Emiya raised his gun, keeping the finger off the trigger and flicking the safety off as he walked around. A recruit walked in front of him, almost cutting his theoretical line of fire with his own pistol raised.
Flick safety, lower pistol, keep walking.
The man walked past Emiya and he raised his pistol again, flicking off the safety. It was pretty monotonous and boring, but Emiya couldn't deny the purpose and effectiveness of this drill. Still, being forced to duck walk around in an enclosed circle with sixty other recruits while training weapon's safety for over an hour was beginning to seem a little overkill.
'Every time someone fails to lower their gun and toggle the safety when your buddy walks past you, they just died! That means you still haven't learned and we add another five minutes to the drill!'
Was what she had said and she had definitely stuck to her word. At first the majority had scoffed at that, but as their sadistic female instructor continued to penalize them without fail and as the duration of the exercise kept extending, they began to finally catch on.
Fuck ups weren't tolerated.
At this point, anyone who fucked up would be remembered by the rest. Team spirit at its finest; 'you get with the program or we beat your ass until you stop making them punish us for your mistakes'.
Anyone who didn't know what they were doing and walked by, seeing them all walking around with their guns would have probably scratched their heads in complete confusion. Well, civilians anyhow. Everyone on base had done the same and knew the drill. It had been hammered into the spines of every Navy soldier the Systems Alliance had churned out.
'Imagine that down your line of fire, where your bullets would go, there is a burning hot red laser. It stops for nothing and goes on until it hits something. That thing is dead. That's how your gun works; at more than a kilometer a second, that chip of metal doesn't stop until it hits something. Which means that if you don't pay attention where you're pointing that thing, someone will die!'
Emiya noticed another recruit—holding his pistol up and duck walking around just like he was—in his peripheral vision. There was nowhere for the other to go, but through Emiya's firing line. Through the imaginary laser that ran down his sight into the barracks in the distance.
Toggle safety, lower pistol, keep finger off trigger.
He passed by in front of Emiya, visibly relieved that he had been noticed and that Emiya had not screwed up. Not relieved over the imaginary laser so much as relieved that he hadn't added to the exercises duration with a fuck up.
Toggle safety off, raise pistol, keep finger off trigger.
After ten minutes of walking like this, everyone's thighs had begun to tremble. That apparently meant that they would have to train more often in the future, according to the chief. The term duck walk wasn't the official name, but that had gone past Emiya's notice when he hadn't been paying attention. They used an acronym for it anyway, which made knowing actual proper name sort of redundant.
Come to think of it, the Alliance Navy seemed to have acronyms for everything to the point where listening in to a conversation between older soldiers tended to sound like an entirely different language.
'Yeah, we were doing a SSD with the CMSO down at the DGRE, but then the SSDO came running, shouting about a FFM which of course got the lt all sparking, so we all had to sign a DDCT in case of a ICIFF.'
He was pretty sure they did it just to confuse the civilians and the recruits, anyhow.
Emiya had learned something similar to what they were doing right now, back when he had been first learning about guns in his first life. Though this was somewhat different, but the principle remained the same. For handguns, the Isosceles Stance seemed the closest equivalent to what they were doing.
The basics were simple enough; torso straight forward into the direction they were walking towards,
'Your armor is thickest in the front; the ribs aren't guaranteed to stop a bullet. Face them head on!'
—with their knees bent so that when they walked their head did not bob up and down at all,
'You bounce around when you're a civvy. With a gun, that is not fucking acceptable. You point your gun only at what you want dead. Nothing else! Your head rises up above where your ear would normally be or if you start bouncing around, it's another five minutes for you monkeys! Now keep walking, you don't get to slow down and rest when someone's shooting back at you, so you sure as hell don't get to rest here either!'
—and with their torso leaning a slight bit forward, so that the straight arm pushed against the pistol. He could have put the muzzle against a wall and leaned against it, with how solid his form was.
'When you pull that trigger, you gotta lean into it. If you're standing with your back straight and up right, your muzzle will climb like your dicks do whenever you sorry sacks see my perfect ass walking by! And just like you, that makes your gun worthless! You can waste your own shots all you like, but here in the military we're actually shooting something worth a fuck! Lean into the shot to absorb the recoil from your fire, so your sights will stay on target!'
All in all it sounded quite simple.
But that was why they drilled it so hard. It couldn't simply sound like it, it had to be simple. It had to be so instinctual that they never ever forgot it. Which was why the instructor had drawn a large circle into the sand. Large enough for all of them to stand in with a little bit of space to move around.
If they failed to keep proper posture: five more minutes. If they accidentally "shot" someone, failing to lower their gun as a friendly walked in front of them: five more minutes. If they stopped moving: five more minutes.
"Thirty more seconds, you sorry sacks of shit! Amateurs train till they get it right! Professionals train until they can't get it wrong!" The instructor shouted, still grinning widely as she stared at the group of duck walking morose soldiers.
It was hardly a bad exercise. Simply a bit monotonous, Emiya thought as he continued to walk around. He had always preferred long rifles or single-shot pistols to rapid fire mid-range guns like the submachine guns which needed this kind of recoil control, but this was hardly a new thing.
Still, it would be good to be done with this and get a shower—
"Serviceman Li, you fuck up! I told you about keeping your knees bent already! No bobbing! Five more minutes!"
The collective groan gave voice to Emiya's own thoughts.
;
He walked out of the showers, toweling his hair dry as he stretched his neck. A cold shower had felt great, though he was certain that soon they would begin introducing water-saving measures in preparation to life aboard a spaceship.
Better to enjoy the little pleasures while he still could.
Emiya put on the regulated regulation shorts and slippers, folding his still wet towel around his arm as he walked out of the communal showers. The distance between his bunk and the showers wasn't that far, but the Navy still had a fairly strict dress code for walking in the corridors. When going for a shower you had to wear acceptable gear, just like with your uniform.
It might seem pedantic and ridiculous, but it instilled a sense of order, he supposed. Just like how you made your bed neatly and tidily after waking up, you always put your appearance in order. If nothing else, it served as a second line of defense against intrusion, in that anyone not wearing very specific uniform or apparel would stand out immediately.
Perhaps he was simply overthinking the matter, Emiya noted as he put his towel to dry. The micro-fiber would be dry in five minutes, which was handy. He stripped off his shorts and reached for a uniform one-piece suit.
Putting in his legs one at a time and pulling it up, Emiya frowned. He had grown again, which meant that he would have to go and requisition another one in a larger size. Though he felt some comfort in growing to a more dignified height, closer to his usual, it was still an annoyance that it came so rapidly when he had to wear these strange military clothes.
A jeans and long-sleeved shirt combination wouldn't need to be replaced every few weeks, he groused.
His original growth had continued well into his twenties, an apparent side-effect of heavy use of od for magecraft and not all too unusual among practitioners. But here it seemed that his body was trying to catch up within a year to his original height, which along with his increasing weight from all the exercise left him perpetually hungry.
He would have to go and get another set of suits before one of the NCOs complained. They were pedantic like that.
It could wait. Besides, the requisitions office had already closed for the day. Emiya sighed, pulling the suit on forcefully. Worst case was that the sizes they had would not fit him anyhow, forcing him to wait until the next size up was fine. Such was life in the service he thought again with a sigh, not for the first time.
Since everything was made on the large scale, a lot of the time small things didn't quite fit right. When you made half a million uniforms, you had to choose between having all sizes possible and wasting half of your stock, or limiting the variation and having most of your stock in use.
He sat down on his bunk, pulling up the omnitool he had been handed a week back and began to navigate through the menus. It was a basic model, apparently only handed to those who had not already bought one before arriving.
An orange holographic sleeve appeared on his left arm; the haptic interface that allowed him to interact with the supposedly massless construct of light, giving him a way to use the supercomputer on his wrist.
It allowed him to do anything and everything, really. From scanning and manufacturing items, to watching and listening to vids and music to various forms of communication and information sharing.
Usually, in his time, private cell phones and the like had been banned while on duty in various services, due to various reasons ranging from operational security to matters of discipline. He knew more than one operation that had nearly failed due to other parties having access to the cell phone metadata or even the conversations themselves of the opposition.
But, with technology marching on, this rule too had been overturned. Omnitools were simply too useful to ban and instead they had been mandated to be updated with Systems Alliance firmware and added to their network.
