As the sky was slowly painted in the colors of a New Carolina morning, Mark sprinted along the stream with one last burst of effort. His shirt was completely drenched, and his face wet with sweat. Despite his muscles burning with work, he didn't slow down until he almost reached his home.
His frantic sprint turned to a brisk walk as he approached the small garden at the back of the house, one that had a perfect view of the fields of the Shepard farm. He stopped for a moment, savoring the moist, grassy scent in the air as he looked around, feeling the warmth of the familiarity of his surroundings.
The fields of the Shepard farm were modestly vast, with the whole area surrounded by tall towers emitting an almost transparent shield that covered the crops. For the uninitiated in chronotech, the whole scene would have looked extremely strange; behind the barrier, instead of the morning sunrise, it looked as if it were darkening, almost turning into twilight.
It was to be expected, considering how speeded up time was inside those transparent shields. It wasn't like the chronosphere that covered the entire planet of New Carolina, which delayed time by only four hours to make it match Earth's roughly twenty-four hour rotation.
Other than the towers emitting the barrier, though, the fields looked deceptively simple. However, a lot of technology was working beneath the surface. There was a small fusion plant powering not only the chronosphere, but also the Greenfield Systems that managed the lighting, temperature, water flow, and the drones within. It was fairly self-sufficient, considering the cost to set the whole thing up.
Mark took one last look at the fields before dropping to the floor and beginning his final push-ups, sit-ups, and cool-down of jumping jacks. By the time he was done, he could barely speak.
"Eva," he grunted.
"Normalizing gravity."
His metallic bracelets glowed orange for a few seconds, and Mark sighed as he felt his weight return to normal. Yet, his fatigue seemed to stay with him longer than usual. After taking a few more deep breaths, he said, "Diagnostics."
"Nanite levels are at twenty percent. I suggest you refill them to normal levels, especially considering today's upcoming events. I am also now connected to the home network. Driftnet connection has been restored. You have two new messages. The first is an audio message from Hannah Brenner. Would you like me to play it?"
"Urgent?" Mark asked softly.
"Not particularly," Eva replied.
"Later, when I feel better."
"Second letter from the Aurora Borealis Arms," Eva continued. "Text only. It reads: To Mister Mark Shepard. We are pleased to receive your feedback on your new BR35 rifle. Please be assured that we have taken your comments with utmost consideration. Compensating for your time, we are sending you our MarkVII Scope. It should be arriving in your system in one week. End of message."
Mark grunted, though with a more surprised tone to it. The training module that came with his new rifle purchase—which he spent more than forty hours in Drift—did promise to send an accessory if he reviewed the product. He wasn't expecting much considering he was living in the ass end of nowhere, though.
Maybe he should check on their sidearm options as well. Generosity should be returned, after all.
Lumbering through the rear entrance of the house, Mark could smell coffee, and knew who was in the dining room area even before he arrived. As he entered the kitchen, he could see the coffee machine already turned off as it already finished brewing, the glass carafe filled with brown liquid. At the dining room, sitting on the table, reading off of a tablet was Benjamin Shepard.
Mark's father looked like him, if he was older, had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, and had slightly graying long hair styled into a ponytail.
Benjamin glanced up, saw his son, and then nodded at him. "Checked on the fields? " he asked, flicking through his tablet.
Mark grunted in assent, grabbing a glass and began to fill it from the tap. He then tiredly asked, "Nanites?"
"Same place as usual," the older Shepard replied. "Besides the sugar."
"Thanks." Mark opened the jar that was filled with what looked like fine silver crystals and put two filled teaspoons in his water. He took a small sip, and his mind reacted immediately as he felt a bit less tired and more awake. He groaned in satisfaction.
Benjamin hummed. "Why were you running low? Had too much fun with your new rifle last night?"
Mark finished his glass and made another, putting a bit more nanites in it before walking up the table and taking a seat. "It's amazing, dad. The compensators it had really made it worth the money. The three-burst setting was something else. Full auto is still impractical, but maybe once I'm done with the Marines, I'll be able to handle it better."
The older man hummed. "Surprised you don't go for another plasma-type, like your sidearm blaster."
Mark shrugged before drinking from his glass again. "Plasma doesn't reach as far as projectiles."
"Didn't they develop one as an alternative to the M500?" Benjamin asked.
"Too expensive and untested," Mark replied.
"Untested?" Benjamin asked, looking at his son for the first time this morning, an eyebrow raised.
"Ten years in chrono at an isolated system-lab isn't real world use," Mark countered. "Besides, if they are the alternative for that artillery gun that's disguising itself as an infantry rifle, I don't think I can handle that even if they proved to be good.
"Fifty BMG ain't an artillery round."
Mark scoffed before finishing his glass. "It is if it's fired at hypersonic speeds. There's a reason why only Armored Marines use them."
"Then you're quite happy with your new purchase?"
Mark nodded. "I never realized how having really good compensators would make hypersonic shooting feel quite fun. Usually, you'd get sore and tired even before you finish the first magazine. Didn't really feel it until after three."
"Hope you didn't blow all your money on ammunition," Benjamin commented.
"It's the neosteel three-five-fours. Very cheap and fast to fabricate at home."
The older man nodded. "I think that's the same caliber that certified riflemen use. What's the name of your rifle?"
"BR35."
With deft finger movements, the older Shepard tapped on his tablet repeatedly. He hummed again, though with a more approving tone. "Uses the same mini-Urenbeck launcher as the M354s, but only uses eighty-five percent output while diverting the rest to the gravity compensators. Sixty bullet magazine capacity, with options to buy the double capacity mags as well. Not bad. Maybe I should sell your great-grandpa's rifle, get enough money to buy a BR."
"I'll just lend you mine since it's not going with me when I'm in the Marines. Besides, what will that dinky AR sell for? No one uses chemical propellant nowadays, and it fires two-two-threes at supersonic only."
"It's a collectors item," Benjamin grumbled. "And I'll have you know, it was considered dangerous in the pre-war era that the US government wanted to ban it."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Pre-war governments wanted to ban and censor everything, so that's not really an endorsement of its capabilities."
"It's still a collectors item," Benjamin insisted, before shaking his head. "Bah, never mind," he grumbled, waving his hand as if he was done with the argument. He looked at his son for a moment, then asked, "Why didn't you get the M-model, then? You could have taken that with you to the MI. With the money you received, you could have gone for that instead."
"Nah," Mark replied, shaking his head. "Besides, my little sister will need that money more once she arrives." He raised his free hand when his father was about to interject. "Look, I'm going to apply today, and I'll most likely not be here when she's born. This is me giving her birthday presents for the next few years. So use that money to get the education modules updated. And maybe get her AI an early upgrade. Make it more human-like. No offense, Eva."
"Affirmative. I am, after all, nothing more than a talking calculator."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should have kept a bit more of the money to upgrade Eva's humor settings."
"I hope the newest addition of the Shepard family will have more personality than her brother."
Benjamin chuckled. "I think her humor settings are just fine."
"Of course you'd think so," Mark replied. "Stop eavesdropping."
