José Rodriguez stands inside a holographic observation booth, keeping himself hidden from Megla and Soren. The Holodeck envelops him with presence-shielding illusions, making him disappear from both women's line of sight. Not that it matters. The two Kraktol keep their focus on battling the Gate Troll for the sixth time in a row. With their attention firmly locked onto the massive creature, they wouldn't have time to glance at the Admiral even if they could see him.

Hm, between the two sisters, Soren has seen the largest improvement in overall combat effectiveness, José thinks, while jotting down some notes on a datapad clutched in his hand. However, neither of their performances are yet up to basic Terran standards.

Unlike the first time they fought, the sisters work more closely in tandem with one another. Megla wields a halberd like before, but also a wide array of throwing knives, which sit strapped to her hip. In between slashing at the Gate Troll's legs and stabbing at its groin, Megla waits for openings between its attacks to throw the kunai at its head, hoping to score a critical hit.

Meanwhile, Soren plays the role of distraction. During her first battle, she left the damage dealing and aggro to her sister, but now, she does everything she can to draw the Gate Troll's attention so Megla can attack freely. Soren throws small, exploding poison-pellets at the monster's face, shouts obscenities to piss it off, and holds a javelin with a net attached below its tip to poke at the monster when it stops treating her like a threat.

After more than ten minutes of continually harassing the Gate Troll, the monster becomes angrier than ever. It roars at Megla and decides to deal with her for good, ignoring Soren's taunts.

Megla jumps back and smiles. "Now, Soren!"

Soren lifts her javelin with one hand, pulls out a small, primitive-looking lighter, and holds it up to the net attached to the javelin's end. She ignites the oil-soaked net with a quick movement and turns the whole thing into a several-hundred-degree inferno held at arm's length. While the Troll continues trying to swat Megla with its giant wooden club, Soren rears her arm back and hurls the javelin at the back of the monster's neck.

Skrik!

Soren's attack hits its intended target and embeds itself just below the Troll's skull. Immediately, the monster howls in agony as the melting net begins to stick to its back and burn it with a fiery embrace. The lumbering giant drops its club and grabs at its burning skin, but it can't seem to figure out what's causing the net to stick its body.

With the monster in a state of panic, Soren grabs a halberd of her own and joins her sister. Both of them begin brutally stabbing and slashing the Troll's legs. They target the back of its knees, and eventually succeed in making the Troll collapse forward onto its arms.

"Aaargh!" The monster shrieks.

"Don't worry!" Megla yells. "I'll end your pain right here and now!"

Soren rushes forward. With the Troll leaning on its knees, she swings her halberd down like a woodcutter's axe, aiming for the back of the Troll's neck.

Slice!

The red-scaled Kraktol only manages to embed her weapon a few inches into her opponent's skin, but that proves to be all she needs. She yanks her halberd out just in time for Megla to attack from the Troll's other side, targeting the same spot.

Slash!

Megla's superior strength and excellent accuracy allows her to slice neatly into the exposed groove, severing the Troll's spinal cord from its brain. The monster's howling stops abruptly as it loses control of its body. It slumps forward, unable to lift itself up.

A minute later, both women stab its head a hundred times, turning the monster into a shish-kebab. It falls into an eternal sleep, and Umi's voice speaks from above.

"Training simulation complete. Officers Soren and Megla have succeeded in completing the Class C combat drill. Their overall combat grade stands at Rank C."

The holographic arena disappears, and both Kraktol shakily drop to their legs. The sisters embrace one another and cheer excitedly.

"We did it!" Megla laughs. "Kyargh! Finally! We got a clean kill on that Troll, and without suffering any injuries!"

Even Soren appears to be in high spirits. "It was all thanks to you, sister! Your aim was perfect!"

"No, no," Megla laughs. "The burning net was brilliant! I didn't realize the Troll was weak to fire. That was a great way to take the bastard down!"

Both girls congratulate each other and eventually raise their eyes to see José walking over. The Admiral slowly claps, as a faint smile plays upon his face.

"Well done, you two. It took you three days, but you finally completed the Class C combat training. You even got a C-Grade from Umi. Not bad at all."

Megla nods her eyes eagerly. "Did we pass, then? Are we ready for the next round of training?"

