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"You'll do fine, son," William Draeden reassured the young man with a firm grasp of his shoulder. "We've had our best and brightest working on this project and they assure me everything checks out. The data they've collected indicate that this procedure is perfectly safe."

"That's good to know, sir," the man replied. The sweat on his brow betrayed his false confidence. A light brown soldier's uniform hung from his narrow frame, the insignia on his collar indicating he held the rank of a Private, First Class. He was young and eager to serve his country in any way he could. In this case, it was being a guinea pig for a highly classified and experimental procedure. He forced a smile. "For the Empire, right, sir?"

"That's the spirit, Private," Mr. Draeden nodded and pat the soldier a few times on the shoulder. His light blue eyes scanned the room and he suddenly felt old compared to the young blood all around him. He was edging towards sixty now and his receding gray hairline certainly didn't help matters. Unlike the others in the room, from the military officers who wore their dress uniforms and conferred with each other in hushed tones or the medical staff who walked back and forth in white lab coats with tablet computers cradled in their arms, he stood there in a expertly-tailored black business suit. The pressed white shirt under his three-button suit jacket was one of nearly two dozen he owned; he was a creature of habit to the nth degree.

A nurse approached the two men and placed a plastic bin on a nearby stainless steel cart. "Are you ready, Private Turner?"

The private looked at the woman and and gave a nod in affirmation. "Yes, ma'am. Please, call me Ryan."

"Very well, Ryan. If you could please remove your shirt and wedding ring and place them in the bin here, we can get started shortly." She turned to face Mr. Draeden as Private Turner began to unbutton his shirt with nervous fingers. Gesturing towards a large window on the opposite side of the room, she gave him a soft, rehearsed smile while speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "Mister Draeden, I'm going to have to ask you and the other non-medical personnel to leave the room while we finish the preparations. If you'd like to watch the procedure, you can do so from the observation room."

"I will, thank you." Before turning to leave, Mr. Draeden extended his hand to the young man. "Good luck, son."

Private Turner took the aging man's hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you, sir."

"We'll see you on the other side." Mr. Draeden turned and followed a pair of brigadier generals and their accompanying lieutenants out of the small concrete isolation room and up to the observation suite. A bank of computer monitors and the technicians who manned them lined the space closest to the reinforced glass window. The military personnel had once more congregated onto the far side of the room and were apparently content to keep to themselves. Mr. Draeden knew that their presence was a formality - an olive branch from his division to the military to keep them apprised of the project's progress. To be fair, they were footing a portion of this project's bill, so their presence was justified.

The elder observer gazed down into the chamber and watched silently as a pair of nurses wheeled in a large rectangular table. The casters wobbled slightly as they brought it to a stop next to the soldier who stood bare chested and visibly anxious. Locked into a vertical position, it dwarfed the young man being nearly twice his width and standing eight feet tall. Mr. Draeden never liked the look of it; the perforated metal appeared cold and heartless. He had petitioned for a more traditional medical table, one with pressed sheets to help the test subject feel more comfortable, but his motion was overruled. After all, it was easier to sterilize metal than worry about incinerating the bed sheets and possibly more.

Private Turner eyed the table and exhaled slowly before dutifully stepping up to it. He turned around and felt the cool metal against his back. With choreographed precision, the nurses stepped towards him and soon found himself bound by ankle, wrist, and waist. In a gentle and fluid motion, the table rotated and he soon found himself lying on his back. He looked around and watched the nurses go about their tasks, but it was the look he saw from the old man through the observation window that sent a shiver down his spine. Was something wrong? No, surely it was just his nerves playing with him.

Mr. Draeden caught the soldier staring at him and gave a quick nod and a reassuring smile in response. No use in worrying the poor boy. It would all be over soon and the less he knew, the better. There were always risks pushing the boundaries of science and this was no exception. The procedure would be dangerous, that much was certain. It was true that the men who worked for him were confident in the procedure working, but there were several unknown factors they couldn't truly predict. Again, no use in telling Private Turner the whole truth when it would do him no good.

