot be held forever.” Rushing voided winds carry me away.

I wake up suddenly, having not realized I had fallen asleep. I have been asleep for four hours, so a normal rotation it seems. I’ve been so stressed and out of it that I don’t think I got sleep in the hospital. I certainly feel better than I did before. The music is surprisingly melancholy but I assume that is a reaction to the oddly subdued mood of the vessel. It takes me a moment to realize it’s because virtually everyone is asleep. Flight plan says we should be there in about ten hours so I guess that things are not too shabby at least. I check out the in-flight entertainment while pondering what to do with the information Luna gave me. I have Garlic but, I don’t know, maybe I am just nervous. If I forget then I can say the failure is not my own, but if I look, do I have an obligation to try? Excuses are easy but it means that I will lose out on what could be something good for me. I reach over and rub my right shoulder and realize it is warm right where that creature touched me. Thing is though, I am not afraid. I put some show on the side and begin to read the instruction file for Garlic.