Submitted for the October 2023 prompt: Machine in the Ghost

As usual, Sergeant Elizabeth Roberts woke up ready to fight. Automatically, she scanned for danger, but quickly relaxed after determining she was lying on a bed, alone in a nondescript room. The room was unfamiliar, but the scenario was not. Was this the fifteenth time she’d woken up in Medical?

 

The last thing she recalled was leading her platoon in a charge towards the enemy mag-cannon. Ending up in Medical wasn’t a particularly surprising outcome after that mission. At least she got a decent shot off at the cannon gunner before she fell. Hopefully, the rest of her platoon had fared better than she had.

 

Elizabeth took inventory. No pain, but she was wrapped up tightly in a sheet and firmly strapped down which wasn’t exactly a great sign. She managed to move her fingers and toes. Everything seemed to work, but there was something off. Her joints felt strangely stiff, and the action required more concentration than usual.

 

Focusing on her right hand, Elizabeth tried to stretch out her fingers as wide as they could go. With a ripping sound, four metal rods poked through the sheet near Elizabeth’s hip. Pushing down a wave of panic, Elizabeth attempted to wiggle her fingers and watched as the jointed metal rods moved in an eerily familiar fashion.

 

Rapid-fire footsteps heading in her direction caught Elizabeth’s attention. Her eyes were on the door when a small woman in a blue uniform burst through.

 

The woman strode into the room and stopped directly in front of Elizabeth’s line of sight. “Sergeant Roberts! Didn’t expect you to wake up so soon. Sorry no one was here. I’m Dr. Rischer.”

 

“Did I lose my hand?”

 

The doctor smiled gently. “You were hurt badly during the battle —“

 

“My hand?” interrupted Elizabeth. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Just tell me how bad it is.”

 

“Your injuries were severe. But don’t worry, we’ve made you better than ever.”

 

At her age, Elizabeth thought that seemed unlikely, but she had more important things to worry about. “Were there more casualties? How’s my platoon?”

 

The doctor’s eyes shifted downward before replying “No one made it out alive.”

 

Elizabeth’s eyes widened but didn’t fill with tears for some reason. “No one?”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“But I’m alive. Who evacuated me?”

 

“You were barely hanging on when reinforcements arrived.” The doctor took a deep breath. “You coded during transit, but they got you on life support before you suffered significant brain damage.”

 

“Brain damage?” Was that why she felt so weird?

 

Dr. Rischer waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter now. We uploaded your consciousness.”

 

Elizabeth stared at the doctor. “I thought that was only for important people. Ones we can’t afford to lose like the President.”

 

“What do you know about the Special Forces?”

 

“Can we go back to the upload part?”

 

“I promise it’s relevant.”

 

Elizabeth blew out air in frustration but decided to play along. “They’re the toughest, bravest, best we’ve got. And they get the expensive toys like their exoskeleton armor.”

 

“What if I told you they aren’t wearing armor.”

 

Elizabeth’s eye flicked down to the metal rods still sticking through the sheet. “What did you do to me?”

 

“Congratulations, you’ve been selected to serve in the Special Forces.”

 

Elizabeth froze, unsure how to respond. Part of her wanted to scream and another part wanted to know exactly how strong a metal hand was.

 

The doctor reached over and started releasing the straps across Elizabeth as she said, “I know it’s unexpected, but it is also an opportunity. Few people get a second chance. It’s an expensive process and we only select the most promising candidates.”

 

Freed from the restraints, Elizabeth raised a large, shiny hand up to her eyes to study it. It was much larger than her hand had been. She could control it like her old body, but it didn’t feel like part of her. “Why not just build robots?”

 

“These bodies are cheap, relatively. Developing an AI advanced enough to control them is not. This is a cost-effective alternative.”

 

“Don’t you have to ask permission to do something like this?”

 

“You became an organ donor when you enlisted. It’s part of the standard paperwork.”

 

“That gives you the right to upload the contents of my brain?” Elizabeth felt like she should be mad but remained oddly calm about the situation. It was too surreal to process properly.

 

“Technically it does. The brain is an organ. You coded in the medshuttle, triggering the organ donation protocol. After reviewing your military record, the decision was made to send you to us.”

 

Now that the deed was already done, what options did she have? Elizabeth asked the only real question that mattered. “What happens now?”

 

“You’ll be transferred to a specialized training camp. You get a month to get comfortable with your new body. Then you deploy.”

 

“What happens after I retire? Do I keep the metal body?”

 

“There is no retiring from Special Forces. You're legally dead. Your next of kin was already informed that you were killed in action.”

 

“But I feel alive.” This was one thing Elizabeth was sure of.

 

“That’s the way the system was designed. Once you get used to this body, it shouldn’t feel all that different. It’s only stronger and easier to replace.”

 

“Easier to replace?”

 

“The initial upload is the expensive part. Now that you’re in the database, it’s pretty easy to update your backup file with new memories. We can get you in a replacement body within 24 hours.”

 

“So, I just…what? Keep fighting and dying over and over again? For how long?”

 

“Until we win.”

 

Elizabeth thought about her platoon and all the friends she had buried over the decades. She never expected to make it to retirement. Now, she was being given more than one lifetime to get revenge. She could live with that, even if it had to be in a new body.