Caleb’s temporal implant vibrates, his Baskerville, Tobias, has sensed something. Caleb activates his speed gland and gets up from the ditch he’s been hiding in for the past five days, doped into a shallow medical coma regulated by his power armor. His heart begins pumping a cocktail of amphetamines and stabilizers through his body, dumped into his bloodstream by a set of artificial endocrine glands grafted onto his IVC.

=-=-=-=

It’s the first actual weekend that Caleb’s had in nearly six months. He hates it. Being back from deployment is strange. Being with family is strange. Being away from his brothers in arms is strange. Being away from the war is strange. It doesn’t help that he’s missing a leg now.

He’s heard about phantom pain from the doctors. The feeling of a limb gone missing. It hurts. Well, it aches. The rest of him aches too, dozens of pieces of shrapnel are still lodged in his body. They’re not life threatening, or so they tell him, so the surgeries will have to wait while the VA handles the rest of the more urgent procedures on others like him.

The war with Russia, well the proxy war with Russia, taking place in the Middle East had claimed a lot of soldiers like him. He was lucky he didn’t lose more than a leg, the bomb ripped through the troop carrier like it was paper. If he was one seat over he would’ve been red mist. Like James was. He’s not quite sure he actually remembers it, the concussion wave of the bomb would have knocked him unconscious instantaneously. He knows that much.

He tries not to move too much. The shrapnel may not be life threatening, but it sure hurts a whole lot. He’s been trying to cut back on morphine, it’s not been pleasant, but it’s better than feeling fuzzy all the time. Just a week ago he was a Green Beret on the retreat from another lost territory. Though the US military is the most advanced and best funded operation in the history of the world, the nature of asymmetrical warfare really puts a damper on their unfair advantage.

Back in Syria he was technically a trainer for one of the factions fighting against the regime, whatever, they were fighting against the Russian backed factions. In reality he’d been involved in some of the most vicious combat he’d ever seen or heard of. His trainees were decent fighters, but they needed leadership in combat situations. So, that’s what his squad did. By the end of the fifth month their class of 50 had been whittled down to five, most of them killed, a few captured, the rest injured. By the time they were getting exfiled his squad outnumbered their rag tag band of combatants two-to-one.

Now he’s the only one left. Suppose there’s some benefit to being back of the bus. Dark thoughts. The reality of the situation has yet to really hit him, it’s probably the morphine.

=-=-=-=

Tobias takes off at close to seventy miles an hour. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself. Caleb sprints after him. Power armor would usually be restricted by human limitations, there’s only so fast a body can move without hurting itself, but Caleb’s implants pull out all the stops. Though, even with power armor and implants Caleb is still no match for Tobias in terms of speed. Or strength. Maybe even intelligence. No one was really clear about any of the Baskervilles’ specs. But, he had a job to do and Tobias was going to help him do it. Or do it himself. Hard to tell really.

=-=-=-=

The letter came a week after Caleb’s last surgery to remove shrapnel. Good news, no more shrapnel. Bad news, permanent nerve damage. As if missing a leg would make walking hard enough, not being able to feel what legs you have left really makes it difficult. At least he still has motor control, though without feedback the docs say he’s very prone to injury. Great.

The letter invited him to join a medical trial run by DARPA. Said it was specially designed for special ops soldiers like him. Grievously injured and never gonna fight again. He agreed immediately. Anything to get out of the VA and away from the memories.

The van arrived four days later. He was expecting something a little more high tech, but it was just a white handicap accessible minivan. They took him to an airstrip and flew him somewhere on a small jet, an older G6 without all the luxury stuff. There were five other soldiers on the jet with him, two Delta Force, one Seal, and two other Green Berets, as well as a number of support crew. The soldiers were all missing at least one limb, one unlucky Green Beret was missing three.

The flight was long, four hours? They confiscated all the phones. From what he could gather they were somewhere in the southwest given the weather and surroundings. Dry and warm. Pleasant and familiar. The landing strip is little more than a long enough patch of flat earth with a dirt road leading to it. Everyone loads up and takes a couple unmarked minivans. They take a series of unmarked dirt roads until they reach an innocuous abandoned house in the middle of nowhere.

Naturally it’s just an entrance. Inside is an elevator that drops down into a tastefully lit secret facility with concrete walls and guide lines painted onto the floor. There’s something simultaneously utilitarian and beautiful about this place that makes Caleb feel conflicted.