The Admiral smiles coquettishly. His expression turns to one of pity as he shakes his head. "Haha. No, Megla. I'm afraid not."

The yellow-scaled Kraktol's smile slowly evaporates, while her expression morphs into one of disbelief. "W-what? But... but we killed the Gate Troll! We didn't get hurt once, and Umi even gave us a passing grade!"

José looks at Soren. "Officer Mudrose. What reason would I have to deny your advancement?"

"Well, Admiral," Soren says, lowering her head with a sigh, "we killed the Gate Troll... but we did it in team combat. You said before this was traditionally a solo training regimen. Therefore... it seems that in order to pass, we'll have to kill the Troll by ourselves without any help."

At hearing her sister's words, Megla's face contorts into a hilarious mixture of shock and begging-for-mercy. "No! That's not possible! If I didn't have Soren there, I'd never have been able to kill such a gigantic monster! How in the heck is a tiny little Futh like me supposed to take on a monster five times my size alone?! This is too cruel, Admiral!"

"Whining and excuses are unbecoming of an officer aboard my ship," José says, his expression stern. "Like I said before, countless fresh recruits from any Terran academy would have to pass this training alone. None of them were as strong or fast as either of you. After all, Terran soldiers weren't allowed to use any combat augmentations until they exited basic training."

Megla jumps to her feet. She holds her trembling fists at her side, a look of anger in her eyes. "Kyargh! That's ridiculous! How am I supposed to believe that?! Soren and I fought that monster with everything we had, and we only barely managed to eke out a win! What kind of monsters were Terrans to pull off a solo kill unaided?"

José doesn't take any offense to Megla's harsh, shrill tone. Instead, he gently pats her shoulder. "Both of you, come with me. I have something to show you."

Confused, the Kraktol women follow their Admiral, confused by his mysterious words. They arrive at the weapon and armor lockers from before, each one filled to the brim with countless useful gadgets and items.

"Take a look," José says, as he stands to the side of the lockers and gestures toward them with a broad sweep of his hand. "Tell me about the different items inside these cabinets. What are their functions? What are their strengths? Their weaknesses? How do they work? How effective are they in different combat situations?"

Megla blinks. "I... I'm not sure what you mean, Admiral. Um. To be honest, I don't recognize half of these objects."

Soren nods, a serious expression on her face. "Neither do I, Admiral. Many of them are foreign to me. I can guess at a few of their functions thanks to their names, but at least half of these weapons are a total mystery."

"I knew you would say that," José replies. "And to be honest, your ignorance is fine, perhaps even expected. Most Terran marines spent years, sometimes multiple decades, learning countless combat techniques, informing ourselves on how our different weapons worked, prepping ourselves for guerrilla and conventional warfare, and otherwise learning as much as we could about the art of war. By the time I was forty years of age, I was a hundred times more effective than both of you in practical combat. Most surprisingly, I was not even a remarkable soldier. I was only a little above average."

"By age forty...?" Megla asks, astonished. "But... but I'm four hundred years old. Did Terrans measure their years differently from the Kraktol?"

"I doubt we did," José says, shrugging. "Your planet likely has an orbital cycle between 200 and 500 days. Assuming you don't use some standard galactic measurement for years, you're still probably anywhere from three to five times the age I was when I graduated as a cadet."

Soren appears dumbfounded. "How could you be so incredible at combat while still so young?"

"Warfare was in our blood," José says, his expression solemn. "From the moment our species came into existence, enemies beset upon us from every direction. The angels manipulated us to their own ends. The demons feasted upon our flesh. The Titans treated us as pawns in their many wars. Even the creatures of Earth, our home planet, wished to do nothing more than to consume our flesh and drink our blood. With the odds stacked against us, we had no choice but to rise to the occasion, or perish."

The Admiral begins to slowly pace back and forth between the lockers. "The Kraktol have lived similarly. You too were slaves once, treated as cattle by your superiors. As such, you learned to improvise, to adapt, and to overcome your weaknesses. Now, you are among the most powerful of the sentients in the galaxy."

With a pause, José glances at Megla. "But only physically speaking."

