Forging Steel

Damian Salazar can feel everything his body is doing. He is acutely aware of his breathing, the sensations caused by the regulated air on his skin and most of all his surroundings in a three hundred and sixty degree radius around his body.

If he didn’t he might not be so sure that he is alone, stood waiting for the red light to transition to green. When that occurs he will be on show for some big shot sent by Systems Command. Not the same big shot that it used to be. Apparently they have changed. A titbit of knowledge gleamed from some of techs who chatted a few days back when he’d been tucking into a meal at the end of his long day of training drills.

At one time Damian, referred to more commonly as Sal, had enjoyed training. Now, he loathes it. It’s all he’s done for years and it’s become so ingrained that he barely has to think any longer. And for him, that is boring, dull, leaves him feeling numb. Yet, he would not trade his place in the universe for anything. After all, he is one of a new generation of soldier.

He’s heard some of the folks who work in this walled community band about the term super soldier. He can’t say as to whether he is super or not. Such a thing is for other people to draw conclusions on. Though, he would admit that compared to everyone else, those who are not members of Honour like him, he is certainly more.

The marines, the only other soldiers in this facility, are not a patch on him. He is quicker, stronger, smarter and more resilient than all of them. But unlike them he has never lived on the human occupied worlds or partaken in tours of duty. More than anything Sal hopes that is something that changes sooner rather than later, for there is nothing in Jacinta that he can learn any longer. It might be that there is nothing beyond the limits of this diminutive planet with its triple suns that he can learn either, but he’d like to find that out for himself. According to Doctor Vargas-Hines that day is fast approaching. The only problem is that the Doctor has been saying that for nearly as long as Sal can remember.

Another flash of a glance to the red light reveals they are unchanged. Sal offers no physical reaction, though in his head he yearns for them to. And in a way which suggests if he demands it enough it might actually happen. It won’t but that is in no way going to dissuade him from doing it seeing as he has been stood waiting for eight minutes, at the request of Doctor Vargas-Hines via Jacinta’s AI Control.

Unlike Samuel, Sal does not have the AI integrated directly into his brain. At one time that had been the plan but the results had proven… problematic, to say the least. A number of participants in Honour had been discharged as a result, at the tender age of fourteen.

Sal is sixteen, six foot two, clad in battle armour with a ballistic helm that leaves his face exposed so as not to impede his enhanced corneas.

The enhancements to his eyes have changed them from being a solid brown to a lighter shade which contains flecks of whitish-yellow.

“The Doctor has arrived Sal, are you prepared for imminent deployment?”

“Affirmative.” Is the succinct reply that is uttered by the ‘super soldier’ who if you gazed upon would not think is sixteen, largely due to a steroid cocktail mix which enhanced his bodies development in the earlier years of his life before he hit puberty.

“Do not forget, this is a showcase and Doctor…”

“I’m well aware Control.” Is the teenage soldier’s interrupting statement delivered alongside a clearing of his head, so that he is prepared to perform to the best of his abilities.

Back at the barracks the reminder of Project Honour’s participants will be watching. There are over two hundred in all. There had been close to three hundred, two hundred and eighty seven to be exact, when Sal had first arrived. Unfortunately, some of those chosen were not able to withstand the enhancements without side effects ranging from mild cyclical amnesia to severe deformities, paralysis and on the odd occasion, death.

Sal remembers them all, faces and names. He does not mourn them however. They did what was necessary to keep the program alive, drive it forward, so that he and the other one hundred and ninety two remaining soldiers in Honour could be what they are today.

Suddenly the red light turns green. Assault weapon in hand, Sal bursts through the pair of doors, passes under a low concrete overhang and emerges out into the brilliance of daylight. His eyes adjust automatically with a single order fired from a synapse in his brain, eliminating any blinding that would otherwise occur.

After all these years it’s become instinctive for him to adjust his eyes as and when he needs to, which is why he continues racing headlong while General Barton watches from an observation point overlooking the training field.

“And what am I looking at, doctor?” The ranking officer in military dress asks with arms folded across her chest.

In the few seconds since the soldiers’ appearance she has seen nothing that shows Project Honour has been worth its weight in gold. In fact paying in gold might’ve been cheaper than the vast sums of taxpayer money that has been allocated to the program thus far. All of the money a section of funds set aside for secret projects of which there are, as far as Venetia can remember off the top of her head, sixty four in all.

“This is Sal, a super soldier. He is faster, stronger, smarter than any equivalent you will find on the battlefield today. In fact, I assure you he is beyond anything you will see for a generation.”

A smug smile sits across the thin face of Samuel Vargas-Hines who could not be more proud of the achievements he has made with Sal and the others participants in Project honour. They are, after all, his crowning glory. Decades of research packaged into a mortal shell.

“If he is so impressive why do you have him going for a jog? Show me something.” There is intent behind those words, an unspoken not quite threat that suggests if Venetia is not impressed funding will be cut. If that were to happen Samuel would be down and out. Or at least that is what Systems Command would declare of him.

The full truth is that he could always defect. Sure, it means he would be a fugitive in countless systems, but it could be worth the risk if it meant his work would be able to continue. Allegiances are of little consequence compared to the possibility of securing his place in the history books.

“It’s a warm-up, I assure you General.”

Releasing his zone blocker, Samuel issues a command to Control that the live fire exercise be introduced immediately. Not the original plan but needs must.

There is a reminder returned that Sal is not on direct comms and so the exercise shift will not be conveyed to the soldier in advanced. Essentially, it’ll be a surprise; one that Control does not believe would be beneficial to the overall health of either the project or Damian Salazar.

Just do it; is the order provided before the zone blocker is reactivated to prevent further discussion on the matter.

Alongside the demand an order note is attached which pulls at one of the coded threads of the AI, forcing it to carry out the command issued unto it regardless of opinion or reticence on the matter.

Back out on the training field while Sal is showcasing his speed and agility he feels a change in the air. He can’t explain what it is, but knows what will follow, and is proved correct several seconds after when automated turrets appear and open fire on his position.

If this were his first time in combat he might hesitate, but it is not. Though, he does recall his first combat mission. Unsanctioned, classified, buried unbeknownst to him or any of the other members of Project Honour.