=-=-=-=

Tobias has about three miles on Caleb at this point. They are running for a facility on the coast. A small cargo ship had docked there ten minutes ago. Why the ship was of interest was slowly unraveling on Caleb’s HUD. Possibly a shipment of tactical nuclear warheads. Something to turn the tide in this civil war turned proxy conflict. There was no telling what the first use of nuclear weapons in combat was going to do to world stability, but it probably wasn’t good.

=-=-=-=

Caleb and the rest of the soldiers are taken to a small sitting area and are greeted by a beautiful woman with long red hair wearing a lab coat over a sun dress. She has a nice a smile and a kind look in her eyes, but something about her is off putting.

“Hi,” she says in a crisp and attractive voice, “I’m Sera, the project lead. I’ll need you to read through these forms and sign off on them. Read them carefully.” She pauses and flicks an errant strand of glossy hair from her face as her assistants hand out fairly thick stacks of paper to the soldiers. “Long story short these are informed consent forms, they outline a list of medical procedures that you have come to this facility for. If you have questions, ask. There is also a confidentiality form and an NDA. Until you sign these forms you can go no further, otherwise we’ll return you to the VA for the rest of your medical treatment. I think 30 minutes will be sufficient to read them. My assistants will be here to answer any of your questions.” She looks around at the soldiers one by one, seeming to Caleb as if she’s dissecting them in her mind. “Ask questions. I’ll answer one that I’m sure you’re curious about, yes, these procedures will hurt.” She smiles at them with a brilliant smile that on her face could probably diffuse a nuclear war, but in context is an uncomfortable mix of terrifying and charming.

The stack of documents is topped with the NDA. It’s fairly standard, no talking about this facility or what goes on here or else they come and break your face. Caleb signs it. The rest of the stack is written in simple language and full of diagrams of medical procedures he’s never heard of. They propose amputating his other leg and both of his arms, back surgery, abdominal surgery, brain surgery, basically anywhere they can cut they want to cut.

Caleb asks, “What are they planning to do with us?”

“Get you back in the fight.” says one of the assistants. “With the use of advanced prosthetics and internal augmentation.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know Robocop?”

“Yeah.”

“Something like that, but without the slavery thing.”

Caleb signs off on the forms. He always wanted to be a cyborg.

=-=-=-=

Tobias has stopped on a high spot a few miles ahead. He’s releasing a virtual howl to the other Baskervilles in the area, organizing a hunting party. Caleb catches up a few minutes later. Tobias retracts a laser communication mast back into his body and starts off again. The facility is another ten miles from their current position. Caleb’s HUD starts showing his armor running last minute combat diagnostics, the positions of the other Baskervilles and the soldiers paired to them, and the countdown for the swarm of cruise missiles targeting the coastal facility.

=-=-=-=

Five of the six soldiers on the flight end up signing off. The other guy, one of the Deltas, is taken away, presumably to live his life, but Caleb isn’t really sure what’s going to happen to him. Maybe he made the right decision?

The next couple days are spent with briefings on the procedures about to take place, further consent forms, these people really want to cover their asses. The project lead, Sera, leads most of the briefings explaining in minute detail every aspect of the procedures with slides and 3d videos. Caleb is nervous, but he keeps on signing the forms. At the end of each briefing is a percent chance of death or permanent disability followed by a cumulative chance of making it through to the end. Usually it’s in the single digits. By the last briefing the chance to make it through is down to 78%. Not terrible odds.

Not great either.

After the briefings comes a week of psychological tests, blood draws, and biopsies. The last Delta and one of the other Green Berets get rolled out. Caleb’s not sure what they’re testing for, but he tries to tell the truth. The questions seem innocuous, asked in person or through a computer. Every interaction monitored and quantified through cameras and electrodes.

They must have drawn a quart of blood from him and the marrow biopsies are definitely unfun. Turns out having a tingly leg doesn’t mean the bone doesn’t hurt. The scientists, or whatever they are, don’t give away anything. Discipline in the facility is incredible. Caleb wagers it’s Sera’s doing. The Seal made a pass at her and if looks could kill the look she flashed him would be a genocide.

=-=-=-=

Caleb’s HUD starts going nuts. Tobias’s aerial drones have mapped out the facility and surrounding areas, their IR cameras highlighting and categorizing every heat source within 300 yards. Caleb is still 90 seconds out, but Tobias will be in the combat area in less than five. The prompt authorizing Tobias’s lethal protocols comes up. Caleb makes sure to keep his focus on the path ahead of him, lest he accidentally activate Tobias.