"Don't be connected to the house network then," Benjamin countered. He then sighed. "So… you're applying today."
"Later at nine or so." He looked at his dad. "You gonna stop me?"
"As a citizen, I'm obligated to discourage you from applying to the military, and advise you to look for another path to citizenship, yada yada yada." He chuckled. "Expect the recruiter to also spout that horseshit as well."
"Yeah."
"You're going with Paul's boy?" Benjamin asked absently. "What was his name, David?"
"That's the plan," Mark replied as he stood up. "I'll take the boom tube to Peninsula."
"Take care then. Oh, and try not to wake up your mother. She had a hard time sleeping last night so I wanted to let her lie in."
Mark nodded before he quietly made his way up the stairs and to his room. Once inside, he began to strip off his sweaty clothes and put them in the laundry bin before going to his bathroom. There, he said softly, "Play Hannah's message please."
"Mark, Babs just invited me to go with her. Apparently, she's about to register for the Navy at the south end of the Peninsula and she wants me to accompany her. I'll update you later. Bye-bye!"
He blinked, surprised, before a smile appeared on his face. "Record audio: Hey Hannah. Just finished my morning run. I'll be meeting David later at the northern Peninsula to register for the MI. Wanna meet later? End recording. Send," he finished as he stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on, letting the water cool his body even more.
Once he was finished, he dressed up and took a moment to decide whether to wear a tactical vest or not. In the end, he opted for a less conspicuous tactical belt, placing his blaster in his right thigh holster. He glanced at his workstation, where his new rifle was displayed on a desk stand.
The design of his newest weapon still took cues from the pre-war era ones. Instead of an all-black motif, though, it had sand-blasted silver accents and had a few LED indicators near the stock. Approaching it, he grabbed the rifle and hung it across his chest, the muzzle pointing downward. He took some extra fuel cells for his blaster and two magazines for his rifle, placing them in the pockets around the waistline.
Taking one last look in the mirror, Mark adjusted his collar slightly before heading downstairs and out of the house, waving at his dad, who was still engrossed in his tablet.
The nearest MI Center was on the northern outskirts of the metropolitan area of Peninsula City. Ashley, the town he lived in, was about one hundred and fifty miles away. It was already almost eight o'clock, so he had an hour or so to get there.
Mark arrived at the nearest bus stop just five minutes after walking. Fortunately, there was one that arrived almost simultaneously, and the line wasn't too long either. As the bus came to a halt, a ramp with railings descended to welcome the passengers.
"Hey, good morning," the bus driver greeted when the first passenger came in.
"Good morning! I'm paying in cash."
"Alright. Take a seat, we'll be right there in no time." By the time it was Mark's turn, the driver's smile got slightly bigger. "Mark!"
"Hey Will," he greeted back with his own smile, holding his palm to the tablet that was hanging near the front terminal of the vehicle. "Didn't think I'd see you here. Aren't your five years done?"
"Eh, figured one or two more years to save up some more money."
"What, you running for office or something?" Mark asked.
"Nah. Didn't become a citizen to take on that particular headache." Will glanced at his monitor. "Ashley Terminal? You finally gonna apply?"
"Yup. Payment good?"
"Yeah, take a seat. Next time I see you, I'll probably have to address you as 'sir'."
"I'll hold you on that," Mark replied with a grin as he made his way to his seat.
The bus levitated and zoomed through the air at top speed, moving silently as it could. Outside, Mark could see endless fields of crops and chronosphere towers, providing him with a vivid view of the strangeness of speeding through a scene that seemed already sped up.
The terminal was three stops away, and once he arrived, he quickly made his way out of the bus. After waving goodbye to Will, he made his way inside the station. After another palm scan, he entered and made his way down via escalator in a hurry, the sound of repeating muffled booms echoing inside the terminal. When he finally got to his platform, he noticed that there was a waiting carriage on the platform, still accepting passengers. Cheering internally for his luck, Mark dashed to the fully metallic vehicle and waited in line as he and other passengers began to proceed inside.
There was a slight buzz in the air as everyone made their way inside the Spartan interior. That much was to be expected since the carriage did little more than carry a number of passengers between two locations in fifteen-minute trips. However, they had added some comfort features to the chairs. Instead of rows of plain metallic seats with backrests, there were armchairs with a bit of padding, covered in faux leather.
As they began to occupy any available seats, Mark returned a few greetings he had received, a little surprised as he looked a bit out of place. Most of the passengers were very well dressed, their work probably involves face-to-face meetings. He heard the pay was much better, but that was mostly because it involved more work.
When almost everything else can be done in the Drift, taking more time out of your day to dress and commute to another city deserves more compensation.
As most of them took their seats, a voice sounded over the PA system. "The carriage is about to leave the station. We will be departing in fifteen seconds. Thank you."
The conversation faded away, and a warning blared out as the doors of the carriage began to slide shut; they hissed when they were completely sealed. Mark waited for a moment, then felt a thump as the carriage was launched into the Urenbeck System. The force pushed him slightly against the backrest, but it quickly dissipated once it had passed.
We've launched successfully. Our next stop is the Peninsula, West Terminal. We will arrive there in fifteen minutes.
"Eva, please send David a message that I just left the Ashley Terminal."
"Message sent."
"Thanks."
Fifteen minutes later, Mark arrived at Peninsula, but had to move to another platform to take a carriage to the North Terminal. There, he noticed that the passengers were much more subdued, more casually dressed and armed almost as much as himself.
Like him, they also seemed to be readying themselves.
As they arrived at their destination, someone shouted his name. His eyes snapped towards the direction of a dark-skinned man of his age, waving his arm to get his attention.
"David!" Mark greeted back with a raised arm. He approached, and when he was close enough, the two threw their arms around each other's shoulders.
"You ready?" David asked with a small smirk.
"Born ready." He looked around as the two walked towards the escalators, noting numerous people with intense expressions on their faces. "Seems everyone is getting assessed today."
"You heard the rumor, right?" David asked as they took the escalator ride up. "That they found some alien artifact nearby?"
"Can't comment," Mark replied automatically.
David blinked, looked at him, then at the new rifle at his chest. Comprehension dawned on his face. "So that's why Barbara also went silent. I think she was about to tell me something, but then never brought it up. Hope you guys got paid well."
"With the amount of money they offered us, it was most likely from one of the governors, or even the high-gov." Mark shrugged. "Probably not to delay the budget proposal two days ago. For staying quiet for two weeks, the money was pretty good."
"I'm just glad they didn't stop at that," David said. "Someone must have contacted the president soon after because the Federation finally gave us some funding."
Mark blinked before glancing at him. "That I didn't hear."
"Technically, it's extra funding to the US and Taiwan, but the fact that our local Navy and Spaceforce are getting our first carrier and more cruisers, and the fact that MI are stepping up on recruitment incentives? I'm pretty sure we got a good chunk of it."
As they exited the Terminal, they found themselves looking at the city proper. Unlike most cities in South Charleston, Peninsula was built akin to something that could be found in the Inner Systems—an urban sprawl full of tall buildings of metal and glass.
