…and so you had several countries flush with an excess of soldiers after their independence movements. Soldiers that needed a new profession, but that the countries were, properly, wary of releasing on the unprepared populace.
At the same time, a number of larger corporations and smaller municipalities started to become more concerned over their security, and the observant countries saw a convenient solution.
Instead of instituting any kind of disarmament or retraining programs, they foisted their soldiers off on the PMCs, who had abundant clients but a shortage of trained personnel. And thus a market boom was created.
The most successful of the countries continued to support their PMCs through subsidies for training, equipment, and materiel, leading to a local surplus that could be marketed worldwide. This lead to a shift in the meaning of the term PMC from Private Military Company to Private Mercenary Company.
--Introduction to “So you want to be a Merc”, the best selling non-fiction in 2053.
***
I realized that Corie didn’t know I was thinking about Mom.
Corie was silent for a minute or two.
--That makes a lot more sense. I was afraid that you were going to reject all the benefits you already enjoy from your special DNA. We might be able to help her. It will depend on how many points you want to spend and on how far gone she is.
I sent a new text to my sister, who replied back right away:
Me: Change of plans. Going to Mom and Dad’s
Jane: Are you going to…?
M: Will try. You should be there.
J: Absolutely. On my way!
--Fair enough. Now, getting back to the original topic, the Valerian DNA will limit your options to some degree, but it also opens up some other opportunities.
--The affected genes govern cognitive neurotransmitters to enhance their speed of action. Compared to the human norm, you should be better at handling multiple tasks at a time, have faster reaction times, be functionally ambidextrous, and you are probably faster at reaching decisions. One other side effect is that you don’t need as much sleep. I’ve seen some aspects of that all day, but the influence has been subtle.
I thought back on both the day and my life, and I could see what she meant. In the computer games I played, I ranked well into the upper levels, despite the disadvantages of being a naught. I’d always passed that off as an effect of being better at customizing the user interfaces. But that only explained part of my talent. I could track timers and spawn times to a picosecond. I’d even had a moderator accuse me of using a banned hack; my timing was so perfect that I’d triggered several bot alerts.
As for not sleeping much, my mother and I shared that trait. I could do well with only a couple hours a night, and skipping sleep for days was easy. I did get “tired” in a mental way when I spent too long on one task or situation. But a change of task and environment would recharge me enough for hours on the new task. Even now, while I’d been tired back when I came out of the department store, the change of setting and activity had me awake and ready to keep going for hours. An awakeness heightened by my worries over Mom, leaving me nearly vibrating with energy.
--If anything, it was magnified. But it would be hard to spot when combined with the SymTech Gland’s enhancements. The two work together to create an effect that is greater than either alone. That’s one of the advantages of the Valerian SymSynTech. It is easier to achieve and maintain true synergy as you grow. Because it grows naturally over time, it adapts better to both your body and how it is used.
--In part, but also there’s decisions to be made about the approach to upgrades you want to take. There are four main ways to upgrade, and which you choose will affect the costs to get started on your upgrades.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
--You would have to backtrack to take most of the other approaches or end up with some compatibility losses. Whether that is worth it or not is up to you. If I may explain the approaches?
--Yes and no. The most common method of upgrade on Earth is inorganic cybernetics. That’s the metal limbs, silicon computer implants, and the like. The ultimate form for these is the brain-in-a-box, whether the box is a tank, a remote fortress, or a suit of powered armor.
--The second most common is bionic. That preserves the human shape and esthetic by concentrating on synthetic internal upgrades. The organs and tissues are replaced with inorganic substitutes.
--Most of Earth’s Vanguards use a mix of cybernetics and bionics. It is generally less expensive up front and feels more comfortable to the Vanguard because it fits with most of humanity’s tech base.
--The next most common form is genetic manipulation. That would be a full or partial organic rebuild from the DNA up. As the Vanguard’s needs change, or to upgrade, they manipulate their genes to enable different forms.
--It’s important to note that none of these methods are stronger than the others, they just have different strengths and weaknesses.