=-=-=-=

Caleb goes under for nearly 48 hours for one marathon procedure. A week of drifting in and out of consciousness later he wakes up to find that he can neither move nor feel much of anything. He looks around, his eyeballs seeming to be the only voluntary muscles not paralyzed. Sera comes into his field of vision with a sympathetic look on her face.

“You’re paralyzed.” she says, his heart sinks, “For now. Your nerves have not fully integrated with your new spine. Expect to start hurting in three days, feeling in five, and moving in eight.”

He tries to speak but only manages to garble out some guttural noises.

“We’re also doping you so you don’t injure yourself while you’re healing.” She places a hand on his shoulder and he thinks this is probably the only time he’ll ever be touched by a woman this good looking and he can’t even feel it. She smiles at him and leaves.

She wasn’t kidding about the pain. If the drugs weren’t keeping him paralyzed he’d probably be thrashing around. Apparently pain meds won’t work since his nerves aren’t really nerves anymore. The upside of all this is that eventually he’ll be able to turn off his pain at will. Not now though. Something about not enough systems being online. Either way it hurts a lot.

They keep him paralyzed for another two weeks, the pain mitigation system kicks in a couple days after the pain started, just about the time he started to regain normal feeling in his extremities. He’s able to make out that he’s connected dozens of monitors and computers, data cables connect directly to his body. His new body. His limbs, carbon fiber black, connect to his torso in a gradient of fibers and cables.

=-=-=-=

Tobias is running in stealth mode, dynamic camouflage shifts the color of his armor moment by moment. His foot falls are silent and the bulk of his half ton frame slinks unnoticed through the docks towards the Russian freighter. The lethal protocol authorization still blinks on Caleb’s HUD. Caleb is making his way through the facility from another direction, cutting off any escape routes. A year ago he would have considered this a suicide mission. Now the triviality with which he can win this fight is playing on his conscience.

=-=-=-=

Getting used to his new limbs is surprisingly easy. It’s like they’ve always been there. Even the new spine, as strange as that is, feels totally natural. The scientists say replacing his spine was necessary because his new limbs would probably kill him otherwise.

Caleb likes his new body. It’s stronger and faster than he’s ever been. Plus he can touch his toes without a problem. The only thing that’s taken getting used to is looking at himself in the mirror. His eyes are the same brown they’ve always been, only now they have telescopic zoom and can see in infrared. His limbs have been covered with a thin layer of something or the other that feels like skin and looks like it at a distance. It’s too perfect and uniform for real skin, but it’ll stop a .45 at fifteen feet. Or that’s what they say. At least they left his junk alone.

A month after being cleared to get out of bed the scientists introduce him and the other soldiers, altered as extensively as he, to ’their’ Baskervilles. They look like the love child of a wolf and tiger that met at a cyberpunk BDSM convention. Four feet tall at the shoulder and nearly twice as long with a whiplike tail as long as their bodies. There are a pair of pods protruding from their flanks behind their shoulders, apparently housings for their reactors that double as turbofans. Their bodies are covered in a synthetic skin similar to the stuff covering his limbs, tuned to a matte black. The Baskervilles’ heads are sleek and nearly featureless save for a set of massive and powerful looking jaws.

“These are your Baskerville units.” says Sera as she paces in front of the silent behemoths. “You will train with them. You will learn to use them. You will learn to control them as if they are an extension of your body. The implants we put in your heads will connect you to your Baskervilles. Don’t let them walk all over you.” She flashes that same brilliant smile and Caleb struggles not to turn on his IR to peek at her body through her clothes. He gets this feeling that she’d know and probably ream him out so hard he’d never shit right again.

=-=-=-=

Caleb positions himself on the roof of one of the buildings near the freighter. Tobias is waiting patiently about fifty yards off, hidden in shadows. The dock workers are unloading the freighter. Odds are the warheads are in radiation shielded boxes that are totally indistinguishable from more innocent cargo. Seems that the operation here isn’t even particularly well guarded. A couple of bored security guards more interested in their cigarettes than the cargo are positioned around the freighter. More guards are near the dock’s road entrance. If there are warheads on this ship there’s probably a handful of Spetsnaz operators hidden somewhere around here, but no one that Caleb can see is packing more than a well worn AK-47.

=-=-=-=

“No, you can’t rename them.” says one of the scientists to the Seal’s question.

“Why not?” asks the Seal, Aaron.

“They already have names.”

The Seal looks at the researcher skeptically.

“Look, if you got a problem with it, talk to Sera.”