Granted, they didn't have the very sleek, almost futuristic designs of something like New Manhattan. However, for Mark, the retro-art deco design based aesthetics was far more pleasing to his eyes.
"Everyone, form ten lines!" one of the MI recruiters nearby shouted as he and his fellow recruiters were doing their best to to arrange everyone in an orderly fashion. "We will start the assessment soon. If you think any of you think you made a mistake, please return to the Terminal. Everyone else, form ten lines!"
As the whole crowd began to rearrange itself, another recruiter spoke up that was walking between the forming lines.
"Today's assessment will be about three things, with the first being physical fitness. You fail that one, you're done. Second will be testing your competence with a sidearm and a rifle. You can use what you have with you, but you will be provided with a weapon upon request. Third will be a simulated combat exercise with a Snake Capsule." There was a short pause as some people gasped in surprise. "That's right. It'll probably be your first experience with high-sync. You don't need to pass the last two, but it will at least give you a notion on what your climb to riflemen certification will entail. Again, you can get citizenship that doesn't involve military service. Feel free to walk away."
"Well, this might turn to a slog," David said as he stood in line in front of Mark, looking at the many people with them.
"If the Navy is anything like this, Hannah might be in for a boring wait as well."
David glanced at him. "Hannah is applying?"
"No," Mark replied. "Barbs asked her to accompany her, though."
"Well, I'm pretty sure she won't be staying at the recruitment center, waiting for Barbara the whole time."
Mark chuckled. "You're right. Bet she's in the city right now, enjoying the sights."
Hannah Brenner was not having a good time; her mood was leaking out slightly into the Driftcon. Still, that did not stop her from taking a virtual seat and typing on her virtual keyboard, bringing up the simulated Star Map and other relevant information.
Barbara, who was sitting at her right, glanced at her, frowning. "I'm sorry, okay? Karla had an emergency."
"You mean she flaked out on us," Nathan Traynor, Barbara's friend who was logged into the Drift as the GRADR Operator, replied. He was also sitting down, though on Hannah's left.
"You're being unfair, Nate," Barbara disagreed as she began to type on her keyboard as well, logging in as the pilot.
"We planned this weeks ago," Nathan grumbled. "And now we are asking Hannah to get assessed with us. I'm not comfortable involving someone who doesn't want to join the military. That goes against all principles in being a citizen."
Hannah nodded absently. With her sister's apology and Nathan's understanding, her mood began to improve. Now that she was done with her preparations, she glanced at her surroundings. The Lobby (or Bridge as they were in a military network) setup of the Navy was pretty close to her family's ships. Instead of blue-white lighting, though, it was a warmer, darker tone of orange. She wasn't quite sure if that was the standard, but at least it was easier on her virtual eyes.
Of course, even if the muted lighting of her surroundings didn't clue her in that she wasn't logged into some regular Driftcon, the male uniformed avatar standing in the room definitely would.
He wore what looked like a Navy-blue space-rated plugsuit, though padded slightly on the shoulders and chest. She noted that his shoulder pads displayed a gold star and two gold bars. She would have to ask Barbara what that insignia meant, but probably later as the man looked like he was about to speak.
"While I appreciate your idealism, Mister Traynor," he said in a rather heavy Texas accent, "pragmatism is still king. Just be thankful that Miss Brenner here is kind and willing enough to help her family in times of need. And she is still quite free to reject the Navy once it comes calling. No harm, no foul."
Barbara's avatar, much to Hannah's surprise, appeared to be blushing.
"Yes, Flight Lieutenant Cooper!" Barbara declared rather excitedly.
Hannah blinked and glanced at Nathan, who rolled his eyes.
"Cooper will do just fine, Brenner," Cooper replied with an easy smile. "You can call me by rank when you're officially a trainee. Now, get ready. You all have five minutes of Drift time before the mission briefing."
Hannah nodded, finishing up all the settings to her liking before she said, "Riku, can we open a private sub-Drift connection to Babs? Or are we not allowed?"
"I can open one, though it won't be completely private as we are currently logged into a military network."
Hannah paused before nodding. "Send a handshake."
"Sending. Received."
"Yeah?" replied Barbara in a somewhat hesitant voice.
"You got a crush or something?" Hannah asked bluntly. "Didn't think you'd be into older dudes."
"Shut up," Barbara replied, losing the nervous tone. "Don't you know who that is?"
"Lieutenant Cooper? No. Why? Is he famous?"
"His whole family is," Barbara replied. "Everyone who went through the history modules knows who the Coopers are. They invented Graviton and Chronotech."
Hannah stole a glance at the older man, her eyebrows raised. "He's from that Cooper family? Like a great-grandson of Murphy Cooper?"
"No, the other line," Barbara replied. "Joseph Cooper, the father of Murphy. The one who got caught in that black hole time dilation thingy while scouting for colonies in the Stellaris galaxy. He came back to see his daughter become older than him."
"I thought that family line settled on Edmunds in that said galaxy."
Barbara shrugged. "It's not like they're stuck there. Anyway, Joseph was considered the best pilot of his time, and his descendants pretty much followed in his footsteps. And we have one right here with us!"
"And his accent is quite dreamy," Hannah teased.
"Shut up," Barbara repeated.
"Everyone ready?" Cooper asked.
Hannah shut off the connection, and along with her two other companions, she nodded.
"Then it's time for the briefing," he continued. "We are currently in the middle of a search and destroy operation. Pirates in this theater have been using an ice moon as a base of operation. We've been dispatched by the main fleet as they are fighting off an ambush. Our group consists of us, a frigate, escorted with three corvettes. Older models. That means we got Graviton shields but no ablative plating.
"Our job is to scout the moon and clear the LZ at this location," he continued, an image of the moon popped up, highlighting a quadrant near the equator. "I'm the Captain in this scenario, but my only involvement is to communicate with the rest of the fleet, whether to order the corvettes around or to get Spaceforce to reinforce us temporarily. I can do the former indefinitely, but can only do the latter once. The assessment is over if all four ships get destroyed, or if we call an all-clear and the landing party gets destroyed. Are we clear so far?"
"Yes!" the three replied.
"Good. The Drift dilation is set to Navy standard. I honestly don't want to get into the ratios, but it should be enough for you to react to any incoming attack. Now, Navigation, set course."
Hannah stared at the Star Map, her fingers manipulating it. The distance to the moon was less than half an AU, but anything could still happen in those distances. She was about to call for Nathan, when the operator spoke up.
"GRADR detecting multiple gravity dips, but they seem to be more like debris of meteoroids. Probably broken off from asteroids that the pirates mined for materials. Lots of metals, silica—the usual. Syncing data to the Star Map."
"Received. Preparing course," Hannah declared as she began to make a pathway.
"Don't forget to plan for the corvettes as well," Cooper commented.
Hannah paused before moving her fingers once more in a rapid motion. She avoided a path toward the heavier grouping of the meteoroids, and lined up a path that would allow all four ships to pass through. When she finished, she said, "Vector set."
"AB Drive engaged," Barbara declared. "Spacetime folded at twenty five. Acceleration steady. All clear?"
