Burning the Past

Many of his colleagues found long distance space travel pleasant. The chance to switch off from the pressures and troubles of everyday life for even a short while held great appeal. To Shiro the semi-comatose state on the edge of existence was worse than death; his vital signs were suppressed so far he was for the moment literally more dead than alive. Spectres from within the deep recesses of his mind seemed to claw at him keeping him buried in an endless lightless nightmare world whilst in the real world robotic arms stimulated his muscles in hypersleep so he could cope with the heavier gravity of Earth. As a native of Mars; Earth was a planet he not expected to be assigned to. As a Colonial Marshall there were enough issues on Mars to keep him busy. The fight against the Pirates and weapons runners had taken on a new and dark turn recently. Ordered to investigate the killing of a junior official on Earth, a nobody apparently by the High Ups of the Corporation. High Ups was a collective term used by the Marshalls for the management class in the Corporation. These faceless men and presumably women made Corporatia policy; controlling life and death for billions. Here he was hurtling through space being tortured by apathetic machines and his own darkness. The last mind wipe had been ineffective and Shiro remembered clearly the carnage on Theta Two. In a losing humans vs. pirates confrontation they had lost too many troopers. Management had complained of the costs involved with replacing so many elite troopers. Another batch was being grown. Rape another planet; create a new enemy. Conflict was ongoing; he had little care for profits and dividends. He was a born fighting machine. So different to normal humans the Marshalls were almost another species. Theoretically Shiro was not supposed to remember such details but in a world of mass produced clones and replicants he was an oddity. Somebody had deliberately messed up programming his genetic makeup from the genetic master matrix so he was able to think clearly without the over riding control of his medi dispenser (abbreviated to spenser). It had never occurred to him he was different. After all to Shiro they all looked alike in their armour and without an identity chip imbedded in their heads they would never be able to determine who was who. Reprogramming was not an option he considered seriously. Even though he was only fourteen he had seen others come out from reprogramming who were never quite the same again. There was no mirth or joy with them just solidarity within the unit. Obey orders; kill the resistant ones. An unknown oriental Terran woman taunted him in his dreams; asking him to break the shackles of duty. Find the truth. He felt the medi spenser try to medicate him. What nature of sedative did they feed him? All became dull, comfortably numb as Shiro faded deeper again into oblivion.