"The Crater" Training Facility
Mars, Sol System
2184
The carton of juice bounced off the floor of the empty cafeteria with a loud thunk.
Jonathan Walker sighed, walked over, picked it up and tossed it into the recycler, a mere few inches away. The recycler hummed quietly for a few seconds, then fell silent once more. Jon returned to his spot at the guardrail, folding his arms across it.
He never thought that he'd be here, Mars. It's as he remembered it from the vids – red, pockmarked by craters, Martian rocks everywhere, dust storms. It was a little anticlimactic, really, coming here – he thought he'd be experiencing wonder, wonder at being in a different place, a place other than Earth, where he'd spent his entire life up to this point.
The wonder wore off after the first three days, and now everyday was just routine. Like back on Earth.
The facility was quiet. Jon surmised it had something to do with the utter lack of staff that walked its halls – he'd been here for almost two months now, and he'd seen barely ten people, all Alliance staff, walking briskly to wherever they were going. He'd never seen one at a workstation. He'd never caught one taking a break in the cafeteria, having a meal or a smoke. It was like they were the background characters in a vid, with himself the main character.
A main character whose story is apparently to do… nothing.
It was odd. No one in the facility to keep watch over him, dictate his activities. He'd been so used to getting ordered around, he half-expected Ryder himself to be present, telling him when to eat, when to sleep, when to shower, when to train. So far, the only person who'd given him any sort of order – more of a warning, really – was the guard in the garage on his first day telling him not to mess with the airlock, and from then on, every day, it was someone different sitting at the security station.
He wasn't complaining though. He didn't trust himself to talk to anyone, perfectly fine with his own company. The facilities were a nice little bonus: a gym, a workshop, a firing range which was off-limits, the garage with an airlock leading to the Martian surface, the cafeteria which could house fifty people comfortably in one sitting. He'd been working out every morning; tinkered with the materials in the workshop, creating a makeshift comms unit but catching nothing on the airwaves; successfully hacked into the firing range's computer to allow him unlimited access, and had been shooting the shit out of holotargets every evening.
He did wonder though, how long more was he going to be here on his own. Ryder mentioned something about other recruits to the Initiative as well, but considering the size of the galaxy, it is likely The Crater isn't the only training facility. What about the aliens, they have their own facilities, maybe, having different physiologies and all. Maybe Ryder had forgotten about him, the lowly engineer whose only claim to fame was the invention of the jump-pack. And it wasn't anything remarkable either – he'd drawn up the design to spite one of his examiners back in engineer school who told Jon he'd never "take off". Jon proved him wrong literally, boosting himself up onto the campus' roof and looking down in disdain at the offending examiner…
He snapped back to the present, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That was one of his more satisfying memories, one of which he held on to, focused on, rather than venture into the darker recesses of his mind, where he'd forced the other, less savory memories. He'd accepted Ryder's offer to join the Initiative for one sole reason: to escape the cesspool that was planet Earth, creator and purveyor of bad memories.
And now here he was.
He hummed a tuneless tune, blinking, staring out at the surface of Mars. He'd nothing scheduled anyway. Might as well enjoy the solitude, the peace of mind he had now. The Zen thing, as Chester used to say. He brought up his omnitool, and picked a song he'd managed to download from the facility's server – illegally – and turned the volume up, letting the music echo around the cafeteria.
He had no idea he was being watched.
"What has he being doing for two months?"
"Well sir, nothing of particular note. He wakes up, exercises in the gym, has a meal, works on something in the workshop, uses the gun range –"
"What?"
"Yessir, he hacked into the computer to give himself admin rights."
"Hm. Impressive. Continue."
"He uses the gun range, has another meal, plays some media, then goes to sleep. I should mention he made a comms unit, probably to pick up on transmissions from Lowell City, but our media shields blocked that."
Alec Ryder stroked his beard. The kid's as plain as they come. A civilian. And yet, his gut feeling tells him that this engineer had something in him. The same gut feeling that got him to mention the Andromeda Initiative to the young man. After all, he'd surprised Ryder a total of three times now, more than anyone else under his command had in recent memory.