"Clear," Nathan replied.
Hannah nodded as she looked at her map. So far, they were following the path at a steady rate and would be in visual contact with the moon in just a few minutes.
However, Hannah noted something strange as they passed through the very many debris. There were slight distortions of gravity in her map, concentrated all around them. "Nathan," she called, but apparently, the GRADR Operator noticed it too.
"Small gravity anomalies detected," Nathan said, looking confused. "I have no idea what—heat buildup approaching!"
"Brace!" Barbara shouted as a sudden bright green light flashed. She quickly turned the ship, the shift in gravity simulated in the Drift. Once she stabilized the virtual ship, she shouted, "What almost hit us?"
"Concentrated beam!" Nathan replied as he began to type furiously on his keyboard. "It's laser induced plasma! Ship-grade!"
"So we have a pirate destroyer nearby?" Barbara asked.
"There's nothing on GRADR!"
"Can we track the source through the beam's trajectory?"
"I could but the pathway doesn't make sense!" Nathan replied. "Wait, another shot is coming! Above!"
"Increasing grav incline!" Barbara declared as the ship shot forward, barely dodging the beam. However, it hit one of the corvettes, which exploded on impact.
"How did that shot come from that angle?!" Nathan asked, looking at his screen. "That's nowhere near its previous trajectory!"
"Maybe they jumped?" Hannah suggested. "Or maybe another ship fired the plasma?"
"No gravity tunnels detected," Nathan disagreed. "And I'm still not convinced there's any other ships besides us! There's still nothing on GRADR!"
"Send me the data," Hannah said. "Concentrate on detecting energy emissions! We can't afford to lose another ship."
"Sending!"
"This is the Captain speaking," Cooper announced. "All surviving corvettes take evasive action while we're trying to pin-point enemy targets."
Hannah felt relieved that there was at least one thing she wouldn't have to worry about. Checking on the data, she noted Riku crunching some numbers at the back of her head as she was trying to figure out what was going on.
"Another beam! Sharp angle!" Nathan declared.
There was a lurch, and Barbara growled, "Corvette 3 got hit clipped. Still in the game, though!"
New data came in, and Hannah marveled at the projected path of the beam. It seemed to defy physics, somehow bending to attack from different angles, as if…
Hannah blinked, then said, "Adjusting sensitivity to gravity wells." She typed on her keyboard fast and then looked at the image again before clicking on the various spots of the Star Map, declaring, "I'm highlighting suspected targets!"
"Are you sure?" Cooper asked, his tone almost unreadable. "There seems to be nothing there. Unless you're suggestion the pirates have ships invisible to GRADR?"
"I'm suspecting that there are no ships, but some sort of reflector satellites. The beam itself is most likely coming from the moon."
"I mean," Nathan began, "if you overload a mining laser, that's possible. But that would overheat it to the point of impracticality."
"The moon is pretty much ice, so they got lots of cooling material," Barbara countered.
"Even if that were possible," Cooper said, smiling slightly, "it doesn't explain the pin-point accuracy of the attacks. They have visuals on us. They must have something spying on us."
"They are probably using gravity lenses," Hannah reasoned back. "That's what is probably making the anomaly readings on the GRADR."
"Like how our ancestors on Earth looked up in space!" Barbara exclaimed with understanding.
Nathan nodded. "That makes sense. The satellites' mass wouldn't register much of a gravity well, especially when surrounded by so many meteoroids. And using gravity lenses to target us explains everything."
"Good enough for me," Cooper declared, smiling widely. "Corvettes 1 and 3, we're sending you coordinates. Targets are small, probably satellites. Use timed cluster ammunition, wide-area spread."
"Hannah," Riku spoke. "Calculations have been done. Beam reflected trajectory seems to be coming from this quadrant of the moon."
"Thanks, Riku," Hannah replied as she sent the data to Nathan. "The suspected coordinates of where the beam is fired from."
"Checking," the Operator said, going through it with his own data. "Everything checks out on my end as well. I suggest we call in the Spaceforce for bombing assistance."
"Are you sure?" Cooper asked. "We can only call on them once."
The three of them stared at each other for a moment before Barbara shrugged. "If they're wrong, we can always do the bombing ourselves," she said. "Plus, I know Nathan and my sister. They know what they're doing."
Cooper looked at them for a moment before he shook his head and clapped. "Well, what do you know? Not a lot of groups pass the first scenario."
"Sir?" Nathan asked.
"Yeah, I think I'll skip the landing bit," the older man said, looking to his side as if talking to someone else. "Alright." He then looked at the three of them and smiled. "Congratulations are in order. You passed with flying colors. Very good data analysis Miss Brenner and Mister Traynor. Impressive spacetime management, Miss Brenner. You avoided all the shots and the frigate sustained no damages. Can't get a better score than that."
"Yeah!" exclaimed Barbara, raising both her arms. Nathan smiled widely, but remained silent, and Hannah just sighed.
"We still have two scenarios left in the assessment," Cooper continued, "but it'll be more of a standard affair. A patrol then an escort mission."
Hannah looked at the older man and asked, "Why was the attack on the pirate base done first? Was it meant to scare us?"
"That," Cooper said, "and also a reminder of two other things. One, the military is an offensive force. Even the Navy, which people erroneously believe to be more defensive in nature. And two, to show how dangerous it is out there. This scenario, it happened. Japan was clearing out some pirates near the New Osaka system. The pirates had actually rigged a mining laser as an energy weapon. It was surrounded by an ice lake to help cool the weapon down."
"What happened then?" Nathan asked.
"The frigate and two corvettes were destroyed. A hundred crewmen and their AIs lost their lives. The last corvette limped back to the fleet to warn them off what had happened, and after they fought off the ambush, they went for the attack. The base was destroyed in the end." Cooper looked at his side once again, then clapped his hands once. "Alright, ten-minute break until the next scenario. Take a breather. The next one, a routine patrol, might be more boring, but it is an essential job of the Navy. I'll be back."
When Cooper's avatar faded, Barbara cheered once more, and Nathan made a congratulatory comment. Hannah replied in kind, though her mind drifted to Mark, and the message he had sent her this morning.
She hadn't been able to even tell him that she had gotten roped into the Navy assessment, and wondered if she should send a message now or later. With him probably at the MI Center, she didn't want to cause a distraction, and decided to just have Riku write a draft for her to send later.
Hannah then giggled as she wondered if she could ask Eva to record his expression once he read her message.
In the middle of an urban environment, four people stood in the middle of the pothole-filled road, surrounded by damaged buildings. Each of them wore a standard MI riflemen hardsuit, a tight-fitting undersuit with ablative cermet plating attached to strategic parts of their bodies. Mark, though, stood out, as he seemed to be staring up even though his eyes were closed, and spreading his arms wide as if to catch something.
"Mark?" David, whose avatar was right beside him, asked.
"Hold on," Mark replied softly. They were actually in a virtual world. There was no scent, which was normal in the Drift, but the feeling of the slight breeze on his face, his muscles tensing and relaxing, was quite a new sensation. He had never felt anything like this with the Wick. Sure, he did feel his muscles when he was doing any type of virtual action in the Drift, but this felt much closer to reality. He breathed out a sigh. "Wow. So this is what sixty-five feels like."
