“Combat Operations Squad leader. It’s who you were Lt. Emerson. With re-invigoration through Yōkai’-tech and the support of a War Frame, you will do the same thing for us,” Chuckling, he gave me the sales agents’ knowing look that said he had a deal just for me. “And you’ll be better at it than ever before.”

Garshack grumbled under his breath, but Nyeson pretended not to hear.

“I’ve heard things about the Yōkai Tech. Is it true they are a nanite collective that forms an AI?” I’d asked, and Nyeson slipped into his, “Product expert,” disposition.

“It’s not true artificial intelligence. It’s more of ancillary intelligence, Captain Emerson.” He’d grinned at the clever term.

Inwardly, I groaned at the cheesy over load of smiles and finger guns I could imagine him doing. This man was a salesman for sure, not the next level, like a business executive or a bureaucrat, and he was selling me a gig I wasn’t sure I really wanted. The last thing I wanted was more responsibility.

“It might be easiest to think of the virtual training helmets you used in the service, with all the additional intelligence gathering elements. But rather than seeing it in your helmet, you’ll see it through your own two eyes,” he said.

“As I understand it, it allows the nanites to use the nervous system’s myelin sheath to expedite signal exchanges coordinated through the Operculum. Kind of like a hitch hiker catching a ride on the fastest train. In your case, the impulses sent from the brain are gathered by the nanite’s, bypassing even past broken nerve bundles. This will cause a micro delay until the nanites have time to rebuild the myelin sheath, but it is something you will learn to control, Captain,”

“Lieutenant Emerson.” I corrected and Nyeson grinned at me like I’d won a prize.

“No Ma`am. With our state-of-the-art technology, you will be in command of your element. As far as Vision Dynamics is concerned, you’re Captain Emerson, like our own Captain America,” The obnoxious chuckle came again.

Garshack shook his head and knew there was no immediate promotion in my future.

I know it was supposed to be disarming, but it annoyed me. We were not two soldiers sitting around the barracks talking about new night vision goggles. This stuff was going to attach to my nerves, and he was blowing Captain America smoke up my ass.

“On the upside, just thinking about wanting active threat icons will make them visible. If you want night vision, it will adjust based on your desired illumination. But there will be time to explore all of that later,” he said.

“What does the Ancillary intelligence do, exactly?”

His chuckle gave way to a genuine laugh. “Oh that, well, think of them as a swarm, but you’re the queen bee, so to speak. No one is controlling your noggin but you, I can assure you of that, oh no,” he shook his head like the thought repulsed him.

“A nanite hub is in the Operculum, the area that coordinates the functions of the other regions of your brain. Think of it like the old personal assistant programs. You yell, hey, whatever you decide to call it,” Jason waved his hand in the air dismissively, “and it responds and gives you the information you need,” he said with another trademark grin.

Garshack suddenly interjected. “Think of The Oni tech like signal amplifiers in your nervous system. The CMCE has to sync with your nervous system to work, the ancillary intelligence learns how you think and adapts to suit your needs.”

“What’s a CMCE?” I asked, pronouncing it like Garshack had, as See M See, getting the idea that only the nerds called it by its actual initials.

“It’s the Core Module Coordinating Element, or the CMCE, as we call it, does what it sounds like. It coordinates your thoughts down to the nerves in your lower exterminates. It also receives feedback from them and redistributes the signals to conductive inlays in that will be in your skin. This is what will allow you to feel, walk, and power your combat frame, Captain Emerson,” he said.

“So, does everyone need one of these or just me because of my legs?” I asked.

“Every soldier will need one, the nerve to War Frame connection depends on it. But, yours will be different, your nerves were damaged so the nanites have to bridge those gaps. You will have more direct CMCE to War Frame connection, your sync rate, once fully established will make your reaction time faster,” he winked.

The memory slipped away and I focused on Abby once more. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t as polite as Bixby, as far as personal assistants go, but you’re more useful,” I said out loud.

“Bixby was a Speak and Spell compared to me. Would a Speak and Spell know your clothes are in the wall locker?”

“Would Bixby be dressed like a club girl looking to get laid?” I comment.

She was right about the fatigues, but the plain tan granny panties were in another three drawer chest in the closet. After grabbing a change of clothes, I found a towel and headed for the shower.

Somehow wasn’t surprised to find her sitting on the sink. However, this time she was dressed in a crimson bathrobe and wore vampire duck slippers.

“I’m ready! It will be like a Japanese bathhouse,” She grinned, let her robe slip a little too open.

“Okay, no. This isn’t going to be some anime haram erotica. You are not hanging out while I shower,” I said, and I swear she stopped, looked me up and down once, and raised a brow before disappearing.

“That wasn’t funny!” I yelled, but there was no response.

After a few minutes of waiting to see if she popped back in, I undressed as the water got hot. The inlaid conductors caught my attention. I hadn’t had a good chance to look them over, but now I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

They ran from the side of my head to a point at the base of my neck, then split, going over each shoulder. On each arm, it outlined my deltoids, then down my upper to the elbow where it broke again and ran down both sides of my forearm to the wrist. At the wrist, gather before shooting out to each finger, stopping at the nail bed.