This way, the "dumb grunts" who wanted to watch vids or listen to music in their downtime got their way, while the highers up could acquire much more accurate and reliable data on their personnel. Emiya was fairly certain that the omnitool was recording and monitoring his heart-rate and blood pressure at every moment, which had ground any and all use of magic to a halt after he received it.
He still meditated, but mostly just kept it up for maintaining what he had already achieved which kept his heart-rate and blood pressure in more normal territory.
Still, while it was an annoyance and a millstone hanging around his neck, it did have its uses. He pulled up the extranet and began to read quietly. Reading with the projected screen over his forearm was a bother, but with some tinkering he had found the settings to freely adjust the location of the screen, which soon allowed him to read freely.
For one, most every book ever published in any shape or form was recorded and could freely be read. Old books he had heard about before but never had the chance to read, classics which he half-remembered, new masterpieces written decades after his death...
The breadth and choice of literature available to him was incredible.
And that was just the extranet; he had also been copies of the user manuals to all of his gear, which he spent more than an eyefull on.
"Hey, whatcha doing?" Someone asked and Emiya looked up. It was one of the recruits, but the name eluded Emiya at the moment. "Wanna come and play some basketball? We've got the court in fifteen."
Emiya considered for a moment before shaking his head.
"No, I'm in the middle of some reading here. But thank you for asking." Didn't hurt to be polite, Emiya figured.
"Oh? What about? I'm Chad, by the way." He asked and then introduced himself with a smile, not at all faltering at the rejection.
Emiya blinked, having almost returned to his reading. He almost frowned, but refrained. "Emiya. General information about different places in the galaxy. About the cities, populations and climate."
"Huh? Why?" He seemed genuinely curious, which was the only reason Emiya didn't ignore him already. Besides, he wanted something.
"...I've never been off Earth. Seemed like something interesting." That was technically true, as he had lived and died on Earth, and this body had never left either. And it could help him somewhere down the line.
"Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Oh man, I remember watching extranet vids about the Citadel when I was a kid all day after school. That place is awesome, even better in person."
Emiya nodded.
He hadn't actually read about anything outside of the solar system. It hadn't seemed proper. Or rather, he wasn't sure if he should read more. There was a niggling feeling of hesitation, when his finger sometimes hovered over the tab for more information on relays and other systems and races.
There was a curiosity, a hunger for knowledge of what the future had brought. But he was here only to deliver a codecast to the Mars' ruins. Nothing more, nothing less. He had long since died; there was no place for him among the living, be it on Earth or out in the stars.
Thus he refrained.
"Lemme see, man..." Chad walked up to Emiya and tilted his head to read the text. Emiya didn't bother trying to hide his screen, since it wasn't like there was anything particularly incriminating or unreasonable there.
Besides, he was growing curious about what this 'Chad' wanted. There seemed to be some agenda behind all this seeming casual talk.
"Mars...? Why'd you want to read about that hickville? There's literally nothing there." Chad asked, frowning at Emiya as he took a step back.
Emiya shrugged at that, "Never been to Mars, but I've seen it in the night sky before. Seemed interesting."
"...Well...Uh, I guess..." He said, crossing his arms, as if not entirely sure about Emiya's reasoning. Chad turned to look at Shepard, who was quietly paying attention to their conversation by the side. "What about you, Sheppie?"
Shepard blinked at having been drawn into the conversation, before realizing she had been asked a question.
"I've never been off Earth, either. Mars does seem pretty interesting. I once saw it through a telescope, before. Wouldn't mind going there once, at least." She said with a shrug.
Chad blinked.
"Uh no, I meant like, you wanna come and play some hoop with us?"
Emiya almost chuckled. So that was it. I was just a prop to get her attention, then. Shepard frowned, realizing that had been the start of the discussion, after all.
"How about it, Sheppie?"
"...What did you just call me?" She looked at him, not quite glaring but still seeming more than a little annoyed.
"Uh..." He hesitated.
You blew it. You should have kept going; make her laugh and get her off-guard and off-balance, after that she would have actually considered it. Now she's just annoyed at her interest in Mars being dismissed. Emiya smirked a little, amused at being sidelined as he went back to his reading.
"Well, uh, we'll be by the court, if either of you wants to come, yeah?" Chad said, with slightly put out expression as he turned and walked away.
Emiya continued his reading, steadfastly ignoring the stare he felt from his side. After a minute, she stopped. He felt somewhat dissatisfied that she had not attempted to continue a conversation, he realized.
Simply because now he was left with only his reading and the taunting hyperlink titled 'Learn more about The Citadel', again.
;
Emiya blinked, pressing the button that should have brought out the glowing haptic interface.
Nothing happened. His brows furrowed and he looked at the physical omnitool, strapped to his wrist with intent. It hadn't taken any physical hits and it seemed to still work fine, as the small power and connection lights were on.
He physically rebooted it and the lights blinked, but the haptic interface remained missing. He tried removing the power source and replacing it as he rebooted it again. Nothing. Everything seemed to be working, at least hardware-wise.
Which meant software. This wasn't due to anything he had done.
He looked up, having felt someone's gaze at him for a while now. He would have dismissed it as meaningless, but those two had been surreptitiously staring at him for well over an hour now. Ever since their off-duty hours began.
The last time I used the omnitool was... Three hours ago.
It was merely a correlation, but given that those two had been glaring at him occasionally ever since they had tried to talk to Shepard, it did seem relevant. In fact, he had seen them tinkering and whispering over their omnitools for days now, often glancing his way with a satisfied smirk or predatory joy.
Those two must have sabotaged my omnitool somehow. Emiya sighed. He had simply thought to read some more of the codex and the technical manuals they had been provided with in lieu of exercise or other things to do.
He hardly could practice his magecraft or tinker with some broken things, after all.
Well now, how to handle this...
He could confront them, but that was unlikely to bring about any results and would probably merely increase their future misapprehensions towards him unless he made it clear that he would not tolerate it. Which would require escalation; a show of force and aggression. Not something he particularly felt like doing. For one, it would make him unduly stand out. For another, it wasn't even really an annoyance since the omnitool was simply another tool he had been handed by the Navy. He had no attachment to it, nor any real need for the things it could let him read or watch.
Emiya knew there were some definite extranet junkies and gaming addicts among the recruits, Franco and his unnamed buddy among them. Then again, assuming they hadn't been doing nothing with their omnitools, perhaps they had been planning and plotting to mess with him all this time.
How ridiculous.
Eh, might as well escalate it all the way, then.He thought with a shrug as he took off the omnitool and removed the power source as he got up. Better ham it up a bit to rile them up.
"Anybody else have a problem with their omnitool?" Emiya asked, speaking loudly.
Several dozen heads turned his way, looking at him quizzically, but they all shook their heads and murmured denials as they tried quickly. Emiya began to walk for the door, nearing the two bunks where the two most likely suspects slept and at this moment were sitting as they quietly observed Emiya.
They seemed to be enjoying this, too. Time to turn up the heat.
"Well, it's probably some virus I got from online. But I turned it off and I'm gonna go hand it in to the chiefs for inspection. They can probably trace it back and get it working again." He said, almost casually just as he walked past the two, stressing the mention of their superior officers in just the right way for it to sound promising.
From his peripheral vision he could see the two freeze up at that. Escalating accidentally to the point where he incriminated them for hacking—or sabotaging or whatever it was that they had done—of Navy property was far beyond any reaction they could have expected.
And with the omnitool turned off, they wouldn't be able to un-do their dirty work. Sure, it was unlikely that it would actually result in anything substantial, but it wasn't the facts of the matter that were important. It was the threat of escalating to strategic nukes when it came to drama, by taking it to the officers, that was important.
"H-hey! Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" One jumped up before Emiya could walk out.
He didn't turn around but slowed down a bit.
"I mean, it could be nothing. Right?" The one who had introduced himself as Franco joined in, glancing hesitantly at the other.
"Right." The first agreed. "Uh, I, uh, I could take a look at it for you, see if it's really bad. I'm pretty good with tech, you know." Franco offered, licking his lips as he glanced at his partner-in-crime.
Emiya turned around, smiling with faux-relief, though neither could tell.
"Really? That'd be a huge relief." He smiled, staring right into Franco's eyes. "Not having my omnitool not working, I mean."
I know it was you, you little shit. Emiya thought, putting all his focus into that look. He didn't change his body language at all, didn't bother with killing intent or to even put any hostility to his thoughts, or anything else so overt. He simply focused on Franco, as if he were a hawk staring down a mouse.
