Megla and Soren slowly walk toward the holodeck while chattering to each other about the various happenings around the Bloodbearer. Their heavy, reptilian claws clang against the metallic deckplates with every step they take, announcing their presence wherever they go. Occasionally, one or two Kessu will run past them and either wave or retract their gaze. Those who wave usually end up being the Kessu who didn't suffer any attacks from the Kraktol invasion fleet, while the others are almost always the opposite.

"We should arrive at the Kessu homeworld in the next week or so," Megla says. "I'm looking forward to getting some sunlight. I'd kill for a good swim. I feel like my last saltwater soak was years ago."

Soren nods. "My scales do feel somewhat ashy. We should ask the Admiral if we can install a saltwater pool. It won't perfectly meet our needs, but it will help. Merely splashing water on myself isn't enough to keep me moisturized."

Megla lolls her head back. "Ugh. I haven't gone on a good hunt in ages, either. I feel like I'm going to go mad if I have to tear apart one more damned CPU matrix. Engineering is so BORING!"

"I like it..." Soren mutters, lowering her head bashfully. "Perhaps, once we get the ship fixed, you won't have to help with repairs anymore. I'm sure the Admiral will give you a job more befitting your abilities."

"Kyargh! Boy, I sure hope so!"

The two sisters chat some more as they walk down the hallway. Eventually, their destination comes into view, a giant double-door leading into one of the larger facilities aboard the Bloodbearer. Outside, the Terran Admiral leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. José mutters under his breath, clearly communicating with Umi, though what his words are, the Kraktol can't tell.

"Hello, Admiral," Soren says respectfully as she approaches. "We cleaned up, just like you asked."

"Hi," Megla says, her words noticeably less formal. "What's this all about?"

José notices the grumpiness in Megla's tone. "You two have probably been getting sick of standing around, fixing Umi's processors day in and day out. At this point, I think she can repair those systems herself with her holographic crew. Why don't we take a day off and engage in some light training?"

The moment José finishes speaking, a spark ignites in Megla's eyes. Her downcast and grumpy expression disappears as she darts toward the Admiral and grabs his shoulders. "Really?! Are you serious?! We don't have to clean out the rust from those stupid processor bits anymore?!"

"Well," José mutters, scratching his chin sheepishly, "it wouldn't hurt to help out a little longer. But for now, you can stop."

"Kyargh! That's great! I'm ready for anything you throw at me!" Megla exclaims. She retracts her claws and howls with delight, then beats her chest like a gorilla. José merely scrunches up his face in confusion and shakes his head.

It seems I underestimated Megla's hatred of repetitive work, the Admiral's expression seems to say.

For once, Soren chuckles quietly. Her monotone exterior cracks for a moment as she witnesses her sister howling for delight. "Hehe. You've had it rough, sister."

"Damn right, I have!" Megla says, nodding her head vigorously. "Alright, Admiral! What are we waiting for? Chop, chop!"

José steps in front of the holodeck doors and beckons inside. "After you."

A minute later, the three bipeds arrive inside the holodeck, and its doors shut behind them. Jose gestures at the large, empty room. "Are you two familiar with holodecks?"

"I've seen a few design schematics," Soren says. "I understand how they work, but I've never set foot in one."

"I haven't either," Megla admits, shrugging her shoulders, "but I'm guessing they project holograms."

"Haha. Something like that," José answers. "Holodecks can simulate cities, countries, and even worlds. They can create an almost limitless space around you by turning the real world into an illusory one. The first holodecks were created in the 7th era, but they were extremely primitive compared to modern desi- err, well, 50th Era designs. I suppose they're not that modern anymore."

The Admiral continues. "As you walk toward one of the far walls, the holodeck will shift the world around you imperceptibly, tricking your brain into turning slightly as you walk. Without meaning to, you'll end up walking in circles, giving the illusory space a sensation of endlessness. The main purpose of putting a holodeck aboard a warship like the Bloodbearer is to train troops, allowing them to reach new echelons of power they only previously thought possible."

"What sort of training do you have planned for us, Admiral?" Soren asks.

"I have several types in mind. I already had Umi create several potential simulations. I'll test both of your mental and physical capabilities. Unlike the medical text you received a couple of months ago, the point of training is to find out your real world experience. A soldier with a strength rating of 500 can theoretically tear steel apart with his bare hands, but such strength will be useless in the face of a cunning adversary who slips out of his grip and targets his vital areas."

"That makes sense," Soren says. "I'm very interested in the types of simulations the holodeck can create."

