He knew there was no absolution for what he had done, and he feared the decision that weighed down on his shoulders.

For the next several minutes, Vincent concentrated on making sure that nothing followed either ship into the nebula. The War was like a drug. It caused him grief, depression, and altered his perception of reality. And the only thing that he felt would keep him sane was to think about the War.

The environmental readout from the bomber indicated the pilot was alive, so he didn’t attempt communications right away. It was difficult to work around his grogginess, and the place he sought for fortification only returned further clarification on his dismal position. The bomber was critically hit and would barely survive the nebula. His ship was only in slightly better condition.

He verified the communications were still encrypted and then tried hailing the bomber. It took several minutes before he could even raise static. As the nebula approached, he started to worry that the pilot was either dead or unaware of the condition of the bomber. The engine would have to be jettisoned once the nebula was reached, or it could explode and take the fission torpedo and his fighter with it.

When the computer failed to post a reply to his transmission, he switched to vocal.

“Panthera Class Bomber, this is Panthera Class Fighter at your six. You copy?” He waited impatiently.

The cabin of the ship began to feel cool and he increased the thermostat. His skin crawled and felt clammy in his suit, and a sharp headache began to pulse in his temples and at the base of his neck. From the corners of his sight he could see the brilliant colors of the meadow beckoning him to return. The thought of going through a withdrawal or becoming immersed in a hallucination heightened his concern and he switched on the cabin light, only to be taken back in utter disgust. Vincent had to do everything his will would allow to keep from retching.

His ship suit was covered with dried blood. Cauterized slash and puncture wounds covered his legs, arms and torso. He couldn’t tell if he was still bleeding, but he could clearly see that some of the blood was not his. Dried, deep blue blood was splashed across his chest and was smeared across his legs. He wanted to scream, but could only muster a soft-spoken cuss.

“...ing radio,” his headset crackled.

Vincent immediately knew it was the emergency radio. He focused his attention on the primary display until the translucent vision of the meadow receded again and his nausea subsided.

“You alive over there?” Vincent asked, now overcome with a wave of vertigo.

“Barely,” the male voice replied. “You?”

“If you want to call this living,” was all he could think to say.

“If you haven’t turned on your overhead light yet, don’t.”

“Too late,” Vincent muttered, then swallowed back a thick swell of nausea. He stared at the primary display for a moment and tried to regain control of himself by concentrating on the warning indicators and status reports. “You need to jettison your engine once you hit the nebula.”

“You have tact?”

“Is your computer up? I’ll send it over.” Vincent tried again to establish a communication link with the computer on the bomber, but the delay told him it would most likely fail.

“No. Computer’s gone. I’ve got life support and a fission warhead. Damn, man, this whole thing is screwed. What’s the tact?”

Vincent swallowed. “It looks like the light. If you haven’t seen it yet, don’t.”

“We had an armada large enough to sack this galaxy three times over with just its reserve. How bad is it?”

“Wait one,” Vincent replied and accessed the General Combat Log. The sheer size of it caused him to sway into another rich bout of nausea. He scouted for main engagements and events, then output those into a summary. “Well, the short version is, by our intelligence, we started out with an armada able to erase all known sapient life from this galaxy. Presently, one or two ships of an unknown class remain, defending four primitive colonies around the farthest star. They comprise about five percent of the entire target. Our assets include one beat to hell bomber that can’t fly, one beat to hell fighter that can, and one fission torpedo capable of obliterating the star and all surrounding planets. There are some codes that must be the date, but I don’t know what they mean. I don’t know how long we’ve been awake.”

“No one else made it, then?” The voice came back, the tone much more hurt than before.

“If they did, they hacked my ship computer to say they didn’t. But I think we’re all that’s left.” Vincent pushed his hands to his eyes and wanted to wail like a frightened child. Somewhere in the intense withdrawal of the drugs and adrenaline, he managed to stay afloat, but knew an emotional breakdown was not far away. “I don’t know about you, but I think my heart is about to break.”

“I envy you,” came a distant, whispered reply.