The last time the three of them had been within speaking distance of each other, Emiya had still been rail thin and quite short for his supposed age. But now? Perhaps it had been the gene therapy. Perhaps it had been the copious amounts of exercise and food he partook in to keep up with everyone else. Perhaps it was simply his soul modifying the body to match his true appearance quicker. Whatever it was, he had changed since that time they had last been near each other.
At a distance, it would not have been obvious unless you were paying attention. But up close?
Franco seemed to realize that Emiya had grown nearly half a head taller and that each of his four limbs had nearly doubled in circumference as he had been putting on muscle at an astonishing rate. Franco swallowed, his mind blanking as the whites of his eyes began to show.
Somehow that scrawny little thing had turned into something absolutely terrifying in an instant. Emiya clapped him on the shoulder, breaking the trance as he smiled.
"Thanks, I appreciate the help."
The spell had been broken, both of them looking as if they had just awoken from a dream, or what they had thought had been reality but had suddenly revealed itself to be a dream. They blinked, confused as their thoughts and fears from the previous moment seemed entirely unfounded.
Yet, that feeling would linger in the back of their minds.
"Y-yeah. No problem."
Emiya didn't have any problems with his omnitool since.
;
Emiya let out a breath as he hit the bed.
His eyes felt heavy, which was somewhat surprising. He hadn't really felt sleepy since he had come to inhabit this body. Physical exhaustion was one thing and matching up with the rhythm of the world around him was another.
But feeling an actual physical need to sleep? That was a first in a long while. Then again, four hours of running in full gear through the rain did that to you. Just about everyone else seemed completely done for the day as well.
Still, he felt some satisfaction as his body was growing at a stupendous rate to match the environment. It even exceeded the projected rate of the gene therapy, though that had more with simply his soul being what it was.
He did his best to hold back the most of the flow between the soul and the corpus, to remain unnoticed by the instructors, but even so his advances were being noticed. Already, he was having a lot less trouble with keeping up, vindicating his decision to not use magecraft during his time in the Navy.
"...Shit."
Emiya opened his eyes at the soft cursing voice.
He was the only one who heard the whisper, he was sure. Turning his head, he stared at Shepard with one eye closed to remain unnoticed. She was sitting at her bunk, one leg crossed up on her knee as she was holding her foot. The redhead was frowning as she wiggled her toes, apparently testing out the range of motion of her foot.
He considered it for a moment, before closing his eyes. It has nothing to do with me.
"Fuck..." She cursed again.
Emiya opened his eyes, sitting up with a sigh. He didn't bother looking at Shepard, simply getting down and getting his clothes in order. Outside of the sleeping hall, a relatively strict dresscode was enforced after all.
He left without a word, walking quietly down the empty halls.
Given the size of this place, it would usually be full of recruits and the personnel needed to train those recruits. But it was off season, so the personnel was downsized proportionately. Perhaps they worked part-time or they were assigned elsewhere for the time being.
Regardless, the result was what it was. The empty and dark corridors stretched on everywhere around him. Every seven steps one of the ceiling lights would recognize movement and toggle on the sterile lights that were almost blue in hue, lighting another seven steps for him to walk. His footsteps echoed lightly, until he found what he needed.
He knocked on the door. No one answered.
That was fine; he knew no one was inside. He couldn't hear anyone's breathing or heartbeat inside after all. But still, there were cameras and he had to at least act somewhat the part. Technically he wasn't supposed to enter here, as listed in the 'fucking manual', but he was sure that he could handle whatever came if someone decided to chew him out on it.
The infirmary was empty and dark; the lights being manually switched unlike in the halls. He opened the small refrigerator beneath the empty table and reached inside. Having found what he was looking for he grabbed a meter of toilet paper from the bathroom as well before leaving.
Walking back briskly, he wrapped the ice-pack in the toilet paper with care.
He made it back, kicking his boots off without slowing down his stride past his bunk as he came to a halt before Shepard. She was lying down with her arms up, fingers crossed behind her head as she lay with her eyes closed.
But she must have noticed him looming over her as she opened an eye.
She blinked up at him, before her eyes narrowed.
"What?"
Emiya considered his words, before throwing them to the wind. He wasn't particularly interested in making friends with her, but he did... What did he want?
Why had he walked all the way over to the clinic for the ice-pack? Because he wanted to help her? A stubborn voice inside of him denied that vehemently, as if shouting to shoot down the very idea. He was done with cleaning up other people's messes. He was done helping people at his own expense.
He had sold his soul for other's already. Enough was enough. Therefore... Therefore what? Why was he here now, holding an ice-pack in his hand as he stared down at Shepard? Was he here to help her? But what for?
Emiya shook his head; there was no sacrifice on his part here. He could help her as much as he wanted, as long as he simply acknowledged that he was doing it simply because he did want to help her.
She furrowed her brows, glaring at him.
"What is it?" She snapped again as he said nothing, growing more and more annoyed.
He looked up, meeting her eyes. This was for himself. Surely. That was why he could justify it to himself. This wasn't about her. It was about smoothing things out for himself. Right, that made sense. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the rationalization.
"You wrenched your foot." It wasn't a question. She flinched, almost denying it reflexively. He could see it in her eyes; the set of her shoulders. Weakness was bad. Letting others know you had a weakness was worse still. He could see it, the thoughts and plans whirring in her eyes. How to deny it; how to draw attention away from it; how to turn this on him.
"You—" She began, her course of action set. She would make this be about him; I'm trying to talk her up, like the others, she would say.
He didn't let her.
"Shut up." He said and somehow a little anger seeped through. Not at her, no. It was directed... At this situation? No, himself. At himself. For being this easily affected. Nothing about this place had gotten to him, except this one person who reminded him of someone from a long time ago. So he wasn't angry at her.
But he could use it against her. She flinched at the tone of his voice. Everyone had gone dead quiet at his words.
There was weight to it. She wasn't the only one who had been affected; another recruit sleeping opposite to Shepard had gotten up to tell Emiya off, but had been shot down just as effectively as she had been by those two words.
"Where do you think we are?" He asked, finally looking at her. She blinked, taken aback at the accusation in his voice.
"What do you—"
"You're not on the streets anymore. You're in the Navy now. You're a soldier. You didn't listen to a word they said, did you? You're in a team, now. You're not just responsible for yourself. You get injured and you end up affecting everyone else." He spoke, voice low. Yet the dead silence around them let most of everyone present hear him clearly. They leaned in, trying to catch every word he said.
Direct confrontation. Questioning her. That would rile her up; a dumb way of doing things, but he was here already so he might as well play this act through.
She glared at him then. "What makes you think you know anything about me?"
She ground her teeth, eyes boring into him with as she moved to sit up. Her legs swung over the edge of the bed as she moved to stand up. But he moved his own foot just a little bit to the left, causing her to step on his foot.
"Listen to me, you—Fuck! Oww!" She grunted as she rose up, placing her weight on the leg which was over his own. His toes dug right into the arch of her foot as she stepped down on them, where he knew it hurt the most.
"See?" He asked tilting his head slightly as he pushed her shoulder lightly. He didn't need any force to tip her back onto the bed she had just gotten up from.
"Oomph!" She made a strange sound as she hit the bed.
"If you weren't so busy glaring at everybody and looking out for someone trying to shiv you for your shoes, maybe you might have thought to ask for help. But no, you're too stubborn for your own damn good."
He sat down, grabbing her foot with one hand as he set away the ice-pack. She tried to wrest free her foot from his hand, but his grip was like iron vise. He pressed with a thumb, inhaling slowly. He let his magical energy extend outwards, into his hands as he controlled his breathing.
Raising his body temperature with simple breathing was possible, but for rapid increase in temperature simply using his magic circuits was faster. His hands grew slightly red and he extended his magical energy through the touch into her foot, peering into the bones and muscles of the foot.
Another skill he had picked up along the way, during a life wasted.
As he figured. She had wrenched the arch of her foot during running, yet kept going like nothing had been wrong. It was a stress injury really, piled up from training too hard until it gave way. He sighed, pressing a thumb in and beginning to feel out the extent of the injury.
"Or what, do you think everyone here is looking out for their next fix? That they're gonna gang up on you in the showers to get their rocks off?" Emiya said, glaring at Shepard who was trying to glare at him in equal measure in return. But every time he pressed a thumb into her foot, she tensed and was forced to hold back a cry of pain. "Seriously? How do you think you were going to heal from this? It's been like this for weeks already, you idiot. You've just made it worse by trying to walk it off."