That shuts the Seal up pretty quickly. The Seal’s Baskerville is named Elliot. Caleb would rather have an Elliot over a Tobias, but you work with what you’re given. The Baskervilles are definitely individuals; Tobias prefers to work alone more than Elliot or Corinne. At least he’s patient, but Caleb imagines that Tobias would be looking at him like he’s some sort of idiot with great regularity, if Tobias had eyes to speak of that is.

The first couple weeks of training with the Baskervilles were maneuverability drills. Climb this obstacle, run this course, jump through these literal hoops. Apparently those pods on the Baskervilles’ sides allow them sprint to 60 in two seconds and top out at 150 miles an hour, emulating a cheetah with a pair of jet engines strapped to its back. Their feet hide pads that work sort of like geckos and allow them to scale sheer walls. Plus they can jump thirty feet in the air and turn on a dime, so the maneuverability drills were mostly a bunch of cyborged out super soldiers struggling to keep up with their supposed equipment.

Then came the unarmed combat drills. At first the soldiers thought they were supposed to fight each other and the Baskervilles. Then Sera just laughed at them and continued to laugh. Caleb’s HUD clocked it at over three minutes. She ordered Corinne to tail swipe a steel I beam and it was like a cannon going off, a sonic boom as her tail broke the sound barrier and a crash loud enough to disorient Caleb even through his aural filters. When he regained his bearings there was the I beam jackknifed in front of him. Sera barked a couple more orders and Eliot and Tobias grabbed the folded beam with their jaws and straightened it back out.

“You’ll learn how to apply your Baskervilles.” Says Sera nonchalantly, “As a combat platform you’ll never compare to them. Your job is to try to slow them down.”

=-=-=-=

A pair of serious looking guys with AK-74s step out of the freighter. Judging by how they hold themselves Caleb is willing to put fifty towards Spetsnaz. Behind them comes a set of crates virtually identical to all the other ones coming off the ship. Caleb brings his focus onto the blinking message on his HUD and blinks twice.

=-=-=-=

Live weapons training is a totally different game. The soldiers are all put into powered armor that amplify their strength and speed even more. The armor has all sorts of neat stuff on it, but the pair of articulated arms sprouting out the back have got to take the cake. They’re designed to hold and control anything up to a .50 cal.

As expected the Baskervilles end up with way cooler stuff. Apparently that sleek skull of theirs can hold a .45 SMG and 50 rounds. The auto-shotgun strapped to their chests are pretty cool too. But the turret on their backs with the .50 cal and the 7.62 on it really seems like overkill. Or maybe that goes to the grenade launchers. Or the six claymores strapped to their waists. The Baskervilles ended up looking like what a 12 year old would draw. But it became clear it wasn’t just for show.

The Baskervilles’ weapons all had limited ammo and without arms they can’t change magazines, so they make up for volume with accuracy. Caleb’s never seen something shoot so fast and so accurately at such long ranges before. In CQB the Baskervilles open up with their shotguns, pumping out 12 gauge grenades. Even the .45 in their skulls is used to deadly effect.

But the real terrors are the claymores, designed to go off in pairs to cancel out the forces and mounted on carbon fiber belts that shatter to distribute the recoil. The Baskervilles can run into an area and clear everything in front of them and detonate the mines to clear a room. If need be the three belts can be detonated in quick succession to generate a 55 yard radius kill zone.

=-=-=-=

Faster than Caleb can process, the fight is over. Tobias covered the ground between him and the freighter in less than two seconds, squeezing off 13 rounds from the 7.62, 4 from the .45, 1 from the .50, all neatly tabulated on a small chart on Caleb’s HUD. All of the people unloading the crates and the security guards and Spetsnaz are dead. Most with a large wound torn through a vital spot by a precisely fired bullet. One of the guys was unlucky enough to not be far away enough to justify being shot by one of Tobias’s limited bullets and had his rib cage emptied by a single swipe of a mechanical claw.

=-=-=-=

It’s been six months since Caleb set foot in the secret facility and he’s been labeled proficient in the use of the Baskerville platform. It really is just keeping up with them. They process mission profiles faster than any person could. They generate strategies, organize sorties, and execute their plans with unparalleled efficiency. The surgeries, the prosthetics that turned him into a super soldier are all to hold onto Tobias’s leash. Even the power armor that makes him a one man platoon is basically a glorified support platform for the Baskervilles.

Caleb and the other soldiers are assigned to a top secret unit under the command of SOCOM and shipped out to Syria within a week of graduating. Their job is to go deep into enemy territory and eliminate high value targets with hit and run tactics. But what that really means is finding a place to hide and being doped into a coma while their Baskervilles wait for orders to relay.

Not a glamorous job. But better than being out of the fight.