He continues pacing. "You don't have countless numbers of enemies at your doorstep like my people, the Terrans, did. You don't have the same need to evolve and overcome your biological limitations. At most, you have a faint, formless mental pressure resting upon your heads as a result of the Mallali's distant threat. Your Thülvik is, no doubt, a mighty Kraktol warrior, but the mere fact she has placed so much focus on eliminating the Kessu, her now harmless former enemies, means she is still not comparable to a Terran. It's not your fault. It's no-one's fault."

The Terran gestures toward the lockers, intending to finish his speech. "If you wish to conquer these combat simulations that even the most ordinary Terrans would routinely overcome without complaint, you must set aside any notion of Kraktol superiority. Megla, your body may be twenty times stronger than an unenhanced Terran's, but your wisdom and your strategic thinking ability are leagues lower. And Soren, you may be a highly intelligent Kraktol, perhaps even a natural genius, but your knowledge base is too shallow to ever compete with my former peers. Both of you will only be able to defeat the Gate Troll in solo combat by familiarizing yourselves with every item inside these lockers, and by learning advanced military tactics."

With his speech concluded, José reaches toward the weapon locker and pulls out a blackened metal gun.

"What's that?" Megla asks.

"This is a conventional weapon made before the First Era, one known as a 'Carbine,'" José explains. "By packing explosive energy within small, metal shells, the weapon is able to propel projectiles forward at extreme speeds, allowing it to inflict heavy ranged damage on its user's enemies. Observe."

José summons the Gate Troll again, and has it stand idly. Using his simulated semi-automatic rifle, he repeatedly pulls the trigger, causing one bullet at a time to strike the monster. Bloody holes appear on the monster's skin, but after a few seconds, they seal up.

Megla frowns. "That weapon appears somewhat more capable than a crossbow... certainly, the rate of fire is superior, and the damage is higher, but it still doesn't deal much damage to the Troll."

"That's because I'm using standard ammunition," José says with a smile. He reaches into the weapon locker and pulls out a red-colored ammunition magazine, then slides it into the weapon's chamber.

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A few moments later, José pulls the trigger again. This time, when the bullets impact, they explode and spray white phosphorous everywhere, scorching the monster's skin and causing it to scream in agony.

Even when nearly a minute passes, the Troll's wounds don't close.

Megla's jaw drops. "Good god! Is that weapon usable inside the Class C training?!"

"It's rated at C+," José says, "but that's still technically within acceptable mission parameters. By now, you should have a slight understanding of what you've overlooked. Teamwork is essential, as is preparedness. However, preparing for a mission amounts to more than merely sizing up your opponent's strengths and weaknesses. You have to also know what your arsenal consists of. As a famous Terran once said, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

Soren rubs the underside of her jaw. "I feel as if my horizons have expanded infinitely, Admiral. It's... it's no wonder the Precursors were capable of creating such powerful weapons of war. Your viewpoints on combat were comprehensive, to say the least."

"Not just war," José replies, "but technology in general. However, that's a whole different can of worms."

The Admiral turns to look at the lockers again. "Why don't we try examining all of this equipment, one by one, to learn how they function? I think such an exercise will broaden your horizons and make you far more capable than before."

Megla frowns. "Admiral. Before that, I have a request."

The Terran stands up a little straighter. "Oh? Go ahead."

"I know this is a bit presumptuous of me, but... would you be willing to battle the Troll yourself? Just... just to show us how it's done?"

Soren's eyes light up at her sister's request. "Yes, Admiral. I would love to see how a Terran handles this sort of simulation. However, I know it's only been a month since your surgery, so if you're not feeling up to it..."

"You two..." José mumbles. "...are you challenging me? Do you think that, with my weakened body, I'll have a hard time tackling the same simulation?"

Megla shakes her head. "No, not at all. I'm just curious to see what methods you'll employ."

"Ah," José smiles. "So you want to copy my tactics?"

"No," Comes the reply. "I'm only curious, Admiral."

After a few seconds, the Admiral shrugs. "Well, alright then. If you want to see, I'll show you. But, I must warn you... once I take on this training, I'll have to increase the difficulty of your future simulations to C+. Are you sure you want me to continue?"

Both Kraktol look at each other uneasily for a moment, then back to José. They nod. "Yes."

