The Nezha Protocol

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space.

Or so they say, thought Nina as she quickly tried to sort through all the different readings in her helmet’s Heads Up Display.

She tried to focus on the three blinking orange triangles in front of her, but the cacophony of servos and artificial muscles in her powered suit made it hard to concentrate. Even her breathing against the constant hiss of the temperature-controlled, recirculating air was hard to ignore.

Outside her protective cocoon, the temperature on the permanent day side of the planet hovered around -40 degrees Celsius. Its surface was constantly bombarded by x-ray and ultraviolet radiation, lethal to most organisms native to the Sol system.

The lifeless landscape extended into the horizon where the dim red dwarf star was permanently setting, barely illuminating the rocky formations that littered the terrain. If it weren’t for the HUD’s imaging enhancement, Nina’s naked eyes wouldn’t be able to distinguish most of what lay in the distance, let alone the three small figures running for cover.

“What a load of crap.” She said to nobody as she lined up her assault rifle.

The suit’s muscles contracted and did the heavy lifting against the planet’s higher gravity. She squeezed the trigger as the reticle turned red, letting her know that the first hostile was in her sights. Three muffled thuds followed. She repeated the dance with the remaining two moving targets. Yes, sound cannot travel in a vacuum. Yet space was anything but quiet.

A green blinking light called for her attention on the top left side of the visor as the comms crackled to life.

A male voice came through the radio, “Echo 24, you are falling behind. Close that gap.”

The distance readout on the top of three flashing green dots representing her squadmates kept growing. She looked to the right of the visor, where the ammo count was dangerously close to zero. Even after knocking down the last three targets, the IFF -Identification Friend or Foe- in the HUD kept tagging the movement directly in front of her as hostile. It was hard to keep up with her squad when her whole sector crawled with the planet’s natives.

“Fucking Centaurs.” She grunted while weighing her options.

Her Burya-350 power armor could plow through the field of enemies without overheating, but she would need to reload her rifle. That would bring her mission’s margin recklessly close to the red; she would have no safety net if she needed to extend her allotted oxygen. It had taken her three tediously restrained patrols to break even from her last trigger-happy antic, and she could not afford another setback. If she played it right, she would have enough tokens after this deployment to pay for her promotion instead of grinding for years on this god-forsaken planet.

She tapped the side of her helmet to activate her mic, “Wilco.”

Time to get close and personal, I suppose. She fired another burst of armor-piercing tips at one of the advancing hostiles and then started sprinting.

The onboard computer processed the new body inputs in milliseconds, accelerating the half-a-ton behemoth to a mad dash worthy of an olympian sprinter in just a couple of strides.

She hopped into the crater the first group of centaurs was using for cover and landed behind them. Their long and slim limbs looked eerily out of proportion to the human size torso they were connected to. Instead of a head resting on their shoulders, an oval-shaped helmet swiveled around a long neck coming out of their chest with six individual camera sockets spread 40 degrees apart. They stood a whole head taller than Nina’s two meters tall suit.

They pivoted around to face her, the gray and orange camouflage pattern splattered on their outer carapace barely giving their silhouette away against the ice-covered rock background. Behind Nina’s visor, they still light up like a Christmas tree.

The closest one lunged at her, maniacally firing its machine gun, but the bullets ricocheted off the titanium plates that covered most of the suit’s exterior. She slammed the rifle’s bayonet into the centaurs’ chest, trying to finish it off quickly before moving to the other two targets. In a last-ditch effort to get at her, the centaur grabbed Nina’s rifle with one of its four-digit mechanical claws, preventing her from stepping back, and fired point blank at her helmet’s visor.

The thick plexiglass cracked as the HUD started to glitch on and off.

“Son of a bitch!”

She fired into the still impaled body. The bullets went cleanly through it, spraying a white-looking fluid mixed with flesh and armor fragments from the exit wound on its back.