--Take repairing damage, for example. With cybernetics, if your arm gets mangled, you need a machine shop, or it may flat out be cheaper to replace it. For a genetic patchup, you wait, and over time it will heal or grow a new limb, maybe supported with some medicines. Bionics, however, you probably need a mix, which means something like a nanite treatment.
--All the methods can return you back to how you were, but the cost is different. For cybernetics, you basically buy a full replacement or an upgrade if you can afford it. For genetics, you pay in time to regenerate and some nutrients. For bionics, it’s a point cost for the nanites, but also time for the rebuild. Same, but different. That applies to the final type too.
The rideshare beeped a warning of its approach to the destination.
Growth rates for all of Cascadia were high, fed by a constant stream of Californians fleeing the increasing temperatures and fire hazards. Just as Seattle had consumed its little brother Tacoma and all in between, Portland had first reached across the Columbia to claim Vancouver, Washington, then turned south to swallow Salem and everything in between.
A host of mixed housing and commercial complexes had been built. Called an M-Com, these colossal buildings stood four or five full blocks to a side and dominated any skyline. Many topped twenty stories and all held thousands of apartments. I, and apparently the others, lived in one of the shorter buildings, which only stood 10 living stories tall, with an extra two levels for parking.
We pulled into the parking garage, and the rideshare helpfully stopped next to the guarded entrance. “Please exit the vehicle and remove all belongings,” the synthetic voice of the autopilot filled the cabin.
Ginny, Kaitlyn, and Tara offloaded, and I selected the car to start the next trip. “All passengers and their belongings must exit the vehicle before the ride will end,” it repeated.
“Oh, for the love of a bureaucrat,” I cussed. Apparently it wouldn’t admit that it was destined to take me on to the next stop until I’d left the vehicle.
I climbed out, and we unloaded all the drones, ammo, and weapons out of the trunk. Once we were all off and unloaded, the vehicle closed up its doors and drove off. Confused, I checked the app and saw that the ride to my parents was still on the way. For some reason, despite having one right here, the AI assigned me a new vehicle for the new ride.
In the meantime, Ginny and the others had run into some issues with the security guard at the entrance. As I walked up, I heard Kaitlyn ask, “What do you mean we can’t go in? We live here!”
“Your renter’s license doesn’t permit firearms. You’ll have to dispose of them first,” the guard explained.
She was likely correct. While smaller and older, the M-Com was popular due to having an effective security team and a solid safety record. The management claimed that controlling who had access to weapons improved the security.
They couldn’t deny you ownership of a weapon; that was constitutionally guaranteed. But they limited who had easy access to their weapon by requiring an expensive permit or forcing you to store your weapons with Security. Left with a bad choice between yet another fee and risking your gear being lost or damaged, many chose not to exercise their right to protection.
The restriction helped in that it kept the honest folk’s weapons controlled. But lots of ways to slip weapons in remained. At least it showed that the residents cared. For my money, how the community treated anyone that broke the restriction was more effective than any patrol officer. I doubted that Kaitlyn and Ginny knew of the limitation, much less wanted to pay for the privilege.
“It’s okay, Bobbie. They’re holding them for me while I run an errand.” I traded for my permit with regular training sessions for the security team. I’d become quite friendly with them, and most of them knew me by name.
The guard turned to me. “Hey Marcus, didn’t see you there. Were you out doing field training today?”
“Something like that, and these three were along too. Can you at least hold onto the gear until I come back? I have to do a scoot and don’t have time to take them up myself.”
“I guess I can do that. That will be 5 rifles and a pistol? Holy shit, Marcus, were you training an army or something?” She gestured to my shirt and pants, which were still covered in human and alien blood and torn nearly to shreds.
I smiled slightly. “Something like that. It was good training, after all.”
She shook her head a little. “Okay. I’ll see that these are held for you. Might have to take them to central at the end of my shift, though.”
One of the Chibats flew in and flared into a landing on the pile of equipment. “I’ll make sure they don’t walk off.” Tara said. She glared at the guard, all but accusing her of not being trustworthy.
“You’re not going home?” Ginny asked.
“Halfway here I realized I should go see my parents. It shouldn’t take too long, I hope.”