"Better get used to it," a soft feminine voice called beside him.
Mark glanced at the speaker. It was their assessor, who introduced herself as Amira. If Mark had to guess, she had some Middle Eastern genes in her. She was both their supervisor and also the fire team's marksman. He didn't quite know what to think of her. Except for the scar that ran down from her left cheek to her neck, she didn't look physically intimidating. While she did seem to have very sharp and defined features, she was a bit on the short side and was quite soft-spoken.
Her stature did make an interesting contrast with her weapon of choice, though. The Mk-500 was pretty much a lighter, semi-automatic version of the M500, designed for long range shooting in mind. And it was only just slightly shorter than her.
"Once you're all recruits," she continued, "you'll be constantly training in high-sync until you reach eighty percent. If you think you can't handle it, better quit while you're ahead." She looked at them. "So, anyone?"
David, Mark, and their third member shook their heads, and she gave them a small smile.
"Five minutes until the operation briefing," she said. "Make sure your equipment is ready; they may be virtual ones now, but it's a good habit to form."
With that, Mark focused on the rifle he held. He chose the BR35 because it was what he was most familiar with. He checked the bullets in his magazine—sixty pieces of 3.5mm rifle bullets stacked together, ready for use. Unlike the plain neosteel versions he was used to, these were green-tipped armor piercers.
He hoped it was just due to MI standards, and not because he would have to face some pre-war tank or something.
"My grandpa loves getting on my case about the three-five-fours," David commented as he also checked his rifle magazine, though he opted for the M-version. He then inserted it into his rifle and pulled the charging handle.
"How so?" Mark asked as Eva connected him to the rifle's software. As it was virtual, he logged in almost immediately. With that done, he let go of his rifle, letting it hang across his chest, before unholstering a blaster, also the very same model he owned. He got connected to this one just as easily and began to adjust the power setting to his preference.
"When he saw me loading the bullets to the mag of dad's rifle, he kept asking why I'm only putting half of it and where the cartridges were. And when someone uses metric and calls them nine millimeters, he objects to it, saying that those were sidearm calibers."
Mark chuckled as he holstered his blaster, satisfied with the settings. "Reminds me of my conversation with my dad this morning. Do you have to explain to your grandpa that we don't use gunpowder cartridges anymore?"
David smiled as he shook his head. "I'm half convinced he's just being contrarian to act like how old people back on Earth are supposed to. Dad calls it 'acting like he's got alzheimers'."
Mark was still in the middle of checking his graviton shielding with Eva when the unfamiliar term popped up. "Alzheimer's?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Some sort of disease that affects mental functions," their third member replied as he checked his magazines for his AU-12 automatic shotgun. "Pre-war, we had a lot of older people suffering from it. Not a problem anymore thanks to nanites."
David hummed in agreement. "My grandpa can tell you the Federation Constitution word for word and can still school me on trajectory mathematics. Pretty sure he's just trying to pull someone's leg when he starts rambling about modern ballistics." He looked at their teammate and offered his hand. "David Anderson."
"John Spartan," he replied, taking the hand and shaking it strongly once.
"Mark Shepard," Mark said, also offering his hand. "Interesting name."
"It must be," John replied. "Lots of older folks call me 'Demolition Man' for some reason."
David stared at John's tactical vest, seeing a collection of different grenades and multiple blocks of C-8 explosives. "Can't see why."
John chuckled. "I got into it because of that name. Wanted to live up to it, and it turns out, explosions are fun." He looked between David and Mark. "Militia cert?"
"Twenty," Mark replied.
"Same," David added.
"Fifteen, so I won't slow you both down by much," John said with a sardonic smile.
"Five minutes are up," Amira declared. "Now that introductions are done, let's get to the operation."
All of a sudden, it became quiet around them. Surrounding them, there was a spattering of gunfire from afar, and explosions that rattled the air. Sirens were also blaring from somewhere, and there was indistinct shouting of panic as if the stage was finally set. With a bit of nervousness, the four formed a loose square, and between them, a holograph map popped up.
To Mark's surprise, it wasn't even a map of their specific location; instead, it covered a wide area of a city.
"Five minutes ago, MI's Fifth Armored Division started Operation Lightning," Amira began, and the holographic map displayed green dots that seemed to be moving into a city block that was filled with red dots. "This whole area is a pirate stronghold, and they have been amassing personnel, armor, and ships to attack the neighboring quadrant. The system's government had requested the Federation to deploy the MI to destroy them. Armored Marines have punched through the pirate's first defensive line to give Titan pilots an in so they could scout the area. Once they finish their preliminary recon, they will deploy Titans in specific LZs to cover a larger area and eliminate enemy armored vehicles."
Then, a voice rang out clearly through the air. "Standby for Titanfall."
A loud, bassy thump thundered through the air before the whole ground shook. Mark turned toward the direction of the sound, but couldn't see anything.
"Their job is to eliminate pirate leader Sergio," Amira continued.
A picture appeared in the middle of the map. It was of a middle aged man with strong european features, complete with a full beard and mustache.
"Or at least, that was the initial plan. Intel has discovered a mole on the network and eliminated the traitor, but not before warning Sergio of the imminent attack. He went to the ground, and this place is one of his suspected hideouts. This will be our AO."
The holographic map zoomed into a smaller area, until it revealed a road and surrounding buildings.
"Shepard, you're the assigned TL. Your job is to infiltrate the building, search for the pirate leader Sergio and kill him once located. In the situation that this isn't his hideaway, gather any intelligence to pinpoint his location."
Mark took a deep breath before nodding. "I'll do my best."
Amira nodded. "It's your operation, so it's up to you how you lead. One caveat, though. I won't be accompanying the team. I'll be acting as the dedicated tactical sniper and your overwatch. If you need me to snipe a target, give me the order and, if it's possible, I'll take the shot. If not, I'll inform you that I can't follow the order."
Mark nodded, though with a bit of hesitation. "I'll keep that in mind, ma'am, but how am I supposed to issue such an order? I am not familiar with any MI protocols."
"Just focus on the target; I'll know."
The three of them blinked, staring at her with a confused expression. Amira looked at the three of them for a moment before she seemed to realize something.
"Right. There were so many people getting assessed, we had to rush a few things." She nodded sharply before giving them a neutral look. "Here. It's easier if I demonstrate."
Mark watched carefully as Amira aimed her rifle up at the building they were supposed to breach. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn't him being suddenly aware of an armed man at the fifth-floor, fourth-window from the left side of the building. While he couldn't quite make out what the man looked like, it was enough to convey his presence.
Mark wasn't the only one taken by surprise; John jumped and exclaimed, "What the shit!?"
David's only response was a sharp intake of breath and then looked at their assessor. "Are we in a Level 1 Driftcon, like the old Jaeger pilots?"
Mark shook his head. "No. I can't feel any outside emotions or stray memories. It's something else."
