Functional

3. And We Only Destroy for the Greater Good

The ride back to the base is uneventful.  He sits calmly beside the driver, staring out at the landscape that passes by slowly.  The leaves of the trees are falling, it will begin snowing soon.  The sky is grey and could mean snow now.  He wonders if he will be awake long enough to see it, or if he will be wrapped in his own wintry prison.  Until they have need of him again.  He doesn’t know how long this has continued, but he knows he has been on missions before.  He knows the chamber he awakened in puts him to sleep for long periods of time.

Why they take the trouble to make him sleep between missions is a mystery.  He supposes, from what little he knows, that there isn’t anyone else like him.  They put him away when they aren’t using him so he can continue to be useful in the future.  His brow furrows slightly.  Are there others who undergo this treatment, or only him?  Why is he so special?  He looks down and considers his arm.  The prototype is much more advanced than any of the other tech he sees or uses on missions.  It’s special.  Like him.

The driver glances at him nervously when they come to a stop in the same room where they started.  His backup team is right behind them, and exits the other vehicle swiftly.  Still frowning, he climbs out and looks for his handlers.  The other soldiers go off somewhere, probably to barracks.  He may have gone to barracks once.  Now he has his own quarters, with all the equipment they need to keep him an asset.  No one is waiting for him, so he walks down to his chamber on his own.

It is empty, which is surprising.  He thinks.  He isn’t sure if that is usually the case or not.  Uncertainly, he goes to the medical station, removes some of his gear, and sits down on the gurney there to wait.  It is unlikely that he was injured, but a medical inspection is always required after a mission.  While he waits, he considers his position here.  The officer in charge is not one he’s seen before; he is almost certain of that.  Before… Before, there was a man in a lab coat, but he wasn’t military.  He was a scientist.  There was something about him he should remember.  Something feels missing.

“He’s back, sir,” one of the nonthreatening technicians from before calls over his shoulder as he enters the room.  He looks startled to find him there, and walks slowly toward the chair apparatus.

The head officer follows him a moment later, and makes his way directly to the medical station.  “Report,” he orders.

“Target located in night club as predicted.  Eliminated.  Minimal civilian casualties.  Unidentified units attempted attack via back door and were neutralized,” he answers.

“Anyone from the extraction team apprehended?”

He pauses.  “Mission parameters did not stipulate survival for enemy agents.”

The officer smiles grimly.  “Good point.  Any injuries sustained?”

“No, sir.”

“And the performance of your team?”

The officer looks at him closely.  “Men in charge of driving did so expediently.  No other member of the team was utilized,” he responds, confused by the intensity of the question.

“I see.  Do you like to work alone, Soldier?”

“Specifications for missions rarely require involvement of another party.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to give you a job you couldn’t complete,” the officer assures him, motioning for the technician to inspect the Soldier.  He holds still while this is done, uncertain if he is expected to respond to the statement.  After a few moments of silence, during which the technician seems very nervous, the officer speaks again.  “How are you at hand to hand combat?”