A low chuckle. "Don't get me wrong. A trip to Ash sounds like fun, and I am aware of the possibilities there. But.... exactly what kind of training can I do there that I can't do right here, or really anywhere? I always figured most of the point was for people to actually pretty much put merc companies together on the spot.. find people they mesh with and get out there."

Proxima sighed... "Look. They put people through extensive training in whatever categories they want. Drones. Firearms. Starship training. And then have both sims that they can make people think are real... and then actual life-fire exercises. By the time these people leave, they have better training than most actual troops from any given independent system, or even the Republic, or the Directorate. You can be one of them... and mixed in with all the other trainees, get you another new ID, and then they won't even know you ever came to this region before."

Erica gave a slow nod as he spoke... but just smiled. "I'm already anonymous. New ID, new genes, immigrant from Sirius... extra layers would just be pointless, maybe even make it clear I've got something to hide. And while I hadn't been planning on doing that sort of training before... I can easily do it now. In my... former career... I had basic marksmanship and self defense training; I'm not helpless, just... didn't really keep up with the training, since I had a desk job. I can take refresher courses on that, mostly focus on some piloting classes for the next month. Then... There's at least twelve different sims that convince you they're real before you go in; if I'm willing to pay for it I could get the equivalent of a month's worth of what I think is an actual extended combat campaign."

"Fine, fine. Its not the same as what they'd have at Ash, and we aren't looking to hire you as a soldier, so it'll be alright. I'll have the job offer sent over to you from one of our shell companies; or if you like, we can get you someone to help you start a consulting company, and we can contract it out."

A slow shake of the head. "No... I'm fine working for you people. I could retire with what I've already got. I want to get paid, but getting paid isn't the reason I'm doing this."

Proxima studied her for a minute, clearly thinking. "Well then. You're a competent adult, and the skills we really need, you've already got. Whatever you want to do, you go right ahead. ASU ships regularly stop by here, for all sorts of reasons. We'll start digging out an underground base, escape tunnels, the whole nine yards, and installing equipment. Your new facility should be ready within ninety days. We need to setup a series of code responses, so that you know its really an ASU member on the other side... and vice versa. So. There's general codes the whole Anti-Slave-Union uses, and ones specific to people. Lets take a few minutes, hash things out... so that you can know anyone who says the right code-phrase is either me in disguise, or someone I consider trustworthy."

He grimaced. "We... will also want to install a suicide implant. And, considering your career... one that you can activate without having to physically touch it. We can do that on the ship out, though."

***

As she landed at 'The Warzone' the next day; a training facility that was highly rated, and recommended by a variety of people at the convention; she could hear the distant sound of gunshots as she entered the building... both from indoor shooting ranges, and from the much larger range outside; the complex was enormous, dozens of miles of varied terrain surrounding the central building... and when she entered.. the receptionist, sitting behind a counter with a panel of armored glass seperating her from the rest of the lobby, glanced up at her with a smile.

"Welcome to the Warzone! How can we sharpen you into the blade you want to become today?"

Erica blinked. "Is that... they make you say that to everyone who comes in?"

The young woman; pretty, blond, wearing a classic secretarial outfit clearly meant to attract the male gaze rather than for practicality; gave a brief nod. "They have a variety of lines, but yes. Its all about improving you into the person you want to be."

She chuckled. "Well. I've got some basic combat and unarmed training. And while I don't plan on doing anything risky... I want to be ready if the worst happens. I've heard you do both flight sims and basic combat training?"

"Of course! As you know, the most important parts of training are twofold; first, muscle memory. Getting your body to react the right way when prompted. Second, of course, is the ability to handle fire, not to freeze under pressure. The former is best handled with repeated training; constant target practice, constant piloting practice, until you can hit a mark in your sleep. For the latter..."

She glanced behind her. "We have sims that can make it feel real, even fool you into thinking it is. We assemble a team, put you through one of a few select packages, and you come out of it knowing exactly how you'll react when it feels real. The training can help with that; repeated exposure can get you to a point that, when it happens, its just... there. You do it. But..."

She turned back to Erica. "The downside is that it feels real. And for people who can't handle it, they come out of it with PTSD, and we have to send them for therapy. The former, we do every day. The latter you have to book in advance, and sign a waver. We've got full-day programs which are okay and give you an idea of what you can handle, week-long programs which are highly rated and usually get the job done, but might give you PTSD, and month-long programs that will either turn you into a hardened, effective soldier, or break you."

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"...I don't really fancy being broken. But if the shit hits the fan, I want to be able to get out of dodge, load up on a shuttle, and escape, fighting my way out if I need to."

The secretary frowned. "So. You want flight training, combat training, and a sim that features both?"

"....Flight training, definitely. I've already got some combat training, but it couldn't hurt."

"Well then. How about we talk about pricing plans and schedules, I'll get out the waiver, and I'll have an instructor come on by to give you a talk!"