"Spoken to anyone?"
"No sir."
Shame about his social skills though. Hm. Ryder's eyes unfocused as he thought. Maybe it's time to shake up the control a little, add in variables, see what results.
"Captain, send the twins and the crisis specialist to The Crater. Scenario 15-E, until they get though without a single casualty. Continue observation."
"15-E sir. Sending the transfer orders to them now."
Jon was a light sleeper. It came from years of conditioning, since childhood. He could awaken immediately, eyes opening, body immobile, at the slightest sound, hand reaching for the titanium knife he kept beside him at all times, a "gift" from a rude tourist. Life in the slums was such that you could go to bed one night and wake up the next morning with your throat slashed, your little stash of worldly possessions gone, sold for a meagre few credits.
He awoke again now, hand already gripping the knife under the military-issue blanket. Eyes moving. Keeping his breathing even and steady, giving himself the advantage, appear to be sleeping if someone was in the room with him. When the enemy turns his back, he would spring up, silent, knife in hand –
The room was quiet, dark, the only light coming from the stars and Deimos outside the reinforced-glass window. A few seconds of his eyes scanning the room told him there was no one in the room with him.
And yet, something woke him. Something was off.
He listened hard. Only the quiet of the air recyclers punctuated the silence. A few minutes later, he relaxed into his pillow, loosening his grip on his knife. Getting paranoid, he reasoned. He'd been so used to getting attacked in the middle of the night that –
A muffled thud in the corridor outside. Muffled voices.
His body tensed, heart rate rising.
His door slid open. Conversation spilling in from the corridor, along with corridor light, creating a slant of shadow and light on the wall.
"… problem, you bring it up with dad, he's the one who wants us to train here. Anyway, Lowell City's got nightclubs, go pick up some girls there instead."
A female voice, unlike those he heard back at college, all fake-whiney.
"I'm not complaining, I'm just wondering why we have to move out here all of a sudden. We had something good going on back on Earth, and I was just about to get it on –"
Male. Brother to the female voice.
"You…" an exasperated huff. "Sometimes, Scott, I wonder if your brain's up here or down there."
Who are these people? Should he get up and announce himself? Maybe they were soldiers – maybe they would shoot him on instinct.
He kept still. Breathe in, breathe out.
His lights flicked on, then just as immediately, flicked off.
A third voice, British by the sound of it. "Hey, guys, there's someone here after all. They're sleeping in this room. Blimey, I switched on the lights on them."
The conversations stopped for a moment. Resumed as whispers. His door slid shut.
He didn't sleep the rest of the night. As oh-five-hundred rolled around, he got up, dressed, mind churning.
So there are people here now. Had his thoughts been heard by some higher power? Who are they? What are they doing here? They have to be with the Initiative – right? At least he had a name – Scott. Then there was the female, apparently Scott's sister, and the British male.
He sighed. Time to be around people again.
He always woke at oh-five-hundred, another byproduct of his upbringing. He thumbed the control to his door, which he left unlocked and was the reason the three could open it last night – something he should remedy tonight – and stuck his head out. No one in sight. He closed the door and jogged down the corridor, to the gym.
He panted as he completed his run on the treadmill, hands gripping the support rails. Eight kilometers, a new record for him. Admittedly, he did push himself, channeling his frustration at last night's events into action. He was never good around people, not since Chester died. And now he has to train with them? Are they his instructors, here to boss him around?
He pondered the question as he lifted weights, moving metal with muscle.
He had no problems with people telling him what to do and then leaving him to do it.
He had problems with people telling him what to do and then forcing him to do as they wanted him to do it. Reason why he didn't join the military.
Anyway, they're most probably asleep. He'd greet them during breakfast at oh-eight-hundred, and hope for the best.
"Hello?"
He almost dropped his weights. Regaining his composure, he set the weights down safely, sat up.
She was about his height, wearing a white-and-blue tracksuit, similar to his own. Brunette, loose strands falling into her face, tied back into a ponytail. Her face a lighter shade of brown, high cheekbones. A too-wide mouth, in his opinion, lips parted slightly, brow furrowed.
