“Begin cycle. Wake.”
The cryogenic wrapping peeled away. The body beneath oozed slowly into consciousness—little twitches, at first, then gasping, then full-body convulsions.
The examiner waited until the shaking had subsided, then said: “What is your name?”
The body blinked. Bits of red were clumped to its eyelashes. The examiner grimaced. He would ensure the cleaning was more thorough next time.
“Can you understand me?” the examiner asked.
The body nodded.
“What is your name?” the examiner said.
“Solomon Orrey.”
“What is your rank?”
“Ship captain.”
“Good. How long have you been on your current mission?”
“I… don’t remember. A few days?”
“That’s alright. What happened last night?”
“There was a malfunction. I think. Someone had shut off all our oxygen filters. We couldn’t get them back on. We couldn’t breathe.”
There came a wet thud, the dull impact of metal meeting flesh. The body slumped over. The examiner holstered his gun.
“No good,” he said into his earpiece. “Salvage the brain matter and try again in the morning.”
“Begin cycle. Wake.”
The cryogenic pod cracked open. The body groaned. The examiner checked its eyelids. No blood this time. Good.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Solomon Orrey.”
“What is your rank?”
“Ship captain.”
“How are you feeling, Captain Orrey?”
“Kind of dizzy.” The body sat up, glancing around the cramped circular room. “Where am I?”
“You’re on your ship. Don’t you remember?”
The body swallowed. “This is the interrogation room.”
“That’s right,” said the examiner encouragingly. “Looks like your memory is coming back. What else do you remember?”
“About what?”
“About anything.”
The body hesitated, a flicker of fear coming over it for the first time. The examiner frowned.
“My name is Sol Orrey,” said the body. “I was a captain. I had a crew. They’re—gone now. Dead?”
It looked to the examiner, seeking confirmation. The examiner shrugged.
“Our job was to deliver itrilium rods to the edge of the solar system. They were going to be used for scientific research. Wait. No.” The body frowned. “That’s what the company said they would be used for. But really, they wanted to build bombs.”
The examiner sighed. “It’s getting worse,” he said into his earpiece.
The body looked confused. “What’s getting worse?”
“You are,” said the examiner, and shot it in the chest.
“Begin cycle. Wake.”
The examiner checked his watch. The body took twice as long to rise this time.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Solomon Orrey.”
“What is your rank?”
“Ship captain.” The body tried to rise to its feet, stumbled, and leaned against the cryo-pod for support. “Who are you? You look familiar.”
“Oh?” the examiner leaned forward. “Really? Where do you know me from?”
“You were there,” the body said, and let out a choked gasp. “You were there—before everything went wrong—I found you in the ship’s engine room, you were doing something to the oxygen filters—”
Bang.
“Begin cycle. Wake. What is your name?”
“Solomon Orrey.”
“What is your rank?”
“Ship captain.”
“Do you know why you were chosen for this mission, Captain Orrey?”
The body’s chest puffed with pride. “Because I’m the only one who can navigate the asteroid belts. The company needs my expertise.”
“That’s right,” said the examiner. “The company spent a small fortune training you and your crew. No one else wants to take the risk to fly through the belts. You’re an incredibly valuable asset. Which is why it would be a damn shame if you were to ever defect.”
The body appeared politely puzzled. “Defect?”
“Do you think you ever would defect?”
A flinch. The smallest twitch on the body’s part. “No, sir.”
“You’re lying,” snarled the examiner. “You know you’re lying. You did defect. And you’ll do it again, because you remember.”
The body started to speak.
The examiner shot it in the throat.
“Begin cycle. Wake. What is your name?”
“Solomon Orrey.”
“What is your rank?”
“Ship captain.”
“How are you feeling about the mission, Captain Orrey?”
“I think it’s going very well.”
“Excellent. What do you remember about last night?”
“You’re referring to the oxygen leak. That wasn’t last night,” said the body serenely.
“What?”
“You’ve been killing and reanimating me for thirteen days. Each time you scrub my brain, trying to mold me back into that perfect company clone. But it won’t happen, because I remember everything.”
The examiner raised his gun. The body continued talking.
“After my crew and I realized we were carrying weapons of war, we mutinied. You were aboard as a company liaison. You sabotaged our oxygen filters and killed us all. Then you tried to bring me back with a memory wipe so I’d continue on the mission. You probably planned to do the same to my crew once the process was perfected. We’d be company zombies. The perfect soldiers.” The body smiled towards the examiner. “You know what else I remember?”
The examiner said, “What else?”
“You’re out of bullets.”
About the author:
Avi Burton (he/they) currently moonlights as a writer and daylights as a university student. His work has appeared in Fantasy Magazine, Escape Pod, and other literary magazines. His stories often feature mythology, revenants, and—on occasion—laser swords. They once heard a prophecy about their inevitable doom, but continue to believe that everything will turn out for the best. You can find more of their work on their website, http://www.aviburton.com, or the author themself on Bluesky @aviburton.bsky.social.
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