Nodding, José closes his eyes for a moment and transmits a complicated series of mental commands to Umi, rapid-fire. The holodeck transforms into a cityscape, with the human and his Kraktol companions standing atop the roof of a skyscraper. Ahead of them, thousands of structures line up into the horizon, ending at the edge of a vast ocean, its glittering waves reflecting the distant sunlight.

Seagulls caw as they fly overhead. Twenty stories below, on the asphalt-covered streets, hovering vehicles travel back and forth, their large frames looking like specks of dust from above. Fifteen massive aircraft hover in the skies above, acting as watchful protectors of whatever planet José happens to have summoned.

Immediately, Soren and Megla recoil from the building's edge, a look of alarm on their faces. Megla clutches her throat, trying not to vomit. "Gurk! A-Admiral! Don't... don't change the scenery so quickly! You'll make us n-nauseous..."

Soren swallows her lunch, a sickly expression on her face. "Yes, Admiral. Th-that took me by surprise..."

"Sorry," José says, a look of honest reproach on his face. "I didn't realize you were afraid of heights."

"I'm not," Megla retorts, "but to have the scenery shift around me like that was sickening."

The Admiral nods. "I'll keep that in mind next time and give you both a warning."

Soren overcomes her nausea after a few moments. She wanders back to the roof's edge, while Megla joins her shortly afterward. "Where is this place, Admiral? I've never seen so many advanced-looking structures! They look like they're made out of diamonds!"

"This is my homeworld, Alaria," José says, a sad smile on his face. "It's where I was born. I used to visit my family here all the time. Can't do that anymore, sadly."

The Kraktol both nod sympathetically. They remain silent and wait for the Admiral to recover. After a moment of gazing into the distance, José continues speaking.

"Alaria was a world of innovation and prosperity. I wasn't fortunate enough to grow up in a wealthy household, though. Quite the opposite. My father was a mid-level bio-engineer, while my mother freelanced for Orion Corp and other such corporations, so long as it meant they could pay the bills. The cost of living on Alaria was extreme enough that moving offworld was impossible for people trapped in the lower-rungs, but low enough that they could hold out hope they might someday break free of their financial shackles."

"I eventually joined a military enclave at age 16," José adds, "and later became one of Ramma's Chosen through a fortuitous encounter. My older brother and younger sister weren't so lucky. They ended up as grunts on the frontline in the war against a vicious slaver king who wished to turn the galaxy into his personal playground. I attended their funerals before reaching my hundredth year of age."

"That's unfortunate," Soren says, her tone sympathetic.

"Such is life. In any case, I didn't bring you here to reminisce on my life's story. I just wanted to show you the capabilities of the Holodeck. As you can see, it can simulate distance perfectly, tricking your mind into forgetting there is a wall less than thirty meters ahead of us."

"I'm awed by the sight of a genuine Precursor civilization," Soren murmurs. "It's so... clean. So majestic."

"I've visited the Core worlds several times," Megla adds. "I always thought they were unbelievably advanced, but now they seem more like slums. Dirty, dingy, and ugly."

José waves his hand. "Alright, close your eyes for a moment, and I'll switch the scene. We'll go into basic training, now."

The Kraktol follow his instructions. Moments later, a massive battle arena appears, shaped like a Roman Colosseum, with sand spread across the ground and heat rippling through the air. Immediately, both women begin to grumble as the scorching desert sun beats upon their bodies.

"Ugh... not to complain, but can't we go somewhere less... arid?" Megla asks. "I can't take the heat. It's awful."

Soren nods. "We Kraktol hate excessive heat, Admiral."

"Aren't you cold-blooded?" José asks. "I thought Repti- err, I thought Rodaks preferred heat to cold."

"We do," Megla says, nodding. "But it's more about the general dryness in the air. I'm going to start molting soon if I don't get into some saltwater. My scales will lose their beautiful yellow color!"

"Ah, then in that case, you don't need to worry," the Admiral replies. "What separates a 50th Era holodeck from the earlier eras is that this one can trick the neuroreceptors in your brain. The temperature in here hasn't changed; you just think it has. 50th Era holodecks can adjust your brain signals to make every sensation feel realistic, even with the safety systems enabled."

"Safety systems?" Megla echoes. "How do those work?"

"They prevent you from suffering any serious injuries," The Admiral answers. "However, simulated pain will still exist... and it will feel excruciating. Try not to get hurt during the training, for your sanity's sake."