She brushed the loose strands of hair from her face. Her eyes were sky-blue.
"Sorry, I must have startled you. Are you okay?"
Jon wiped his face. "Yeah, I'm good." Held his hand out. "Jonathan Walker. Nice to meet you."
Sara smiled, stepped forward. Took his hand in her own. Her grip was surprisingly strong. Warm.
"I'm Sara. If you don't mind me asking, Jonathan, what are you doing here?"
"Well, I am apparently supposed to train for the Andromeda Initiative. But I've been here two months, and no one else had shown up yet. So I'm just… killing time, I guess. Call me Jon, by the way."
"You're in the Initiative too? Wow. Me, my brother, Scott, and Liam came in last night. Late flight. Hope we didn't wake you." She looked away in embarrassment. "It was my idea to 'throw the doors open'. We thought that the place was empty."
He shrugged. "It's alright. I almost came out guns blazing."
She looked at him in surprise. He smiled. "Joking."
She chuckled. "Heh. I like that. Well, Jon," she gestured around her, "would you mind giving me the tour?"
"Woah. What a view."
The sun's first rays were poking over the horizon when Jon led Sara into the cafeteria, the reinforced-glass refracting the rays into multicolored beams on the floor.
"Wait a little while more, it gets better."
He walked over to one of the food dispensers, getting two cartons of juice. Handed one to her.
"Hope you're okay with orange. It's practically the only flavor it serves."
"Thanks, Jon. Ugh, really? How did you survive two months here drinking orange juice?"
"Uhh, well," Jon scratched the back of his head. "Very slowly. It took a lot of practice."
She laughed this time, the sun's rays choosing that moment to fall upon her face. Jon watched, mesmerized. It was a genuine laugh, caught in a good light, the sight almost beautiful. He'd met her only an hour ago, but already he sensed that she was different from the other girls he'd met before. She was polite, kindly, treated him with respect. No condescension. No bossing him around.
Everything about her was beautiful. A goddess.
"Jon?"
He averted his gaze, embarrassed. Those sky-blue eyes, damn. Cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm not used to people treating me so nicely. And you're laughing. I mean, it's good to laugh. It means you find me funny. Not that I'm funny all the time, it just comes out when I least expect it."
He was babbling. Mentally, he kicked himself. A girl treats him nicely, and he goes all mushy. Harden up, you fool. She may be just taking pity on you.
She cocked her head to one side. "What you said was pretty funny, Jon. I've never heard of such a unique description of drinking before. And take it easy, I don't bite."
She paused. "Much."
He chuckled, causing her to smile. "Good one. Well, thanks. I had a rough time, back on Earth. Unlike you, I'm assuming. Your brother seemed to think so."
Sara's smile vanished. She frowned.
"You heard that? No matter, it wasn't a personal thing anyway. Well, to him it was always a good time. He was always the one who wanted to be a soldier, going around to save the galaxy, picking up girls by the dozen. It drives me crazy sometimes, having to pass him messages from Lisa to him today, Christine tomorrow, Li-Lian the next day. Ugh. He's never serious about stuff."
"My condolences."
Sara snorted. "Huh. But in the end, I'm his older sis. Got to look out for him, you know? I've kept him on the straight and narrow, ever since mum…" She trailed off.
Jon dropped his eyes. "Sorry."
"Happened early on, so I don't feel it as much as I did. But yeah, ever since mum died, I've been taking care of him. Sometimes, that's more trouble than what's worth. But he's my brother."
"He's family. You'd do anything for him."
She nodded. "Doesn't mean I wish to strangle him for the things he does, sometimes."
"Well," said Jon, stretching, tossing his carton; it found the recycler this time. "At least you have a family, a dad and a brother."
This time, it was Sara who lowered her gaze. "Oh. I'm so sorry. What happened?"
Jon shrugged, taking her empty carton and tossing it as well. "Never knew my parents, or my siblings if I had any. Grew up with an adoptive family, unofficially. Not the same, once you knew."
