What else can you do?

Rick watches you in his usual, neutral way as you stand in the kitchen turning things over in your mind. It'll be risky, maybe even dangerous, this trial, and you'll have to check that you get enough money up front to pay off your debt by Friday. But solving this crisis by doing this one thing? You don't know how else you'd get the money.

"What would I be signing up for?"

"One shot. A new stimulant we're working up for combat effectiveness."

"And what's it meant to do?"

"Without having you sign a confidentiality agreement I can't tell you. I've told you to much already."

"You're... you're ok with me doing this? As a friend? Is it even ok, us being on the same course?"

"I think it's fine," he goes to sip his coffee but it's still too hot. "And yeah, I'm pretty happy you won't die or go into a coma or anything. We've never had anything like that in the early stage stuff. But we've only just got the go ahead for human trials. You'd be the first."

"Ok," you nod, "I'll do it."

You spend the morning with Rick, signing documents and then having the details of the project explained to you. As a fellow biochemistry student you guess you have a much better understanding of what you're getting yourself into than most trial subjects, but that doesn't make a difference to how you'll eventually react to their experimental compound.

In the afternoon you meet with Rick's supervisor Tom, the project leader. It turns out that while he had the clout to get things rolling, the chemical itself is almost entirely Rick's work. Tom talks about him like he's some prodigally gifted boy genius. Which he probably is. You only know Tom a very little since he spends most of his time away from the department, and while he's a little concerned with you taking part in the tests, he eventually submits to your assertion that you want in, and Rick's desire to have you there.

The **** is a combat stimulant, designed for soldiers. It's meant to quicken reflexes and reaction time to almost supernatural levels for a period of up to twenty-four hours, and supply a lesser strength boost too. They don't have high hopes for this early test-strain, but it should sharpen you up a bit, and maybe even stimulate muscle efficiency. They're most worried about the come-down. Fast, accurate, strong soldiers are great, but if they're left soporific and aching after it wears off then it's useless.

And so, amazingly, that evening you find yourself in one of the controlled labs in the basement of the building, naked but for a subject's medical gown and hooked up to a crazy array of instruments.

"I can take this without being sedated?" You look up at Rick, who's checking the clear syringe, hooking it to the tube running into your arm. He and Tom are in the room with you, three other members of their team, Alice, Roy and Howard, are in a separate isolated room manning the instruments, hoping for a rush of data from your body as the **** hits it.

"Should be fine," says Tom. "How do you feel?"

"It's funny being on this side of the glass," you giggle nervously. Then you take a deep breath and smile. "Whenever you're ready." You think about the money but you're a scientist. You're almost totally caught up in this experiment now.

Rick nods and pushes the **** into your blood stream.