Our units were equipped with an oversized sniper rifle instead of an assault rifle. I checked the formation display and called over in comms. “T-3, try to steady your unit with the pressure tank control. Try lowering the exhaust volume per minute.”

T minus two minutes, T-3 unit steadied their Terran and had barely any error in their positioning. The success in this defense was due to keeping a steady aim on the targets, it would be best to replicate it.

“T-4, turn four degrees towards T-5.” T-1’s pilot called in. “One minute until combat.”

I heightened our sensors to start targeting whatever was within our maximum range. One or one point five hundred. My mind wandered through the report again. No unit was lost in this battle and they had to dogfight two Monoceros at the end. Replicating the entire fight should be the best choice. That was something the Instructor, commander and probably my mother wanted to see at the end. Pawns to be moved around as much as they wanted. At least it was necessary to live.

“Give me a target once you see one.” Marlon ordered.

I watched the timer go down to zero and I saw dots, in the sky, grow big enough to form a Monocero. I targeted once our sensors allowed it, then synched Marlon’s display with mine. They were two dot seven hundred away. Far out of our reach. Our sniper rifle only reached anything up to one kilometer. Even then, shooting up into the air always posed useless outside our range. The air currents would divert it.

Yet I saw Marlon aim a bit off from my targeting, a bit off to the left. Then he shot. Two kilometers and he strafed our first target. Ridiculous. No one dared to even try to shoot from this far away. I swiftly added margin to error due to gravity and any air currents. He retargeted accordingly and shot again.

But this time, he hit and killed the first target, eight hundred kilometers earlier than in the report two years ago. This guy was a monster. Finesse, reaction and precision were his strong attributes. And yet, why was he stuck here with us?

After the Monocero kept falling, I found his next target and aimed for the several others while he shot with a higher precision than my mother or brother. Two more fell and our squad members started shooting down the others.

Then I witnessed something unexpected from the possible ace pilot Marlon. He slowed down between his shots and let others try their shots, and only shot to ensure the final kill whenever someone failed to finish off their targets. I didn’t even need to target anything. Marlon aimed for himself. As if he was the machine.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

T-3 and T-4 needed the most help. They strafed and only hit their targets every fifth shot, at this rate, they lost too much ammunition in a short time.1, T-5 and T-6 managed to take two shots, like in the report, to take down a Monocero in this defensive.

One target was within one kilometer, which let us break our formation and scatter to surround the Monocero. It shot beams from its hands. They had no need for weapons. We didn’t understand one bit of their technology and from a first timer’s point of view, they’d even say that they cast magic or a fire beam. Their armor was thin, but strong enough to have enough protection against our assault rifles or handguns. The sniper rifle ensured to penetrate through and hit them where it hurts the most.

Marlon moved far to the back while grazing the water surface. The remaining Monocero followed our weakest links, T-3 and T-4. T-1 rushed over, to break its pursuit with a blade. Then as the Monocero raised its hands, forming a fireball in front of its fist, T-6 shot its arm. The beam flew upwards, hitting nothing.

And T-6 followed up, stabbing the target into its power source, a similar crystal as ours.

Marlon simply watched the entire fight happen, while I kept targeting the Monocero. Even as it was done and were supposed to move back in V-formation, he was hesitant again.

“You hate following orders and working in a team.” I blurted.

Marlon coughed. “I don’t see the point of having a mind pilot when your tactician does everything for you.” Then he moved into formation.

“This is the only and best way to survive every attack. So far, we have barely lost units or pilots.”

“This is pointless. They will keep coming.”

“Do you suggest an offensive?”

“With a proper offensive we could find out where they come from.”

I hated to admit this. He wasn’t wrong. This part of information was never revealed over the past ten years. At that point, even I believed that our higher ups had no idea where they came from. One thing was sure, they came from orbit. Or at least, from space.

I leaned back in my seat, glancing down at Marlon. If only we had more pilots like him, who would at least obey orders, then David would’ve never ended up in coma. And if we had more time to properly train every pilot we had, then fighting back the invasion would be relatively easy.

Marlon landed the Terran and continued. “Do you only obey anyone who is above you?”

Then our displays turned black and our simulation ended. “I do.” I mumbled, then I shook my head. “Now, I do.”

Outside the cockpit, Marlon waited with arms crossed and frowned brows. I wondered where he'd get that energy from for being angry the entire time. He grabbed my arm once I tried to pass by him after nodding him off.

I turned to see his irritated expression, then I asked. “What do you want?”

His nostrils flared and jaw clenched. “Good job.” Then all his tension swept away along with the words. He let go of me and passed by in a defeated poise.

I didn’t understand him at all.