"That's quite impressive," Soren says, a look of admiration in her eyes. "The more you talk, the more interested I grow in how these holodecks function."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"You can learn on the fly. Alright, I'll start you two off with some light training. Umi, initiate a Class C training regimen. One opponent. Start with a team battle."

The synthmind, Umi, responds promptly. "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. Summoning one Gamma-Level Gate Troll in standard attack mode."

"Gate Troll? Class C? What does all of that mean?" Megla asks, as a pillar of light forms in the center of the arena. "I've never heard of- HOLY! What is THAT?! It's huge!!"

A gigantic, bipedal creature, eight meters tall, with a half-ton wooden club clutched between its fingers, stands idly in the center of the sandy arena. It dwarfs both Kraktol, making them feel like ants.

"That's a Gate Troll," José explains. "It's a creature humanity hunted to extinction well before the 1st Era began. Back when we still fought the demons and Volgrim, we also had to face monsters from Hell. Gate Trolls were just one of many different types of huge, powerful monsters roaming Hell's halls. As for the 'Class C' designator, that merely denotes the difficulty of this training. Class C was considered average difficulty for Terran marines in my era, while Class A and S were extremely difficult. If you can't beat a single Class C monster by working together, I'm going to be very disappointed. Marines in my era were supposed to pass this type of test alone just to register as ensigns."

While the Admiral talks, the holographic Troll stands idly, its chest lightly moving as it takes shallow, nonchalant breaths. It doesn't move to attack, apparently waiting for the Kraktol to begin.

"We're supposed to fight that?!" Megla asks, dumbfounded. "It's so huge! I've never seen a bipedal creature of that size!"

"Don't act so surprised," José says, snickering to himself. "Terrans used to fight similar monsters without batting an eye, and that was well before our advancements in military weaponry. Speaking of which, equip yourselves as you see fit."

The Admiral transmits another mental command to Umi, causing a weapons locker to pop into existence beside the women. A locker filled with various armor types appears as well, with both cabinets displaying holographic text above to denote their contents.

Soren's eyes flick across the various words. "Mark-1 Power Armor, Light Assault Jetsuit, Heavy Ordinance Package... goodness, this technology is... it's unbelievable."

Megla immediately darts forward and reaches for a gigantic gun, one that looks capable of blowing a hole in an Empire-Class Battleship. "Mine! I call dibs! ...Wait, what?"

She grabs onto the gigantic cannon-looking weapon, only to find it stuck inside of the locker. "What the heck? Admiral! This thing won't budge! How do I use it?"

A truly evil smile crosses José's face. "Hehehe... did I forget to mention? Your equipment in combat training cannot exceed the training's danger level. That particular gun, the 'Kenzon Antimaterial Rifle,' is only suitable for S-class difficulty and above. You two will have to pick from Class C equipment and below."

Slowly, casually, José gestures toward a far less impressive looking series of equipment on each locker's left, mostly comprised of melee weaponry, light leather armor, and platemail.

Megla's expression crumples. "You... you jerk! Why would you dangle all this good stuff in front of me if we're not even allowed to use it?!"

"Because it's funny," José says, his smirk deepening. "Now I know how Admiral Baruchen felt when he did the same thing to me. This is more fun than I expected."

"You're such an ass!" Megla says, but she smiles afterward, realizing the humor in his words. "Fine! I don't need all that crap anyway! I'll beat this Gate Troll without any of your fancy weapons."

A minute later, Soren outfits herself with a crossbow and some simple leather protective clothing, while Megla dons a heavier metal-alloy armor, one much more technologically advanced than Soren's. Megla wields a 1-meter long, titanium Halberd, useful for stabbing and slashing.

"I'll attack the monster and draw its attention!" Megla shouts. "You just try to hit as many of the bastard's vitals as possible! Aim for its eyes!"

Soren nods, her expression uncertain. "I'll try!"

Both women launch into a frenzied attack, with Megla darting around the Troll's legs, stabbing and slashing at its skin to try and bring it to its knees, while Soren slowly fires arrows from a distance. However, her clawed hands have difficulty picking up and loading the slender projectiles, so her reloading speed proves to be below sub-par.

Meanwhile, José doesn't participate in the fight. He watches from a distance and casually munches on some potato chips. "You're doing great! Keep up the good work!"

"You fatty!" Megla shouts, after noticing José's snack. "I'll get you for this!"

The Admiral smiles, laughing internally as he watches both women struggle against the huge monster. The Troll swings its club around and tries to crush Megla into meat paste, but she dodges all of its attacks at the last second, using her well-tuned combat sense to evade its slow, clumsy movements.