"Correct," Amira replied. "This is how MI teams are connected, other than the usual communication and positioning systems. You all will be aware of each other's situation in real time, like an extra peripheral sense." She was about to continue, but paused, then shook her head. "You'll learn this more intimately when you're a recruit, so I won't put too much emphasis on it. However, I should remind you three of something important: the difference between the Militia's and MI's nature of force application." She stared at them with a hard look. "Mobile Infantry is an offensive force. You might be aware of it. You might even think not much of it because you are in a simulation. However, do not hesitate to kill your enemies. They won't hesitate against you, and believe me, getting killed at high sync is nothing compared to what you're used to. It will hurt. A lot. Are we clear?"
The three of them looked at her before glancing at each other and, in complete sync, nodding in understanding.
Amira smiled. "Then let's get started. Operation starts in two minutes. I'll be around. You three... well, you all know what to do." And without another word, she dashed towards the wall of the building and used that as a step to hop and grab one of the secured fire escape ladders and began to climb up.
David muttered a soft, "Huh," as he watched her flip over the railing to access the stairs in one smooth motion. "She's got to be a Titan pilot. No one else will be trained to maneuver like that. No wonder she wouldn't join us. Narrow corridor fighting? Must be suffocating for her."
John reminded, "We're being assessed, not her. She wouldn't be allowed to join us even if she wanted to."
"True," David agreed.
John took a look at their target building and closed his eyes, presumably to consult his AI. A vague image of a map seemed to form in Mark's own mind, prompting him to call out to Eva.
"The MI network?" she prompted.
"Yeah," he replied. "Amira didn't elaborate on it, but I'm curious. How does it work?"
"In simple terms, I am communicating with the AIs of your teammates and assessor in a network that's also managed by another AI, who acts as a safeguard to ensure prevention of data overflow and also as a security measure. It's almost the same as how a group of people can operate a ship using the ship's Lobby, but without the time dilation, the data sent has to be at the barest minimum to keep latency low."
"So that's why I don't know what the man on the third floor window looks like?"
"Yes. More details means more data, which will slow down the network. Though you can still send detailed images of your target for identification purposes. You won't send any other data, though."
Mark nodded. Though he honestly wanted to know more, he needed to finish the assessment first. Maybe he could ask his father about it later, but for now, he stared at their target building, noting it was pretty much designed the same way as the other building their assessor had just climbed up.
"I see three doors that can be breached," John commented as he opened his eyes. An image of the building's map came to their minds and highlighted the three entry points on the ground floor. He blinked, shaking his head. "Okay, that's a bit weird. Anyway, Shepard, you can decide which entryway we use."
Mark looked up at the emergency ladder and exterior stairs, counting the windows, identifying those that were boarded up. Then he quickly made up his mind. "How much C-8 do you have?"
"Five blocks," John replied, though he sounded. "Why?"
"Plant them on all three entrances."
David seemed to understand and smiled. He looked up at the building and asked, "So what floor are we breaching?"
Mark didn't need to say the word as the window in the third floor, accessible through the emergency access was suddenly in everyone's mind.
John smirked. "Got it."
As he left, David made his way underneath the ladder and bent his knees, hands ready to receive. Mark obliged by running to him, and placing a foot on his friend's hands, and getting boosted up enough to grab hold of the ladder.
He grunted as the ladder rattled. However, compared to the noise of the whole environment, it didn't seem much. Still, Mark paused, trying to focus his hearing, to check if anyone in the building was moving near him.
Nothing. Maybe because there was no one around, or maybe the noise really did hide it. Either way, he felt blessed.
Unlocking the ladder and letting it fall just enough to be in reach for the others, Mark gingerly climbed his way to the next floor, peering into the boarded windows to ensure there wouldn't be any surprises when their backs were turned. When he reached his destination, he entered what looked like an abandoned room. Scanning it quickly, he made sure no one was inside, and waited.
He didn't have to sit still for long as David and John entered through the window. They rechecked their weapons one last time before Mark focused on the image of the nondescript man in the fifth floor.
"Shoot him?" Amira asked, his voice in his ear.
"Yes."
There was a loud booming sound as the Mk-500 made its first shot. There was a stir in the building, shouts of surprise and panic as sounds of glass being broken with automatic fire following soon afterwards.
Mark didn't even have to guess Amira's status. He could feel her leave from her previous position, somehow running with enough speed and probably using on-the-fly gravity adjustment to get enough height to jump to another building.
David was right. She was definitely a Titan pilot.
He looked at John, and nodded. The man grinned and loud explosions shook the building. More panicked shouts, and Mark let it wash over him for a few moments before, in sync, the three went towards the exit of the room.
Mark opened the door checking his sector as David crouched opposite of him to cover his. He wanted to tell them that there were no enemies in his sight, but for some reason, he realized there was no need to speak; all three of them somehow knew that the corridor was clear.
The MI network definitely intrigued him.
John moved forward, shotgun at the ready, and Mark followed while David covered their six. So far, even with the whole building sounding like it was bustling with activity, the three of them seemed all alone.
Then, it happened. As John passed through an apartment entrance, the door quickly slid open, revealing men speaking in Georgian. From what he could understand from his basic translator module—Mark's thoughts drifted to getting a better one—they were ordered to patrol the area.
From that one second of complete silence, and from John's widened eyes, Mark knew both groups had been caught off guard.
The pirate inside angrily screamed out in alarm, and John quickly advanced, hugging the wall. The reason became clear a few seconds later as Mark spotted a gun muzzle moving forward, just a few inches in front of him. He paused just right beside it, waiting until the arm was more exposed before grabbing it and pulling the pirate through the exit.
Risking whether they had graviton shielding or not, Mark pretty much stuck the muzzle of his rifle to the pirate and squeezed the trigger. Blood spurted from his target's torso; the earlier angry screaming turned into one of pain, which ended when he raised his aim and shot the pirate in the head. The face disappeared in a burst of blood and gore.
John sprang to action, using the body of the newly faceless pirate to give him a few seconds of cover before he shoved it aside with a body tackle, his shotgun aiming inside the apartment. Thumping sound of bass echoed in the hallway as John fired two times before shouting, "Shields!"
A vague image of a blue light entered Mark's mind before John went on a rapid-fire rampage, the shotgun doing its work as it practically punched the air with every shot. That amount of firepower overwhelmed whatever shielding the pirate had.
Mark joined in, glancing at the gruesome scene of a human torso punctured with bullet wounds, as he heard David shout a warning.
"Incoming enemies!" The sound of the M354's deployment crackled around them in deafening thunder. David soon joined both his teammates in the apartment, looking a little worried. "Fuckers are fearless! They're charging from both sides of the corridor, armed with machetes!"
That made sense. Graviton shielding was usually set to stop hyper- and supersonic projectiles, though with a little fiddling with the settings, it could also help with melee attacks.
Mark didn't even have to tell Eva to share his own settings; David suddenly nodded, his shield glowing slightly as it readjusted. John took a few seconds longer, looking a bit flabbergasted, staring at Mark with a look of surprise.