"You—" noticed?
She stared at him, eyes wide as he mouth hung wide open. He merely rolled his eyes at her.
"Yet you kept going, not even once slowing down and only making it worse." He glared at her, pressing in particularly hard, almost making her whimper as she closed her eyes, with her back arching with the pain.
Somehow, he wasn't sure who he was talking about anymore. No, he was definitely talking about her. But none of the anger was really meant for her. She really did remind him of someone. A man he did not want to think about.
He continued to slowly massage the inflammated muscles, easing at them and using his magical energy to analyze how he was doing. He could not heal her, nor would he have wasted his magical energy on something like that anyhow, but Structural Analysis was another story entirely.
It lasted only for five minutes, but he kept increasing the pressure as he worked deeper and deeper. Every time Shepard seemed to be getting a handle of the pain, he doubled the pressure and kept her from moving.
Finally, he let go and turned to grab the ice-pack. He opened the topmost layers of the wrapped paper and used it to fasten the ice-pack loosely to her foot. Enough to keep it there while a layer kept it from directly touching her skin, but not so tightly as to prevent bloodflow.
Emiya got up, not bothering to look at Shepard as he did.
"Hold the ice-pack on for half an hour and then don't get out of bed. Don't get up until tomorrow morning. Just let it recover. And then check yourself to the infirmary."
Shepard licked her lips, blinking. "But, what about training—"
He turned around, shooting a glare at her. "Fuck the training, you can barely walk."
His words echoed through the room, everyone quietly observing the byplay. Three dozen eyes stared at him quietly, before they began muttering to each other. Emiya exhaled, hot air rushing out through his clenched teeth.
"Or don't. Doesn't actually matter to me, does it?" He grumbled, leaving to go wash his hands. He wasn't sure what he was getting so worked up about, but he needed to be alone for fifteen minutes and get his head back under wraps.
He closed the door to the toilets behind him. There weren't any proper stalls or anything, simply a common area for everyone's use with a few cubicles set up. Another measure by the Navy to get everyone used to each other by denying privacy. But he was alone for the moment; no one would follow him in for a while. He opened that tap, letting the water run for a moment before washing his hands and splashing his face.
The cool liquid felt strange against his hot skin. Was it the use of his magic circuits or his own hot temper that felt like burning iron in his veins? He thought he had long since left behind that hot-headed youth, back when he had left the Clock Tower to travel the world.
"This place is getting to me." He sighed, whispering the complaint under his breath as he stretched his neck. He took another deep breath, working to calm himself. It didn't work, somehow. His pulse was below 40 beats a minute, yet still the hot blood seemed to be coursing through his veins without rest.
He closed his eyes, focusing on his heartbeat—drowning out the rest of the world until nothing else existed.
Finally, after an eternity in a fraction of a second, he opened his eyes again. The distant look in them was back; he was just an outsider. This place had nothing to do with him.
None of it had anything to do with him. He repeated the mantra, again and again. He was dead and gone; a heroic spirit even if in name only. His part to play in the world was long done. He had no right to intrude upon the world of the living any more.
Even if his regrets piled high enough to touch the vaults of the sky.
"Just get to Mars and that's it. You're done. No more than that." He said, half-convincing himself that it was so simple as he closed the water tap. He ignored the hypocrisy of his anger at Shepard, telling himself it was nothing.
And in the mirror, the untainted and unbroken reflection of a man he had thought he had left behind stared back a him, denying all of his rationalizations.
;
"Serviceman Emiya. Do you know why you've been called here?"
Emiya stared at the wall blankly, saying nothing as he stood at attention. He was staring straight ahead, looking nowhere near where the woman who had called him in was. That was probably why she had not told him to assume parade rest; it was to show who had the power in this situation.
Meaningless.
The instructor, the somewhat-sadistic woman who had run the pistol safety drill, stared at him. She frowned, putting away her omnitool. He could see that she had been going through some report, which seemed to be a record of himself.
She sighed.
"It figures. While your concern for your fellow soldier is commendable, the way you went about it was completely wrong. Not only did you enter facilities to which you have no right or clearance for, I have received several reports of people worried about your behavior towards servicewoman Shepard. All you have managed to do with your stunt is earn the enmity of many of your peers, perhaps even including her." She spoke, eyeing him carefully.
He had noticed as much, himself. Returning to his bunk the previous night, he had said nothing at all for the rest of the evening. But the tense air had been inescapable and impossible to ignore. He had guessed something like that would happen, but he had gone through with it regardless.
"Serviceman Emiya, did it ever occur to you that we had taken into consideration your and Servicewoman Shepard's physical aptitudes? That the Navy actually takes training its soldiers very seriously? That we were very much aware of how she had been handling herself until now?"
"It did, ma'am." Emiya answered curtly.
"Oh, did it now? Then for whatever reason did you see fit then to intervene as you did? Did it not occur to you to inform one of your superiors or to advice her to check herself for a physical herself before you lay hands on her?" Her tone of voice sharpened as she stood up, walking up to stare at him.
Emiya inhaled calmly, saying nothing. He could have said the he had noticed that they had nothing about her continued isolation or how she seemed to be pushing herself over her limits. He had some thoughts about what they were planning, but none of it was concrete.
They want to mold her into a special forces operative. High-functioning sociopath with a lack of empathy or long-term goals. He had seen those types. They were a dime a dozen in many of the hells he had waded in. In fact, he thought she might still fit right in with those deathseekers. But he also thought she could be something more. The way she looked at other people...
Then again, he had no proof beyond some vague suspicions from the way some of the instructors looked at her. Maybe it was simply a method they used for her types; letting them break themselves and only then coming to their aid.
It would certainly ensure absolute loyalty from her, if it worked. But he had the premonition that Shepard would have toughed it through, even as her body broke with every step. Almost like someone else had. He almost scowled then again, before mastering himself.
"Or was there something more, some sort of other motivation behind your actions? Hmm?" She eyed him with suspicious eyes. "Are you perhaps thinking that you might relieve yourself with her? We have had your types here before, those who think that anything and everything is allowed as long as no one finds out." She said, raising an eyebrow as she stared at him.
The silence stretched.
"Well, do you have anything to say?"
He kept silent for a full minute until she turned around to sit back down.
"One week deduction of pay and extranet access, then. Dismissed."
He saluted her lazily and left. What a bother, he thought as he left her office and walked back.
Arriving back at their sleeping quarters, the entire room seemed to fall silent as he entered. It seemed as if his actions had been given a negative slant by the rest of the recruits. He ignored it as he walked to his bunk, to prepare for the day. Coming to a stop, he noticed Shepard. Just as he did, she noticed him.
Their eyes met.
He looked down, looking at her foot. She seemed to be somewhat better, for what it was worth. He looked up and regarded her.
"Thanks." She said after a moment, tossing the melted ice-pack at him with a casual underhand throw.
"...Hmmh." Emiya grunted, grabbing the ice-pack from the air.
"Mind helping me to the infirmary. I don't think I know where it is." She asked, seeming less hesitant and more sheepish.
He blinked, slightly surprised.
"Sure."
;
"What you are receiving now is you personal Aldrin Labs Onyx light armor." The chief spoke as they all took a closer look at the bundles they had been handed. "Like your Kessler pistols, these will remain with you. Even if you change ship or base, you will not be expected to hand in your guns or armor to the armorer excepting for routine check ups. As they have been specially constructed with your proportions and body type in mind, these are yourhardsuits."
Emiya felt a little uncertain about that, as he still hadn't exactly finished with his growth spurt. But it seemed like the arms and legs could be detached and adjusted, so perhaps that had been taken into account already. Everyone seemed excited, as these were the real deal. Every recruitment poster and vid had these on their models, every action movie and game had these out in display; and now they had their very own hardsuits.
"Of course, as there is a wide varierty of products available, you are often allowed to purchase your own to replace the standard Onyx armor. As long as it has been cleared by your Armorer and superior officer, it should be fine. As you can see, I prefer the Devlon Industries Explorer suit myself." He said, motioning at the hardsuit he was wearing. Unlike the slim and simple black things they had received, it was white and black with much bulkier armor pieces.
Emiya looked down, running a hand down the matte black surface of the armor in his hands. It was fresh from the factory; without any wear and tear one would expect from armor usually, but also void of any lingering sentiments or thoughts.
