The dining hall was unusually quiet the next morning.
Instead of the usual noisy clatter of trays and light insults hurled across tables, the cadets sat in small, tense clusters, whispering behind hunched shoulders and darting glances toward the digital board on the far wall.
MILITARY TRIALS — 5 DAYS REMAINING.
Oliver chewed his synthetic eggs with the expression of a man either lost in thought or mildly traumatized by the flavor. It was both.
Lira nudged him. "So… are we pretending not to care about the Trials? Or do we pretend to pretend not to care?"
"I'm trying to pretend this food isn't slowly killing me."
Garek plopped down beside them, his tray stacked like a construction project. "I care. I care deeply. I've been dreaming of a ticket into the elite Strike Corps since I was twelve."
Oliver glanced at him. "Did your dreams include dying horribly on an alien moon?"
"Yes," Garek said with pride. "And looking really cool doing it."
Lira snorted.
"You should enter the Trials," the Core whispered, unprompted. "Observation of combat variance will accelerate your synchronization rate. Risk yields growth."
That's easy for you to say, Oliver thought. You're not the one who can die.
"Correction: if you die, I also die. Please stop doing dangerous things poorly."
Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
That Afternoon – Tactical Simulation Chambers
"Squad Echo!" bellowed Drillmaster Soren. "On the line!"
Oliver and his squadmates jogged into the virtual combat pod, a large circular room designed to simulate battlefield environments with brutal precision. Soren tapped a control pad, and the world flickered.
Suddenly, they were standing in the middle of a ruined cityscape, thick with smoke and half-toppled structures. Sirens wailed in the distance. The air tasted like rust.
"Mission parameters," Soren said, voice echoing in the sim. "Urban extraction. Retrieve the civilian target and return to evac. Hostiles: unknown. Timer starts now."
The simulation snapped to life.
Garek took point, rifle at the ready. Lira moved beside him, scanning rooftops. Oliver flanked left, slipping behind a crashed transport truck.
"Eyes open," he whispered. "They love hiding snipers in these builds."
"Already looking," Lira replied.
"Didn't ask you," Oliver said with a smirk.
Lira raised a brow. "Someone's suddenly chatty."
"Behind," the Core said calmly.
Without thinking, Oliver ducked. A projectile whizzed over his head and buried itself in the transport frame with a deafening clang.
"Sniper!" he shouted. "Northwest, second story!"
Garek spun, laying down suppressive fire while Lira darted across the street. Oliver rolled and dove behind a fallen pillar, heart pounding. That shot would've taken his head off if the Core hadn't—
"You're welcome."
He winced. Can't you just be a silent partner for once?
"Statistically, silence leads to death. You're not good enough to improvise alone."
Thanks for the confidence boost.
"Anytime."
Ten minutes later, they cleared the final building. The "civilian" was a data core shaped like a child-sized android dummy. Lira cradled it under one arm, panting. "Someone remind me why we have to carry this thing like a baby?"
Garek groaned. "Because last time I tried dragging it, Soren docked us ten points for 'lack of emotional engagement.'"
Oliver wiped sweat from his brow. "We're almost to evac. Just one more—"
A low rumble echoed through the street.
The ground split open in front of them, and a hulking mech stomped into view. Red sensors locked on.
"New objective," Soren's voice rang out from above. "Survive."
Combat Initiation
"Scatter!" Oliver shouted.
The mech opened fire with heavy plasma bursts, melting asphalt and chewing through cover. Lira dashed left, using broken walls as cover. Garek sprinted wide to the right, already prepping a grenade launcher.
Oliver crouched behind a pillar, breathing fast.
"You can take it."
Are you insane?
"Your enhancements allow for precision reflex bursts. The moment it reloads, flank and blindside it. Trust me."
Oliver peeked around the corner. The mech was recharging—its weapon coils glowing a deep orange.
He inhaled sharply.
Now.
[Kinetic Acceleration: Engaged]
His body surged forward, blurring. In two seconds, he crossed the gap, scaled a pile of debris, and launched himself at the mech's exposed paneling. His palm slammed into the vent array—just enough force to send sparks flying.
The mech reeled.
"Garek, now!"
A high-explosive round slammed into its leg joint. The machine crashed to the ground, and Lira sprinted to drag the dummy to the evac point.
Simulation complete.
Debrief Room
Drillmaster Soren looked at them with something resembling mild approval, which was the equivalent of a standing ovation.
"Not bad, Squad Echo. You didn't die horribly. Progress."
Lira gave Oliver a sidelong glance. "You were fast. Faster than usual."
He shrugged. "Adrenaline, I guess."
Garek nodded. "Felt like you moved like three steps before I even saw you blink."
Oliver forced a laugh. "Guess I got lucky."
Inside his mind, the Core said smugly: "Yes. Let's call it 'luck.'"
Later That Night
Oliver sat on the roof of the barracks, legs dangling over the edge as stars blinked above the city dome. His mind replayed the sim, the voices, the speed, the thrill.
He still felt it—that surge of strength, the clarity in motion, the knowledge that something vast and alien now lived inside him.
And yet, he was alone.
"Loneliness is the price of power."
"You really need to work on your inspirational tone," he muttered.
"This is the inspirational tone."
He chuckled. "I'm in so much trouble."