'Sir, I don't know anything about my ultimate mission.'



The general looked at me for a long moment before poking a finger at my chest.



'It's simple, son: You're going to win the war for us.'



Wow, that was a lot of pressure to put on a cyborg like me. Of course, I was the most advanced cyborg Humanity had ever built, something they called a 'full-capacity cyborg.' That simply meant my memory hadn't been erased like all the other combat cyborgs I'd worked with.



As a 'full-capacity' cyborg, I could think, just like every other Human. But I wasn't a Human . . . or was I? I still hadn't made up my mind about that.



And now I was off on what's being called the most important mission of all time, to single-handedly win a galaxy-spanning war between Earth and the Azincor. That's right, just me, 'lil old Third Sergeant Alan Ashe, Fleet Marines—Codename: ATLAS.



The codename was appropriate because I felt as if I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hope the terrible responsibility doesn't crush me dead. After all, I've already died once. I don't want to go through that again . . .