Location: Avery J. Johnson Academy of Military Science – Medical Wing
Date and Time: November 21, 2558 – 0900 Hours
The first thing I felt was the cold.
It wasn't the cold of the medical wing, or the sterile air of the academy's medical pods. It was a deep, bone-chilling cold, like I had been plunged into ice water. I couldn't move. My body felt like it was weighed down by lead, every muscle tense and frozen in place.
Then came the pain. A dull, throbbing ache that pulsed through every part of me, from my fingertips to the base of my skull. It wasn't sharp, but it was constant, a reminder that something had happened. Something huge.
Slowly, the darkness began to lift, and I realized I was awake. Conscious. The stasis had ended.
My eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. I was still in the medical pod, the cold glass lid above me slowly retracting as the pod systems shut down. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound loud and rhythmic in my ears, and with each beat, I could feel the changes.
Everything felt… different. My skin tingled with a new sensitivity, my muscles tighter, more responsive. I could feel the strength in them, like I was ready to spring into action at any moment. But there was also a heaviness—a strange, almost disconnected sensation as my mind adjusted to the changes in my body.
I tried to sit up, my hands gripping the edge of the pod as I pulled myself into a seated position. The effort sent a shockwave of pain through my muscles, but it was manageable. My body was still adjusting. I could feel it—every nerve, every fiber, working to recalibrate.
"You're awake," a voice said from beside me.
I turned, blinking the grogginess out of my eyes, to see a doctor standing there, her face calm and clinical as she checked a series of monitors on the pod.
"How do you feel?" she asked, her tone professional but curious.
I swallowed, my throat dry. "Like I've been hit by a truck," I muttered, my voice hoarse.
The doctor gave a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "That's normal. The augmentation process is… intense. Your body will need time to fully adjust, but you've made it through the worst of it. That's a good sign."
I nodded, though the weight of her words lingered. I had made it through. But not everyone would. There was still the chance that some of the others wouldn't wake up. Or if they did, they might not be the same.
I glanced around the room, noticing the other pods lined up against the walls. Some were open, their occupants already being attended to by medical staff. Others remained sealed, their status uncertain.
"Hale," I rasped, my voice shaky. "Where's Hale?"
The doctor's expression softened. "He's still in stasis. His vitals are stable, but we won't know for sure until the process is complete."
I nodded, a knot forming in my chest. Hale had been with me every step of the way. We had survived everything together—every challenge, every test. I couldn't lose him now. Not after everything we'd been through.
The doctor continued to monitor my vitals, checking the readouts on the screen beside my pod. "Your body is adjusting well," she said. "You'll experience some pain and disorientation for the next few days, but that's to be expected. The augmentations are designed to enhance your physical capabilities—strength, speed, reflexes—but your body needs time to catch up."
I nodded again, still trying to process everything. My muscles felt taut, ready to spring into action, but my mind struggled to keep up. It was like my body was moving faster than my brain could process.
The doctor handed me a small bottle of water. "Drink. It'll help."
I took it gratefully, my hands trembling slightly as I twisted off the cap. Even the simple motion of lifting the bottle to my lips felt different. The strength in my arms was noticeable now, the way my muscles responded to the slightest movement. It was overwhelming.
As I drank, the doctor continued her explanation. "The augmentations include improvements to your skeletal structure, muscle density, and nervous system. You'll find that your reflexes are much faster than before, and your physical strength has increased significantly. However, this also means that your body will need time to adjust to these changes. You'll need to be careful for the first few days—your new strength can easily cause injury if you're not mindful of it."
I lowered the bottle, nodding slowly. I could already feel it—the power in my limbs, the way my senses seemed heightened. Every sound, every sensation felt sharper, clearer.
"I'll be careful," I said, my voice steadier now.
The doctor gave a curt nod, satisfied with my response. "Good. You'll be moved to the recovery ward soon. Once you're there, you'll be monitored closely for any signs of complications. For now, try to rest."
Rest. The idea felt foreign to me after everything we had been through. But as I sat there, still adjusting to the strange new power coursing through my body, I knew she was right. I needed time to process this—to let my body and mind catch up to what had just happened.
I lay back down in the pod, closing my eyes as I let the exhaustion take over. My muscles still ached, the pain a constant reminder of the changes I had undergone, but beneath it, I could feel the strength. The power. I wasn't the same person I had been before. None of us were.
I drifted in and out of sleep, the minutes passing in a haze of discomfort and fatigue. At some point, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a familiar voice.
"Tom? You awake?"
I opened my eyes, blinking against the light, and saw Hale standing beside my pod, looking groggy but alive. Relief flooded through me.
"You made it," I said, my voice rough but steady.
Hale grinned, though the exhaustion was clear in his eyes. "Yeah. Barely. Feels like I got hit by a dropship."
I chuckled, though the motion sent a sharp pain through my ribs. "Same here."
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything we had been through hanging between us. We had both made it. We had survived the augmentations. But now, as we sat there in the sterile light of the medical wing, I realized that this was just the beginning. We were Spartans now—or we would be, once we fully recovered. But that title carried a weight I wasn't sure we were ready for.
"So," Hale said, breaking the silence, "how do you feel?"
I thought about it for a moment, my body still adjusting to the new sensations. "Different," I admitted. "Stronger. But… different."
"Yeah," Hale agreed, his voice quieter now. "I feel it too. We're not the same."
"No," I said, staring up at the ceiling, the reality of it settling in. "We're not."