She kicked the lifeless body off the bayonet and turned around to face the other two but quickly realized they were hastily retreating away from her. The first one must have been trying to win them some precious seconds. It didn't matter.

With a well-practiced motion, she raised her rifle. The HUD was still glitching, but the intermittent red reticle still gave her tone. She squeezed the trigger in two controlled bursts. One of the centaurs was thrown forward from the impact, bouncing on the slick surface before plopping down like a rag-doll. The second one looked at its partner, hesitated, then resumed running.

Nina pressed the trigger, but the rifle’s motor spun without firing any more rounds.

“Fuck!”

No way she was going to spend the extra tokens on ammo now. Covering the Burya’s repairs will set her back enough. She clipped the rifle against her backpack. Her record would take a hit for not finishing that last enemy, but getting her score back up was easier than paying for an extra clip.

She started heading back to her squad when a flash from the corner of her eye caught her by surprise. If her helmet weren’t damaged, she would have had plenty of warning, but by the time she tensed and tried to duck, it was already too late. The anti-tank round hit her square on her lower left abdomen.

The depleted uranium arrow pierced through the armor’s composite plates like a hot knife through butter, the massive pressure wave left in its wake spraying the suit’s fragments as shrapnel throughout Nina’s whole left side.

A plethora of alarms started ringing inside her helmet as the glitching HUD flashed new alert messages. The suit was breached, her wounds were too numerous to display, and her vitals were plummeting.

Nina stumbled forward for a few steps before collapsing as the suit’s main systems started to shut down to prioritize life support. After running through hundreds of scenarios in a tenth of a second and concluding that the wearer had a 3.6% survival chance, the onboard computer initiated the Nezha protocol. The suit released a potent drug cocktail into Nina’s bloodstream to keep her calm and pain-free in her last moments.

“Because everyone should be able to expire with dignity.” The actor's voice on her orientation video echoed in the back of her mind as she realized what was happening.

The implant in the base of her head lit up as the 25 quadrillion connections between her neurons were indexed.

“Should have splurged on that extra mag...” She said to herself, feeling remarkably calmed, her inert body facing down against the surface of Proxima b.

Her vision started to get blurry, and her eyelids suddenly felt heavy, but she fought the urge to let go until a new message appeared in her visor.

Indexed completed. Upload initiated.

She sighed with relief after the progress bar reached 100% and then closed her eyes, knowing that her expiration was imminent.

Two centaurs cautiously approached the now powerless hulk of metal. The first one poked it with its gun as if expecting it to come back to life and attack them suddenly. After a few tense seconds, it motioned to the second for assistance, and between them they turned the suit on its back. Frozen blood and mangled flesh were exposed on the abdomen section of the suit, while armor fragments in multiple spots impaled the left forearm and thigh.

A third centaur joined them. His spacesuit was covered by the same gray and orange plates, but it was shorter than the other two, with arms and legs that matched its torso. It wore a helmet with a darkened visor not too different from Nina’s suit and a slim backpack hung from its shoulders.

It pointed its left hand at the pile of metal while focusing on a screen in his right forearm. After pinpointing the location of the data link, it pressed a button on the screen, and the Burya-350’s link to its ship was severed instantly.

After leaving Nina’s suit, it took the data package 12 minutes to arrive at its final destination aboard the O'Neill class ship Caishen. The 32 kilometers long and 8 kilometers wide cylinder was locked in a stationary orbit around Proxima c. Once the transmission was received, the Reintegration Central Authority confirmed the status of Nina’s policy and initiated the appropriate protocols outlined in her contract.

It first placed her consciousness on a buffer, where it was stored until the powered suit transmitted its final signal, confirming that the wearer had expired. A new body was then printed and kick-started, ready to receive the transfer.

Two hours and thirty-five minutes later, Nina slowly opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times, getting used to the brightness of the white room.

“Welcome back!” Said a perky young woman standing next to the hospital bed. She tucked the blond bangs behind her ear and smiled at Nina. The nurse’s white scrubs hugged her well-defined curves leaving little to the imagination.