"Hello, Bill," a gruff voice spoke up behind him.

He turned and looked up at a Vius'Karr who smiled back at him. The black-furred creature loomed over Mr. Draeden by nearly a head and stood proud on his bare footpaws. He would be nearly the same height as Mr. Draeden if it wasn't for his digitigrade legs, but the added height made him that much more intimidating. His species had evolved with similar physical characteristics to the feral wolves and foxes that inhabited the wilderness. With powerful muscles, excellent hearing and smell, and a knack for survival, the Vius'Karr could be a dangerous foe. In the case of Taggar Darnel, however, who had made himself a millionaire as a proprietor and investor in various technology fields, he had proven himself to be a powerful ally through brains not brawn. "Ah, good afternoon, Taggar. I take it you didn't receive any trouble getting into the facility this time?"

Taggar scoffed and unbuttoned the jacket of his tailored gray suit to reveal a black vest over a clean white shirt. "Not this time, thank you. You'd think that after being here nearly six times in the last four months this wouldn't be an issue anymore. I have the overwhelming impression that I am unwelcomed here. I assume the staff have all been apprised of my participation in this project?"

"Yes, of course. All military personnel and civilian staff have been fully briefed on your involvement. In fact, many of the scientists acknowledge the tremendous contributions you and your company have made to the project. However, you know how things are these days," Mr. Draeden replied. He leaned in close and spoke softly to keep the others in the room from hearing him. "The military doesn't like having you here. You make them uncomfortable."

"I understand," Taggar lied in a hushed tone. Didn't they know that without him, their project would still be on the drawing board? Irritated, he shifted on his footpaws and gave a nod to the soldier strapped onto the table below in an effort to change the subject. "So that is the test subject then?"

Mr. Draeden turned his attention back to the isolation room. "It is. He was selected out of a pool of nearly four dozen candidates. Our scientists believe that he shows the most promise in being compatible with the Lenarro prototype."

Taggar ran his paw along his muzzle in thought, stroking the fur that had turned gray with age. It was a habit he had picked up recently. The comforting sensation reminded him of-

"Preparations are complete, sir. Doctor Thompson is awaiting your go-ahead."

Taggar pulled himself back to the present and looked at the young technician who stood next to Mr. Draeden and himself. The short human paid him no heed and Taggar was inclined to do the same. It was frustrating working with these Humans sometimes. Except for the few friends he had in high places, this Human nation was a bunch of xenophobes as far as he was concerned.

"Very well," Mr. Draeden politely acknowledged. "Tell the doctor that he can begin."

Taggar looked down at test subject once more and noted that he was now blindfolded in addition to his restraints. Probably best, considering. Taggar respected the man's decision to volunteer for his country, but wished the young human had better odds. "What were the results of the new chemical mixture?"

"Quite promising, actually." Mr. Draeden watched as a nurse carried a tray with several vials of different colored liquids over to the young private. The male doctor spoke with the nurse and gestured to a pair of others who carried in a bulky-looking container. "The simulations indicate that the new mixture will increase synaptic activity within the subject by anywhere from fourteen to seventeen percent. The current belief held by the team is that it may be enough to control the device properly."

"You say 'may be able'?"

Mr. Draeden stood stone-faced. "That's right."

Before Taggar could continue, he found himself interrupted by a low pop coming over the speakers as the doctor turned on his microphone.

"Microphone check. Ah, there we go," the doctor said casually. He picked up a clipboard before continuing, "Good afternoon. This is Doctor Thompson and I will be conducting the procedure of installing the Lenarro prototype device onto the right forearm of Private Turner. I have dismissed all but one nurse who will assist me for safety reasons previously established."

Private Turner strained against the restraints. The loss of his sight and allusion to previous tests had caused panic to set in. Fear and adrenaline were fueling his overwhelming desire to free himself, but he found his efforts futile against the bonds that kept him tied to the metal table.

"Easy there," the doctor said as he put a hand on Private Turner's shoulder and motioned to the nearby nurse. His assistant removed the safety cap from a syringe and gently pushed the needle into the soldier's arm. As the drug took effect, the private visibly relaxed against his restraints and lay back against the table. "Not to worry, this will all be over before you know it."