"I think I understand what you mean."
They lapsed into silence. The Mars landscape outside slowly turning a bright red-orange from the brown-black as the sun rose even higher.
She laughed quietly. Jon raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"
"Well, here we are, two people who have never met before, exchanging life stories within an hour of meeting each other. Odd, isn't it? I don't know why, but I kind of like it," she said, her eyes meeting his levelly.
He inclined his head. "Of that, we are in agreement, Sara. It is nice talking to you. I –"
"Sara! There you are!"
Jon jumped at the booming voice. Sara didn't. "Hey guys."
The two men were well-built, he noted as they came up the stairs towards him and Sara. The shorter one had the same complexion as Sara, short brown hair brushed back neatly, days-old stubble peppering his chin and above a thin upper lip, a strong jaw. His eyes, piercing, were fixed on Jon. He had the face that wouldn't look out of place on the front cover of a magazine. Jon felt a little jealous, and a little intimidated.
This is Scott then.
The other was tall, taller than Scott and Sara, easily a head taller than Jon himself. His skin was the color of chocolate, a wide nose separating a pair of brown eyes that hinted at a playful nature. But his hair was his defining feature: Jon was reminded of old-world afros, but instead of being smooth and rounded, this man's hair ended in messy points all over, no symmetry to it.
Sara beamed. "Heya, Scott, Liam. This is Jonathan. Jon, Liam and Scott."
Scott's eyes remained fixed on Jon's own, even as they shook hands. As though challenging him. To what, Jon had no idea. But he kept cool, "Nice meeting you Scott." Scott didn't reply, instead turning away to inspect the food dispenser.
Liam's handshake nearly broke all the bones in his hand. "Alright there, mate? Soz if my loud voice woke you last night." Liam's voice was deep, melodic, his eyes warm. But Jon could sense something about Liam, an aura of sadness perhaps.
"I'm good, thank you for asking, Liam. It's okay, I was out cold anyway."
Liam turned to Sara, a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I like him already, S. He's good people." A clap to Jon's back nearly sent him sprawling. "Damn, sorry. Don't know my own strength sometimes. No hard feelings eh, mate?"
Jon mumbled that it was okay. "So, the three of you got sent here to train? Where are your instructors?" Jon asked, picking himself off the floor.
"We don't have any," said Sara. "We're supposed to train in the sim room."
The sim room. The one room in the facility that Jon was unable to crack. He smiled ruefully.
Jon watched through the observation window after Liam had unlocked the sim room with a code, given to him by Ryder. Sara had told him they were to practice scenario 15-E: looking it up, he discovered it was a colony defence simulation, where the participants are supposed to defend a newly-established colony from invading raiders.
"Alright, Jon, we're ready. Hit it!"
Liam, Sara and Scott were geared up, standing in the center of the sim room. Each wore Initiative underarmor, a thicker, padded version of the casual white-and-blue jumpsuit; over that, each also wore armor: helmet, chestpiece, shoulder guards, thighs, kneepads. Scott and Sara had armed themselves with the M-8 Avenger, a great assault rifle by all counts, and the M-3 Predator as a sidearm. Liam was unarmed.
"Uhh, Liam? You don't have a weapon."
Liam shook his helmeted head. "Already have two, bruv. Load it up, let me show you."
Jon started the sim.
It was a beautiful afternoon in the colony of Guardian's Veil. A breeze blew, bending the fields of daisies on Sara's right as she patrolled the colony's west side. The colony proper was newly-established, just a few prefabs sitting together in a square, surrounding a comms mast which rose above them all, a red light blinking at its tip. Sara could see colonists helping each other, carrying the last of the crates which held their treasured possessions, a reminder of a life they left behind. She felt a tug at her heartstrings at this thought. Shook her head to clear it. Chided herself, now isn't the time for such thinking, Sara!
The colony was established in a clearing at the base of a rocky cliff, which made for natural defence on its east side. Liam was patrolling the northern perimeter, Scott the south. She waved to a few children as they ran past. The children, laughing, waved back as they continued to chase each other, heading back to the colony.