“Why?” Vincent asked.

“I think my computer didn’t finish cleaning those drugs from my blood. I’m still seeing burned trees and animal corpses. I’ve been conscious for about two hours now, and there have been times I’ve wanted to cry like Niagra falls, and times I’ve wanted to go kill somebody. But I’d give anything to get this shit out of my blood right now. Hey,” he said then paused, “what’s your name?”

“Vincent,” came the muted response. “And I don’t think it’s any kind of drug that caused that meadow. It must have been whatever they did with our heads under the label of behavior adjustment.”

“Possibly,” he said. “My name’s Daren. So, Vincent, what are our options here?”

“I’d say lets just get the hell out of here, but I don’t think it’s that easy. The star charts are only for this region. I haven’t seen anything that shows us where Earth is located.”

“Why am I getting this sick feeling that the information is there, but is only available when the mission is completed?” Daren asked.

“Yeah,” was all Vincent cared to offer as a response. “Whatever we decide to do, we’re going to have to transfer everything worth saving, including the fission torpedo, over to this ship. Then, there are some things that need to get fixed before we go anywhere. After that, we can decide what to do. Until then, I’m voting that we concentrate on trying to stay sane and getting organized.”

“Ok, fair enough.” Daren fell silent.

Vincent left the radio on, and let the tears begin to fall. He found so many things wrong with what he had done that it was difficult for him to find a reason to continue to live. He was five years away from an Earth that didn’t know he was gone, and for the most part, and Earth that didn’t know who he was. He was a bachelor, never married, and no surviving relatives. At that moment, the only friend he had was a broken down, crazy pilot named Daren, and the thought that Daren was his only friend made him feel worse. He cursed to himself, remembering he was just as broken down and crazy.

Death was not far from his thoughts; he contemplated simply invoking an integrated program designed to be executed if he was captured. But a curiosity arose about the hallucination that had been woven into his mind. Why did the psychologists and psychiatrists elect such a primal scene as a pride of lions trampling through a meadow? Vincent was perplexed, but his attempts to escape from guilt into a morbid re-enactment of recent events failed. He could not describe the overwhelming dread that he had done something awful, and it was strange that he could not remember what he had done. But with so many dead and the telltale signs of battle soiling his cloths, he could not deny that he had played more than a passive role.

Daren’s bomber swept through a narrow band of the nebula and space began to thicken with lustrous gases and refractions of light. Countless souls floated in space somewhere between the pilots’ dimension and the destination as dictated by their religion. And yet, even through the precise bands of genocide that the Panthera fleet had cut through the entire system, beauty glimmered in the distant stars. When the bomber entered the thick body of the nebula, Vincent watched as the reactor and engine were jettisoned. The bomber applied breaking thrust using its maneuvering thrusters, and Vincent did the same.

With no communication from Daren, Vincent spent the silent minutes rationalizing what he had done and what he would do. Glancing at the ship clock, Vincent noticed that two hours had passed since the passage of time first registered. From the clock, he looked across the main view screens before his eyes fell upon the Panthera emblem, a bald eagle clutching a galaxy in one talon, and an ancient space fighter in the other. He wondered what sort of man could have founded such a company that would send so many millions of people from one race to strategically annihilate a race that probably did not pose much of an economic or military threat. Vincent traced the emblem with his finger. “Why go through all the trouble of altering our minds and risk so many citizens of one race with the sole intent of destroying another?” He mused over the question, understanding that his subconscious was feeding him these thoughts in an effort to keep him from thinking of his actions. Images of the meadow, waist high grass bristling in a light summer breeze, continued to infect his mind.

Vincent tried to raise Daren on the radio, waited several minutes before a reply crackled through the cockpit speaker.

“There must be some sort of communication between our computers. My blood was cleansed, and ..” he broke off. “I’m still seeing that damned meadow,” he confessed moments later.

“I still feel pretty bad too, if that’s what you mean,” Vincent offered.

“You do any thinking on what we should do?”

