An authoritative voice dictates orders and delegates positions in the corridor just outside the back of the command room. The thunder of boots slamming against the platinum-laminated silver floor is enough to induce shots of adrenaline in the victim. Behind the commotion and the cacophony of emergency sirens and the hustle of armed soldiers in titanium weightless armour, and behind the alternating darkness and the frantic red of siren lights, the intercom initiates a dialogue. “Commander, a band of Prophets from the opposition, the Cardinals, have destroyed sector two of the Aortismic Tunnel. The opposition now has a gateway of entrance into Base 2. Please instruct your delegations.” A humanoid voice pleads.

Inside her head: nothing but silence. Not a calm silence. That variety hasn’t been felt by these people in over two centuries. The plain fields of green are dyed crimson for the honour and glory of the everlasting. No, the phylum of happiness is yet to be restored, and it is in her hands. The hands of just a human. Silence.

“Commander Carlene, a suggestion: submit a verbal or manual command, or auto-pilot shall calculate the most efficient course of action.” A firmer tone from the speaker. This snaps her out of daze. For a split-second she is aware of the business in the background, but only for a moment. Her attention shifts forward to the more important at hand. Calculate? No. No no no. I thought that “special” feature was shut down! Whichever dumb ass thought of that didn’t think very well. Science can answer questions, but these ignorant Scientists don’t realize we can not numbers can’t predict the movement of humans. It’s just not fathomable. God damn it! I have two minu—

“Initiating auto-pilot sequence in twenty seconds.” The, now annoying instead of guiding, voice spoke. Carlene Curie swore in her mind.

I need to shut this down. “God, I wish there wasn’t so many procedural passwords and locks to shut this piece of crap down. Waste of time.”

“There is no God. Fifteen... fourteen... thirteen...” Tendrils of irritation at that moment could have reached out from the intercom to and wrapped their energy thirsty arms around her head and sucked her dry of patience. Luckily, she was a commander, not a human. If any sort of invasion probe had left the intercom, Carlene would be quick to disarm it.

Carlene Curie, like many other Carlene Curies are hybrids of the most scientific minds. Deoxyribos from the greatest minds were collected and compounded through the process NCaS, Nucleic Compilation and Synthesis. Initially, the Generation One was simply a pack of several hundred humans with the instinctive goal to artificially procreate. Within a matter of a week a full army of excessively powerful minds. What the creators hadn’t known was that Generation One silently was planning to revolt and take control. As a precaution, Generation Two, and the invention of BIM, Behavioural Inhibiting Modifiers, allowed the quick process of producing the same great minds but without a single thought of human revolution.

Eventually, both sides had met total deadlock and had no choice, but for an annihilation war. The civil battle was over in a month, and Generation Two had won. But now, with BIM, new possibilities were available. Generation Two was able to be modified, again, to be returned to normal beings, but only once. Too many modifications and one might have to be disengaged and dismantled. Of course, recycled.

Eventually, The Society was able to filter out specific Deoxyribos to imitate the minds of the Greats, and using modifiers to update the information given. Specific to Carlene Curies, their mindset is followed in set of Marie Curie.

Regulation is that, all must be raised within the Society, and any attempt of the parents to leave results in extermination. For this Carlene Curie, this was not the case. Her parents were chosen specifically for the pregnant woman to undergo the BIM procedure for the child coming. Little did The Society know was that these two lovers were underground spies for The Cardinals.

“Finally, auto-pilot can go die. Discontinued.” Carlene said to herself. Standing erect she delegates. “Dispatch thirteen Arthropods to sector 2. Carry four plasmic containers. Also, send with them four extra trilobites to neutralize any of the Prophets. Take caution, these invasive Prophets use Faeth. One more thing, send one video recorder. We need this recorded.”

“To clarify, Commander, you said thirteen Arthropods, four plasmic containers, four trilobites and one video recorder. Please confirm.”

“Confirmed.”

“Preparing.”

Into the screen in front of her Carlene watches the broken part of Sector two. White smoke from a doused out fire arises from the break. Water rains in the sector, from the sprinklers, extinguishing anymore chance of fire spreading. Cardinal after Cardinal she watches as the Prophets file into the sector. They stop in formation, and try to consider the best route into further invasion. Then, out of the smoke and into the flooding tunnel, walks what she expects never to happen. She sees her blood in walking flesh filing into formation. He had the form no Cardinal would. His physique was square and toned. The Cardinals never notice, they’re blind, they’re human. His fellow squad members were slender and had a smoother and curved figure presence.

Heart pumping hard, then even harder now. Carlene stands, wide eyed, in awe.

“Stop!” she exclaims. “No! Disengage, disengage!”

“Commander, disengaged.”

“Change of plans, suit me up, I’m going manual. Have the Hydro-Solidifier for me in the launching bay. I’m going manual.” Frantic and in panic, Carlene is still able to head over to the launching bay and load herself into the machine.

All she knew her whole military life was to give commands. To save a life, Carlene is setting forward on her own towards the Cardinals. This may be her end, and she acknowledge the fact, while strapping herself into the contraption. This is the war where all ends meet.

“Please input a destination.” The same voice.

Swearing in her mind again then, “You’re here too?! God, I might need some privacy soon you know? Or do you serve my toilet paper too? Anyway, Sector 2. You known the deal, send with me the original squad I had assigned, but under my supervision and my command.”

“There is no God.” Maybe some truth.


Now, if only I knew how to shoot a gun.