The Admiral heaves a long, hesitant sigh. "Alright. You asked for it."

...

Five minutes later, after drinking half a gallon of water to hydrate himself, José casually starts rifling through the weapon locker. He reaches for one of the many level C+ guns inside, making Megla's face scrunch up with concentration. "Admiral. Are you going to use that weapon against the Troll?"

"Hah! Not a chance," José snorts, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "It would be my instructor's greatest humiliation if I, a veteran of countless wars, used Rank C+ weaponry for a Rank C simulation. I'm just trying to figure out what I can use that will give myself the biggest challenge while also still allowing me to kill the Troll quickly."

Megla falls silent, allowing Soren to fill in the gap. "Does that mean that even you will need special preparations to defeat such a large monster?"

"Sort of," The Admiral admits. "Trolls aren't like other Giant-Type creatures. It's really their regeneration that I have to worry about. By limiting myself to lower grade weapons, my weakened body won't be able to deal a lot of damage- ah! Here we go. This will do just fine."

The Admiral interrupts himself mid-sentence to reach for a 15-meter-long iron chain. He wraps the spool of metal links around his body a few times, then holds out the end and mutters under his breath, "Hrm, this solves the reach issue, but what about the... mumble mumble..."

Soren and Megla look at each other in confusion, but they can't make out his words.

A minute later, José picks up a knife with a blade curved in a 90-degree angle. The weapon resembles a small, hooked scythe, with serrated 'teeth' on its inner blade and a sturdy connecting piece at the bottom of its handle. José clamps the knife's bottom to one end of the chain and holds it up proudly. "A good compromise. An E-ranked chain connected to an E+ ranked combat knife. This will be my primary weapon."

Both Kraktol look at the Admiral with twisted expressions of disbelief.

"That's your weapon?" Megla asks, unable to process José's logic. "That won't be able to hurt the Troll at all! I mean, you could probably gouge out its eyes, but... beyond that..."

José chuckles. "Haha, you're right, this isn't so much a weapon as a... well, you'll see. I need one more thing to actually inflict some damage."

It takes another five minutes for José to trace his fingers along the other contents of the weapon cabinet. He frowns deeply.

"...gotta be something with explosive properties. Biochemical warfare will work the best in a situation like this. Perhaps an HE Grenade? No, that's D+. Too easy. Only rookies would be shameful enough to use something like that. Ah, here, these should work."

This time, the objects José grabs are so seemingly random that not even Soren can understand his basic logic. The Admiral snatches up a half-dozen chemical bottles and containers, all of them with extremely confusing names that give no hint as to their combat properties, and all of which the simulator rates as somewhere between E and D rank. Then, José chooses an odd-looking B-ranked metallic cylinder and glances at the girls.

"...Don't look at me like that. I'm not cheating. I only need this to mix the ingredients. Anything less durable than a Nanosteel Compound will break apart during the mixing process. I'll use an E-ranked deployment package for the final product."

Soren and Megla shake their heads, completely unable to understand what the heck the Admiral is saying. They don't even bother asking him to explain, and instead plop down on their butts to watch as he begins throwing a whole bunch of volatile chemicals inside the sturdy metal canister.

A horrible, ear-piercing hissing noise erupts from inside the container. Both women shrink back and cover their ears as the sounds of a thousand dying banshees screech from the canister's lip for several seconds, growing louder and louder as the chemicals rapidly bond together.

José frowns. "Damn, I forgot the stabilizing agent. Ah, this should do."

He grabs some common household salt from behind himself, dumps it into the container, and a moment later, the screeching banshee noises fade away. José sloshes around some sort of liquid inside the canister and nods. "Perfect."

A pungent, foul odor erupts from the newly created chemical compound, making both women's faces shrivel up in disgust. Megla gags. "Augh, that's awful! Smells like a five-week-old rotting corpse! What is that?"

"This is a highly potent bio-dissolving agent," José explains. "It's called Hydroglutaminsilicateoxy..."

The Admiral continues with an extremely long word for several seconds, making Megla's eyes blank out.