“I’ve only managed to keep myself sane.” It was a cop out, but the only answer Vincent felt like he could provide.

“The information is stored in our heads. Isn’t there a way to get at it without having to go through one more atrocity?” Daren sighed into the microphone. “I don’t want to die out here, Vincent. But I don’t want to have to decide the fates of so many lives for the price of ours.”

“I understand. And we don’t know why we’re out here or what sort of threat this civilization poses.” Vincent had been wondering about why Panthera saw the unspecified race as hostile or threatening. “I think most of the information is in our heads, but I’m not particularly eager to directly manipulate my thoughts given they were already thoroughly manipulated before we left. I hate to bring it up, but for all we know, we might very well get coordinates to a drinking pool rather than Earth. There is no way to know with altered minds.”

“Well, whatever algorithms were plugged into our heads still operate on external information. What if that information was incorrect?”

Vincent thought about Daren’s suggestion for a few moments. He had to admit that it had merit. It was a very good suggestion. But if the pilots knew that their environment was based upon fictitious information, then the trigger that would release the information would most likely account for that circumstance. Daren’s idea was worth keeping in mind, but it didn’t seem feasible given their position. “If we were captured, do you think our captors would be after the location of our base?”

“Yeah,” Daren agreed.

“And if the information wasn’t yielded at first, would it be reasonable to assume that other tactics might be employed?” Vincent asked.

“Yeah,” he said again, then continued. “So it probably wouldn’t work.”

“It was a very good suggestion,” Vincent offered, wishing to do whatever was possible to keep the other pilot’s spirits up.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “How much time do you suppose we have to think about this?”

Another good question, Vincent thought. “I’m not quite sure. It depends on whether they know the actual size of our force, and if they decide to take an offensive or defensive position.”

The confines of the cockpit began to close in on Vincent and he remained quiet. Haunting images of the meadow returned to his mind and he began to wonder if it was possible that the induced hallucination that he was supposed to never remember would ever go away. New fears began to plague him. Even if he could reconcile his actions with himself, how could his society accept someone that remembered what it was like to be a predator for an extended period of time. He decided to ask Daren.

“If we decide to finish this mission, what do you think will happen when we return?”

“That’s ..” Daren broke off and continued after a length pause. “That’s a good question. What would we be returning to? I can’t even begin to imagine the broader scope of what they put into our heads. When they go to remove it, they won’t be able to remove these memories. I guess what matters is what their intentions are if and when we return.”

“I don’t know if we’d even be having this conversation if we were in one of the Earth military units from almost any civilization. We’d just do what we were told and go home.” Vincent didn’t think it was the best thing to say, but his mind was still muddled, as Daren’s must have been at the moment.

“Would they, though?” Daren countered almost immediately. “If this was some other battle, would it be any different? Scientists know that the human body is continually evolving, but there have been no major changes in the last twelve millennia. And we as a people haven’t changed, have we?”

Another good question, Vincent thought. He didn’t offer any reply.

“We have the same prejudices as our ancestors. We fear what we don’t understand and loathe what is even minutely different than ourselves. If any one else was in our situation, and somewhere in time it must have happened, then I surmise they had the same conversation we were having now. Some of them probable chose to run, others probably chose to stay and finish the mission. But what it comes down to is that we need to make what we think is the right decision. Vincent, I don’t know what the right decision is for us.”

“For the moment, let’s worry about our immediate situation. We should move everything worth salvaging from your bomber to my fighter. I think we’ll be able to make more rational decisions once we have that much less to worry about.” Vincent touched the icons on the primary display screen that began an emergency docking procedure. “Is your environmental suit functional?”

“Should be,” Daren said. “Let me check.” He broke off the radio and checked the condition of his space suit. “The suit regulators look nominal.”