From my shoulders, it also outlined each half of my chest, stopping at the rib cage, then linked with the back inlays at my hips. From there it split again, going down the lateral portion of the quadriceps on one side and the inner aspect of that ended at the knee.

It wasn’t the worst thing to look at, but it outlined the fact that my leg muscles were weak still. Where before my legs like two pale hot dogs attached to bowling pins.

Now they were powerful and shapely. Still, they weren’t at full strength by any means, but I was standing and muscle could be rebuilt.

“If you like, I can use micro-muscle fiber stimulation to rebuild muscle mass. While you have lost fiber mass, the fibers themselves are still there, so rebuilding them will be much faster,” she added helpfully, and I agreed. While I’d never take steroids, I’d no problem using what I had. The plan wasn’t to be big, it was to be a warrior.

“IS that how they got redeveloped? Before they were so weak, I thought it would take years to build back up,” I asked.

“No, I am only active when you are active,” she said, then paused as if in thought before adding. “You will have to eat more, and you can expect your legs to be sore like when you work out. We will have you back to turning heads and breaking hearts in no time.”

“Your body is already more athletic than most Olympic athletes. Your milkshake isn’t the only thing that brings all the boys to the yard,” she giggled.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I pulled on the skin-tight overall and crossed my arms over my chest just as the door chimed.

“It’s your Senpai, Rooker,” Abby cooed and I felt a flush come over me.

“I said obnoxious older brother, not my mentor,” I retorted.

“So, he’s your onii-san!” She exclaimed and I willed her out of existence with a glare, then answered the door.

“Cut that shit out,” I admonished.

“You’re the one who brought up anime,” she quipped.

“Rooker, you are here faster than I expected,” I said as Rooker loomed over me in his War Frame and looked over my shoulder and around the room.

“Yeah, well, I figured we needed to get some things done,” he paused and looked right at me. “Did you have someone in there, I could have sworn I heard talking, Bro,” he said.

I felt the blush creep up my cheeks and cleared my throat. “I was just bitching to myself about how much muscle mass I lost,” I said, but kept my arms crossed.

“Yeah, you were looking a bit like a girl. But I know you will take care of that shit, Bro. Hell, I know you lift,” he scoffed.

Glaring at him, I stepped back and let him come in. “You know, if you keep saying things like I that I am going to think you don’t take me seriously as a woman,” I said, faking a hurt expression.

Stopping, he looked down at me once again, then choked before bursting into laughter. I held off my grin for a few more seconds, then the tide of the atmosphere rolled over me and I burst out laughing.

We both knew such things didn’t bother me. For one, I never had a problem getting a date, and two, having Rooker think of me as a woman was disturbing.

As I stepped back into my frame and sent the command to engage the fasteners. I realized how graceful Rooker was in the frame. Despite the weight, his footfalls were soft, and his movements didn’t have any sign of jerkiness or hesitancy. His sync rate had too fairly high.

“I’m still clumsy in my frame,” I stated and felt the slight delayed reaction to my commands. “How high does my sync rate need to be to move like you?”

Rooker raised both brows and turned around once. “You’ll never be able to move like me, Bro. I’ve got swagger,” he said.

“Your onii-san is a silver-haired fox!” Abby cut in, but I ignored her.

“Yeah, yeah, how high is your sync rate?” I focused on the HUD to see where it was currently sitting.

[Current Sync Rate: 7%]

Mine is sitting at seven percent,” I answered, feeling unimpressed.

“Seven percent? I’m kind of surprised you can even walk upright at seven percent. Mine is higher than most at forty-five percent, but the average is still thirty.”

“Beats me, but it’s getting better, “I shrugged and took clomping heavy steps to the door.

“It should get worse with your CMCE messed up. It might not be the only thing broke. I mean damn, Bro, you move in that thing like it’s a P-5000 Powered Work Loader, down on the docs. You have to flow with it. Remember, slow is smooth and smooth is fast?”

I flipped him off and tromped through the door and out into the cold evening air.

A small group made their way toward us, and Rooker Grinned before yelling. “You’re supposed to walk in a formation anytime you’re moving in groups over four people.”

On cue, they broke up, one in the lead, while two groups formed, one dropping back a little. “That only applies if we are traveling together, Staff Sargent. We’re traveling to the same location separately.”

“That’s first squad for you. Anything to avoid annoying regulations.” Rooker scoffed.

“Staff Sergeant, we aren’t trying to flout the regs, we are just moving to our point of convergence taking the path of least resistance.” A shorter man with a blond high and tight haircut, and a square jaw said with a grin as they all gathered around.

“This isn’t Parkour, Babbs,” Rooker laughed and took the man’s hand. “Missed you on that op today. We could have used another hand,” he said.

