In a derelict base on an abandoned moon orbiting a dead planet, an alarm blared its warning.
The Surgeon ignored the alarm, focusing on the operation before him. His soldiers would hold the intruders off long enough for him to finish his task. No point rushing now that he was so close to finishing his creation. It had taken him years, but soon it would be ready.
On the table before the Surgeon lay what had once been a man. It could no longer be called that. Metallic pieces replaced parts of the flesh. Where the brain should be was a powerful computer, wires in the place of veins.
He drilled in each screw slowly and carefully, twisting the screwdriver lightly, knowing a mistake now would ruin everything
The alarm cut out, leaving the Surgeon listening to gunfire echoing through the hallways of the moon base.
The Surgeon moved on to the last few screws, there to fix a panel on to the creation’s stomach. He drilled in each screw slowly and carefully, twisting the screwdriver lightly, knowing a mistake now would ruin everything. The Surgeon wasn’t worried. He had faith in his abilities and in the abilities of his creation.
“Freeze!” a voice barked. The Surgeon barely glanced over at the doorway. A soldier stood there, wearing blue armour. His rifle was pointed at the Surgeon. Planets linked together formed the logo on his chest, the letters UPCD printed above the logo.
“Stand up and move away from the table!” the soldier ordered. “By the order of the United Planets of the Conrorian District, you are under arrest for gathering and arming known criminals.” The Surgeon ignored the soldier. He moved on to the final screw.
“Final warning!” the soldier shouted. The Surgeon finished tightening the last screw. “If you do not comply immediately . . .”
In one fast, fluid motion the Surgeon threw the screwdriver. The tool lodged into the soldier’s neck, cutting off his voice. He collapsed, his gun falling to the floor.
The Surgeon pushed his chair away from the operating table over to a computer. He began typing quickly, starting a programme he had prepared long before. Wires led from the computer across to his creation. A loading bar appeared and the Surgeon waited as it slowly moved across the screen. He quickly checked if everything else was ready.
“Stop what you are doing!” a new voice commanded. The Surgeon turned to look at a soldier in the doorway, almost identical to the first. “Stand up and back away from the computer!”
The Surgeon cast a final glance at the computer screen before complying with the soldier’s instructions. The man looked quickly at his dead comrade before returning his gaze to the Surgeon.
“You have murdered a marine and you shall be duly punished,” the soldier declared. “The Council does not stand for such things. Get on your knees!” The soldier came closer, watching the Surgeon kneel. “By the decree of the High Council, the wise rulers of the United Planets of the Conrorian District, you shall be brought before a court and will stand trial for your crimes.”
The soldier reached down to his belt with one hand, the other still pointing the gun at the Surgeon’s head. He retrieved electric manacles and came nearer to the Surgeon. Suddenly, he flew backwards across the room, a hole burned through the centre of his chest.
The Surgeon rose from his knees and turned around. His creation was sitting up on the table. His arm was pointed at where the soldier had been, the hand folded back to reveal a cannon. The creation swung his legs off the table and stood up, wires disengaging themselves from his head.
“Alpha,” the Surgeon breathed in awe. He took in his creation. Eight feet tall, he towered over the Surgeon, his body a mixture of steel and flesh. He carried over all his memories from when he had been a man as well as all the information uploaded from the computer. To the Surgeon, he was a thing of beauty and power. He almost laughed from the pleasure of it. Finally, his creation was ready, after so many failed attempts. And this was only the first of many who would be feared across the stars. The others would be easier now.
The Surgeon brought himself back to the present, the sound of gunfire in the hallways growing nearer. The soldiers approached, and next it would not be just lone forerunners.
“Alpha, first of the Cyborgs,” the Surgeon said, “report your status.”
“One hundred per cent operational, master,” Alpha said, his voice deep and mechanical.
“Weapons systems?”
“Ammunition is full, master.”
“Excellent.”
“Don’t move!” a voice called. Five soldiers burst into the room, guns ready. Alpha’s second arm was up in the blink of an eye, the hand folding back. Bullets ripped up each soldier, Alpha only stopping when they were all dead.
Four new guards entered the room. They stared at Alpha, who swung his arm around to face them. These troops were dressed all in black armour, wearing no insignia or rank. The Surgeon had paid a lot of money to gather and train his soldiers, all for the day the United Planets would attack. They were serving their purpose well.
“Lieutenant, how goes the battle?” the Surgeon asked the lead soldier.
“Hangars One, Two and Five are completely under enemy control, and their troops are spreading out through the base, sir,” the lieutenant said. “The fighting is continuing in Hangars Three, Four, Six and Seven, but I don’t know for how much longer we can hold out.”
“Contact Captain Hormir in the Command Room,” the Surgeon ordered as he walked towards one of the doors. Alpha followed him closely. “Tell the captain to begin the Eradication Protocol.”
The lieutenant spoke into the communication panel on the wrist of his suit, trying to reach Hormir. After a few moments, the man turned back to the Surgeon. “Unable to contact Captain Hormir, sir. The Command Room may already be lost.”
“Well, that does make things more interesting,” the Surgeon said. “Alpha, go to the Command Room. Begin the Eradication Protocol. Meet me back at Hangar Three.”
“Yes, master,” Alpha said. He turned on his heels and began running down the hallway, his feet hitting the ground with metallic thuds.
The Surgeon turned to his four soldiers. “Escort me to Hangar Three,” he ordered.
The soldiers formed a square around him and entered the corridors. They walked quickly, checking each corner for enemies. The sounds of fighting came closer and then went further away as the UPCD soldiers forced their way through parts of the moon base.
Finally, they reached a locked door. The soldiers paused, the lieutenant typing the code into the keypad. The door slid open to reveal a battlefield within. More than half of the hangar was overrun with UPCD soldiers, attacking the small group of the Surgeon’s men who still fought back.
The Surgeon’s escort moved out of the corridor and joined the defence. But there were too many UPCD soldiers. The Surgeon ducked behind a container, waiting. He still had faith. The UPCD troops advanced, slaughtering most of his soldiers. Another squad of UPCD men arrived behind them, trapping them in.
Just as the Surgeon’s confidence was beginning to wane, a figure landed in the centre of the hangar, denting the ground beneath him. The UPCD soldiers spun to face him, but Alpha was too quick. He raised both his arms, the cannon and the machine gun, and began firing. The soldiers were massacred, their bullets doing little against the Cyborg. Alpha’s chest panel slid back, producing a grenade. He pulled it out and threw it at the entrance behind the Surgeon. It exploded, collapsing the passageway on top of the squad.
The Surgeon strode towards Alpha, his surviving two soldiers following him. He pointed at a small ship, big enough for only a couple of people.
“Alpha, start my ship,” he ordered the Cyborg. Alpha turned and walked up the ramp into the ship.
“Sir, there are better ships that we could prepare for our journey,” one of the soldiers said.
The Surgeon looked at him. “Hand me your gun,” he said. The soldier obliged, confused. The Surgeon spun the gun around and shot the two soldiers in the chest. He chucked the gun to the side and climbed the ramp into his ship.
In the Command Room, a timer ran down to zero. Seen by billions of people across the United Planets of the Conrorian District, including the High Council, the moon exploded. The dead soldiers were mourned, as was the lost chance to interrogate the criminals. But overall, the mission was considered a success.
Seen by none, the Surgeon’s ship escaped. Their course was set for the Sol system, a dead and desolate system where he would continue his work. Soon, Alpha would be joined by more of his kind. The Surgeon rested happily.
His journey to become the ultimate Overlord of the Galaxy was just beginning.