"Those settings will only be good for a hit or two," Mark said. "I'm switching." He let his rifle hang at his side as he readied his blaster. With graviton shielding and the narrow walkway in play, a plasma sidearm would be better in this situation than the rifle. He stood by the door facing the left sector of the corridor, David standing opposite of him.
"Reloading." John stated before he started replacing the magazine of his shotgun quickly.
"Divide and conquer?" David asked as their third companion worked on his weapon. A powerful crack in the air sounded and they realized Amira just took out what seemed to be a heavily armored pirate on the rooftops.
"Yeah," Mark replied. "I take right. You and John, left."
John, who had just finished reloading his weapon, glanced at Mark. "You sure?"
"Trust me, I'll need you more," David replied, glancing at his sector. "Pirate with a knife incoming. Ten seconds."
John ran up to them, grabbed one of his grenades, pressed the button on the weapon, and threw it out into the corridor. There was a slight flash of light and a loud boom.
Mark grinned at John's initiative. "Cover me," he said, then came out of cover. The smoke was a bit thick, but he could still see the pirate that David had warned them about, looking absolutely lost and confused.
They received an elbow to the face.
David and John popped out after Mark, aiming at the opposite side of the corridor. As the sound of gunfire roared once more, Mark grabbed the stunned pirate's wrist, the one that held the blade, and twisted, finishing the motion with a sweeping kick. The pirate fell flat on the floor and Mark's knee slammed down on the pirate's chest before aiming his blaster at the two incoming targets.
A streak of red plasma shot out at supersonic speed; the sound of electrical whirring echoed around the corridor. The first target jerked as the bolt hit them in the chest, a flare of blue light popped into existence, but they didn't seem to stop the projectile, as it still left a rather large burn mark on their chest when it finally dissipated.
Mark's hands didn't stop moving, taking aim at the others. When the second one fell as well, he aimed his blaster at the one beneath him and squeezed the trigger.
His ablative armor reacted to that very close plasma burst, judged by the shiny puff of metallic powder that scattered on his leg. He mostly ignored it as more pirates arrived, screaming as they raised their blades, rushing at him. Mark met their charge with steady forward steps and more plasma discharges, the blaster shifting from one target to another. Each of them toppled one by one, until one desperate pirate threw his weapon at him.
Mark's shield flared as it deflected the blade before it reached him. He didn't even bother to dodge; he just aimed his blaster and shot the thrower. However, the warning beep told him his shield was overloading and would soon lose power for a few seconds, so he aimed his blaster at one of the leading pirates' thighs, enough to make them bend a knee. This pause in their charge allowed Mark time to let his shield recover.
Step-by-step, Mark walked backwards, blaster expelling bolt after bolt. He killed some, others he aimed to maim, making them obstacles to their own allies. More pirates threw their weapons, but they either missed or were narrowly dodged. Mark kept backing up until the warning beeps disappeared. Now that he had breathing room, he prepared to charge forward when he heard another warning—a proximity alert. His eyes widened, his head turning just in time to see a pirate exit an apartment behind him, their weapon raised.
His shield flared again as the machete tried to hit him at the back of his head; the warning beeps returned. Mark growled, his body moving sharply as his left hand grabbed the ambushing arm, pushing the blade away, and aiming his blaster at the ambusher's gut. He was about to take a more lethal torso shot, but his blaster suddenly whined, indicating that it was out of ammo. He flicked his weapon, hitting the ejector button and letting the spent cell fly out. He let the stunned pirate go so he could grab an extra cell from his tactical belt, and in one quick motion, slid it in and shot the ambusher dead before he could fully recover.
"Mark!" David shouted, his presence felt coming close behind.
He knew what his friend meant. Holstering his blaster, he grabbed his rifle, went to a kneeling position and aimed at the rest of the pirates. They may have finally gotten over their wounded friends, but their charge was slowed and they hesitated, now facing two rifles aimed straight at them.
Blue light shone as hypersonic rounds hit the pirates' shields, but that quickly faded as they were overwhelmed by burst fire. All the pirates were down a few seconds later.
There was a moment of silence before David asked, "Clear?"
Mark paused before aiming for a downed pirate that was still alive, groaning weakly. With one shot, he ended its suffering. "Clear."
There were a few more thumping sounds of shotgun fire before John arrived, drenched in sweat. He stared down at the hallway, looking at Mark with a confused expression. "Do you usually fight like that?"
Mark chuckled as he reloaded his rifle. David answered for him. "Best get used to it. He scares a lot of people in the Militia centers, especially in CQC sections."
"Reloading," John muttered as he replaced another magazine in his shotgun. He looked around them. "I can see why."
Mark stood up, looking at both of them. "Weapons check."
"I'm good," Davis replied.
"Me too."
Mark nodded. "Alright, ready?"
"Ready," both John and David announced.
"Advancing," Mark replied as he slowly made his way forward until they reached a T intersection. With the corridor forward being clear, he paused at the corner, closed his eyes, and called for Eva.
"Gravity lens?" she asked automatically.
With a nod, a small lens formed in front of his left eye, giving him a clear view of what hid on the other side of corner.
Mark was met with what looked like the central square of the whole building, and unlike the closed surroundings they were in, it was quite open. He could see the next few upper floors from his position, and what he saw was not good.
Pirates have occupied the whole area, armed to the teeth, and seemingly looking straight at him. It seemed their entrance had garnered attention. They weren't stupid about it, either. They didn't group completely close together and a few were looking out for their rear and flanks. They were just waiting for them to stick their heads out.
He did notice one particular man among the rear part of the group, surrounded by heavily armed men wearing what looked like some sort of bootleg version of the suits that Armored Marines wore. He was talking to the others, pointing straight down the corridor, then in another direction.
Mark focused on him, taking in all the details of his face and waited.
Amira's voice whispered in his ear. "That's the target."
"Affirmative," Mark replied, looking around once more, trying to figure out how to get past all those people, until an idea hit him. He looked at the target's general area and widened the angle, then said, "Possible?"
Amira chuckled. "You're lucky. The distraction you caused on the fifth and ground floor, as well as your corridor fight caused him to be out in the open. But then again, luck is just another skill. Good work."
"Get ready to return to our entry point," Mark said, glancing at David and John. They seemed to either understand what he had in mind, or trusted him enough to not question the fact that they were simply retreating. The latter, in particular, readied his shotgun and took the lead.
They didn't have to move. After a loud, thunderous crack in the air, Sergio glowed bright blue before his head disappeared in a cloud of red. The simulation ended before the body hit the floor, and the four of them were back outside the street where they had started.
"A little anticlimactic end for a rather explosive beginning," Amira declared, though she had a smile on her face. "However, we got what we needed. Anderson, excellent follow ups and suppressive fire. Spartan, excellent use of explosives and support. Shepard." She paused. "I'd like to say you're reckless, but from beginning to end, you acted tactically. From using distractions to cover your entry, using melee-range shooting to by-pass their shielding, and switching weapons to best fit the situation. Your shield setting to help against melee attackers and your creative use of a gravity lens to peek out of the corner had a few of the brass talking. However, I'm most impressed by the fact that you did not try to charge into a mob of pirates to impress us. Instead, you used everything at your disposal for a quick and easy victory, coming back with your team intact and uninjured." She stood in the parade position. "You've passed your assessment, gentlemen. You'll probably receive your recruitment invitation within the next two weeks. Take a few minutes. You'll be logged out soon." And with a nod, her avatar winked out.
