Space Age: Echoes of Eternity

The room buzzed with nervous energy. Sahaad could feel the tension rising as more children whispered to each other, their curiosity and apprehension mounting. He glanced at Zara and Ji, who stood beside him, their earlier confidence now tinged with uncertainty. The large metallic door at the far end of the chamber suddenly slid open with a loud hiss, catching everyone's attention.

A figure entered, moving with a mechanical hum. It wasn't like the Praetorians Sahaad had seen before. This man was something else entirely. His body was almost entirely obscured by machinery—his arms and legs were covered in thick, armored plating, and his face was masked by a cold, metallic visor. Tubes and wires snaked out from his back, connecting him to some sort of exo-frame that supported his movements. His steps clanked on the floor, and with each movement, there was a soft whirring sound as if the machinery was barely containing the power within.

The children fell silent, all eyes locked on the stranger.

The man stopped at the center of the room, his mechanical gaze sweeping across the group. There was something deeply unsettling about him—like he had given up his humanity for something darker, more powerful.

"I see you're all eager to begin," his voice was harsh and distorted, like metal scraping against metal. "But before you get too excited, you need to understand something."

The mechanical man straightened, the whirring of his servos filling the silence. "You're not here to become Praetorians."

A murmur spread through the room, confusion rippling across the faces of the children. Sahaad's heart skipped a beat. He turned to Zara, who was already frowning, and then to Ji, whose eyes had narrowed.

"You've all been told that you were selected for the Praetorian program," the man continued. "That was a lie."

More murmurs, louder now. Some of the children exchanged anxious glances, while others took a step back, their faces twisted in fear.

"I don't understand," a boy near the front said, his voice wavering. "We were promised…"

"Let me finish", the man snapped, interrupting the boy. "You're not here by choice. None of you are. You were selected for a program I have developed. An experimental one."

Sahaad felt a pit forming in his stomach. Experimental? That didn't sound good.

"This program was approved by the King himself," the man continued, his voice cold and authoritative. "You're not to be simple soldiers. You will be the Emperor's personal guardians. The Imperators."

The word hung in the air like a death sentence. Sahaad saw a few of the other children's faces go pale. The tension was thick, almost suffocating. Zara crossed her arms, her lips pressed tightly together as she absorbed the information. Ji remained still, though Sahaad could see his jaw clenching.

"What if we don't want to be part of this program?" a girl from the back called out, her voice trembling but defiant.

The man turned slowly to face her, his mechanical gaze locking onto her. "And why not? The King requires guardians of unparalleled power, and this program will turn you into just that. It should be the highest honor."

"You will undergo augmentation," the man said, ignoring their protests. "You will become more than human. Stronger, faster, capable of withstanding anything thrown your way. The process will be grueling. Many of you will not survive. But those who do will be elevated beyond your wildest dreams. You will be the King's chosen—his Imperators, guardians of the throne, wielders of power greater than the Praetorians."

Sahaad's mind raced. The idea of becoming more than human was terrifying. He hadn't asked for any of this. All he wanted was to survive, to find a way back to the life he knew. But now, the stakes were so much higher. The thought of becoming an experimental subject, of being twisted into something else… it made his skin crawl.

"What about our families?" someone else asked, their voice cracking. "What happens to them?"

The man's head turned slightly, his "eyes" reflecting the dim light of the room. "Your families will be taken care of. If you wish you can see them once your augmentations are finished, though I do not know if you want to at that point."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Ji glanced at Sahaad, his expression unreadable. "Looks like we're in deeper than we thought," he muttered under his breath.

Sahaad didn't know what to say. His whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. Now, it seemed like he was destined for something far more dangerous than he could've ever imagined.

"Get some rest," the man said, turning toward the exit. "Tomorrow, the process begins. As of right now July 1st M101, you will become something greater than humanity."

As he left the room, the children were left in stunned silence. Sahaad could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on him, suffocating him. There was no way out of this.

He looked at Zara and Ji, both of whom seemed just as trapped as he was. No matter how much they protested or resisted,.

Sahaad looked around the room, seeing the fear etched on the faces of the other children. Some were whispering to each other, wide-eyed and trembling, while others simply stood frozen, their minds trying to process the harsh reality they'd just been thrust into. His own mind reeled, but unlike them, he had experience with fear. He'd lived through dark days, difficult days, and had learned how to survive. He wasn't just a child, even if he looked like one now. He had the mind of an adult, and that meant he could help.

