GREEN [complete]

CHAPTER 04: Mars

Mars sprawled across the floor of his cage, basking in the warmth breathing down on him. He lay on his aching belly, eyes closed as his fingers drifted over the words in one of his new books.

It was a brave story, about princesses and beasts the book called dragons. Mars was unsure how any creature could breathe fire—let alone have scales, fly, and breathe fire, but he supposed his own existence would have been as baffling to the author. He hoped there would be centaurs; they were most like him.

Jones worked at the bench across from him, hovering over the shoulder of someone that was not a keeper. She called him Warren. Warren's fingers buzzed over a keyboard, his eyes glued to the dark screen in front of him. They were altering Mars's code, working on his next version. She barely seemed concerned that his liver was failing again.

Mars understood very few of the words passed between them. He did know that they were nearly done. Jones tasted like excitement, and her heart raced beneath her lab coat. Mars turned the page in his book just as she let out a holler and wrapped her arms around Warren. He lifted his chin to look at them.

Jones looked back. "You know what this means, C9M?" She strode across the room to meet him.

Mars drew himself up to her height. He wanted to tell her to call him by his name—to call him Mars like Dylan did. He missed Dylan. He didn't like this new man that came to stand next to Jones; he didn't like the scent of fear that spilled from every pore. "I will be better?" he asked.

"Yes, so much better." Jones nodded enthusiastically. "We think this is the one, don't we Warren?"

Warren didn't smell so certain. "Probably," he amended.

"Will it fix my stomach?" Mars pressed his hand over his abdomen, emphasizing the pain he felt.

Jones smiled gently. "We will get that taken care of. After the transfer. Are you ready?"

"I want ..." Mars's attempt to demand his liver be fixed first was silenced by her look. He would do what she wanted him to do, when she wanted him to do it. He was in no place to make demands. "I'm ready."

Jones collected the tablet and the cord that accompanied it from the lab bench. Mars's heart sank as a pair of mongrels entered the lab. They towered above Jones and Warren, their heads positioned low on their shoulders. They were like Mars in some ways and completely unlike him in others. Their faces were elongated, canine snouts and ears punching from an otherwise humanoid form. They walked on two legs, their strides long and certain.

A door opened out from one of the glass walls of Mars's cage and the mongrels came in to collect them. Mars shied away, but there was nowhere for him to hide. His rattle trembled against his will as he shrunk into one of the corners, a hiss forming between his fangs.

The mongrels knew he couldn't hurt them, not if he wanted to survive another day. And he did. They grabbed his upper arms and yanked him forward, dragging him a few feet before the muscles in his tail began to work. Jones followed them into the next room of the lab.

Mars didn't like this room.

A table was bolted to the floor. Two sets of straps dangling over the sides for his arms, and another two to pin down his neck and middle. Mars settled onto it without protest, the cold metal harsh against his lamp-warmed scales. This was for his own good, after all.

The mongrels tightened the straps down, fixing him in place. Mars's lower half drooped over the edge of the table, far too long to fit on the table. He curled it closer, trying to find the comfort of his coil before his mind was torn apart.

"You're going to do well," Jones told him. "You always do." She ran her thumb over the spot at the base of his skull, just below his hairline, where the seven-pronged cord slotted into place. "Deep breaths, C9M and five ... four ... three ... two ..."

"One," Mars finished.

The tingle of electricity skittered through the stem of his brain and reached down his spine, sending his senses into a wild spiral. The vibrations that he relied on to hear scrambled and the colors in front of his eyes burned together.

Jones tapped the screen on her tablet. Data surged through the cord and into his brain, sending each and every one of his cells a new command; a new task to accomplish. Mars quivered as the world splashed around him, what he felt and heard and tasted melding together in ways that made no sense. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the cool metal.

Three minutes, he thought. Three minutes was the longest a transfer had ever taken. All he needed to do was make it through three minutes and the it would be complete. The task would be easier if he still had a grasp on the concept of time. Milliseconds felt like weeks.

The transfer progressed and his muscles began to spasm. His body thrashed out of his control, slamming against the walls, the floor, the ceiling—he couldn't remember which was which anymore. All he knew was that he couldn't reach the cord to yank it out. Mars strained against the straps, talons biting into his palms as he fought them.

Jones laid her hand between his shoulders, her skin blisteringly hot and cold enough to burn at the same time. Mars cried out—maybe. He wasn't sure if the shrieking he heard belonged to him or someone else, but he knew his throat hurt, his lungs hurt, everything hurt.

Three minutes. Had it not been three minutes yet? How had it not been three minutes yet? All coherent thought was ripped away from him and everyone one of Mars's senses felt wholly and completely stifled.

And then they snapped back into place and the transfer was complete. Jones removed the cord from the back of his head and Mars slumped into the table, panting and gasping around the rawness in his throat. His muscles relaxed and his hands eased open. Blood dripped from his talons, speckling the pristine floor.

"You are reborn," Jones said, stroking his cheek with her knuckles. She said the same thing every time, although they both knew it was untrue. The rebirth came after the reprogramming was complete.