[Location: High Command Science Division - Medical Bay] [Time: Drop + 12 Hours.]
The medical bay was agonizingly bright. It smelled faintly of bleach and sterile cotton, a sickening contrast to the ash and burned ozone permanently lodged in my sinuses.
I was sitting on the edge of the examination table, stripped to the waist. My skin was pale, mapped with bruised, bursting capillaries. Both of my eyes were entirely bloodshot, the whites turned a solid, terrifying crimson from the neurological pressure of holding 312 timelines in my head.
Dr. Aris wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the holographic diagnostic terminal connected to my silver arm. He was smiling.
"Incredible," Aris breathed, his eyes reflecting the scrolling streams of green data. "The temporal-spatial mapping is flawless. The Ouroboros Drive captured the combat telemetry of an Executioner-Class dreadnought and compiled a perfect counter-strategy. The High Council will authorize full funding immediately."
He tapped a few keys, archiving the files. "Subject Zero, your performance was beyond our most optimistic projections. You survived a Class-5 Algorithm incursion."
"They were all dead," I said. My voice didn't sound like my own. It sounded like it was scraping over rusted iron.
Aris paused, looking over his shoulder. "Excuse me?"
"The civilians," I said, staring blankly at the sterile white tiles of the floor. "The transports were full of corpses. We didn't save anyone."
"A tactical misdirection by the Enemy," Aris waved a hand dismissively. "Regrettable, but acceptable. You neutralized a dreadnought and brought the data back. That is a victory, Caelum."
He stepped closer, reaching out to inspect the Ouroboros arm.
Before his fingers could even brush the metal, my flesh hand snapped up. I didn't think. I just reacted. I grabbed his wrist with bone-crushing force, twisting it downward and stopping just an inch short of breaking his radial bone.
Aris gasped, his calm facade shattering into sudden panic.
"Don't touch me," I whispered, my bloody eyes locking onto his. I saw him as a threat. The combat algorithms the arm had burned into my brain were screaming at me to snap his neck, to neutralize the variable, to clear the room.
"Caelum! Stop!"
Vesper rushed into the room, dropping a stack of file folders on the counter. Her lab coat was rumpled, and she looked terrified.
I blinked. The red haze in my vision receded slightly. I let go of Aris's wrist. He stumbled back, massaging his arm, his face pale.
"His adrenaline is still spiking," Aris muttered, regaining his composure. "Keep him in the med-bay, Vesper. Run a full psych-eval. I need to present this data to High Command."
Aris practically fled the room.
Vesper stood near the door, watching me as if I were an unexploded bomb. She slowly approached the examination table.
"I'll get you a damp cloth," she said softly, turning toward the sink. "Your face is..."
As she reached for the faucet, her elbow clipped a glass beaker resting on the edge of the counter. It tipped over, falling toward the floor.
I didn't look. I just reached out my flesh hand and caught it mid-air, a millimeter before it shattered on the tiles. I set it back on the counter without a word, my eyes still fixed on the blank wall.
Vesper froze. She stared at the beaker, then at me.
"Caelum," she breathed, her voice trembling. "How did you know that was going to fall?"
"Probability," I answered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.