I guess I should be the adult in this situation.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward. The children closest to him looked up, startled by the movement. He raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"Hey, listen," he said, keeping his voice low and steady. "I know this is terrifying. I'm scared too. But panicking won't help us."

A few of them nodded, their eyes still wide with fear. One younger boy, maybe ten years old, was on the verge of tears, his small frame trembling.

"None of us chose this," Sahaad continued, stepping closer to the boy and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "But we can get through it. We're all in this together, right? If we stick together, we'll have a better chance."

The boy sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "What if we die?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Sahaad knelt down so that he was eye-level with the boy. "We're not going to die. Not if we stay strong and work together. You saw how that guy talked to us—he wants us to be something powerful. We're not just here to be thrown away."

The boy nodded hesitantly, and the other kids around him started to listen more closely. Sahaad stood back up, addressing the group now. "We can't control what's happening, but we can control how we react. Don't let fear beat you. We'll face this together, and we'll come out stronger."

Some of the children seemed to calm down, their expressions softening slightly. The whispers of panic faded, replaced by more determined faces. Sahaad felt a small sense of relief. He had to keep them focused.

Just then, the door opened again, and a pair of Praetorian soldiers stepped inside, their massive armored forms casting long shadows across the room. "Line up," one of them barked. "You're being taken to the training ground."

Sahaad helped guide the others into a line, still keeping his calm demeanor. As they walked out of the room and through the long, metallic halls of the station, he kept an eye on everyone, making sure no one was falling apart. He didn't know what would happen next, but at least he had kept them from crumbling.

They finally emerged into an enormous open space. The ceiling was impossibly high, with bright lights that cast harsh shadows on the cold metal floor. The room was vast, easily the size of a football stadium. The floor was marked with strange patterns, and various machines lined the walls. In the distance, large training apparatuses loomed, and Sahaad could tell this was a place meant to push the limits of physical endurance.

The Praetorians led them to a long table where trays of food awaited them. "Eat," one of the soldiers commanded. "You'll need your strength."

The children hesitated at first, but hunger won out, and soon everyone was grabbing trays and sitting down to eat. Sahaad picked up his tray and sat with Zara and Ji, who were both eating in silence.

"You did good back there," Zara said quietly, not looking up from her food. "Calming everyone down."

Sahaad shrugged, taking a bite of the strange, nutrient-rich food. It wasn't bad, but it tasted synthetic, like it had been designed purely for function rather than flavor. "It's just survival instinct," he replied. "Panic never helps."

Ji, who had been quiet until now, glanced at Sahaad. "You seem... older than you look," he remarked.

Sahaad smiled weakly but didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain his situation, and it wasn't the time for that anyway.

After the meal, the Praetorians herded them toward the center of the room where the first round of physical tests would begin. Sahaad already felt the exhaustion creeping into his bones, his muscles aching from the tension of the day. He hadn't been in the best shape before being brought here, and he knew he was at a disadvantage compared to the other kids.

The first test was simple—running laps around the massive room. The children lined up, and as soon as the signal was given, they were off. Zara and Ji immediately took the lead, their athleticism apparent as they pulled ahead of the others. Sahaad, on the other hand, found himself lagging behind almost immediately. His legs burned, and his lungs felt tight as he struggled to keep pace with the others.

The other children, despite their initial fear, seemed to be handling the exercise better than Sahaad. He could hear their steady breathing, their feet pounding rhythmically against the metal floor. Meanwhile, Sahaad's heart raced, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His legs felt like lead, every step a struggle.

Zara and Ji, who were far ahead of him now, glanced back occasionally, but there was nothing they could do to help. Sahaad gritted his teeth, determined not to fall too far behind. He might not be as strong as the others, but he wasn't going to give up.

After what felt like an eternity, the Praetorian overseeing the exercise finally called an end to the laps. Sahaad stumbled to a stop, his legs shaking. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His body screamed in protest, every muscle aching.

The Praetorian soldier walked over to him, his gaze impassive. "You're falling behind," he said in a deep, emotionless voice.

Sahaad looked up, panting. "I know," he managed to say between breaths.

"You'll need to do better," the Praetorian said. "If you can't keep up, you won't survive the trials."