Doctor Thompson nodded to the nurse and spoke aloud for the audio recording. "We have administered five CC's of Lithophine to help the subject relax and act as a numbing agent for the duration of the procedure. The administered drug should have an effect for no more than approximately twenty minutes which should give us enough time to complete the operation. Based on previous tests and simulations, we expect the grafting procedure to take no more than ten minutes total and we should begin seeing initial results as the dose of Lithophine wears off.

"We will now start the procedure by injecting the test subject with pre-measured doses of Corlithane Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. The Corlithane doses will help the subject to mentally bond with the Lenarro prototype device."

Mr. Draeden watched the doctor take one of each vial and slide them into their respective slots along the top of a specialized injection gun. The fluorescent light glinted off the silver hardware and cast wavering shadows of blue, green, and red from the medicinal mixtures as Doctor Thompson pressed the needle into Private Turner's arm. One by one, the vessels drained their contents. It was surprising how straightforward this procedure had become. He recalled the first few test subjects and the battery of drugs they were administered over the course of twenty four hours only to see their efforts fail time and time again. Perhaps this was a turning point.

"He's responding well," Taggar stated. "No convulsing like the last one."

"Surely a good sign." Mr. Draeden looked up to his friend with the hint of a smile. "Perhaps we'll see a positive reaction to the Lenarro device this time?"

"Perhaps. I don't like betting on first impressions though."

Mr. Draeden's faint smile faded. "We've been at this for nearly six months now. Despite our string of accomplishments and the headway we've made, the backers of this project are becoming impatient."

"Impatient? Surely this technology is worth the wait."

"I believe it is, Taggar, but I'll be blunt: we need to see a positive result from this test. Or at the very least, a leap forward."

"Make no mistake, my friend," Taggar said with a swish of his tail, "I want this project to be a success as much as you. However, my gut tells me that we are still missing something. Some ... element we haven't yet accounted for."

"We'll see," Mr. Draeden replied. A silence filled the observation room as all eyes trained back onto the procedure.

"The Corlithane doses have been administered and the test subject appears to be responding well," Doctor Thompson's voice came over the loudspeakers. "We will now proceed with attaching the Lenarro prototype device."

Doctor Thompson removed what looked like a piece of modern art from the heavy duty container that had been brought in earlier. The Lenarro device was roughly cylindrical in shape and had six bolt-like objects protruding from the top and bottom halves of its design. It was sculpted to fit over an average-sized humans' forearm and was clear that the designer had fancied himself an artist. The man's arm was visible through the cutouts that were spaced around its surface in odd shapes and flowing patterns; there definitely a distinct form-over-function quality about it.

He opened the device like a clamshell and held the two halves delicately in his hands as his assistant unstrapped Private Turner's right arm and held it up for the doctor. After positioning the forearm in the center of the lower half of the device, he closed the top shell around the young man's limb and tightened a series of small bolts along the opening edge with a hand-held power drill. With the exoskeleton's upper and lower halves now secure, he put the drill aside and spoke aloud for the medical recording. "The prototype is now temporarily attached. I will now activate the nanite bolts."

The doctor touched a small screen on the top of the device and quickly navigated the on-screen menu. Arriving at the correct screen, he pressed the digitally-displayed button that simple stated: 'Engage Nanite Bolts.' A sharp hiss escaped as the device was activated and pressurized its internal chambers. The narrow bolts along the top and bottom shells of the prototype sprang to life and corkscrewed inward at an alarming speed. The sharp, spiraled ends bore into the flesh of the forearm and caused an involuntary spasm from Private Turner as the wounds were automatically cauterized.

"Bonding complete," Doctor Thompson said. "Nurse, tablet please?"

His assistant tapped a few things out on the tablet before turning it around and presenting it to the doctor.

"Good. Very good," the physician nodded a few times and looked up to the observation room. "Subject is holding steady. Synaptic activity has risen sixteen percent compared to baseline. The nanites have been successfully injected through the bonding procedure and have begun initial replication as expected. We should be seeing the nanites insert themselves into the neural pathways shortly."

