He had his eyes closed when he sensed someone entering the room. His nostrils flared when he perceived Sergeant Miller’s scent and he wondered what the hell he was doing there.
“Getting some rest, little flower?” the man asked, in a scornful tone, and not for the first time, Jarcor wished he could teach the little worm a much-needed lesson on manners and humanity.
“Is there a point to this visit, Sergeant? Or you just missed me so much you had to come see me?” he asked in a mocking tone, not even opening his eyes. The man was no threat to him. He was just human. Right now, he could smash him as quickly as he would smash an insect.
But, apparently, the man thought he was safe behind his rank because he decided to kick Jarcor out of his bed. Or at least try.
The moment Miller raised his leg to kick Jarcor, his senses captured the motion and his powerful hand flew to grab his ankle and send him flying into the nearest bed. He jumped to his feet and faced the man, towering over him menacingly.
“Is there a problem, Sergeant, that you would like to discuss with me?” he snarled, his teeth gritted, still holding the man’s foot, ready to break it, if he insisted on attacking him.
Jarcor felt a surge of pain rushing through him, but he ignored it.
“You can’t attack me. I’m your superior.” Miller mumbled, clearly scared. It was probably the first time one of the cyborgs had decided to fight back.
“Where does it say that? If you attack me, I’ll attack back,” he assured him, adding pressure to his grip.
“You can’t, you have been programmed not to attack us under any circumstance,” he mumbled some more, revealing facts Jarcor had started to suspect but hadn't yet confirmed.
“It seems my programmer forgot to add that,” he mocked him, adding a bit more pressure. Certainly, he could feel the pain, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop him. “You’re nothing but a cowardly little worm. You’ve been abusing the soldiers in your unit, just because you knew they couldn’t fight back.”
“You…you have no right to talk to me like that─” he ranted, but Jarcor knew he was scared.
“Who’s going to stop me? You?” he asked, in a mocking tone, finally releasing the man’s foot and stepping aside. “You’re not worth the effort.”
“This will be reported immediately. I’m sure they’ll review all your programming.” Miller quickly jumped up, trying to recover his composure, but his shaking hands took away the effect he was trying to get with his threats.
“Do as you please, but before you go, you might want to tell me what brought you here in the first place,” he pointed out in a cold tone.
“You’ll be deployed to the front line in the morning. They need someone with a bit more experience leading the new cyborgs,” spat the sergeant.
“They should have sent you. After all, you’ve trained them,” Jarcor replied with an ironic tone. The man was too much of a coward, making Jarcor wonder how the hell Miller had gotten his rank in the first place.
“My place is here. I’m too valuable for them to endanger my life,” Miller replied, infatuated with his own self-importance.
“Sure, whatever makes you happy.” Jarcor replied, too happy with his deployment to pay attention to the man’s delusions.
“Though, after your display of violence, I’m starting to think that deployment isn’t a good idea…” the Sergeant continued, determined to reestablish his superiority over the human cyborg.
Jarcor wasn’t going to let that happen. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have me breathing down your neck all day long, Sergeant. Who knows what I might do with my next display of violence─” he left the threat hanging between them and watched the man gulp.
“I guess you’ll find a better use for it on the battlefield,” he said, and turned around, stomping out of the room.
Jarcor rubbed his face and walked to the nearest window. They were finally sending him into combat. He would be able to check the possibilities of escape and perhaps even start making plans towards it. He knew he still wasn’t ready to escape, but he was close and being on the front line would allow him to assess the real possibilities of a successful escape.
But that night, when he was getting ready to go to bed, his quarters were invaded by three doctors, accompanied by one of the programmers that had worked on him.
He pursed his lips, regretting his decision of giving Sergeant Miller a taste of his own medicine, but it was too late now.
“We’ve been notified that your obedience program is malfunctioning, so we decided to come and check it before you are deployed out to the battlefield in the morning,” one of the doctors announced, taking a syringe out of his pocket.
He considered resisting and though he was sure he was more than able to take them all down, he wouldn’t go that far. So, he just stood there and allowed them to do whatever the hell they wanted to. It would only delay his plans, nothing else.
The following morning, when he came to his senses, he felt a bit strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was making him feel that way.
Ignoring the sensation, he grabbed his gear and left his quarters to join the group of soldiers that would be deployed to the front with him.
He hadn't trained this group and they seemed even more inexperienced than the groups he had worked with in the past months. They were flown out of camp, in one of the fleet’s fastest vessels.
They got to the battlefront unit in just a couple of hours and soon they were being taken to their tents and handed all the equipment they were going to need on the battlefield.
“Unit H01, I was told you have experience on the battlefield.” General Brown said, in a stern tone.
Jarcor pursed his lips, furious. “My name is Jarcor, Sir. I used to be a Captain and my last battle was in the Middle East,” he replied in an even tone.
The man frowned, surprised. “We didn’t send cyborgs to the Middle East.”
“I wasn’t a cyborg back then, Sir,” Jarcor was surprised. He was sure they would have notified General Brown of his battle record, but it seemed they hadn't.
“What the hell does that mean?” the man sounded quite upset and that surprised him even more. “Follow me, I need more information from you,” he finally decided and Jarcor followed him sighing, confident this would be a total waste of time.
General Brown took him to his tent and took a seat at his desk. “Start talking,” he ordered.