You know the drill, yadayadayada I don't own IS, only my OCS yadayadayada okay let's get on with it.
The trams' brakes let out a slight squeak as it approached the platform. A boy, only about 16 years old, picked up a slightly worn, forest green duffel bag and exited the pearl white tram.
"Nii-kun!" A blue haired girl said, running up to me and nearly suffocating me in a hug, "Its been so long since I've seen you! How was your flight? Did you get sick? Are you tired?
...
Hey, are you listening to me? Stop using your implants! I can see your eyes glowing, y'know!"
I merely continued to ignore her, my eyes lit up by my ocular implants, the very reason why I did not travel to ISA with my pilot. Which, considering how annoying she can get, is a good thing. having them cut your eye open to repair your implants (while you're awake!) is much better than spending 12 hours on a plane with Tatenashi.
"Hey, idiots, its time for class. Come on, now. Off you go." Process said.
Process is my intelligent AI, based off of the AI of an IS core. He had just been formatted to Tatenashi's core, so I know she heard the same. Although, Process is neither a he nor she, it's an... It. No scientist knew the gender, not even god probably knew. The only thing we knew about the gender of IS AI is that they are not able to grasp the idea, and that they are uninterested. Still, they have emotions, or at least what we think are emotions, so they aren't soulless machines of war. Which is good, when they have the ability to force your body to create enough adrenaline to make your heart explode. Or blind you. Or shock you. Or activate its self destruct sequence, detonating the small but powerful charge in its processor, which is about 5 inches from your right lung, under the ribcage. Or a multitude of other creative ways of killing you with your implants.
As we headed towards building C, a black haired teacher approached us. Both of us knew who it was, the famous pilot who had won the first mondo grosso. It was Orimura freaking Chifuyu!
Well, at least that was my reaction. Tatenashi had been here for a year already, so she was indifferent. Meanwhile, this was my first visit.
"Ah, Mr. Gavrovik, welcome to ISA. Now please explain: why aren't you already at the dorm building?"
In one aspect she impresses me, as she addressed me in perfect Russian. In another aspect, I could tell she was a devil in human skin, considering she probably knew the tram schedule, and for me to have gotten to the dorms by now is impossible, even if I used my implants.
"You have 15 minutes until class starts, or 10 laps around the school. With no implants. And carrying Tatenashi."
Well, at least she is slightly reasonable with the time limit. Although I'm most definitely not going to go past that time limit. That punishment is just pure evil. And I'm not talking about the distance.
"Also, Nikolai, you might as well take off your chevrons. They don't really mean anything here."
Ah, yes. I forgot to mention I was made an honorary captain of the Russian IS corps before I left. They were merely for ceremonial purposes. The implants do the talking, not the status. Also, I have to be registered as a captain to allow me to use implants. Apparently, it would start a huge international debacle if I wasn't. And I don't exactly like the idea of being the center of attention. Taking the bars off my shoulder felt like setting down a stack of bricks after carrying them for an entire year. I didn't like any responsibility without anything to back it up. The implants were a different story.
My implants were the newest edition of fiberdyne advanced operator enhancement implants, or A.O.E.I. They consisted of, starting with the muscles, synthetic carbon fiber puedo muscles. Implanted into the center of my own muscle tissue, they were triggered directly by my nervous system, and can boost my strength by nearly a thousand percent. Technically, if I were to inject myself with a huge dose of muscle relaxant and remove the safeguards, this can be increased tenfold, but considering that the last guy to do that shattered the majority of his bones from the pressure, I'm not going to do that anytime soon. Moving inwards to my more delicate inner organs, specifically my adrenal glands, are the epinephrine modulation controllers. These are fairly explanatory. Once again, these are highly lethal if the safeties are removed.
Finally, the pinnacle of my set of implants is process. He is directly connected to my brain stem, along with nanomachines floating around in my cranial cavity providing additional info, and the ocular implants which project freaking holograms into my eyes. As previously mentioned, he is linked to [Mysterious Lady] via the IS faster than light transmission protocol. Process, in tandem with any IS core, has an IQ of about 110. Smart, but not quite all of the power needed to run an IS. That is where Tatenashi and I come in (or any pilot and copilot). When both of us jack in to the system, the pilot provides about ten percent of their brain processing power, mainly to provide the pilot spatial awareness information. The copilot provides over thirty percent of their brain, but that fluctuates with the amount of activity the copilot is engaged in. For example, if the copilot is laying down doing absolutely nothing, he can (in theory) provide up to 50 percent of his brain. If he is currently defending himself from another copilot, or an enemy IS, it is going to be much, much, less. Still, even if both the pilot and copilot are giving only ten percent, the collective IQ of the entire unit is a whopping two-hundred. Apparently IS cores use our brains better than we can ourselves.
I set myself on my way towards the male dormitories. They were little more than a fairly large house converted for use as a dorm. ISA was only required to accommodate for personal IS copilots; there are only about 16 of us. The Alaska treaty,when first formed, had been made with the intention of limiting IS. So, when the charter to create ISA was made, to limit the destructive capability of IS, the training of copilots was kept to a minimum.
Walking down the stone path (Tatenashi had ran off to class) a group of boys were heading the other way, towards the school buildings.
"Hey, it's the new guy! Don't be late for class!" One of them said. He was a tall, short-haired blond, with a slight french accent. It was more pronounced because he had spoken in English. While Japanese is the standard language for pilots, English is the standard for copilots. I could deduce that the man who talked to me was lucifer Delacroix, copilot to Charlotte... Dunois? I think so. It's hard for me to remember everyone's name, even if I'm only trying to memorize personal IS pilots and their copilots.
Checking the time on my watch, I nearly flipped. There was only 8 minutes until class! Well, the last time I checked, using implants weren't banned outside the arenas or training areas, so I kicked into high gear. Sure, I was still wearing my army dress uniform, but I came prepared: I had put on my ISA uniform underneath.
"Proc, remember listening to that devil of a teacher?"
"If you mean Ms. Chifuyu, then yes."
"Well, I cannot be past that deadline, so boot up."
"Activation code required."
"Alpha Zulu Bravo. Operator Captain Nikolai Gavrovik."
"Confirmed. Powering to full combat levels. Generating shortest distance route to class building 2, class 1-1. ... generated. Now showing on your HUD. Godspeed, operator."
The path before me was going to be quite hard. According to the path, I would have to vault across two small streams, eleven walls, and dodge an absurdly large amount of people.
"Here goes nothing."
I pushed off at an immeasurable speed, and... hit a person.
Before I could say sorry, I saw I had made a grave mistake. I knew it was too late. I had run into the devil herself. The rest is hazy, but I remember two things: being beaten to within an inch of my life by an attendance book (or so it seemed) and being carried on a stretcher to the infirmary.
Not exactly what I would call a good first day.
thanks for reading chapter one. If you have any better ideas, do not be afraid to comment.
Uhh... sorry, but I really don't know what to do with this extra space.
Oh yeah! Thoughts? comments? concerns? Tips for world domination? Just leave a comment.
Bitmeister out.