José chuckles. Heh. Megla has some skill. She can't pierce the troll's thick skin, nor can she outpace its exceptional regeneration with her meager offensive power, but I have to give her high marks for her combat sense. She's a born warrior.

The Admiral's gaze travels to the other Kraktol. Soren's combat capabilities are surprisingly poor. I thought she'd put her brainpower to better use, but she keeps getting flustered and dropping her bolts. Her aim is shoddy, too. Between these sisters, it's clear who wins out on the battlefield.

Several minutes pass.

Soren unloads another five or so bolts into the Troll, but her nerves get the better of her and she accidentally squeezes the crossbow's grip too hard, mangling it in her grasp. The weapon misfires and shoots a bolt angled at the ground, where it embeds uselessly in the sand.

"Damn!" Soren curses. She tries to pull back the loading mechanism, only for one of the springs to break. The weapon becomes totally useless, making Soren have to resort to a backup plan. "I'm... I'm going to fight it at melee range too!"

Soren runs forward, fear on her face. The giant monster looms over her like a blue whale next to a crab. She pounces at the Troll's leg and digs her claws into its flesh, making the Troll finally notice her appearance.

"Soren! You idiot!" Megla yells. "Get away! Stay back!"

Too late, Megla tries to run over to save her sister, but she can't close the distance in time. The Troll grabs Soren with its huge, free hand, and laughs gutturally. "Ug-thuul lanak!"

It raises Soren over its head. She screams in fright, but can't do anything to save herself. A moment later, the Troll flings Soren with all its strength against the floor.

Boom!

Soren bounces off the sand like a pinball and goes flying through the air, her body limp and lifeless. She comes to a stop a moment later after landing with her limbs bent into mangled positions.

"Noooo!!"

Megla loses her mind. She tries to run over to save her sister, but as Megla moves past the Troll, she fails to notice its massive club falling toward her from the sky.

Crash!

Megla gets flattened like a pancake. Both Kraktol end up 'dead' under the monster's ferocious attacks.

Overhead, Umi speaks. "Class C Combat Simulation complete. Combat grade: D-. Both combatants have been disqualified. Ending simulation now."

The desert arena disappears, along with the Troll, reverting the holodeck to its original steel-paneled appearance. José slowly walks over and smacks Soren's face.

"Hey. Wake up. Come on, you're fine."

"Nnngh..."

Soren moans pitifully, acting as if every bone in her body has shattered from her meteoric impact. After a moment, she blinks her eyes in confusion.

"...Huh? I'm alive?"

"Of course," José scoffs. "I told you any pain you felt would only be simulated."

He walks over and nudges Megla's face with his foot. "You too. Stop moping around."

Both Kraktol women shakily climb to their feet. Soren quickly understands what's happened, but Megla is slower on the uptake.

"Sister? You're alive?! I... I saw you hit the ground! You must have broken every bone in your body!"

"As I told you both before," José explains, "The Holodeck is more than capable of confusing your senses. This is essential for giving out the most accurate possible feelings of life-and-death situations. It also allows me to see your strengths and weaknesses."

The Admiral turns to Soren. "Your performance was awful; much worse than I expected. I thought you'd use your superior intellect to outwit the Troll, but instead, you stood back and shot useless crossbow bolts at the beast while Megla did all the work. Considering Trolls are among the dumbest of all monsters, I would have expected you to perform far better than Megla in this specific simulation. You get a failing grade."

Soren hangs her head in shame. "...I'm sorry, Admiral. I underestimated my opponent."

"No, that wasn't the problem," José replies. "Your biggest issue came from a complete lack of combat instinct. The moment you saw such a huge monster, you should have thought of possible methods for restraining it and bringing it down to your level. Why didn't you bring any additional items into the simulation? What good was a flimsy little crossbow supposed to do, even if you hit both of its eyes?"

The red-scaled Kraktol's head sinks even lower. "I... I don't know. I've never really engaged in physical combat with anyone but Megla and other Kraktol. I'm not especially good at confrontation, either. I just thought if I hit it from a distance I could injure it enough for Megla to get the killing blow."

"Ah," José says, nodding sagely. "And there it is. You relied too heavily on your sister. You expected her to pick up your slack. On the battlefield, the difference from life and death is always a matter of teamwork! Communication! Preparation! You should have scouted out your opponent, sized it up, and come up with several potential combat techniques capable of taking it down. By only bringing one weapon, you limited your options and ensured that if just one thing went wrong, you'd have no fallbacks. We'll work on this in future training sessions."