“Ok. We probably shouldn’t bother with a docking tube since we will need to be outside anyway. A tether between the two ships will suffice.” Vincent pulled himself out of the pilot’s seat and drifted over the top of his seat and the empty navigator’s seat. Behind the second seat, a small corridor ran the length of the fighter and provided access to a compact medical bay and storage area. Once clear of the seats, he pulled himself horizontally through the cylindrical corridor towards the storage compartments in the aft of the vessel. “I set my computer to navigate within docking range of yours. I’ll suit up and ..” he broke off while unpacking the environmental suit. The suit itself showed no signs of damage, but the extra-vehicular thruster was shredded from laser fire and fragmentation explosions. “Looks like I have half a suit,” he finished.

“Which half?” Daren queried.

“The good one. But the EVT is smashed. Fighters are only issued one complete environment set. What about the bombers?”

“Looks like two,” Daren said with some relief in his tone. “I can ferry this EVT over.”

“Good plan. What else should we transfer from your ship?” Vincent started looking around him to see what he would require for a second crew member.

“Cryogenics chemicals and computers?” he offered.

Vincent floated back up the length of the corridor to the cockpit and inspected the pilot and navigation seats where the cryogenics materials were stored. “Yes, we’ll need those.”

“I jettisoned the engine and reactor, but still have the solar cells and liquid hydrogen for the gravity and ion drives. We should probably give the fighter a good once over while we’re outside. It wouldn’t be good to fly to the other end of the galaxy, if we decide to finish this mission, only to run out of fuel.”

Vincent mumbled in agreement as he struggled to open the cryogenics chamber for the navigator’s seat. The chamber was not very accessible and progress was difficult in the cramped confines. When the chamber was exposed for the materials Daren would transfer from the bomber, he drifted up over the backs of the seats again to look at the primary display.

“Daren, I’m not getting any reading from my solar cells and my liquid H-two is almost on empty. O-two is about half.”

When Daren responded, Vincent could hear his labored breathing as he struggled with the hatch. “Understood. I’m outside now and am running a tether and the EVT over to you.” His breathing became erradic as he spoke.

“Everything okay?” Vincent asked.

“No,” came a faint reply. He could make out muffled sobs before the transmission cut out.

“What’s the matter?” Vincent sat down in the pilot’s chair and peered through the side window. He could see Daren floating listlessly in space, the EVT attached to his waist and the tether connected to the bomber. “Daren,” he said again.

“It’s the meadow, Vincent. It’s alive out here, calling to me. It wants me.” He sounded troubled and as disorientated as he words implied.

“Don’t give in to it, Daren.” Through the window, he watched Daren begin to move towards the fighter.

“It’s hard not to think about it. It’s everywhere outside as though I wasn’t floating in space but walking through the grass.” The bomber pilot fell silent, though continued to move by sheer will alone. “It’s beautiful,” he added. “I wouldn’t have expected Panthera to add this much detail to something we weren’t suppose to remember.”

“I don’t remember any of the fighting, it’s just this meadow. Try not to think about it. Get that EVT over here and we’ll move what we need together.” Vincent tried to conjure more words of support, but his mind refused to create any. The mere mention of the meadow sent Vincent into another throw of panic and he tried to concentrate on what needed to be done to get back home.

Daren stopped four more times after falling victim to the remnants of the behavioral programming. Vincent tried to get him talking about his life before Panthera, before this war. Other times, he just told him to not think about it. Those were the things that kept Vincent from losing focus, though he couldn’t put a finger on what dampened the artificial behaviors and instincts in him. He mused that it may simply be the strengths of self recognition and humanity overpowering the psychosis. When Daren was several meters from the fighter, Vincent moved back down the corridor to the hatch.

He checked gauges for the pressurized hatch and opened the exterior door once he was satisfied that there were no problems.

The tether was attached to the exterior of the fighter, and a winch picked up the slack between the two ships. It took Daren a full minute to enter the exterior door after securing the tether. After he entered the small pressurization chamber, he sealed the outer door.

When the outer door was closed, Vincent pressurized the chamber and opened the interior door. He moved down the corridor to give Daren room to enter. When Daren removed his helmet, his face ghastly and white, he offered a weak smile. “It’s hell out there.”