The three of them looked at each other; David's smile infectious as Mark and John also grinned and started high-fiving each other.
"Damn," John said softly. "That scenario was not only intense but it felt like it too." He then shook his head. "And Shepard, I'm glad I didn't face you during Militia certification. You just went forward and dropped them fast!"
David commented, "Don't stroke his ego; his head is big enough as it is." Slapping Mark's shoulder hard, he added, "You know what I mean?"
"Fuck off," Mark replied with a laugh before looking at John. "Gotta say, I never really tried learning how to use explosives or grenades myself. You're right. Explosions are fun!"
"Yeah. Had to delay my own Militia cert for it though. They are a little more strict when it comes to explosive weaponry. Training modules can be bought, though, so if you're interested, you can learn."
"I'll give it a try," Mark replied.
David interjected, "I'm more interested in the shotgun myself." He added, "I felt almost useless in that corridor fight."
"What are you talking about?" John asked.
"Yeah, you kicked ass," Mark added.
Before David could reply, they heard a system voice telling them they were about to log out.
"It was nice meeting you!" John said as their surroundings began to fade. "If we meet up as recruits, don't be strangers!"
Before Mark could reply, he awakened inside the capsule, drenched in sweat.
"Are you okay?" the uniformed recruiter asked, extending his hand.
Mark took it and shakily got off the capsule. "Thanks."
"Walk it off," the recruiter said gently. "High-sync can be weird for first timers. Let your body remember how to move on its own."
Mark did just that, walking, hopping, and stretching his arms a bit. He was joined by others, who had their own assessments, though he did glance around to see if John was in the same room as him.
When Mark felt better, he made his way to the exit, to the receiving room of the facility and waited. A few minutes later, David arrived from a different exit and the two made their way out.
"That last one went a little wild," David commented as they spotted a few other hopefuls interacting with each other; the nervousness of this morning gone now that they were finally done with everything. "Though the MI seemed disorganized."
"Can't really blame them," Mark replied, looking for John again, but couldn't see him as they finally made their way outside. "There were so many people today, it was crazy. I'm surprised they were able to assess all of us, considering the numbers."
"Connected to the city network," Eva declared. "You have received one new message from Hannah Brenner, with a subroutine request."
Mark blinked. "Huh?" he asked in confusion. Subroutine requests meant it was something more for Eva. Hannah rarely used those.
"Should I play the message?" Eva continued without missing a beat.
"I… Okay, sure."
"Mark, Babs just got me assessed for the Navy and I'm apparently good enough for them. Can we do something in this city when you're done so you can make me feel like a normal girl again? Thanks."
There was an audible camera click, but Mark didn't pay attention, just standing completely still in shock.
David, noticing his inaction, frowned as he glanced back at him. "What happened? Why you grinning like a moron?"
"I got a girlfriend in the Navy."
That got him to pause. "What?"
Mark grinned for a second, only to pause when he realized something. "Eva, did you just take my picture?"
Welcome to the United Systems of the Sol Federation Codex, Councilor Gladius. What is your inquiry?
Search Query: USSF, military
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Navy
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Navy
The Navy is the logistic arm of the military. Together with the Spaceforce, the two branches of the military are the primary combat operators in the cosmos.
The Navy is usually responsible for operating larger vessels ranging from the Carrier Class to the Corvette Class. They serve as patrols to human space, acting as the exploratory arm of the People, and ensuring logistical support for the Mobile Infantry operating planetside.
Search Query: ship, classes
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Carrier
Cruiser
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Search Query: Dreadnought
Result: A dreadnought is a type of sea battleship of pre-war Earth. Would you like to know more?
Spaceforce
The Aerospace Force (colloquially called Spaceforce) is the military branch that conducts air and space combat. They are the main anti-ship combat force, using an assortment of fighters, Orbital Frames, and weaponry to destroy, disable, or capture vessels. They are also the air support of the Mobile Infantry operating planetside.
Search Query: orbital, frames
Orbital Frames
A multi-purpose all-terrain space-rated mech, piloted by a trained Mobile Infantry specialist, typically from the ranks of the elite Titan pilots. Unlike Titans, they are designed solely for military use and are not equipped with standard weaponry. Instead, they feature numerous miniaturized fabrication units paired with a chronosphere system to accelerate production.
Considering the energy requirements of the Orbital Frame, they are twice as tall as regular Titans and powered by two or three fusion cores and multiple AI systems to maintain optimal combat capability.
Search Query: Titans
Titans
While considered the successors of the Jaegers, the Titans were actually conceived more for non-military use. They were created to assist the then devastated population in helping with mining, farming, and construction efforts. Now, they serve as the face of the Armored Division of the Mobile Infantry.
Operated by a human pilot and an AI partner, these mechs can be modified to utilize any existing weaponry systems and have largely replaced traditional armored fighting vehicles, such as tanks.
The pilots themselves are maneuver-specialists, trained as Recon Infantry that are adept to fight in various types of battlefields.
Mobile Infantry
The Sword of the People - the primary offensive force of humanity. The Mobile Infantry (colloquially called Marines) operates primarily in planet-side warfare. From the humble rifleman, to the highly celebrated Titan pilots, it is their job to ensure complete ground domination of whatever operating theater.
They also cover ship security for the Navy ships and support the Militia on system defense.
Militia
The Shield of the People; the Militia are able-bodied civilians and non-serving citizens at the age of majority. They can be called in to supplement the regular military, but can only be done for the defense of their local system.
As they aren't part of any branches of the military, they are responsible for buying and maintaining their own weapons and ships, which the People have unrestricted access to as it is their Constitutional right. The idea was that by having a very well armed population, it makes any invasion an expensive and difficult endeavor.
Search Query: ship, numbers
Results: I am not authorized to provide that information.
Bookmarking following entries for your next visit:
Plasma Weaponry
Projectile Weaponry
Pre-war Earth Naval Warfare
Thank you for your visit, Councilor Gladius. Logging you out.
Author's Note: Honestly, I'm still unsure about this chapter, mostly because it felt too long. I aim at around 5k to 7k words, to make things easy to read. However, as it is my entry chapter for how combat operates, I did try to add as much needed details as I could do it could be streamlined for future chapters and ended up with something with more than 10k words.
I cut a lot of things, added them back in, only to cut them out, then add them back in. I wanted to show how these humans lived. How they integrate their technology to live normal lives, and how they act with one another.
I wanted to showcase Hannah, Barbara, David, and Mark. Show what they are good at. Mark especially, with the future chapters. In the end, I just stopped removing and just added them back. And I just hope I didn't bog the story down too much.
For anyone curious, the misadventures of the Codex AI is not done in a linear fashion. They occur in their own specific timeline, not sequential to each other.