89P13

 “It’s awake,” one of your assistance huffs exasperated. Indeed P13’s eyes blink, filmy at first and then it focusses on you. That is when you realize 86P13 has discovered emotion. Fury. You jab the needle in further and you do not wince as the stomach wall makes a sickening pop, acid spurting onto your face shield. 13 arches its back against the straps holding it down and lets out a hissing cough. You drive the rest of the alloy down into its stomach and retract the needle quickly. P13 fights to keep its eyes open but it cannot do so for long. You watch its mouth work to say something, but its words are lost in a gurgle of blood and bile as it vomits and chokes. Your assistant reaches a hesitant finger into its jaws and scoops out the liquid.

“Gross,” the whine, grimacing as they wipe the green yellow liquid on P13’s fur. You have the others stitch P13 back together, the stitches piercing through tender scar tissue.  You swear you can feel its eyes on you as you turn your back and let the doors close.

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“G…g….gggd?” 89P11 looks through the one-way glass, it knows enough to understand that it is being observed through that window. You press a button to your right and a small pellet is dispensed in the testing room. P11 grabs it with nimble paws and eats it with glee.

P13 is next. It glares at you when you and the handlers fetch it out of its cage. Its awkwardly shuffles forward instead of back into a corner. An interesting development you make note of. It bares its teeth and its claws are already out, ready. The handler gives you a tentative glance and you nod for them to reach in with the restraining collar. P13 crouches on all fours and attacks at once, biting and trying to unhook the collar from the pole. The handler shakes it, trying to dislodge P13’s grip and bashing it against the walls of the cage as they do so. Still P13 attempts to gnaw at the plastic pole. Enough of this. You instruct the handler to retract the device and you reach in yourself. P13 leaps at your gloved hands but even its enhanced teeth can’t get through vibration fabricated gloves. You squeeze your fingers around its neck and press the button on your wrist band. This time the cybernetics in its arms and legs suddenly lengthen inside its limbs, stretching the muscles and bones. It isn’t by much, but it’s enough. P13 yelps and falls to the ground. You yank it out of the cage by the scruff of its neck.

“You were going to have a big treat today 13. Your final test for this stage of your development. But seeing as you’ve been so rude, you’ll have to be disciplined first.”

“Nnn…n..no…” it whines. You shake it violently at its insolence until P13’s head sways.

“Repeat after me 13,” you instruct as you march down the sterile corridors to one of the testing rooms. “Everything I do is for your own…?” you wait. P13 stares downward at itself and you move your hands around to its neck, squeezing.

“G…gooood!” It howls, tail swooshing.

“Precisely.” 

You reach the pressure chamber and P13 begins to madly twist, trying to escape your hold as you near the large black iron box. 

“N….n,” it whimpers, “pls…p…p…p…p,” you press another button on your wristband and P13 curls in on itself in agony, repulses fired through its brain tissue stabbing pain alighting each nerve. It claws at its head for relief.

“Stop stuttering,” you sigh exasperated and drop 13 down into the well-like container. It scrambles up the bare walls and you go to close the lid, pausing as its little paws cling to the rim.  “You have to be disciplined,” you repeat softly. “You cannot attack me or the handlers. I am only trying to make you,”

“B….e…betttr,” it stammers. You nod.

“Now, what do we say to people who are trying to help you?” P13 blinks and lets its back paws go from the side of the chamber, sliding down a little.

“Taaa…tank…tank…yuuu.” You move a finger to the button again, “thaaank y…y,” it coughs, “you. Thankk yoo!” You grin,

“That’s right,” you close slam the lid shut and P13 lets out a cry as its little paws crack under the weight. You have P13 in the pressure chamber for five hours. Luckily the device is sound proof. You can’t have its animal chittering and yowling as you are trying to work.

P13 gets sick after its time in the chamber. It lays in its cage drifting in and out of consciousness and tears at its flesh in distress making small but effective cuts. It soils itself and does not drink or eat. You debate euthanizing it. In that time P11 expires. One of the behaviorists over-estimated its abilities and tested its aptitude against one of the kree battle slaves. This results in its spinal cybernetic panel being crushed. It lies on the floor and finally dies as the electricity overrides its system, burning its bones and shorting out its circulatory system.

P13 is the only remaining subject.