Recommended Listening: ROD OVA Original Soundtrack, Track 9. You can find it on KAF, if interested.
Six months earlier…
It was a sunny day over the United Military Headquarters. The twenty-two people in front of Juno didn't know that, though. They were all underground, in a training complex designed by he and Vela for the specific purpose of training the next generation of Jet Force Officers. The males and females were separated, each standing side by side in a perfectly straight line, at attention.
Juno entered the room from the far left of the group, his boots clacking on the polished tile floor. The room was small, just large enough to hold everyone with a little extra for breathing room.
"Let me be the first to welcome you to the Jet Force Corps," Juno started. He was dressed in full uniform, pistol hanging by his side. Walking down the toe line, he looked each selectee in the eyes. Some were younger, some older, with varying builds and sizes. The one thing was common to all of them was the fire in their eyes. They were ready for this.
"You may stand at ease," Juno spoke as he finished his inspection. There was minor shuffling as the officers relaxed their posture. "You were hand selected for this program. You have the skill sets and the knowledge to make you eligible for a Jet Force team. You are not amateurs… so I will not treat you like it. This isn't basic training.
"The training we put you through here will be difficult. It will require you to think outside the box and will push you to your limits. Every challenge here is possible, every obstacle can be overcome. Any feelings of 'I can't' or 'I won't' will not leave this room. Even if you believe a task is impossible, keep in mind that you are a member of a team. Everything you say, do, and think will directly or indirectly affect the speech, actions, and mental processes of your partner.
"If you were hoping to have the freedom to choose your partner, I'm afraid you are mistaken. You have all been paired based on your physical capabilities and psychology by none other than yours truly. Are there any questions?"
One officer raised his hand. His clean cut red hair made him stand out amongst the candidates, and he had an air of utmost confidence around him.
"First name?" Juno asked.
"Max," The officer replied.
"And your question?"
"When do we start?"
Several days later…
The newbies were beaten, bruised, and tired beyond belief. They were running on minimal sleep, minimal food, and minimal breaks. The rigorous training had come to a sudden halt, and Juno had lead them all into an underground hall housing a shooting range.
Each team was given a booth, at the end of which was a paper target of a typical Drone soldier. Sections of the body were divided into different point categories, ranging from zero to five. Several teams whispered in confusion, looking to Juno.
"Note," Juno informed. "We are not currently engaged in any hostilities with the Drone Army. However, not only are they the first aggressive alien species we have encountered so far, but their home world and current refugee planet are both outside of Union jurisdiction, meaning they are not bound by our laws. They will be your most likely enemy, hence the target."
"Sir?" The redhead had raised his hand again. Juno nodded towards him. "I think more of us were wondering why we're not using holo targets. Did the program run out of money or something?"
"No, no," Juno chuckled once, as he stepped up to a booth. "I just prefer old fashioned."
He quickly drew his pistol and fired off six shots in rapid succession, each traveling downrange and leaving smoking holes in the target. Several pairs of eyes followed the lane with their eyes, scouting the bullet riddled poster. Juno brought the target in remotely with the motorized rail and hung it on the back wall. Each of his shots had penetrated the Drone's chest area, a perfect thirty.
"Now on my go," Juno continued. "I want the first group to unholster, shoot six shots, then re-holster, all in two seconds. If you go a little over two seconds, don't worry. We'll work on it. Ladies first, let's go."
Most of the females were clumsy, at best. Two managed to get all their shots off and re-holster within the two seconds, one of which obtained a twenty-eight out of thirty. Scores overall were not bad, but it was fairly obvious which ones were used to handling a gun.
Males were up next. The women passed their pistols over to their counterparts, and the men took their stances. Better results, but still clumsy. Five of the men made the deadline, but the scores were varied. Juno's attention was drawn to Max's silhouette, which sported six tightly grouped pistol shots, all perfectly centered on the Drone's midsection. A perfect score.
"Holy…" the officer in the next booth, Paul, complimented. "That's amazing! You got a better grouping than Juno!" The redhead smiled smugly to himself and retrieved his paper trophy.
Juno sat back and watched as the selectees posted Max's target next to his for closer scrutiny. Congratulations and pats on the back came from all around, everyone eager to enjoy the moment a student surpassed a teacher. No one noticed as Juno stepped away from the group, and slipped out into an adjoining hallway. No one but a curious blonde.
The Captain sat in the complete silence of the dark hallway for a moment, looking down at his own hands, flexing them, breathing in and out. He didn't notice the door behind him open a crack, and a blue eye peer at him from the next room.
"Vela," Juno called his sister on his comm radio. "I'm going to take a break for a bit. Can you finish up at the range?"
"Sure thing," Vela's voice came over the radio. "Anybody beat your score?"
"Remember Max? He got a better grouping than me. Perfect score," Juno informed.
"Grouping by whose standards? Yours or theirs?"
"The point is…" Juno dismissed. "I think he's got what it takes. More than the rest. I only hope he doesn't choke when he gets into a live situation."
Several weeks later…
"Angie!" Max called out, entering his new office space at UMHQ. He and the other officers were now full members of the Jet Force Corps, and Max had just received a medal of commendation for his outstanding performance during the training program. He'd been assigned to Jet Force Aries along with his partner, a blonde tech specialist named Angie.
"In here," Angie answered him, sitting behind her desk in the office.
Max strode across the room, taking a seat across from her and placing a placard on the table. The certificate was emblazoned in gold, honoring Max for his accomplishment.
"Everybody was at the ceremony but you," Max pointed out. "This was a pretty big honor… why was everyone but my partner there?"
"Something's been bugging me," Angie answered flatly. "And I don't think you should take that award too seriously."
"Is that jealousy I hear?" Max held his hand up to his ear. "I know people will forget about this eventually, but let me enjoy my moment. Please. I passed every obstacle, every test, every challenge, and even scored higher than our instructor on the firing range on my first try!"
"Yeah…" Angie sat back in her chair, rubbing her forehead. "About that."
"About what?"
"The firing range. That's what's been bugging me."
"Why?" Max questioned. "You don't think I cheated do you?"
"What?" Angie scrunched her brows. "No! Here, come look at this." She pointed to her computer screen, and Max stood up and slid around the table for a better view.
"So… what am I looking at here?" Max gave up, uninterested.
"These are the pictures taken of our targets after our shooting session. The one on the right is yours, and the first one is Juno's."
"Okay, I still don't see the problem. My shots are better than his, hands down."
"That's because you're only looking at the surface. The image for the target was taken from a CBT I helped design for new recruits about Drone's and their anatomy. If you overlay the image of the Drone's circulatory system…"
Angie pressed a couple of buttons on her keyboard, and a diagram of the Drone's inner workings appeared on top of the target data. Max's eyes widened as he began to see the truth.
"All your shots were in the midsection, but only two of your shots actually hit any vital organs. In comparison, when you look at Juno's, each of his shots match up perfectly with a major artery or heart cavity in the typical Drone's body. Every one of his shots was potentially fatal."
"That's ridiculous!" Max stood back and away from the desk. "It's a coincidence, has to be. No one can shoot that accurately!"
"Think about it, Max," Angie calmly explained. "Why did we use paper instead of a holo evaluation? If we'd used the hologram trainer, the program would have taken the Drone's anatomy into account, and divided up the scores accordingly. When you put these scores into the holo trainer, these are the scores you get…"
Two numbers popped up on the screen. In front of Max's target, one hundred-seventeen. In front of Juno's, one hundred-fifty. A perfect score.