"...ferroglycerite acid," José finishes. "It's a bit complicated, but I'm trying to handicap myself. Creating a more advanced weapon from basic materials was always the most interesting way to pass these virtual simulations. Plus, even if you wanted to, it's unlikely either of you could duplicate my method. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He turns to the weapon's locker and pulls out an empty, metallic, bullet-shaped canister, one ranked at E+, and unscrews the bottom. After pouring the awful-smelling acid inside, he reseals the 1-liter canister and sticks it inside his jacket pocket.

"There. That should be a big enough challenge. I'll only have one shot, so if I miss, it'll be my loss."

Clearly satisfied with whatever he's done, the Admiral begins walking toward the Troll. "Umi, respawn the Troll and increase its physical parameters by 50%. Also, disable all of my combat augments so I don't activate them by accident. I wouldn't want to make this too easy. After that, begin the simulation at your leisure."

"Orders received, Admiral. Restarting combat simulation in five seconds. Four... three..."

With a flash of light, a Gate Troll even bigger, meaner, and far more vicious than the previous one appears inside the simulator. The monster's skin appears as a dark gray, almost black color, giving it the appearance of wearing obsidian armor. Instead of a half-ton wooden club, it wields a two-ton steel mace capable of pulverizing concrete into powder.

"Huruk!! Ghül-thon delkraak!" The Troll howls, its language incomprehensible to the Kraktol.

"Yeah, yeah," José mutters, unimpressed. "I'm giving myself three minutes to kill you. Let's make this quick."

The Admiral runs toward the Gate Troll. He uncoils a few meters of the chain wrapping around his body and begins spinning the end with the knife around in his hand. The Troll tries repeatedly to smash him into blood-pulp, but even with its speed artificially enhanced, José easily evades the giant monster's attacks. His boots clomp against the sand, leaving imprints wherever he runs.

Half a minute passes. Admiral Rodriguez stays in front of the Troll, bobbing and weaving to avoid its slow, predictable attacks. Suddenly, when the monster once again rears back to attack, José darts forward and runs between its legs. The Troll hits the spot where José was just standing, but it moves far too slowly to harm a hair on the Admiral's body. José throws out his chain knife with deadly precision and wraps it around the Troll's neck, causing the serrated blade to bite into the Troll's skin and hold firm. Much like riding a bucking bronco, the Admiral leaps onto the monster's back and plants his feet against the Troll's spine, holding onto the chain for dear life.

What follows are several seconds of tense, nail-biting action as the monster drops its club and awkwardly tries to reach behind itself to grab the pest riding it like a stallion. Megla and Soren's hearts pound frantically as they wonder how in the hell the Admiral will survive the Troll's rampage.

At one point, the Troll's right arm comes closer than ever to the Admiral. José narrowly dodges the creature's blind grab, throws out the chain, and wraps it around the monster's wrist. Without waiting a second longer, he drops to the ground and wraps the chain around the Troll's left ankle as well.

Suddenly, the Troll loses its balance. With its right arm snagged in a chain attached to its neck and left foot, it trips awkwardly and falls forward, landing flat on its face. At that moment, Soren gets a flash of inspiration.

"Ah! The Admiral, he's going to force the Troll to swallow that acid container! Then it will dissolve inside the Troll's mouth!"

"Oh, that's brilliant!" Megla replies, her eyes as wide as saucers. "I'd never have thought of- wait, what is he doing?"

In shock, the women wait for the Admiral to climb on the Troll and run toward its head, but he doesn't. Instead, José pulls out the bullet shaped container from his jacket's pocket. The Troll continues to thrash around as it tries to free its arm, making the chain's links weaken. With only seconds remaining before it breaks free, the Admiral runs between the Troll's legs, rears his arm back, and takes aim with the container.

"Oh, ancient Rodaks, NOOO!" Megla shrieks.

Too late, she can't stop what comes next. José plunges the container arm-deep inside the monster's anus, making the Troll howl in pain. José releases his grip and yanks his arm out, then retreats more than a hundred feet away, a look of glee on his face. "Hahaha! I haven't lost my touch!"

Both Kraktol women lose some coloration in their scales as they witness the disgusting act performed by the man they admire most. They stifle their gag reflexes and look at each other in horror. "D-did he just...?!"