Her breath was slow, steady. No sign of trouble, yet. She keyed her comm. "Liam, Scott, sitrep."
"Clear north."
"Clear south."
"Clear west," said Sara. "Keep your eyes peeled."
Gravel crunched underfoot as she kept walking, arms hanging loose at her sides. Her rifle was folded away on her back, pistol at her hip. She lowered her visor, feeling the breeze brush across her cheeks, a most pleasant sensation. The sun's rays were soft on her face. She closed her eyes.
If this was what happy felt like, helping colonists set up a new life in a place like this, she was content to do this for the rest of her life.
The colony's klaxon sounded, jolting Sara abruptly out of her thoughts. She reached a hand behind her back, the rifle jumping into her hands, unfolding, so by the time she brought her arms up, the Avenger was ready to fire, firing solution superimposed on her surroundings by her visor. She scanned her sector. Nothing she could see.
"Hostiles approaching, south side," came Scott's calm voice over the comm. "Four of them, all armed. Looks like raiders."
"Hostiles approaching, north side!" came Liam's slightly less calm voice. "Ten of them. I think I see drones."
Sara cursed. Liam was the one without a weapon. "Scott, set up defences and hold them off. I'm going to provide support for Liam."
"Roger."
Sara began to run, the Avenger tight across her chest, just as they taught in basic. She flicked through her choices in her mind. She could use her biotics as a damage multiplier, keep them on their toes enough for Liam to move in and finish the job with his omniblades. Lay down suppressing fire from an elevated position. Yes.
"Liam, I'm headed your way. I'm going to give them the special delivery. Ready up!"
"Got it, S!"
The north perimeter came into view. Liam was taking cover behind a stack of crates, the sight of his large form curling up behind the cover strangely comical. Sara suppressed a chuckle. Her smile vanished when a round hit her square in the chest.
Or, at least, tried to. She saw the flare of her kinetic barrier, felt the round graze her chestpiece, flying off into space. She began firing, targeting solution assisting her in identifying threats, which were red-flagged. She continued to run, vaulting over Liam and onto the crates, making herself a target.
She fired. One red-flagged humanoid shape walloped backwards into the dust, kinetic barriers overwhelmed by Sara's shots. She raised her left hand, made a fist and pulled the arm back, feeling a tingling down that arm as a raider came soaring through the air towards her, dropping his weapon, yelling in surprise. A purplish aura danced around her.
"Liam, catch!"
She caught sight of the raider's face as he soared past. A youngster, barely her age, his eyes wide in terror. He fell in a heap behind the crates as Sara relinquished her biotic hold on him, already focused on the next raider. As the raider struggled to get to his feet, Liam's omniblade, the edge shimmering a bright red, plunged into his skull from above.
"Damn," said Jon. He cringed, turned away.
But he had to watch. Reluctantly, he returned his gaze to the battle.
Scott had disposed of his raiders easily, and was now making his way to Sara and Liam.
Sara's kinetic barriers were beginning to fail, having taken so many hits. She'd pulled three more raiders for Liam to dispose of, and she could begin to feel the fatigue from biotics use. It always began subtly; fingers refusing to curl when you will them to, numbness, tingling. Then she'll start feeling aches all over her body, her vision will begin to swim. Her thoughts will begin to blur. She'll soon have a hard time standing, let alone fight.
Sara dropped down behind the crates, taking cover. She passed her weapon to Liam. "Need a breather," she grunted. Liam nodded, taking the rifle and casually spearing another raider who'd attempted to rush them upon seeing Sara taking cover. He shouldered the rifle and began firing.
Scott took cover next to Sara. "You okay, sis?" His voice full of concern. He'd never seen her push herself like this before.
Sara waved him off. "I'm good, just need to catch my breath." Scott noticed that Sara's hands were shaking. He shook his head. "No, you're spent, sis. You need cals. Wait here while I deal with the raiders, I haven't used my biotics yet."
