Sleeping pod
1044 Words
Cold.
Always cold.
Khaled struggled to open his eyes, blinking through the blur of frost and mist. The pod pressed tightly against his body, constraining him in every direction. He tried to move, but the cold metal restrained him like a coffin. Panic clawed at his chest.
His left arm… the memory hit him instantly. Gone.
He flexed his remaining hand frantically, muscles straining. Nothing. His heart thumped violently, each beat echoing in his skull.
Beth…
The thought tore through him like fire. He twisted in the pod, searching, reaching, but his movements were sluggish, mechanical. The pod seemed almost alive, responding to his panic, compressing and stabilizing him at the same time.
A soft hum resonated around him, and a thin panel on the side of the pod flickered to life. Words streamed across it in a language he didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. He could feel the intention behind them: monitoring. Controlling. Waiting.
Khaled forced himself to calm his breathing. Rage flared again, burning hotter than fear. He had been broken. He had been disassembled. And yet, deep inside, a spark refused to die,well not like this anyway.
He slammed his remaining fist against the pod wall. The metal rattled but did not yield.
Then something shifted.
He felt it before he saw it.
A strange sensation crawled across his skin—cold, alive, growing. It spread in rippling waves, like something waking beneath his flesh.
“No—” he whispered, breath hitching.
He looked down.
Metal.
Not armor. Not plating.
Skin.
Shimmering, liquid-like, almost serpentine, flowing seamlessly over his body. It moved as he moved, adapting, tightening, becoming part of him. Panic exploded inside his chest.
He clawed at it, trying to tear it away—but the moment his fingers dug in, the metallic skin only spread faster, racing up his torso, down his legs, over his shoulders.
Engulfing him.
Within seconds, it covered his entire naked body.
Khaled staggered back, chest heaving, eyes wide with horror. Then his gaze snapped to his left side.
His arm—
It was no longer an arm.
A massive, razor-edged blade extended from his shoulder, dark and gleaming, its surface alive with faint movement. Sharp. Perfect. Deadly.
He stared at it, stunned.
“My… God,” he breathed.
Then something clicked.
An instinct. Not learned—activated.
Without thinking, he swung his blade-arm toward the pod wall.
The impact was effortless.
The pod shattered like brittle glass, metal splitting apart as if it had never been solid at all. Shards crashed to the floor with a deafening clang, alarms shrieking in response.
Cold air rushed over him as he stepped out.
His feet hit the ground.
For the first time since Earth, he was standing on his own.
Khaled looked down at himself—at the smooth metallic body that moved as naturally as flesh, at the blade that had replaced his arm.
“What the hell did you do to me?” he whispered. He’s thoughts immediately drifting to the scientist.
The lab doors burst open.
Three figures stormed in, silver-black suits reflecting the harsh light. Karan soldiers.
“Zero has escaped!” one of them shouted.
They charged.
Khaled barely had time to react.
His body moved on instinct alone.
In one fluid motion, his blade-arm swept forward.
Three strikes.
Three impacts.
The guards froze mid-step as the blade pierced straight through their chests—clean, precise, devastating. Their hearts ruptured instantly.
They collapsed in unison, lifeless before they hit the floor.
Silence.
Khaled stood there, frozen, staring at the bodies.
His breath came fast and shallow.
“I—I didn’t mean to…” he whispered.
His intention had been to throw a punch.
Instead—
He had become a weapon.
They were still impaled on his blade, their bodies stacked unnaturally close—like perfectly packed sardines.
Khaled yanked his arm back with a sharp gasp.
Instead of the red blood he expected, thick green fluid oozed from the wounds, sticky and luminous as it dripped onto the floor.
He stared at it for half a second—then exhaled in grim relief.
Not human.
The thought steadied him more than he expected.
He snapped his head toward the open doorway.
This was it.
His chance.
He bolted through the door, adrenaline screaming through his veins, not knowing where he was going—only that staying was death. The corridor stretched endlessly in both directions, metal walls humming softly, lights pulsing in unfamiliar patterns.
Left.
Right.
He hesitated—
Then something inside him pulled.
Left.
He obeyed without question.
He ran.
The ship felt infinite. Vast hallways branched into more hallways, doors lining the walls like ribs inside a giant metallic beast. Symbols glowed, screens flickered, machines whispered in languages he could not understand.
Nothing made sense.
Nothing felt real.
But he kept running.
Until the corridor opened into something else.
A wide, oval-shaped chamber.
Light poured through it.
Mist—no, clouds—seemed to drift just beyond the transparent barrier. The sight hit him so suddenly it nearly stole the air from his lungs.
“Oh…” he breathed.
Tears burned his eyes.
Freedom.
No more pain.
No more experiments.
No more screaming, metal and cold hands tearing him apart.
He walked toward it slowly, almost reverently.
Then he saw it.
Earth.
Or what remained of it.
The planet burned beneath him—scarred, cracked, swallowed by fire. Entire continents glowed with ember-like flames, smoke spiraling into the atmosphere. Oceans steamed. Cities were nothing but blackened wounds.
Gone.
Everything was gone.
“There’s nothing left,” he whispered hollowly. “Nothing…”
No Beth, no earth.
A distant shout echoed behind him.
He turned.
Guards.
More of them—rushing down the corridor toward him, weapons raised, alarms screaming through the ship.
Khaled looked back at the ruined Earth.
Then at the blade that had replaced his arm.
Then at the approaching soldiers.
“There’s nothing to live for,” he said softly.
His voice steadied.
“It’s either I die…” He stepped closer to the edge. “…or I keep fighting.”
A beat.
“I choose death.”
And without looking back, Khaled stepped forward—
And threw himself off the ship.
- Writer