Not long after, the Troll begins to shriek with the most bloodcurling roar of all time. Its volume increases by an order of magnitude as it breaks free of the chain binding it, but it doesn't pursue the Admiral. The Troll rolls on the ground and clutches its stomach while shrieking and howling incomprehensibly. All at once, a sizzling sound erupts in the air as the acid-filled container explodes inside the creature and begins melting it from the inside out. The Troll loses its voice. It opens its mouth to cry in pain, but only blood and vomit erupt from its throat.

A minute later, the Troll stops moving. Its body rapidly melts into a pile of horrific, gooey mush, spreading an ungodly stench in every direction.

Umi beeps overhead. "Training simulation complete. Admiral Rodriguez has succeeded in completing the Class C combat drill. His overall combat grade stands at Rank S+."

With the monster's horrific smell spreading across the holographic arena, both Kraktol begin retching from the unbelievable stench of death and decay.

"Hurk!! Oh god, BLAAARGH!"

Megla vomits uncontrollably for several seconds. Soren doesn't fare any better. Eventually, José disables the simulation, revealing two puddles of puke covering the floor.

It takes several minutes more before the Kraktol are able to stop their desperate vomiting. By the time they finish, their scales have turned an ashen gray.

Megla turns to José with tears in her eyes. "Gurk... A-Admiral... that was.... guh!"

Soren echoes her sister. "I can't believe you'd... shove an acid-pill up that Troll's... blurgh..."

The Terran grins like an idiot. "Pretty hilarious, right? My former bunkmate, Private Azaram, he came up with that idea during our days as drill instructors. We wanted to really shock the new recruits, so he thought up the most dangerous and vile method possible. Looks like it still has its charm!"

Both Kraktol take a few moments to steady their aching stomachs. Soren is the first to speak. "Ugh! Admiral, you're horrible! Why didn't you warn us? Now I'll never get that image out of my head!"

"You're the worst," Megla adds. "What a horrible way to die! You defiled that poor monster and gave it an honorless death! How humiliating!"

"Aww, are you feeling sympathetic for the holographic monster?" José asks, a distinctly snarky edge to his voice. "You poor thing. I'll have to make sure the next simulation is three times harder to compensate. More importantly, how confident are you that you could replicate my success? Wanna try beating the Troll with that method?"

"No WAY!" Megla shrieks. "That was simply too dreadful! If all Terrans were like you, then your whole species was way scarier than that poor Troll!"

"Eh, terror is subjective," José says, smiling. He pats Megla's shoulder and gives her a thumbs up. "I think you two should take the rest of the day off. We'll be arriving at Tarus II within the hour anyway, so we'll call this simulation quits for now. The next time we enter Inverted Space, we'll do some more training."

Megla wipes the residual vomit from the sides of her mouth. "Guh... fine. I need a break anyway after... after that. You're really something, Admiral."

"Thanks. I take pride in my work."

José turns to walk toward the door, but pauses for half a beat. "Good thing that was a freshly simulated Gate Troll and not the real thing. Shoving my hand up a genuine Troll's ass would have left me with all sorts of shit stuck to my arm. That would be truly nasty!"

Megla shrieks angrily. "Argh! Go away! I'm gonna barf again!"

"Haha! I'll see you two on the Bridge," José laughs.

The door closes, and Admiral Rodriguez disappears, leaving Megla and Soren alone.

After he leaves, Megla slowly stands up a little straighter and stares into the distance with a vacant look in her eyes.

"Truly horrible... despicable..." Megla mutters. She glances at Soren. "But you have to admit, that was pretty impressive."

Soren nods. She plops onto the steel-plated Holodeck floor and sighs. "Yes, it was. Even though we're both stronger and faster than the Admiral right now, I don't have the confidence to pull off something like that. Terrans are scary."

"Were scary," Megla says, correcting Soren. "They're all dead now. Just imagine living in a galaxy filled with the bloody bastards. The Admiral says he was only slightly above average compared to other Terrans, too."

"Kind of makes you wonder what a truly powerful Terran would be like," Soren mutters. "I hope the Admiral is just being modest."

"Yeah. Me too."

Both girls fall silent.

After a moment, Soren looks at Megla, then at the vomit-covered floor.

"...Shower?"

Megla nods.

"Shower."