José turns to Megla, only for his expression to morph into a deep scowl as he spots her smirking at Soren.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Officer! You may have performed a little better than Soren, but in my book, you get a failing grade, too! You relied entirely on your instincts during that battle. Just like Soren, you brought only one weapon into the battle and nothing else! What's your excuse? Did you think the Troll would be an easy opponent because it looked slow and stupid? Did you think that if you hacked at its legs enough, you'd somehow get the killing blow? If this were a life and death mission, your laziness would have killed your sister!"

Megla's expression flattens. She, too, lowers her head under José's barrage of harsh words. "I... I didn't know it would have such a high health regeneration factor, Admiral. If it hadn't healed from all of my cuts, or if its skin hadn't been so thick-"

"Excuses!" José barks, cutting her off. "I don't want to hear them. Unlike Soren, it's clear to me you've fought in life and death situations several times, yet you're still a complete amateur! The freshest recruits from any Terran military force would beat you hand over foot ten out of ten times! What good is your strength and agility if you have marbles rolling around in that thick skull? Imbecile!"

He continues. "How could someone like you, someone who has battled countless foes, make such a vapid assumption about your opponent? How could you fail to come up with a Plan B and C? How could you not say anything when you saw your sister, clearly out of her element, bringing a piddly little crossbow to face off against such a large creature? Surely you should have realized something was wrong? What, did you think that if she stayed back, she wouldn't get hurt? You're selfish! You were only thinking she would get in your way! A Terran marine would have used Soren's capabilities to her fullest extent and used her superior brain to take that Troll down! What a shameful display!"

The Admiral berates Megla harshly, using countless decades of experience as a Drill Instructor to verbally destroy the confidence of both women. As he yells, Megla's expression becomes more and more twisted. Eventually, tears well up in her eyes.

"I'm... I'm sorry! I didn't know! Guk..."

Megla tries to stifle her emotions, but it only makes her look more miserable.

Eventually, José slows his harsh tongue.

"Hmph. It seems like you understand. Do you think I'm being mean? Cruel? I'll verbally lash you for ten years if that's what it takes. Better to knock that idiocy out of your head now if it means saving your life someday."

José continues to look at Megla, but his eyes lose focus.

"I've lost too many friends... too many comrades because they thought themselves invincible; because they cut corners and didn't follow protocol. It's all too easy to end up meat in the grinder when your arrogance blinds you to your flaws. Take a one hour break. We'll repeat the training... and this time, I want you to show me that you've listened and learned."

After glancing at Soren's stony face, José turns and walks away. He strides outside the holodeck with purpose, his expression not revealing even a hint of sympathy or emotion. As he leaves and the door closes behind him, his enhanced hearing picks up the anguished wails of Megla as she breaks down. She begs Soren for forgiveness, apologizes several times, and promises not to let her 'die' ever again.

The Terran stands at attention outside the Holodeck, his eyes staring vacantly at the wall ahead of him.

Despite the sobbing sounds coming from within the Holodeck, José's emotions don't waver even a micron. His thoughts spin backward to a time long-past, a different era, when he failed a comrade. Their death weighs heavily on his conscience, making him chuckle wryly.

"...It's better this way. They have to understand the gravity of combat. They have to understand just how poorly they fared. A few tears now will save them eternal heartache in the future."

Umi beeps from overhead. "Admiral?"

"It's nothing, Umi. An old memory. I can't turn back time... I can only remember all the moments I've failed and hope history never repeats itself."

"To err is human," Umi says, "and to forgive; divine. Some scholars have stated that the origin of this phrase denotes forgiveness of others. However, in an instance like this, I believe it can also mean to forgive yourself, Admiral."

"I never took you for a poet," José says, glancing at the ceiling with an odd look in his eyes.

"Admiral, I must remind you that you have successfully repaired 75% of my prior functionality. I have re-established my basic counseling subroutines."

"Oh. That's good to hear."

José shrugs and returns to his prior thoughts.

"Umi, let me know when the Kraktol have regained their emotional balance. I'm going to get more potato chips from the mess hall."

"Admiral. Are you certain there is nothing on your mind you wish to discuss? As an unbiased observer, I believe I may be capable of assisting you in sorting out your thoughts."

"No," José says, his tone firm.

"Nothing at all."

The Terran trudges toward the mess hall.

His expression darkens.