Mr. Draeden leaned down and pressed the button to talk on the desk-mounted microphone. "Thank you, doctor. Good work. Please keep us apprised."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Draeden."

Mr. Draeden released the button and stood up. "Well then, now we wait."

The Vius'Karr smiled. "It looks very promising. Your team has done excellent work, Bill."

"Thank you, Taggar. The value of you and your company's contributions cannot be understated. The programming code your scientists have come up with for the nanite replication subroutines have accelerated the Lenarro Project by at least six months. Without those, I feel that the project might have been shelved by now."

"Thank you," Taggar agreed. "My hope is that the nanite replication code, if it works as intended, can be applied to several other projects that my team of scientists have drawn up. With any luck, the Lenarro Project will be first in a line of new applicable technology."

"If we can successfully reach the end of the prototype phase with the Lenarro device, I can see about arranging additional resources to be funneled to your teams. Hopefully that'll help take the projects from their respective R&D phases to something more tangible."

"Anxious to see what we have been working on?"

"Isn't that what this arrangement is all about?" Mr. Draeden smiled. "We provide funding and personnel and you provide advanced technology for the Empire?"

The Vius'Karr laughed. "Of course! I promise you that we have a number of projects in their early stages that you would be most interested to see."

"I look forward to it."

"Mr. Draeden, the dose of Lithophine Private Turner was administered is beginning to wear off a little sooner than expected," the doctor's voice crackled over the speakers. "I expect this might be an unanticipated reaction due to the nanites. Nurse, please remove the restraints from Private Turner."

Mr. Draeden, Taggar, and the rest of the people in the observation room turned their attention to the isolation room. The nurse went about her work quickly and soon the soldier was being helped up by the doctor. Mr. Draeden took a seat at the nearest terminal and positioned the mic in front of him. It was time to see the results of their efforts. "Doctor, how is our patient?"

The doctor kept a hand on the young man's back to help steady him while the soldier came out of his drug-induced haze. Satisfied that he would be able to sit up on his own, Doctor Thompson ran through a battery of simple tests with practiced efficiency. He checked the pupils, heart rate, and blood pressure in quick succession and spoke his finds aloud to his assistant who made the appropriate notes on the clipboard. Glancing at the tablet computer, he nodded before speaking to his audience. "Private Turner is showing typical recovery symptoms of a small dose of Lithophine. Autonomic functions are good. According to the monitoring equipment, the nanites have completed their initial replication phase and have positioned themselves along the neural pathways. From what I can discern, they are now awaiting instructions from the host."

"Thank you, doctor," Mr. Draeden acknowledged. "Private Turner, can you hear me?"

Turner turned his head towards the plate-glass window from where he sat on the metal table and nodded weakly. He licked his lips. "Yes, sir. I hear you loud and clear, sir."

"Excellent. Take all the time you need to collect yourself, son."

Private Turner stared at his arm for several moments without saying a word. He rolled his arm from side to side and gingerly ran his fingers over the metallic surface. It was strange to see, but he was pleased to find that he hadn't lost any tactile sensation or movement as he flexed his right hand. He looked up at the doctor for a moment before turning towards the observation room once more. "I didn't expect it to feel like this, sir."

"How do you mean?" Mr. Draeden asked. "Please describe what you're feeling."

"Well, sir, to be honest, I don't really know what I was expecting. For one thing, it's lighter than I thought it would be. I was also expecting it to hurt given the way it's ... attached; why don't I feel any pain?"

"Well, you not feeling any pain associated with the device is a good sign. To put it simply, the nanites that have been injected into your bloodstream have been programmed to essentially trick your brain into thinking that the Lenarro device is a natural extension of your arm. This is done for two reasons, one being that it helps the bonding process between the host, which is you, and the device itself, thereby preventing rejection similar to an organ transplant. The other is that if your brain thinks that the device is part of your body, you should be able to use it more effectively."