Vincent reached out to take the helmet and then shook the other pilot’s hand. “Good to meet you. You want a couple minutes to rest, or are you ready to transfer the rest of the equipment?”

“I’m ready,” came his weak reply.

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe it was just me, but when I entered open space, it was almost impossible not to see the meadow. But this time, I knew what I was doing. Maybe it will be different for you. I hope it is.”

But it wasn’t.

After Vincent had attached the EVT, put on the environmental suit and left the ship, he was once more immersed in the meadow. The hallucination, if that’s what it was, was vivid down to every detail and extremely beautiful. The overwhelming beauty was almost erotic and he began to lose himself in it. There was no indication that he was floating in space and he could feel each blade of amber grass as it brushed against his leg.

Daren put a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and spun him about so that the pilots faced each other. “It’s easy to forget who you are and why you’re here.” He raised a lead to the tether so Vincent could see the clasp. “I’m attaching one of these to your suit, and one to mine. They should give us enough room to move around each ship, and keep us from getting lost in the nebula if we happen to lose our cool.”

Vincent nodded and snapped back to reality. “Thanks,” he muttered. After Daren connected the lead to the tether, they began the arduous task of ferrying supplies from the bomber to the fighter. The cryogenics materials and fuel were not altogether difficult, simply awkward. Maneuvering between the two ships was very confusing. It was strange for Vincent to see Daren, completely clad in the environmental suit, float up the side of the bomber, with the meadow and clear blue sky all around. Moving the smaller, lighter equipment was easier, given the environment.

The fission bomb was another matter. They erected a second tether to move the bomb canister between the vessels to keep the canister from moving too far and too fast in the wrong direction. It was a slow and difficult process to move the canister, compounded by the fact that both pilots were subjected to the behavioral programming. As far as their eyes and instincts told them, they were still in lush meadow and nowhere near a nebula.

“It’s in,” Daren said when the canister was finally attached to the fighter.

“The firing system is connected to the computer, and the fighter recognizes it.”

Daren smiled, “Then can we get the hell back inside?”

Vincent nodded. He was concerned that the physical labor was not going to be the difficult part of this mission, but the decision on whether the mission should be completed. The decision to engage in the last battle of a war over genocide was not going to be easy.

When both pilots were aboard, they repaired what systems they could and then secured themselves into their seats. Vincent flew the fighter deeper into the nebula, changed trajectories, and then set a course for the remaining star. He let the fighter coast within the nebula to give them time to decide on a course of action.

Both pilots remained quiet while contemplating their situation.

“Let’s go over our situation and our personal resolutions again,” Daren offered. “It may help.”

“It’s worth trying,” Vincent said. They had already gone over it several times, but to no avail. “You start this time.”

“Okay. Panthera sends a force to completely destroy an unknown enemy. Most of the Panthera fleet have their cognitive abilities altered to improve their abilities to fight.” Daren looked at Vincent.

“The fleet is decimated, save two pilots and the equipment necessary to finish the mission.” Vincent folded his hands and looked at the primary display which outlined the local star systems. “The pilots are faced with a difficult decision.”

“Follow orders, destroy the star, and go home. Or don’t follow orders, leave the enemy alone, and never see Earth again.” Daren pressed his hands into his eyes and rubbed his palms against the bridge of his nose. “All the while constantly impaired with the behavior modification.”

“The only thing we have to do is move within range of the star, release the bomb, and retreat to the nebula.” Vincent followed the path between the nebula and the target star with his finger. “Daren, I don’t want to kill all those people. If there was a good reason, maybe I could rationalize a justification.”

“Yeah,” Daren agreed. “What about meeting the enemy face to face?”

Vincent turned around as best he could to look at Daren. “You’re not serious, are you?”

Daren remained silent.

“You are! We can’t ..”

“Why not?” Daren interjected. “Not literally, anyway. Why don’t we at least see what we’re up against?”

Vincent looked ahead and watched as the fighter slipped out of the nebula again. “I want to know, Daren, but if we raise communications of any kind, they will know we exist and start looking for us.”

