Parallax

There were two men in the navy medical bay, one of whom twitched uncontrollably.

The other looked down at the gurney with a note of pity in his eyes. He knew that this was the unfortunate gentleman’s last chance at something like an ordinary life. None of the specialists on Luminaire, or for that matter the wider Gallente Federation had been able to assist. The drugs and surgeries had provided no real relief to date. He also knew that becoming a Navy volunteer for cutting edge implant technology was more guinea pig than trailblazer. In other words, the Colonel supposed, it was just that old adage about snowballs and hell. Still, he opened the brief and commenced reading.

Ser Teshen, welcome to Aeschee base. Please excuse the formalities, but I need to ensure all documentation and protocols are complete before we begin. Have the terms of service been made clear to you? That you will receive an immediate promotion to Intelligence Specialist grade 3, with all of the associated benefits. There are however some special clauses. No mustering out or resignation. You will have, effectively, donated your body to the Navy. Not to put too fine a point on it, we own you. Now and after death. In return, you receive the best medical attention the Navy has to offer before, during and after the operation. Are you ready to proceed?

The Colonel made to bring the datapad over, but realized the futility of doing so and instead addressed the room “Please note that the patient assent observed at 21:45 hours”. That is, if you count a particularly violent twitch he said to himself. Addressing the patient (and now fellow Navy personnel), the Colonel advised that he will be undergoing the same procedure as well and that observations between the affects on an ah, um atypical brain and his own should provide some valuable insight.

With that, the Colonel announced that Project Charteris a go. The med bay doors immediately slid open and the two medical teams swarmed in.

96 hours later…

“Specialist Teshen?” “The medical team has advised of a return to full consciousness. How are you feeling?”.

The emaciated looking gentlemen opened his eyes and took stock. There was an odd stillness, though he could still hear the ever present rattling of a bed that symptoms like his always caused. Much to his surprise, a full on Admiral stood at the end of the bed. “OK”, he managed to croak.

“Good. The new implant and testing went exceedingly well. Better than expected. Neural testing and combat simulations show an unprecedented reduction in enemy ability to both lock and damage ships in various formations. It appears that the random neural patterns firing in your brain, weren’t so random after all. There was a surprising degree of, for want of a better word, intuition going on.”

“The project however, is a something of a qualified success. You are immediately promoted to IS7 subject to your ongoing participation in Charteris. And of course the Colonel will be looked after to the best our abilities. While we regret his outcome, you can be assured that the Navy takes care of its own. Your orders will follow on medical clearance”. With that, the Admiral turned on one heel and left.  The newly promoted Intelligence Specialist swung weak but steady legs over the side of the bed and looked over to where the Colonel was secured.

There were two men in the navy medical bay. One of whom twitched uncontrollably…