Till the End of the Line

Soldat

The rest of the flight was tense. My head was screaming, flooding with memories that weren't mine. What's worse, I see my student laying on a stretcher, bleeding out and it's my fault. 

My fault that I was careless. 

My fault I didn't watch my back. 

My fault I didn't clock that bullet.

My fault that I let myself get distracted by her.

I was so worried about her hurting herself I forgot to watch my surroundings. I'm never sloppy.

My metal hand clenches and unclenched around the hard drive. We completed the mission, that was the purpose, that was my job, but now...my job didn't feel so important if I didn't have that one person I trusted in this wintery hellscape by my side anymore. 

 Stop. 

"You've had students die before, what makes her special?"  I keep asking myself this. 

Maybe it's just the fact that I'd been alone for such a long time before I met her. 

Maybe it was because she was never quiet and always around and it kept me from thinking too much.

My thoughts are not good ones, and I silently thank whatever god might be out there when we finally arrive at base. 

Despite how scared I actually am, I put on my mask and pick up Becca and head towards the medbay. 

"Что случилось с твоим учеником? (What happened to your student?)" Was the first thing the idiotic doctor asked. I grunted. Couldn't he see the blood dripping down my arm? Or the unconscious girl I cradled in them? 

"Огнестрельная рана. (Gunshot wound.)" was the only thing I said. As the nurses started prepping her for surgery I was forced out of the room by four armed guards and taken to the room I dreaded the most. 

The one with the chair. 

I silently pray the today would not be a day that they wiped me clean and started my life over, that today I will be able to leave this room remembering the name of my student. 

A man stepped out of the shadows and inspected me. He was short, overweight, and had red hair. His pressed blue suit was almost too small for his body, and his glasses hung over his nose. Despite his appearance I knew this man was not someone to take lightly. His name was Vasily Karpov, and he was my handler. 

"Status report." He ordered in English. 

Instantly my body wasn't my own. I was speaking with no control, like some robot that was programmed to obey commands. Really, if I thought about it, that's what I was. 

But I didn't think about it. That was a dangerous road to go down. 

"Mission success." 

"Casualties?" 

"Minimal."

Karpov shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"You're hiding something from me, Soldat. I see the dried blood on you, and yet...there's not a scratch on your body. What of your student? Was she injured?" 

I cringed, wishing I'd had the foresight to wash myself before entering room.     

"Gunshot wound."

Karpov clicks his tongue in disdain. 

"Seems to me as if you've failed your other mission Soldat. You're supposed to protect her."

I cringe again, those words nearly piercing my heart, but I don't let him see that. 

"There was a standoff on the way back to the drop point, heavy fire. She...put herself into the line of fire."

Karpov nods. His glasses slide down his nose. He holds his hand out and I give him the hard drive. He snatches it greedily and turns towards one of the scientists. 

"Should we wipe him?" He asks and I stiffen, my eyes darting around. If they did, I would fight. 

But the scientists shake their heads and say that my neural patterns are not deviating from the program or some shit like that. 

I don't care, I want to get back to my student. Vasily turns towards me and smiles. It's ugly, like he had forgotten how and was copying something he saw in a book.

"Good work Soldat. You are dismissed." 

I salute and turn heel and head back to medbay, anxious to see if Becca was awake yet. Or worse, if she never would again.