The industrial revolution had brought on a massive shift in how things were created. Handicraft required a lot more work, not only for creating the individual item but for creating the craftsman as well. When Emiya beheld an object created by a master craftsman, he not only beheld the item itself but also the traces and paths the creator had walked in order to arrive at that items creation. The years of hard work and practice it took to acquire those skills.
But with the factory line, as production increased and became much more impersonal, those traces became far more muted and distant. He could still look into it; could see how the factory worked and how the item had been created. But all those personal thoughts, emotions and sentiments from weeks of work and decades of dedication were no longer there.
"As it is your personal hardsuit, you will be expected to understand it inside and out. It is not only armor, but also your uniform and field dress. One of its main functions is to protect you from the cold of space, so I am sure you all understand how important it will be to make sure it is always intact and functional, even and especially aboard starships."
He let his curiosity get the better of him; inhaling sharply he let his magical energy reach out. Simply by seeing an item he could read a great deal of information regarding it, but when it came to items that were not swords or weapons, a more intimate touch would be necessary.
The hardsuit appeared in his mind's eye as he imagined it. Every detail, feature and part was perfectly reproduced in his head without fail. There were some interesting materials and production methods used, but all in all it was not anything spectacular. Then again, it was a mass produced baseline piece of protective equipment so he couldn't expect anything more out of it.
Well, that was assuming the circuitry and the empty channels and tubes were there just for show. He had only read the material properties and protective value of the suit, after all.
"Now, to get into the theory before we get into the brass tacks of maintenance and how to put them on. Later tonight after dinner, you will be taught by Chief Rogers how to put them away into your regulation lockers." The instructor continued, nodding at his silent partner who nodded at the recruits at the mention of his name.
He then tapped his own chest to show his own hardsuit; the sound his armored glove made against the chest piece was markedly dissimilar from their suits. "As you can see, my hardsuit is quite different from the ones you have been given. This is mainly due to the rating, but there is more as well. To put it simply, the Systems Alliance has adopted the Council Standard of body armor in the past decade as it has been proven to be a reliable and easily-translatable standard.
"One of the most important functions of the suit are of course the various sensors. There are a variety of sensor set up designs, but for your suits it is the basic set only. When you wear your helmet, it will in the Heads Up Display portray a blue circle in the lower right corner of your vision. This is your Combined Sensor Read Out. Consider it a radar, allowing you to see a variety of things around you, within a set distance. One of the main functions is to allow you to spot unknown actors before they become a threat, giving you an edge as ambushes can be foiled and hiding attackers can be handled. Once it is connected to your omnitool, you can adjust those settings and perform more specialized tasks." Saying that, the instructor used his omnitool and suddenly a monitor began to show a view from the instructor's perspective. On the screen, they could see themselves as they looked at the man and in the right corner of the screen was a small pulsing blue sphere which showed a large group of red dots in the top sector. "As you can see, my suit has detected your life signs and due not having been logged in as allied forces, you are shown on my radar as hostiles. The agenda for this lesson will be to fix that."
He grinned as he said that. The recruits whispered at that, pointing at each other and trading thoughts. The instructor let them digest that for a moment, standing silently for a few seconds.
"Hardsuits have three layers of protection to keep you safe from harm, be it mass accelerator fire or environmental hazards. The outermost of course are the kinetic barriers. Inside your hardsuits are small microcomputers and eezo cores, which work to create a shield of sorts around your body.
"Of course, if it was on at all times it would be a huge drain on the batteries, as well as get in your way when you tried to sit down or use your gun." The instructor continued explaining, walking over to a far wall where no one was near him. The other instructor—Gunnery Chief Rogers—walked up, pulling out his pistol and fiddling with the settings he continued to talk.
"Therefore, it has been hooked up to the the suit's sensors to activate only when it detects something in your surroundings. A variety of patented designs exist, such as detecting mass effect field fluctuations or detecting quickly moving small objects coming at you. But to put it simply; if a bullet is moving fast enough to hurt you, this will happen." The instructor turned to Chief Rogers, nodding at him. "Go ahead."
"Weapon hot; firing." Rogers spoke quietly, raising his pistol and pulling the trigger once. A muffled report, lower than the usual gunpowder-powered firearms Emiya had become used to, rang out and a blue flash erupted before the instructor's body.
"As you can see, it works quite effectively. But as I mentioned before, the batteries remain a limiting factor which means that under continuous fire or if struck by a very powerful round, the kinetic barrier will definitely fail. Also note that it will not protect your from direct manipulation by mass effect fields or from environmental hazards. Biotics for example will ruin your day just as easily as a big gun will."
Emiya blinked, making a note of that. It seemed like the kind of thing one would forget until the worst moment. Overall, he felt a strange urge to ask whether they were called Holtzmann fields as well, but he quashed that thought.
He had wondered what some of the electronics and wiring running through the suit were for, but that began to make some sense of it. He had merely evaluated the suit based on its material properties before, but realizing that there had been more to it was quite interesting.
"So, since there are things which will come through our handy dandy barriers, let's move onto the second level of protection. Material construction. This is where the Council-space classification comes in. Currently, there exist three levels of protection; light, medium and heavy armor. These are simply put based on a relative-to-wearer-weight classification, which reflects how well it can protect you. For light armor, the amount of material used is often minimal; only enough to get the job done and to let you survive in your class 1 hazardous environment. Constructed often simply of layered fabrics without ceramic or metallic plates or reinforcements, they offer complete freedom of movement." The instructor said, walking up to a recruit and grabbing his Onyx hardsuit and lifting it with one hand.
"As you can see, they aren't the toughest of things, but they are better than nothing. If you'll end up on a spaceship, you will probably be fine with them as is, but if you apply for the ground-pounders who see some real action, I recommend something tougher." He put the suit down, thanking the recruit for letting him borrow it for a second.
"Medium and Heavy as similar, but tend to have simply more material. For the parts of the body that do not need to move, such as the shins or torso, the use of harder materials is normal." The instructor said, tapping at his limbs to show off such plates. "During prolonged combat, it becomes crucial to know how to repair and maintain heavier armors in the field, thus using them requires special training as well, along with physical conditioning to get used to."
Emiya felt that that was simple enough; physical armor had not changed much even as the materials improved. Layered fabrics had been used throughout the ages, from ancient Greek Linothorax armor to the kevlar vests of his day.
The modern fabrics used in the suit he had been given were quite impressive already, but he could definitely see an advantage in adding some additional hard pieces. Just like adding metal pieces to a vest could turn it into a brigandine or how against larger caliber rifle ammunition steel and ceramic plates had been used during his lifetime.
"Finally, but not least importantly, we have the most recent addition to the Council Standards." The instructor said with a proud grin. "Humanity's very own Sirta Foundation has ushered forth a new era of technological advancement. That last layer of defense is the in-built medical systems, which monitor you and administer first aid as necessary along with medigel in case of catastrophic damage. That isn't all, either. In case you suffer a bone break or lose a limb, modern military hardsuits are also designed to harden around the injury, making it possible for medigel to be administered without worry of having your leg the wrong way or bleeding out.
"According to the desk jockeys I talk to, since the introduction of medigel systems, mortality rates in firefights dropped by 14% percent in a year. Talk is, the Council had wanted to ban the stuff, especially the Turians after how tough our boys proved to be on Shanxi, but in the end they couldn't go through with it given how useful the stuff is." The instructor grinned as he crossed his arms.
"But that's enough theory. Time to get you boys strapped in and show you how to wear these things. First, pop the seal on the back of the neck and..."
;
"Now that all of you are familiar with all of your gear, it is time to learn how to use it all. I trust all of you have already managed to link your omnitools and hardsuits up. Today you'll be learning how to navigate in an urban environment. You'll not be given any weapons, but you will be expected to follow certain rules that will... shall we say enhance the experience, heh."
The chief laughed, grinning widely at the formation of recruits standing before them. They were finally E4; something more than merely wastes of space in the eyes of the Alliance. They were more than people who existed only to be a bother to everyone else. Now they at least knew how to generally stay out of the way. For the most part.
Which meant it was time to teach them how to act out in the field.
"You will be working in the smallest unit that the Alliance Navy uses; a three man team. As you will remember from your theory, that way you can have all of your active sensors scanning a third of the surroundings at maximum efficiency. This will give you a 40 meter range to work with. Each of you will be required to handle a hundred and twenty degrees. Fail that, and not only do you die, but so do your buddies."