"I see." Having the device attached to his arm was a strange sensation, but Mr. Draeden was correct; he felt like the device had always been there, but his memories said otherwise. Private Turner felt his stomach roil as a wave of what felt like vertigo wash over him, but he managed to maintain his composure. He was a soldier; he could get through this. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he asked the inevitable question: "So what happens next, sir?"

"Well, I would like to walk you through a short exercise in using the device. Do you feel up to it?"

"Yes, sir, I do. Could I get a glass of water first though?"

"Absolutely," Doctor Thompson jumped in at the question. He turned to his colleague. "Nurse?"

The recovering soldier found himself being offered a small plastic cup of water from the doctor's assistant. "Thank you, ma'am." Private Turner took a few sips before setting it aside and noticed his stomach had calmed down considerably; perhaps that was all he needed. After taking a few moments to make sure he was well enough to continue, he gave a thumbs up in the direction of his observers. "Good to go, sir."

"Excellent," Mr. Draeden found himself saying. "Now, the nanites that have positioned themselves in your brain act as a link between your conscious thoughts and the Lenarro device. They will interpret your thoughts and transmit that data to the prototype. In turn, the device will use its own set of programmed nanites to manipulate a new synthetic alloy we call Emmantium. This alloy should be able to take a wide range of shapes as your mind desires with the help of the nanites."

Private Turner understood. "Okay, I seem to remember most of that from the briefing."

"Good. So, what I want you to do now is clear your mind and think of creating a simple cube."

"How do I-" The soldier cut himself short as his right fist clenched and noticed a triad of spines extend from the device. He stared in fascination as a silvery liquid began to flow from the tips of the prongs with a soft hiss. The desire to reach out and touch it was overwhelming and he found himself cautiously pressing a finger into the liquid metalsurprised by how cool it was to the touch. Pulling back, he sat enthralled. It was like magic; nothing he had ever seen before.

"Very good," Mr. Draeden spoke softly, "Now concentrate on forming a small, simple cube."

The young private did as he was told and tried to clear his mind. A few moments passed before he noticed the Emmantium begin to behave differently. It twisted together and coalesced into what rapidly became a small ball. Sweat forming on his brow, he concentrated on the thought of a cube. Slowly, the spheroid shape gave way to straighter lines and began to resemble more of a cube with the passing seconds. He could hear whopping cheers over the speakers as those in the observation booth expressed their excitement at the sight. Pleased, he even allowed himself to smile a bit. Above the back of his hand hovered a near-perfect cube, thin tendrils of Emmantium supporting from the device. He coughed.

He paid it no mind at first; it was just a cough. When he coughed again and felt something wet on his lips though, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He brought his left hand up to his lips and stared at the blood now upon his fingers.Something was wrong. The Emmantium cube fell apart in an instant and before he could open his mouth to speak, he was thrown back onto the hard table in a spasm.

"Doctor!" Mr. Draeden's voice boomed as he yelled into the microphone. Their celebration had been spontaneous, but evidently premature. The sudden silence that had befallen the onlookers at the sight of Private Turner reeling in agony was unearthly. His call out to Doctor Thompson had been a second later than it should have, but it was enough to snap the doctor into action.

"Nurse! Hold him down!" Doctor Thompson bellowed. He grabbed a rubber bit and pressed it between the private's teeth who lay convulsing underneath him as the nurse did her best to hold him still. He couldn't let the young man bite his own tongue. "We need a crash cart in here!"

The set of double doors that led into the isolation room crashed open and in poured a team of nurses. They quickly prepped any necessary equipment that they might need to resuscitate the young man, but by the time Doctor Thompson had taken hold of the defibrillator pads, Private Turner had stopped convulsing and lay motionless on the table.

Doctor Thompson froze and looked down at the young soldier. His training told him to spring into action, but he saw a glimmer of something that stopped him short. He slowly forced the man's eyes open with thumb and forefinger and leapt back in surprise at what he saw. "Everyone clear the room!"