Sara nodded gratefully. She unhooked several grenades from her belt, handing them to Scott. "Remember to arc them," she reminded him.
The remaining four raiders proved a challenge. They moved with military precision, providing cover fire for each other. The other raiders before them were cannon fodder. These were the elites.
Liam's shields gave out. He took a shot to the shoulder, spinning off the crates, landing heavily with an "Oof!"
Scott reached for his biotics, imagining in his mind's eye a coherent arc to the closer of the two raiders, who happened to be bunched together, moving as a unit. He primed the grenade, then let loose his biotics.
The grenade soared, flying higher and further than when thrown by a normal human arm. It clattered at the feet of the two raiders, who barely had time to react before it detonated, creating a blood cloud.
Sara recovered enough to lift her rifle, telling Liam to stay down. She sighted one of the remaining raiders, squeezed the trigger sharply, then squeezed again. The double-tap was enough to break the raider's shields, which Scott took advantage of; he pumped the raider full of slugs.
The last raider stood, hulking, his full height intimidating, taller than even Liam, his shoulders broad, torso akin to a tree trunk. He bellowed a challenge in a language that they didn't know, picked up a shotgun, then charged.
"Oh, shit," whispered Jon.
The screens in front of him told him that this was the 'boss' enemy.
Scott yelled as he went full-auto, round after round slamming into the enemy's shields. Not one of them made an impact as the enemy continued to charge.
Liam got back to his feet unsteadily, his head spinning. He checked his omniblades. They were still good to go.
Scott tumbled into the dirt, his shields down. He'd taken a shotgun blast to his chest, and was struggling to get back on his feet.
"Scott!" screamed Sara, running over to where her brother lay. Scott tried to wave her off, to warn her to focus on the enemy, but it was too late. As soon as she broke cover, the raider had brought his shotgun up, smart-choke ensuring the slug travelled further before splitting up into multiple shards, maximizing damage to distant targets. He was barely two meters away from the crates. The solid slug tore through Sara's shields and struck her full in the helmet.
Liam breathed deeply, then rounded the crate, yelling as he activated his omniblades. He'd deliberately overclocked them for maximum damage, but the flipside was that they ran out of power quicker. He hoped he could inflict as much damage as he could, and cut out that arsehole's throat.
His first flurry of attacks bounced harmlessly off the enemy's shields. But at the last strike, he caught sight of the enemy's shield flickering – it was about to break. He dove to the left, rolled to avoid a meaty swipe from the enemy's arm. Slashed again. The enemy's shield broke.
Liam drew his arm back for the fatal strike. He did not see the enemy's own omniblade arcing towards him from below, an uppercut. The blade sank deep into Liam's chest, under his ribs, and straight into his heart.
"Ow."
"Ditto."
Jon handed them towels from a rack. "You guys did your best."
Liam wiped his brow. "Didn't see that one coming," he muttered. The three had removed their training armor, tossed the pieces aside.
Scott accepted his towel without a word, inclining his head. He turned his face to the ceiling, covering it with his towel.
Sara was rubbing the side of her head. "That hurts. Even if it was just a sim," she mumbled.
Jon handed her a juice pack. "For you. Heard that biotics needed more calories than the average human, am I right?"
Sara smiled, popping the pack and taking a long swig. She passed it to Scott, who also took a long drink. "You guess right, Jon." She huffed. "Shame. Our first training session here, and we're already getting our asses handed to us. You must think we're amateurs, Jon."
"No way!" his eyes were bright. "If anything, you guys were the ones kicking ass! I've never seen anything like it!"
"Yeah, easy for a civilian to say."
Scott's statement hung in the air. Sara could feel the change in the atmosphere.
Liam beat her to it. "Hey, Jon my lad, help me to my room, would you? Think I pulled something."
Jon wrapped Liam's arm across his shoulder. Half of Liam's size, he was physically incapable of providing enough support for the big Brit. But he accepted Liam's exit strategy, casting an icy cold stare at Scott as he left the room.
Sara waited till the door had slid shut, then turned on Scott. "What the hell was that about?"