Emiya looked around without moving his eyes, wondering who he would be paired up with. It wouldn't matter; he was quite experienced in urban warfare and the material they had gone through hadn't contradicted or refuted any of his old skills and knowledge.
"—and as such, as previously outlined yesterday, you shall not be outfitted with the usual navigation suite. I'm sure you're all familiar with the nav-systems from your everyday life. Need to find a nice restaurant? Just pop the question and you get real-time, real-position instructions. But in the Navy we don't always get that luxury. Sometimes, you will be laboring under information control inferiority, which means every connections to be cut off lestthe enemy hacks you! To that end, the fine gents upstairs have decided to be so kind as to bestow upon you the chance to learn how to get about in new territory.
"In fact, we've made sure none of you have ever been here before. Whoever said the Navy never takes you anywhere nice, eh? Heheh. Your job is to use your short-range scanners, one satellite scan of the area that has been marked with checkpoints you will need to go through and your own skills to make your way today. No nav-systems, no real-time mapping, no directions. We'll be watching all of you, so do know that if you try to cheat or use the extranet or some other nonsense. Well... Privy cleaning duty will be the least of your worries." The chief laughed darkly, then crossed his arms. "So, all clear? No questions? Good!"
Emiya was an old hand at this kind of stuff, really. He had fought in most every kind of environment, short of actual zero-G. So finding his way wasn't going to be all that difficult. He was actually kind of looking forward to that, since it was something entirely new.
But this? This he could do in his sleep.
"So, when you hear you name, step up and group up as instructed. Abrams—!"
Emiya blinked, noticing that Shepard was smirking as she looked around.
It seemed like for the first time in a long time, she seemed excited about something. Overall, she had retained her dour mood and kept to herself even as everyone else grew more and more familiar with each other. Well at least now she talked to other people. It was something.
Well, it wouldn't have anything to do with him. He'd already roughly figured out how they would be divided into teams, so he guessed they wouldn't be grouping up.
"Emiya!"
"Sir!" He answered, jogging to where the chief was pointing. He glanced at the two familiar faces waiting for him. They nodded at him in greeting but kept quiet. They had never talked, but he could sense a slight tension.
Emiya sighed, slightly annoyed that he was suffering the repercussions of Shepard's stand-offish attitude from before. These two had tried to approach her and been rebuffed quite brutally and then she had gone and directed them to him, early on. Though Emiya had done nothing at all, that feeling of rejection still clung to him as they met again.
"I'm Emiya." He introduced himself and they relaxed a little at his friendly tone of voice.
"Heh, nice to meetcha. I'm Rodriguez and this is Franco." The taller of the two said, grinning at him as the third member of their trio nodded as well.
"Well then, let's rock this boat, yeah?" Franco said, grinning as he pointed at the starting line for the urban exercise. They would be leaving with 15 minutes spacing out between each team, given a route and a destination, with several checkpoints along the way.
Orienteering, really.
Emiya smirked back. "Shouldn't be too hard."
;
All in all, it wasn't anything difficult. Certainly, making good time in unknown territory while avoiding spotters and keeping an eye out for traps and ambushers was always somewhat challenging. But given that they had been handed a map taken from orbit and their omnitools, it was somewhat amusing how easy is it actually was.
Oh, perhaps the lack of a reference or guidance in the map was meant to be a setback, as the instructor had turned off their omnitools' automatic mapping and guidance feature, but seeing as how they had all been taught how to make the most of their omnitool, it seemed a bit pathetic.
Perhaps if they only had a paper map or a drawing of the general topography, it would be somewhat more challenging. But given that as long as they simply could use their omnitools off-line, well... When you have a detailed and precise one-to-one map of the area and the tool that could record your acceleration and changes in movement with its in-built sensors, it was hardly a bigger bother than simply linking the picture and placing a simulated marker based on the sensor data on that picture.
Making a program for that was easy, even with what little they had been taught about omnitools. It wouldn't even take half an hour to whip up something like that. Less if they didn't have to double-check their scripts for errors.
Emiya wasn't exactly sure what they were being taught here. Were they expected to know how to find their way around without the automatic map marker and navigation guide by regular pathfinding skills? Were they expected to use the orbital scan provided as a regular map? Were they supposed to write a program, using all the tools and data available?
Or was there some other way? Asking one of the locals? It seemed counter-intuitive given the stated goals of this exercise. Perhaps they would be penalized for making contact with a civilian. Perhaps everyone they ran into would be someone undercover. He couldn't quite tell.
Perhaps it was a point to test and observe the recruits, to see what they did and how they handled it all. It made sense, given that they all wore omnitools anyhow and their instructors must have kept some oversight over those to insure no one used the extranet or whatnot.
In the end, he dismissed Rodriguez's suggestion of writing a program for a simulated map. After all, regular orienteering is simply a matter of abstraction, memorization and referencing. 'If I'm here, then there should be this', 'If I take a left here, I should come across this' and such.
It took some convincing, since apparently the two were inveterate "hackers", or so they claimed. They boasted about having gotten the haptic finger implants for hologram controls at the age of 12 and having been coding their entire lives, saying that it wouldn't be even difficult to write something like that.
But it would still have taken a half hour, even assuming no errors in code.
Given how practiced he was at keeping an image in his mind and manipulating it inside his head, something like keeping track of his own position in a two-dimensional plane while plotting out the shortest route to an objective was child's play.
The real challenge came in spotting the traps and ambushes they had been warned of. At regular intervals, Emiya would spot someone waiting around at a strange location or something out of place in the route and they would be forced to take a detour to avoid being penalized.
By penalized, they meant 'pretend-shot to death in a crossfire', but really it was just a slap on the wrist for not paying attention.
Occasionally, he would spot what would be an obvious ambush, so he would be forced to be creative. Going through a private yard or abandoned house; jumping into the river and diving past an ambush; climbing up a tree to use the rooftops. At one point, they had a perfect chance to counter-ambush a group of ambushers, but they decided to move on instead.
Every once in a while he made sure to pop open his omnitool, as if making sure that they were still on course and that they hadn't made a wrong turn. Really, it was to check if the map changed without notifying them or if any of their checkpoints changed while they were still moving.
It wouldn't be funny if they came to the end, only to find that they had missed three checkpoints which had been added in a minute before they finished. Or well, it would be to a certain extent. But it would reflect poorly on their performance.
"Just this down this road and we're done." Emiya announced, dismissing the map as he nodded forward.
"Rea—ha, hah—really? Shit, this was a lot easier than I thought. And shit, you can run. Now I get where you put away all that food." Franco said, panting between words.
Supposedly they had alloted the whole day for the exercise, but Emiya had managed to keep a good pace and they had cleared it in less than two hours. Well, mostly cleared it. Just the homestretch left. Behind him, the two physically older recruits panted as they leaned against the wall.
By a good pace, Emiya meant 'as fast as we can go while avoiding the patrolling chiefs and without dropping from exhaustion halfway through'.
Which, even with all of their training and gene therapy meant a considerable strain. He smirked at the two, standing tall and unwearied in comparison. It was all about proper breathing, really.
"Let's go. I'll treat you to some grub afterwards and you can die in your beds once it has no bearing on my performance."
"F... Fuck you, man." Rodriguez said, laughing weakly as he forcibly straightened himself to not seem inferior to Emiya.
"Right, right. You guys can carry me, right?"
"Nah, your fat ass can drag itself." Rodriguez snorted, turning to jog after Emiya who had already begun to move.
"Ey, man. I thought we were friends." Franco whined, before shaking his head and beginning to jog after them.
But halfway to the finish line, Emiya blinked as he spotted another team running parallel to them a few blocks away. Coming in from another angle, they were a team consisting of his fellow recruits. A moment later, his teammates spotted the other trio.
"Whoa! They're fast!" Rodriguez noted with some awe. "Is that Lola?"
Franco peered at that, until he spotted the redhead himself. "Fuck! It is! Go time! Double-time! Let's go! Let's go! I ain't losing to that chica this time!"
With that, the man formerly at the tail-end of their group began to pull ahead, passing the casually running Emiya as he pumped his limbs for for all they were worth. Panting loudly, with his mouth wide open and tongue lolling like a dog's, he seemed quite ridiculous.
"Yeah, fuck that! Let's go, let's go!" Rodriguez shouted, increasing his own pace to match Franco in front of him.