Vincent could see Daren shrug in the reflection of the canopy. “That’s a risk I would like to take.”

“I’m accelerating to put us in firing range within an hour. Let me think about it.” He looked at Daren’s reflection. “I don’t want to fire this thing any more than you do.”

“I know,” Daren agreed.

The fighter accelerated at full burn for two minutes before coasting along the desired trajectory. Daren calculated and prepared the necessary escape trajectories in the event that the bomb was launched. Vincent scanned the star systems they passed through for any signs of life.

“Ok,” Vincent said several minutes after finishing the burn. “I’ll go with your suggestion.”

Daren smiled and nodded. “It’s the right thing, Vincent, even if it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“Let’s secure our suits and systems just in case it doesn’t work and we have to launch the bomb.”

“Understood,” Daren said. He began to scan for any signs of communication signals that the fighter’s computers could adapt to. “Any idea on what type of communication to look for?”

Vincent shook his head.

Daren continued scanning for communication signals with no success until the fighter started to break on the edge of the bomb’s maximum range. The fighter continued to coast towards the target star when both pilot and navigation computers flashed to indicate a successful communication signal. “Vincent!”

Vincent nodded, having already noticed the computer update, and tuned in to the signal. “I’m putting it on the speaker.”

At first it was only static interrupted with sporadic hisses and whistles. Daren syncronized the language filter with the incoming transmissions, tapping his fingers eagerly on the console as the ship computer tried to identify the linguistics and semantics of the language, if that’s what it was.

“I wonder what kind of creature belongs to those sounds?” Vincent asked.

“Shh,” Daren said sharply. A broken transmission ensued.

“Peace ..” The computer stopped the translation, but began again when a familiar pattern returned. “Peace.”

Vincent closed his eyes. “Do you think it’s genuine?”

“I ..” Daren began but was cut off when the fighter lurched. “What was that?”

“The bomb!” Vincent cried. “It fired!”

“I didn’t launch it,” Daren said.

The computer continued to translate the recognized pattern in the transmission. “Peace.”

Vincent fell silent and batted the side of his helmet with his hand when the visage of the meadow began to infect his vision. “Damn, damn, damn!”

Daren reached over the seat and grabbed Vincent’s hand. “Stop it! We don’t have time to go nuts. We’ve got to get the hell out of here if we want to live!”

Vincent felt tears erupt from his eyes and furiously punched in the escape trajectory. “Why did this happen?”

The fighter made a hard turn into the new trajectory and started back towards the nebula at full burn.

“Vincent,” Daren said while still in the hard turn, his body pressed into the side of the cockpit, “they’re firing at us.”

Vincent changed the primary display from navigation to combat and did not see any ensuing vehicles, but saw the incoming laser fire. “Daren,” Vincent said, feeling sick, “it’s coming in fast and it’s going to hit.”

A brilliant light erupted from the depths of space and began to overtake the fighter.

Vincent started to yell out but suddenly found himself amidst the meadow, charging through the thick grass and overcome with the primal lusts. “No,” he told himself. “Stop it. Not now.” He shook his head and closed his eyes and then felt his ship suit tighten against his body.

“Daren, what was that?” he asked in a whisper. But there was no answer.

“Daren!” He shouted. Vincent opened his eyes and found himself staring at the nebula in the distance with the meadow still hovering around the edges of his vision. He began to look over his shoulder only to find that the back half of the canopy was sheared off. “Daren!” he cried aloud, his voice dampened within his helmet.

Vincent began to beat his fists against the primary display and didn’t even feel the four thick, serated needles of the cryogenic system pierce his skin.

Epilogue

It could have been either Heaven or Hell. Whatever it was, it could very well have been life. Vincent wasn’t sure what to think, but found himself amidst another meadow, but still a meadow all the same. The fauna and flora were thriving and he did not feel any overwhelming need to decimate them as he had before. It was rather pleasant, for as much as the situation was weird and disconcerting. He felt like a lion, but he could see the limbs and features of a human when he looked at himself. Time had no meaning in the meadow and as he looked at his hands and body, he had no clear indication of how long the action took. Even if he tried to look at another animal, he couldn’t convince himself that the animal was not moving outside of time.

