Mace’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and backed off. Without an order to desist, the first vessel pursued his opponent across the ring and, though the other was clearly injured, slammed a right hook into his jaw, sending him crashing to the cement.
I gritted my teeth, clamping down on the order to stop the fight, forcing myself to keep watching. The injured vessel tried to get to his feet, but his opponent kicked him viciously in the ribs, knocking him onto his back. As I watched, the first vessel pounced on his downed victim, straddled his chest and started raining blows onto his face.
Mace looked at me, clearly asking if he should put an end to this. I shook my head. The injured vessel tried to shield his face at first, but several blows got through, knocking him unconscious. His head fell back, his arms flopping to the side. And still, the savage beating continued unhindered, the other vessel’s face blank and emotionless as he smashed his fists into his opponent’s unprotected face again and again. Blood appeared on his knuckles, spattered across his face and chest, and my stomach started to heave.
“All right,” I finally called, when it was clear the vessel wasn’t going to stop on his own. “That’s enough!”
Mace strode forward. “Halt!” he barked, his voice booming in the vastness of the room. “Cease-fire, soldier.”
The vessel froze instantly. Lowering his arms, he rose and stepped away from the body, his eyes still as blank as ever. Blood covered his face in vivid streaks, and his knuckles were stained red, but it was nothing compared to the mess that was the other dragon. I felt sick and couldn’t look directly at its face as Mace walked up and knelt beside the body.
“Is it...all right?” Dr. Olsen called, sounding ill, as well. Mace grunted and stood up.
“It’s dead.”
“Okay, that is a problem,” I said, turning on the scientist. My stomach roiled, and I felt more than slightly nauseous, but I stood tall and glared at the human, who looked pale and horrified himself. “I understand the vessels were programmed for obedience, Dr. Olsen, but having no initiative at all makes them a liability. We need soldiers who can think and act on their own, not robots. Not...whatever that is.” I gestured to the blood-soaked vessel, standing motionless and impassive over the mangled mess of his brother. “Can we fix it?” I asked, looking at Ms. Sutton, as well. “Can the process be improved upon?”
“I...don’t know.” Ms. Sutton ran a hand down her face. “Maybe. The behavior programming is supposed to be foolproof. Trying to change them now could have...unexpected consequences.”
“Try.” My voice came out flat, nonnegotiable. Dr. Olsen glared at me, and I turned on him, narrowing my eyes. “This is unacceptable, Doctor. They cannot be so empty that they have no independent thoughts of their own.”
“Talon told me that obedience is crucial—”
“I’m not saying they should question orders,” I snapped. “I’m saying they shouldn’t walk off a cliff without blinking an eye because we told them to march forward.” I stepped back, preparing to leave because I couldn’t stand there any longer knowing the empty, blood-drenched thing that was supposed to be a dragon stood right below us. “Fix it,” I told the scientist again. “I don’t care how. I don’t want more incidents like the one I saw today. Is that understood, Doctor?”
Dr. Olson looked sullen, but nodded. Ms. Sutton gave a tight nod, as well. I whirled and stalked out of the training arena before I could say anything else.
Back in my office, I sank down behind my desk, put my elbows on the wood and ran my hands over my scalp. Well, that was...disturbing. I knew the vessels’ programming and behavior modifications had been extensive, but that creature in the training room today wasn’t a dragon. It wasn’t even a dog, as Mace had so inelegantly commented not long ago. At least dogs had thoughts and feelings of their own. The vessel was a machine. A living, breathing machine.
This can’t be what Talon envisioned, I thought, jiggling my computer screen to life, knowing I needed to report today’s incident to the organization. I know these creatures are bred for war. I know they’ve been created so that we stand a chance against St. George, but how far is too far? What were we sacrificing to save our race from extinction? If a hundred vessels died so that one “real” dragon would be saved, was it worth it?
Ember wouldn’t think so.