Emiya looked to the side, noticing that the other group—including Shepard, as the other two had noticed—had spotted them, too. And noticing the increased pace, a competitive spirit was ignited inside them as well. He had to sigh; had they just kept up their normal pace, they would have still come in first. It was unlikely that the other group would bother trying to increase their pace because of them.
But no, they had to start sprinting and catch the other groups attention with their energetic running.
They had started 15 minutes apart of each other anyhow; who actually crossed the line meant little since Emiya's group had started afterwards. What did it matter if they won the other's time by one second or two when they had already caught up an entire quarter hour?
Still, he might as well indulge the others. The increased his breathing; both in volume and in frequency, his heart kicking into higher gear to match the increase in performance from his body. He might not have the same level of physical ability due to his lagging enhancements, but his stamina was second to none!
Legs pumping, arms swinging, lungs expanding and deflating, all in perfect sync with one another; Emiya began to pull ahead of Rodriguez and then Franco.
On the other street, the other team increased their speed in their desperate last spurt, but it was obvious that it was the last energies they had being burned out; the last fumes in their gas-tank being expended. Emiya grinned, as he ran past both of his teammates and placed himself in front of them.
The two clowns wouldn't last it to the finish line on their own. But in Emiya's slipstream, with less air resistance? That they could do. Emiya looked behind himself, half-grinning at them as they desperately tried to keep up with him. Dismissing them and looking forward, Emiya continued to run. His back taunting, as if asking 'can you keep up with me?' as he said nothing.
At the last fifty meters, it became obvious that they had pulled into a lead already. The other team could not cross this gap in time. As Emiya kept increasing his pace until he crossed the 'finish line' with a satisfied smirk.
His legs burned, his throat was dry and he had to breathe deeply and hard to keep his heart from exploding out of his chest. But nonetheless the feeling of satisfaction was undeniable. Behind him, several seconds later, Franco and Rodriguez came at a slightly slower pace but just as exhausted and worn out as he was.
A second later, they sprawled at the ground as they could focus on nothing but their hammering hearts and their burning lungs. Another scant few seconds later, Shepard came bounding in on gazelle-steps.
She bounced on her feet for another few steps past the imaginary finish line that ran in front of the not-at-all-impressed chief, who stood there with his omnitool on. She breathed heavily, just as they all did, but looking none at all pleased with herself.
Behind her, in the distance, her team came jogging at a far more sedate pace as they had all but realized that they could no longer catch up.
"Well now. If you kids have this much energy, I'll have to up your physicals to match that. Heh, to think I'd been going this easy on you." The chief spoke, exuding a sadistic joy at the expressions the four panting recruits made at that suggestion. The two from Shepard's team turned to glare at them, while Franco and Rodriguez turned to glare at Shepard.
Emiya merely chuckled, shrugging under the chief's stare. Shepard did not seem to notice the quip at all.
"But for now, good job, boys. Shepard. Get yourselves to the shuttles and you have the rest of the day off. Never say I don't reward good work." The chief spoke, waving them off with one hand as he manipulated his omnitool deftly for a few seconds to note who had arrived and when.
Franco raised an arm, fist pumping at the heavens as he couldn't still get up from where he lay. "Take that, Lola... Take... that..."
Shepard merely looked at the panting recruit with a nonplussed expression of inquiry, before shaking it off and walking away while staring at her map. Or rather, glaring at it. Emiya finished getting his breathing under control and glanced her way, sneaking a peek at the map as he did. He moved to walk after her, as she was headed for the shuttles.
Huh, she did pretty good.
He blinked, then made a whistling sound of appreciation, causing Shepard to turn and stare at him with half-furrowed brows.
"Nice." Emiya commented simply, but when that only made her glare turn annoyed, he paused for a moment. Ah, she realizes we started at different times. That we didn't really arrive in the same run time. But she hasn't realized the other difference yet.
She glared at him, probably thinking that he was patronizing her. Or that he honestly hadn't figured it out and finding his congratulations hollow. Well, that wouldn't do at all.
"We might have caught up by fifteen minutes since you started first and we arrived at the same time, but you had at least four more checkpoints. Your route was longer, definitely accounting for more than fifteen minutes had we been running it." Emiya whistled again, waving his hand to show that he was roughly guessing at numbers here. "I'm impressed, to be honest."
He shrugged while still half-smirking as he laid it on thick, as if noting what-can-you-do about it. She blinked, then looked down at her map again. She looked up, glaring at him.
"Show me yours."
"Oh wow. So direct. Well, I don't hate that in a girl, I suppose." Emiya smirked at her as she blinked. A second later, just as she was about to retort he opened up the map from his omnitool for her to see.
She opened her mouth, blinking at the map and then deciding to let his comment slide as she stared at it, brows furrowing. He had already compared their routes and made some guesses as to what paths she had taken. All things considered, Emiya was impressed. She knew how to navigate the densely built and confusing urban environment far better than he did. Only his superior pace had probably made the difference.
She had grown up on streets like these for real, after all.
As she seemed to arrive at the same conclusion as he had, he closed the map and turned to walk away. As his body began to cool down, he realized he had been acting out strangely. The endorphins from the runner's high and the impulse to set her record straight had made him act in a more natural manner.
He realized with a frown that he had just had fun.
...It's fun to mess with her. But there's no need to get to actually know her. Calm down and focus.
"Hey, Emiya." She shouted after him and he merely turned around as he walked backwards, not bothering to stop. She looked at him quietly for a second and then shot back a smirk of her own. "Nice running. But next time you'll be the one eating the dust."
"We'll see." Emiya huffed in amusement before he could stop himself, shrugging at her.
She was opening up, just as he was. Somehow that felt like a good thing, despite him know that it wasn't.
;
Emiya inhaled, opening his eyes as he looked out the shuttle. Everyone else in the shuttle still seemed to be asleep. At the exhale, he closed his eyes again as he fell back into his meditation.
A month had passed and their training with their equipment continued as scheduled. They learned to use their omnitools and their hardsuits, how to field strip and service all of their gear and how to find faults with diagnostics and physical checks so they could make a report about it, to make it quicker for technicians to repair.
They shot several times a week and learned the basics of weapon handling and maintenance. In Emiya's experience, it had been customary to train recruits first with rifles as longer arms were simpler to produce, service and train with. It also made it easier to keep track of all the guns, as sneaking away a rifle was a lot harder than doing the same with a pistol.
But in the Systems Alliance Navy it appeared that the side-arm reigned as the basic of basics. For a variety of reasons, apparently.
Usually, with service on board spaceships, space was ironically enough at a premium. Weight, too. The lighter the gun, the less there would be for the engine to struggle with when taking off the planet. And since handling a gun like that was difficult in such constrained spaces, the smaller weapons became the standard.
And while in his era accuracy and stopping power was lacking with most pistols, in this modern day and age such worries had been long since overcome. The miniature railgun was capable of firing powerful and accurate rounds, completely overcoming the limitations of old. Once they hooked up to their hardsuits and connected the inbuilt computer with the pistols own computer, aiming assistance algorithms made shooting even more accurate.
Scanning their iris and lining it up with the sights of the gun itself, it could correct the targeting within a 10 degree radius of where it would normally fire. It might not seem like much at a glance, but at 40 meters where few of the new recruits could reliably hit the target, turning on the aim assist and getting ten perfect bullseyes in rapid succession made them feel like they were on top of the world.
Emiya had tried it and found it fairly effective, if a bit slow. He could just aim himself if he wanted to hit, he decided. Not that he did, as it would raise suspicion. They had, of course, also gone through some of the "eyeballing" technique with the pistols. That is to say, aiming as it was done in his day and age, with a proper sight picture and focus.
Don't look at the rear rights; just align the front sight and the rest works itself out. Lean slightly into it to absorb the recoil. Don't pull the trigger, press it without shaking the gun. Off-hand index finger should rest against the trigger guard to further minimize the shaking from pressing the trigger. Find the rhythm to firing, so that your sights line up automatically as the recoil stops and your sight picture is on target again...
Shooting—like most if not all fighting related skills—was a perishable skill, but for him it had been so ingrained as mantras that re-learning it was a cinch.
And in a strange inversion of the 21st century where it was cheaper to build slightly larger guns, in the 22nd century it was cheaper to cut down on the frame material necessary for a larger gun. The electronics were so cheap and the amount of eezo necessary to power the round was minimal, that in comparison they were negligible to the other costs. Stranger still, given the longer rails needed for a rifle and overall higher output of the rifles, the costs grew exponentially which made a shorter weapon much cheaper to produce and maintain in the long run.