Sahaad nodded, too tired to respond. He knew he was at a disadvantage, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He had to keep going, no matter what.

As he glanced at Zara and Ji, who were hardly out of breath, he realized just how far he had to go. But he wouldn't give up. He couldn't afford to.

After the run was completed, the Praetorian offered the children water and a short respite, before leading them back into the facility.

The group of children stood outside a cold, sterile-looking door, shifting uncomfortably as the soldiers called one child after another into the lab. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the uncertainty gnawing at each of them. Sahaad could see the fear in their eyes. Some of the younger ones were trembling, and even those who had shown confidence earlier—like Zara and Ji—seemed quieter, their expressions tight.

Sahaad leaned back against the wall, watching as another child was called into the lab. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and the child, barely older than ten, walked in with hesitant steps. The door closed, sealing the group in silence again.

Zara stood near him, her arms crossed as she stared down the corridor. Ji sat on the floor, picking at the edge of his shoe. Sahaad, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on them, decided to break it.

"Do you think it's painful?" he asked, directing the question at Zara and Ji.

Zara didn't answer at first. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, but then she shrugged. "I don't know. They haven't said a word about what's happening there."

Ji snorted from his seat on the floor. "Probably just some shots or tests. Nothing we haven't been through before."

Sahaad nodded but stayed quiet. His eyes fell on a small necklace around Zara's neck, the only piece of personal adornment she had. It was a simple chain with a small, worn charm—a crescent moon, maybe. It seemed out of place against her otherwise utilitarian appearance.

"Nice necklace," Sahaad said, his voice low.

Zara blinked and glanced down at it, as if she'd forgotten it was there. Her fingers briefly brushed the charm. "Thanks. It was my great aunt's."

That was the one who failed, right?

Sahaad nodded, sensing that there was more to the story, but now wasn't the time to ask.

Before he could say anything else, the lab door slid open again. The child who had just gone in stepped out, looking dazed but unharmed. The soldier standing by the door scanned the list on his datapad before his eyes settled on Sahaad.

"Next," the soldier called out.

Sahaad's stomach churned. He gave Ji and Zara a brief glance before pushing himself off the wall and walking toward the lab. The door slid shut behind him with a metallic hiss, sealing him into the cold, sterile room. The lab was filled with machinery and bright lights, the air smelling faintly of chemicals. There were several figures in white coats, their faces hidden behind masks.

Without a word, one of the medics motioned for him to sit on a nearby chair. Sahaad sat down, feeling the faint tremor in his legs. His mind raced with thoughts of what might come next, but he forced himself to stay calm.

The medic approached him with a syringe, its contents glowing faintly with a strange, pale-blue liquid. Sahaad stared at the needle, feeling a rush of apprehension. But as the medic prepared the injection, he realized how utterly anticlimactic this seemed.

The needle slid into his arm with only a small sting, and the liquid was injected into his bloodstream. Sahaad waited, expecting something to happen—some sharp pain, a wave of nausea, maybe even his vision swimming. But nothing came. There was no pain, no sudden sensation. Just… nothing.

"That's it?" he asked, his voice sounding more disappointed than anything else.

The medic didn't answer. They simply removed the needle and gestured for him to leave. Sahaad stood, frowning slightly as he rubbed his arm. He was led out of the lab by another soldier, back through the hallways and into another holding facility, where the children who had already gone through the process were waiting.

The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright and clinical environment of the lab. The kids who had been called before him sat quietly, some talking in low voices, others simply staring at the walls, looking just as confused and uncertain as he felt. Sahaad found an empty spot and sat down, crossing his arms.

After about an hour, the last of the children were led into the room. They all looked the same—disoriented, but physically unharmed. Zara and Ji came in shortly after, their expressions neutral as they sat down near him.

"Well, that was… underwhelming," Sahaad muttered, glancing at Zara and Ji. "Did either of you feel anything?"

Ji shook his head. "Just the needle. I thought there'd be… I don't know, more to it."

Zara frowned, her hand still resting on her necklace. "Something's off. They wouldn't go through all this trouble for just an injection. It has to be more than that."

Sahaad nodded. Whatever had just been done to them, it wasn't over. The unease in the room was palpable as the kids whispered to one another, but Sahaad knew this was only the beginning of whatever journey they had been forced into. They just had to survive it.