Mr. Draeden watched as the doctor and his medical staff pulled away from the young man and began to flee the room. He focused on Private Turner and before he could say anything, felt his stomach drop at the sight. He watched as a viscous liquid oozed from the deceased soldier's eyes and open mouth, the silver streams dribbling down his cheeks. The substance took on a reddish tint as the private's flesh began to erode away before the elder man's eyes. Something had gone wrong; horribly wrong. His mind couldn't comprehend the cause, but the effect was clear enough: the body of Private Turner was being consumed from the inside out.

"William!"

The Vius'Karr's harsh voice pulled him away from the horror. He didn't waste another moment and slapped a large red button on the console. Klaxons began to blare loudly and forced Taggar to cover his ears in irritation. A heavy steel door at the entrance of the isolation room slammed shut with a thunderous crash. Mr. Draeden flipped a switch on the microphone and spoke into it urgently, "Quarantine crew to level twelve! We have a level five contaminant in Isolation Room Seven! Condition Red!"

Taggar looked on at the melting man and shook his head with paws still covering his ears. They had been so close. So damn close. He pulled his gaze away from the ghastly sight and spoke a bit too loudly over the sound of the klaxons. "You need to activate the outbreak containment protocol, Bill. We can't risk it getting out."

"What is it?" Mr. Draeden stressed.

"It's the nanites; it has to be! Something must have gone wrong and they began to replicant without restraint. Once his body is gone, they might seek out a new source material."

"Goddamn it!"

"We need to incinerate the room before it's too late."

Mr. Draeden stared at the sight of bubbling red and silver mass that was growing before his eyes. He knew Taggar was right - they couldn't take the risk. Yelling in frustration, he flipped open the cover of a yellow button and pressed it. A large steel barrier dropped in front of the glass window moments before a fwoosh reached the ears of those in the observation room. Mr. Draeden could feel the heat emanating through the thick steel wall and glass window.

The flames burned at a temperature of over seventeen-hundred degrees Fahrenheit and would continue to do so for sixty seconds. At that temperature, anything organic was turned to ash in an instant. Nothing in that room could survive that temperature. Glass, metal, and even the nanites would be subject to the intense heat. Anything in the room would either be ash or slag by the time the incinerators had finished.

Taggar turned away from the barrier with his paws still covering his ears. "Can you silence those damned sirens, Bill?"

Mr. Draeden looked down at the console in front of him and flipped a switch. Much to the relief of everyone in the room, the klaxons stopped. "All that work..."

"It's a setback," Taggar replied. "A most unfortunate setback, but we've had plenty of those on this project."

"How many failures does this make now? Twenty? Thirty?"

"This makes thirty-four, actually."

"My God, has it really been that many?" Mr. Draeden looked up at his friend. "Thirty-four test subjects?"

The Vius'Karr gave a solemn nod. "Sadly, yes."

"Thirty-four..." Mr. Draeden sat in disbelief. The other test subjects had all perished sadly, but none like this. Heart attacks, brain aneurysms - practically everything else imaginable - but he never expected in his wildest dreams to see what he saw. He knew he wouldn't sleep well tonight. Watching Private Turner disintegrate before his eyes was something that one simply couldn't forget.

"The only thing to do is to learn what went wrong here. I'll have my team review the data collected; I'm sure they'll be able to figure out what happened here." Taggar placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "The important thing to keep in mind is that we are close. Very close. We saw the Lenarro device function as it was intended, even if it was brief."

Mr. Draeden took a deep breath and stood up. Straightening his crimson tie and smoothing his suit jacket, he knew his friend was right. He brushed the pin on his lapel of his country's flag and nodded in resolution. "Yes, you are absolutely correct. We've made remarkable progress today and we've proven the device is capable of working correctly. Please keep me informed of your team's analysis from the results."

"Of course."

The steel blast door rose slowly to reveal the burnt husk of the isolation room. There was nothing left save the concrete floor, walls, and ceiling. Large scorch marks ran up the walls in several places and small pools of smoldering slag littered the floor. Any risk of the nanites breaching containment had been rendered moot - the incinerator jets had done their job marvelously.

Mr. Draeden swallowed at the sight. "For the Empire."

"For the Empire."