For the cheaper end pistols, a DC pulse in the range of 10,000 Ampere was sufficient which was apparently feasible with the cheaper types of batteries and a few mid-range capacitors. While that was already a ridiculous number in Emiya's mind, it was far more reasonable than the 50,000+ Ampere that rifles used, often with much higher rates of fire.
For that kind of current, it was necessary to have some top of the line capacitors. Even modern day batteries could not easily produce those kind of currents, therefore other components were necessary to make it work. To create such laminated and incredibly dense materials, extremely high power mass effect fields were necessary for production.
Which obviously enough, did not come cheap.
On top of that, the cooling systems required to handle the heat produced by the stronger and faster rifles were also much more expensive. With a relatively anemic and slowly firing side arm, the amount and type of material was much more forgiving. Even the firing block shaver was much more expensive when rapid fire was necessary.
Additionally, with the shorter ranges of conflict, the in-built sensors and computer did not have to be as expensive either. And since you already had a computer that worked to connect and record everything done, the old worry of stolen or misused gear became moot, anyhow.
Thus, the pistol reigned as the main workhorse of Systems Alliance personnel.
So slowly they grew accustomed to their Onyx armor and the Kessler pistol as the were instructed and taught. But at the tail end of the month, the focus began to change. The amount of lessons they had went into a decline and the amount of field exercises they had rapidly diminished as as the focus turned to tests and questionnaires by the instructors.
They were already E6's after all. Once they graduated to E7, they would be shipped of elsewhere. Now it was crucial to find a suitable place for each new cog in the great system that was the Navy.
The recruits also realized this, as they were now almost done with basic training and off to get into something more interesting and exciting. There was talk among several of trying out for non-commissioned officer and cadet lines or some of the special forces; the N-line of training being a hot topic among the toughest and most ambitious among them.
N7 were the toughest of the toughest, the best of the best. Everyone knew that.
Emiya already had his eyes on where he needed to go and he was fairly certain no one else shared his destination. General Engineering; the G-line. Not even combat engineers, per se. Rather they were simply the people who kept everything running. The fixers and shiners, who were passed around from spaceship to spaceship as things broke down and needed fixing. Rather than a grenade and a rifle, they carried their omnitool and an oil canister most of the time. A lot of things needed lubrication on a spaceship on a regular basis, after all.
A rather boring line, as the general consensus went. Little to no combat training, just a bunch of general electronics and eezo theory along with months and months of practical, hands-on experience with fixing everything and anything before you were shipped off to wherever there was need of a technician.
Though, the pay was decent enough and once you got out of the military you had the papers to get in pretty much anywhere anyone needed stuff fixed. Not that he cared about any of that as retirement was so long ways off that it had never even entered his mind.
Emiya would be using this body for a week at most and then abandoning it to return to the Moon. There was only one reason for his choice of training line.
The training base was on Mars, as he had found out early on. It seemed like a long while back already, that he had arrived on Earth. He had no other reason or objective behind that choice. Once he was there and had accomplished his mission, he could just get back to the Moon and be done with it all.
Simple and clear.
All in all, only one more hurdle presented itself before him, before he could apply for the G-line. Their final field exercise, held in Brazil in South America. They would be divided into teams of three and would be dropped off at a random locations, given only the basic equipment and weapons and then handed a set of objectives to accomplish.
Rather similar to the orienteering and field exercises from before, but simply more. For one, they were handed their guns for once.
They hadn't been told much, simply that there would be further instructions once they landed in Rio de Janeiro, from where they would then be sent out into various locations around the country. Brazil had during the era of commercial spaceflight been one of the strange countries which had at the same time experienced a massive drop in population as well as a massive shift in its national industries.
With off-world colonies looking for anyone and everyone willing to work, the poorest and most numerous populations of Earth had been preyed upon by various companies willing to ship them off with a promise of a brighter future and a pat on the back. 'Sign a five year working contract and we'll take you to a new world, full of possibilities and chances!' some of the old slogans, still existing in archives had proudly proclaimed.
As usual, new frontiers had drawn in everyone who lacked the means to move up in the world as it was around them. So the favellas and slums had seemingly been emptied out over the course of a few years, back when humanity's expansion was at its most aggressive.
Leaving vast swaths of previously populated territory completely empty and unused.
Which in turn had up-ended and entirely transformed the economic reality of various countries, forcing them to invest in entirely different and new industries to stay afloat. Today, tourism was Brazil's largest source of income, as the long and warm beaches remained still a cultural icon of what humanity considered paradise.
For the Systems Alliance, this had meant that relatively safe-to-use and cheap locations to field massive training exercises were entirely practical in Brazil. The local government was more than happy to lease out three or four ghost towns for the Alliance to train in, finding no better use for them themselves.
So here they were, being shipped off in shuttles to Brazil for their last test. For a lot of recruits, this was a monumental event that would shape their careers for years to come. The instructors had assured them that a good overall rating everywhere else would not be negated by a terrible performance in this field exercise, and that a terrible overall rating would not be overturned by an excellent performance.
But still, it was human nature to look as the last as the most important part. Everyone had been excited for this the night before, discussing the possibilities and probabilities of the exercise and its results deep into the night, a part of the reason so many had fallen asleep immediately upon the shuttle's take off.
Emiya mostly felt hopeful for the prospect of getting out.
They were being monitored constantly, surrounded by others constantly, scheduled and jostled around at all hours of the day. He was a naturally industrious and hard-working individual, who made most of every hour of the day so that wasn't very much different. But that was not the same as military life.
He chaffed, to put it simply. At least as a Guardian when he had sold his soul, the Moon Cell left him alone for decades at a time. It would be good to be out of here he decided, somewhat regretting not simply stealing a shuttle on that first day already. Then again...
"Why the long face? You scared?"
Emiya opened his eyes, looking up at the grinning redhead next to him. Shepard winked, punching his shoulder lightly once to know she had his attention.
"Don't worry, I'll keep you from getting shot too bad." She grinned at him.
"Is that so?" Emiya grunted, turning thoughtful. "Last I remember, I had to carry you back."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "That was a just drill for medical evacs. Besides, I did cover your back when you had me in a fireman's carry, yeah?"
She mimed a pistol, pulling a trigger several times as she shot at an imaginary target.
"Mm, I guess you did." Emiya allowed.
They stayed quiet for a minute, the hum of the shuttle and the snores and shuffling of limbs the only sounds between them. For whatever reason, Shepard seemed to have taken a shine to him during the last few weeks.
Perhaps it was the similarities she found between them or something else, he couldn't quite tell. But whenever possible, she would team up with him and try to beat him. Before he had realized it, he had begun to quite enjoy their little competitions.
Still, this would be their last. After this, he was certain that she would not be one for the technical duties of where he was going. Whenever something related to eezo or biotics came up, her eyes would seemingly glaze over. In contrast, while on her feet and with a gun in her hand, her eyes seemed to glow with the excitement and dance around like sparks.
It showed in her overall performance as well. She tended to scrape by her written exams, barely passing on her second try. Then again, it was probably for the better. He had to go back to the Moon, anyhow. No reason to prolong this. Whatever this was.
For better or for worse, this would be his last time working with the strange redheaded girl.
"Let's make it a good one." Emiya said and Shepard grinned at him, throwing him an oblivious thumbs up.
;
This chapter was probably the most edited piece I've ever written. I had to read it over and over, edit it time and again because it never really satisfied me. I should read more drama and stuff, given how difficult it was to write, despite the fact that I don't find the stuff particularly appealing. If anyone has any thoughts or pointers on how I did, how I could have improved it or how bad it was, I would really appreciate the feedback. Thanks to tsaurn for pointing out the erroneous use of the word dearth.
to Kinunatzs The Eternal:
You make a good point, but I'm handwaving that a little in favor of giving me more to work with on a personal-level. It gives me more parallels to put between Emiya and Shepard, which gives me an easier time writing something between them. Think of it more like HF Shirou's body being souped up by the arm, but still being human. Less likes Laeticia and Jeanne and more like Shirou acknowledging that he will still be killed in one strike by any Heroic spirit, while still being able to run at 50mph through a forest. Besides, he's keeping a low profile. [Replying here because you blocked PMs, you git!]
Also, next few chapters will be rather action-oriented. Thank goodness.