A SUV waited in front of my house. They usually didn’t make any special agreements to pick up just any pilot. My mother must have told them to be my chauffeur. As far as I know they used to send a shuttle bus. One that went through all towns in Sardinia, or what was left off this island. Less than one fourth remained after the attacks of the Monocero, even pushing half of the island underwater. I remembered faintly hearing about it, in the news when the attacks started.
I finished packing and threw my bag over my shoulder. I assumed once I was at base they wouldn’t bother sending me back to school to get my graduation. My dad had said I was ensured to work in the base in one way or the other. And once I went downstairs, and then through the entrance door, a soldier with a stern expression opened the door for me. I saluted him and he scoffed at me. A justified reaction, considering he knew who I was or what I’ve done.
My dad hugged me before I entered the vehicle.
Inside the SUV I saw a tablet on my seat.
“Ms De Sanchez, the tablet next to you has the reports of the recent battles.” The driver said in an upbeat voice. “Your mother requested it. In case you don’t want to read battle reports, they also house any changes of the V1 and V2 within the last weeks.”
Great. I had time to read either of them. Not both. To read the reports was tempting, it was after all what I worked up to. To be a tactician and not a pilot. I opened the files of V1 and V2 changes. If I chose to read the recent battles I would get scolded by my mother. She’d rather want me to make up my mind to piloting. It felt almost like I had to redeem myself for the damage I caused.
The sour feel of that thought drained me of any reading motivation. I leaned my head back and watched us pass by the forest and fields. I probably would not be able to visit it anytime soon. And if I went there, I’d be disappointed anyway.
We drove thirty minutes to reach the first checkpoint. The entire area was off limits for civilians, but the island barely had less than a hundred of them. They all used to serve somehow. As a soldier, engineer, doctor or nurse or as a guard. They probably had more jobs to offer to serve for the military.
After another kilometer or so, we reached the entrance to the base. Tall walls equipped with cannons on top, missiles inside the wall and machine guns mounted on the side of the wall where we came from. Back when I was younger I used to get very excited to watch them operate it. I should still feel a bit of excitement. But I feel drained instead.
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The inside of the base had several hangars to the right, with a lot of engineers who maintained them. Their pilots had houses not too far from their Terrans, right behind the weaponry section. The left side from the entrance stretched into the command center, research, which never expanded and stayed smaller than it should, and infirmary. A cantina was there as well and apartments for the other staff. The harbor had ships docked for the mainland, and rarely from an allied base from another continent. Sending supplies by air was impossible and the success rate on water was slim too. They always had to send a pilot for safety or two. But even then, the Monoceros knew when to attack and where, and what to destroy.
The driver brought me to the Terran hangars at which my mother had already waited at the entrance. The gates were open to a V1. Heavily armored, a shield as tall as the machine itself attached to the shoulder and a rifle with several different kinds of bullets.
I left the SUV to approach my mother in uniform. There were two more people besides her. One who had a lot of badges, I’d guess it’d be the commander and someone with the same uniform as my mother, another instructor. But for what reason would they need two instructors to oversee my test?
I saluted once I faced them, then my gaze turned towards the fifty meters tall machine in gray.
The commander cleared his throat, then his mustache twitched up before he said. “Welcome back cadet De Sanchez. You must be aware that you are here as a pilot and not a tactician.”
I nodded and added, “Yes, sir.” as I saw my mother’s strict eyes.
“Follow me.” He instructed and I obeyed. “You will pilot as the mind. Your partner will be –” And as we approached the stairs which led to the cockpit I saw a tall man. Dark skinned, angular jaw and shaven head. “ – Marlon Schmidt will be your heart pilot.”
He saluted at once and I reciprocated it. But as I looked up at his face, I stared at his dark eyes that had more of an attitude than my mother. And that person was someone Mariam was so interested in, as well as he protected the shipment from the US Atlantic.
The commander handed me the key bracelet. The only item that allowed pilots to pilot their Terrans. From their creation history, the bracelet had to be created from the same crystal deposit as the power source. But instead of simply integrating it to the machine, the bracelet had to be burned at one thousand degrees. Why? I wish I knew. Information regarding how exactly and why exactly they had to be created that particular way was never explained in class. I doubted my mother even knew as she never was part of engineering or research.
The commander placed his hand on my shoulder. “Good luck, cadet.” He faced Marlon. “Good luck to you as well.” And he walked down the stairs.
Marlon relaxed once the commander was out of sight and said. “You better don’t hold me back, Sanchez.” And he opened the hatch to the cockpit and went inside.