Vincent wasn’t sure what was happening, or what really had happened. Was he ever a human on a planet called Earth, or was he simply a predator that wandered through this lush meadow, feeding when he was hungry, drinking when he was thirsty, and dreaming of cognitive thought when he was tired?

He spent his days walking deeper into the meadow and thought little of the fact that he didn’t feel human emotions. He did sleep, and his dreams were light and whimsical with no hint of pain or suffering. Vincent thought about Earth and contemplated the actions of the Panthera Corporation while drifting between wakeful thought and dream. At other times, Daren, the bomber pilot, occupied his thoughts. They had been so close to a single right decision only to see it evaporate. Even so, escape had been possible for them until the last remnants of the enemy force killed Daren.

What was it that Darwin called it? Survival of the fittest? Vincent thought that couldn’t be further from the truth. Was this, then, Hell? Was the meadow going to be a constant reminder that humans would never escape the legacy of their evolution? Or, perhaps, was it Heaven, where he was free to indulge in those primal instincts with neither time nor memory to fill him with guilt.

He had trouble deciding where he was, but could not escape the fact that the Panthera Corporation had turned an otherwise benign human from Earth into a predator of the meadow. And how did the fauna feel about that?

One evening as Vincent lay beside a glistening pool, the stars began to fade into blackness. Looking to either side, he could see the meadow peel away into blackness and strange voices filled his ears.

“He’s waking up.”

“Were the behavior modifications removed?”

“We’ve discovered an unexpected side effect.”

“And that is?”

“It seems that the sensory overlays were adapted into his cognitive processes, subconscious thoughts, even his bodily functions.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It is too early to say, but I would surmise that his mind has evolved in new direction. An exciting development, I might add.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see.”

Vincent opened his eyes to the familiar surroundings of a Panthera Corporation medical bay. A doctor, several nurses, and several more officials surrounded his bed. He could only think of one prevalent question to ask. “Am I okay?”

The doctor nodded. “Physically, very much so. Mentally? That will take time to evaluate.”

One of the officials stepped up to the bed side. “Vincent, I don’t want to dump a load of bricks in your lap, but I want you to understand that you are the only one to return. You understand that, correct?”

Vincent nodded. “I understand. Tell me, why did we do it?”

The official looked back at one of the other officials, then to Vincent. “I’m sure you are aware that we can’t discuss that with you.”

The other official approached the bed. “What was it like? The whole experience?”

“I don’t remember much,” Vincent replied. “I remember arriving, I remember flying into the nebula with Daren, the bomber pilot. We went back to finish the mission.”

The official smiled, evidently pleased with the answer.

“And I remember the meadow.”

“The meadow?” the official asked, perplexed.

Vincent nodded. “Yes. You put all that garbage in our heads and I guess it saved us from the horrors of our own actions, but it couldn’t suppress or control the very nature of what we are or what we were doing. I’m surprised you don’t know what I’m talking about, or at least not admitting it, since Daren knew what I was talking about. I don’t think it was a shared delusion.”

“Very interesting,” the doctor said.

The official began to look uncomfortable. “Well, you may rest assured that you will be very well compensated for your services, Vincent.” He turned to go, but the other official near the bed paused.

“You said that the behavior modification couldn’t control the nature of what we are. What does that mean? What are we if not human.”

“Animals,” Vincent put in bluntly.

“You saw yourself as an animal?”

“No, we, as a whole are the animals. Your behavior modification transformed me into a predator.”

The officials looked at each other and left, leaving Vincent alone with the doctor.

“You should get some rest now. You’ve had a traumatic experience.” The doctor left him alone.

Yes, Vincent said to himself. An experience. He watched as the meadow began to envelope him again. He was thankful for its simple bliss, and was interested to see that in Panthera’s own headquarters, he was the only predator in the meadow. Would the predatory lusts return this time?