***

The chamber looked.... strange. There was a long row of simple spheres, each a few meters across, with some sort of odd plates attached... many of which were actively moving, rolling in place, emitting loud buzzing noises as they did.

As she entered, a man wearing a simple black vacuum suit; a military uniform with all the insignia cleaned off; stepped up to Erica. She wasn't familiar with what sort of augment he was; his skin was a dull grey, his eyes a vibrant blue without any whites whatsoever; and of course it was impossible to judge his age. He certainly was fit, though.

He studied her for a moment. "So. Erica Grayson. Looking for the whole package, gonna sign up for the sim in a couple of weeks, the whole flight under fire bit?"

"Yes sir."

He chuckled. "I'm Chase Walkins, formerly of the Tybaltan Navy. While we're in flight training, you can call me Ostrich. These simulators here work with magnets and an adjustable inner frame... and magnets you wear on your body... to get you used to a variety of G forces and situations you might encounter; let you feel what its like to try flying an aircraft and being squeezed into a pancake while undergoing ten Gs."

"I'm a heavy, sir. Sounds like a relaxing stroll."

He blinked, looking her over for a moment. "Huh. Not familiar with the type. Aren't you a bit big for a heavy?"

"Bones hard as diamond but damn light as well, Ostrich. Makes it hard to throw a punch, but makes lifting weights a good bit easier. I just... never really bothered trying to get into shape til I left home."

He nodded, and glanced at the machine. "Alright. Well. That works alright. How many Gs are you adapted for?"

Erica thought back to the fact sheet of her new biology, and of Anvil. "Eight is my norm, sir. I'm wearing weighted clothing right now, usually do on lighter places like this."

"Excellent. The weights magnetic?"

"Oh.... Yessir."

"Then you don't need one of our suits. Good. Hop in, and we'll get you started. If we want you ready for the sim in two weeks, you'll need to be putting plenty of hours in."

***

The catalog of possible cockpit options was vast; and the inside could configure, to a certain extent, to mimic hundreds of control schemes. Buttons would recede into the panel, joysticks emerge; and so long as she was wearing the helmet, it would look real.

Of course, in the sim, they'd be able to make it even more real, even fool her into thinking she was in a life or death situation... but the level of detail this false cockpit produced was admirable.

~Alright, Grayson. For the next eight hours, you're going to be practicing taking off, and landing, starting with a Sparrow-class shuttle, and working our way through a variety of light fighters and gunships. Most pilots will take a single spacecraft and fly it, over and over, getting hundreds of hours of time in the same one. Unless you plan on buying your own, its best to get a feel for a bunch of them; and then pick one to focus on. Some skills cross all of them. Others, are only for a single one. Lets start it up.~

One moment, the screens were black. The next... she was sitting on a wide open concrete platform; nothing but clear sky above and grass in any given direction.

~You've seen the basics in the video. What are you going to do?~

"Lets see. I'm assuming that I've already performed the safety checks, made sure she's got fuel, power, no attachments, so forth?"

~Good question. Yes, we'll start with that assumption, just remember that you'll need to check that yourself with the real deal. Now what?~

She closed her eyes... and then looked at the controls. Her memory was perfect, like most people with implants. She could see exactly the sequence to launch the shuttle... and followed it. Tapping this button, here, to engage pre-flight diagnostics. That lever over there would override pre-flight and jump straight to ignition.

Diagnostics were running. The panel would show what the computer thought was going on, and what it recommended checking; one of the lights came up yellow. "Its giving a 'probably' okay on the fuel tank. I'd want to step outside and use a hand-scanner. Check the lines from tank to thruster, and if I can, physically knock on the tank to make sure the hydrogen is in there. There's a sound it makes if its full, and I want to hear it."

~Excellent. I don't expect you to be a flight engineer; but every pilot should be able to do the bare minimum.~ The light flickered from yellow to green. She inhaled deeply.

"Now, if it were an emergency, I'd apply power and pull up. If not, I'd have the computer contact the tower, and get an assigned lane."

~Do so. But don't use the auto-pilot. Manually control it, and try your best to follow the lane.~

She nodded... and after getting a clearance to take-off, ignited the thrusters... and started to lift off... feeling the gentle pressure of the magnets against her body simulating G-forces, watching the lane. Adjusting the angle. Feeding a bit more fuel into the right bank... then the bottom... then...

She must've done something wrong. One moment, it was all clear. The next... she felt the whole thing shake as the shuttle slammed into something. She made adjustments. And again... but didn't regain control, slamming into the concrete.

It was fake. She knew it was. But it still felt like she was shaking apart. "Ohhhhh fuck. That was... weird. What did I do wrong?"

~What do you think you did wrong?~

".... I didn't even have the scanners on, did I? Was there another craft going out of its lane?"

~How about you try again and find out. The big red button on the floor below you resets the sim.~

She nodded... and stepped on the button, the whole thing shifting; she was back on the ground, looking out at an open field, a clear blue sky. She needed to do it again... and again... however many times... until she could get this right.