“My name is Joy! Do you know where you are?” She asked, tucking the touchpad against her chest.

Of course it is.

“Yes; back on the Caishen. Reintegration section.” She answered groggily.

“Great! It seems like the transfer was completed successfully. As outlined in your insurance policy, you have been uploaded to a basic S-Model.” She quickly typed something on the touchpad with her free hand and then continued.

“Would you like to consider any upgrades before we finish your reintegration? Any add-ons purchased right now have a 7% discount over stock prices. Our improved credit increase algorithm can get you pre-approved in just a few seconds.”

“I think I’ll skip those, thanks.” She huffed, sitting straight up, looking around her new body. She touched her abdomen by instinct, the memory of the arrowhead piercing through her still fresh in her mind, but there were no scars.

“Of course! Would you like to make some cosmetic changes, then? These are the ones included with your policy, but for a small upcharge, you can unlock the level two options.”

The nurse handed her the touchpad. Nina watched her reflection on it; dark straight hair touched her shoulders, her smoky gray eyes had no hint of tiredness, and her bronze skin looked smooth and healthy—a far cry from her worn down self after one year on a long-range reconnaissance patrol.

There’s always an upside to everything, I guess. Even expiring.

“That’s fine. I’ll just go with my default.” She gave the pad back; the last thing that she needed was to go further into debt.

“Of course! I’ll let you to it then. Take as much time as you need. You can pick any clothes you like from that panel there.” She pointed towards a rectangle, the size of a school locker, protruding a couple of inches from one of the walls.

“You’ll receive your bill and updated policy in 24 to 48 hrs. Thanks for choosing Clearwater Insurance. We hope not to see you again soon.”

Joy smiled, trying to make it evident that she was joking. Nina just stared back at her awkwardly. She bowed, still with a smile on her face, and then left the room.

“Of course you do.” She sighed and then collapsed into the bed, thinking about her options. This reintegration would set her back for one entire cycle, best case.

###

Nina’s eyes bolted open as she let out an ear-splitting scream. It felt like her left arm and leg were on fire and as if someone was squeezing the inside of her abdomen with gloves covered in barbed wire. With her eyes covered in tears, she tried to raise her head to look at her wounds, but someone pushed her back to the gurney.

Her heart started racing as she began to take in her surroundings. She could barely make the walls of the poorly lit room, but it looked like she was inside a cave. Had the upload failed? What was she doing outside her suit? Did her squad come back for her?

An unfamiliar face got closer to her.

At first glance, it looked like any other person on board her ship, but under the light, she finally noticed the grayish tone of its skin. It stood close to two meters tall, with four-digit hands at the end of its two arms. Its dark irises almost blended with the black pupils against the white of its eyes. It had short white hair and wore a skin-tight charcoal garment. Two other beings with the same androgynous facial features appeared next to the first.

Nina’s pulse spiked, and she started hyperventilating, the pain and shock overloading all her senses. The closest one jammed a syringe into her chest, and her vital signs began normalizing; her body felt heavy again, and she started to drift off.

She tried to fight it and stay awake, but whatever it had injected her was too powerful. The three beings started to talk amongst themselves. Nina tried hard to focus but couldn't understand what they were saying. One last question crossed her mind before she passed out.

Where have I heard that before?

The one that had injected Nina spoke in the unfamiliar language, “We need to get her into surgery right away. You were supposed to capture one, not tear them to pieces.”

“We were lucky to stop her at all! She destroyed five MARCs before we got her.” One of them spat back.

The one who spoke first hurriedly laid down some medical instruments in a cart next to the gurney. “We’re not set up for this here; I don’t know if I can save her. I’m not even sure our equipment will work on her anatomy. We may need to move her to the city.”

The third one finally spoke. “No. Do what you can with what you have. If this one dies, we’ll just capture another. We will not tarnish the city grounds with a filthy Terran.”