ZERO
1109 Words
Ship 035 hovered above Earth like a silent god.
It was designed for research—nothing more. Or so the Kahrin records would say. From a distance, it looked almost reverent, its vast metallic body suspended in orbit as though guarding the fragile blue planet beneath it.
But it was not a guardian.
Earth screamed.it burned.
The sounds echoed through the hollow chambers of the ship—muffled, distorted cries bouncing against steel and glass. Humans called it pain. Urth called it progress.
He walked quickly now, soft footsteps clicking against the sterile floor as he made his way toward the lab. He was close. So close. Years of calculations, centuries of theory, finally refined into something tangible.
Something alive.
This species—humans—were imperfect, volatile, emotional. But that was exactly why they were ideal. Their bodies adapted. Their minds broke and reformed. They endured. With the proper guidance, the proper shaping, they could become something greater.
Not slaves.
Soldiers.
Protectors.
He believed this with every fiber of his being.
The doors to the lab slid open, releasing a wave of cold air that bit sharply against exposed skin. The temperature was low enough to slow human metabolism, but it meant nothing to him. The kharin adapted to any environment they were exposed to. Heat. Cold. Pressure. Radiation.
It was one of their many blessings.
Inside, suspended beneath harsh white lights, lay his masterpiece.
The perfect subject.
His lips curled into a grin he did not bother to hide.
Even the scent of burning human flesh—sharp and metallic—failed to disgust him today. Instead, it ignited something deep and euphoric in his chest.
He was almost done.
Almost complete.
Soon, he would present this to Emperor Zaka himself.
A weapon forged from humanity.
A weapon for the Kahrin.
A name echoed through his thoughts, earned rather than given.
Zero.
KHALED
It was cold.
Freezing cold.
Khaled felt it seep into his bones, his skin pressed against something unyielding beneath him—metal, maybe stone—but whatever it was, it made no effort to adjust to his body. If anything, it amplified the cold, pulling warmth from him inch by inch.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The pain was.
A deep, aching agony radiated from his left side, starting at his shoulder and spreading like fire through his nerves. It grew endlessly, sharp and relentless, as if his body were screaming in a language only it understood.
He groaned, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. Every nerve felt electrified, frozen and burning all at once, like his body had been asleep for years and was only now waking up.
Slowly, he forced his eyes open.
Light.
Blinding at first. Then blurred shapes began to form. A figure stood above him, tall and indistinct, holding something that glowed softly—a tool, maybe. The light hovered too close, invading his vision.
He tried to focus.
Failed.
The world around him was mostly darkness, broken only by sterile illumination and shadows that felt wrong. And then there was the smell.
God.
It was disgusting. Heavy. Rotting. Burnt. Metallic.
There was no name for it.
“Please,” Khaled croaked. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, hoarse and weak, like he hadn’t spoken in years. “Where am I?”
His throat burned as he swallowed. “Please… someone help me.”
The answer was not human.
A voice filled the room—low, distorted, layered with something mechanical beneath it. The sound crawled down his spine, familiar in the worst way possible.
He knew that voice.
Fear slammed into him like a shockwave.
“No—” he gasped, jolting upright as panic surged through his chest. His heart pounded violently. “No, no, no—”
His vision cleared just enough for him to see.
The lab.
Limbs scattered across the floor, severed and discarded like dirty paper. Human bodies sealed inside transparent containers lining the walls, preserved in a way that felt obscene. Like trophies. Like experiments paused mid-scream.
His breath hitched.
“Beth,” he whispered. Then louder. “Beth!”
Nothing.
He turned sharply—and locked eyes with it.
Pale, milky skin stretched over a small, fragile-looking frame. Dark, oversized eyes stared back at him without emotion. Sparse, almost white hairs drifted across its forehead. No nose. Just a dark, hollow opening at the center of its face. Its mouth was a thin, straight line.
Unbothered.
It spoke again in that alien tongue.
Rage detonated inside Khaled’s chest.
“What?” he snarled, pushing himself forward. “I’m going to f*****g kill you.”
He lunged.
His body lurched violently off balance.
Confusion struck first—then horror.
He stumbled, trying to steady himself, and that was when he felt it.
Nothing.
Where weight should have been. Where muscle should have pulled.
The absence.
Khaled froze.
Slowly, dread crawling up his spine, he looked down.
His left arm was gone.
Not burned.
Not injured.
Gone.
A broken sound tore out of him as reality crashed down. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the cold floor, shock ripping through him like a second wound.
“No… no—” His voice shattered. “What did you do to me?”
Tears blurred his vision as he screamed, raw and unrestrained. “What did you f*****g do to me?”
He forced himself back up, grief turning to fury, and charged again—blind, reckless, desperate.
The alien lifted its arm.
Pressed a button.
Thick, fog-like gas erupted from vents in the walls, swallowing the room in seconds. Khaled coughed violently, his vision dissolving into white haze as his lungs burned.
“I’m going to kill you!” he shouted, stumbling blindly, knocking into equipment, sending tools crashing to the floor. “I’ll destroy your entire f*****g species!”
The alien hissed something sharp and angry—words Khaled couldn’t understand.
Then his legs gave out.
The world tilted.
Darkness rushed in.
His body hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Unconscious.
The alien stood over him, irritation finally cracking through its composure. The translator embedded within the human brain had failed to initialize.
Again.
“Primitive,” it muttered, its voice now filtered through a partial translation module. “Your species is endlessly inconvenient.”
It glanced down at Khaled’s still form, jaw tightening.
“I will have to open his skull,” it said calmly. “Set the translator properly.”
The alien turned away, frustration simmering beneath its pale exterior.
His perfect subject was not so perfect after all.
But he would be.
Soon.
- Writer