Babb’s was clearly marked with Corporal’s chevrons, and I took him for the second in charge. A conclusion Rooker confirmed as he said, “This is Corporal Ken Babbs. He’s the Bravo-team leader, but don’t let that fool you, he’s also a son of a bitch,”

Babbs stepped forward and offered a trembling hand, which I guessed was a nervous tick. Or exhaustion. He looked tired, but his bright smile was instantly disarming. “Don’t let that old coot tell you anything, Ma’am. He’s just jealous because I got better scores in our last training cycle,”

“In which events?” I asked and noticed Rooker suddenly interested in the dirt under his nails.

“All of them,” Babbs replied with a sparkle in his eyes.

“That’s just because you could afford the Sapho Boost, and we weren’t allowed to conduct unarmed combat training. I would have locked you up so bad you’d have tapped out in the first round,” Rooker shot back with more venom than it deserved.

“Hey, if you two are done posturing, maybe you can introduce us to the new officer?” A short, thickly built woman interjected, and both Non-coms paused and looked back at the other six people.

Rooker looked a little annoyed but motioned to the three on the right. “You met the Alpha Team. Specialist Sayles, Mahoney and Hope. They were with me on the recovery mission.”

Sayles was the tall cowboy, and Hope was the beast of a woman who’d pointed out my hand to hand skills against the Tunneler. That left Mahoney, who merely smiled and nodded his head in a friendly manner.

“Babb is my Bravo-team leader. With him are Carrol, Marsh and the FNG- Howell.” Rooker continued.

Carrol was the lean built female who interrupted their verbal sparring. Plucky and wry, she reminded me of someone’s sister, who was too cool to be left behind, but too average to date. The perfect wingman, in a lot of situations, but somehow I doubted she thought of herself that way.

Marsh, who seemed locked to her hip, was a tall man with a brassey, smooth voice, and soft eyes. For a moment I wondered if they were dating, then decided, no, their body language was more like running mates, or partners. Like me and Rooker back in the days before the battle that ruined me.

That left Howell, clearly the, “Fucking New Guy’, or FNG, with recently sewn on Private First-Class Rank. The boy was medium height and built like a football lineman from one of those Texas College.

“Nice to meet you all. I am sure we will have more time to get to know each other.” I said in a friendly, but professional manner, when suddenly a text popped into my vision. “Are you prepped for the mission tomorrow?”

[Attempting re-synchronization]

A blue bar slide across the lower half of my vision, then paused, turned red and vanished.

[Synchronization failed]

I shook my head, then squinted my eyes as I focused on the prompt and mentally forced it to go away.

“What are you doing?” Rooker asked incredulously.

“I keep getting text randomly appearing in my vision, the Yōkai are trying to re-synchronize and I’m guessing the damaged CMCE is preventing it, but it’s driving me crazy,” I responded, but my annoyance only seemed to make Rooker laugh.

“Yeah, that shit is irratatin. I can have Kang Eunjoo, our systems engineer, help you with that if you want?” My natural inclination was to refuse, but as another message scrolled over my vision, I merely nodded and allowed him to lead me to this Engineer’s shop.

“I wouldn’t let that Scavenger sympathizer anywhere near your systems,” Babbs said, his brows raised as he looked at the ground as if pissed at it.

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” I asked and looked between their faces, but received mixed responses throughout the squad.

“Scavengers are coyotes, no worse than coyotes, they’re like rats. They destroy anything they can’t take, and they don’t care about anyone but themselves,” Sayles said with no real hostility in his voice. “Without their counterfeit Sapho Boost they wouldn’t even be able to sync with their frames at all.”

“They offer nothing, they just take. They steal from the dead and spread that fucking infection by connecting to corrupted Chinese tech,” Carrol nodded in my direction then added, “I bet that’s what happened to the Tunneler you fought off.”

“It happens everywhere.” Mahoney pipped in with just a touch of a Boston accent. “They’re poor, so they do what they have to, to survive. I can’t fault them that. Like the Roma gypsies, and the Irish back in the day in Boston.”

I took note as Hope, a pretty girl with mousey brown hair and light blue eyes, gave Mahoney an approving look. Unlike Marsh and Carrol, there might have been something brewing there.

“Enough politics. We don’t take sides, we enforce the rule of law, and conduct our employer’s business,” Rooker said in a tone that was hard and unyielding. “And can it with that infected Tunneler crap, we don’t need people to kick around rumors.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that Captain,” Babbs said, but he didn’t look repentant. “We should know better by now than to talk politics. It always gets the squad bickering.”

“Speaking of business, Rooker,” Mahoney said quizzically. “Why are you in armor? Hell, I’m annoyed we are required to wear our suits if we go out of our bunkers, but armor?”

I took the time to run an appraising gaze over his gear. Aside from his yellow and silver reflective belt, he wore the combat frame with smart muscle enhancement. Over which War Frame armor covered his shoulders, chest, arms and legs. giving him a slightly robotic like appearance. It reminded me of futuristic samurai or something.

“Wow, you look like a Japanese Robo-POG with that reflector belt over your armor,” I teased.

“The Command Sergeant Majors always said we needed to put safety first,” He grinned. “The Reflective belt, not the armor.”

“Nothing like an easily seen marker for the enemy to target,” I responded and discarded mine on the back of the door. “How do I get a set Armor for my War Frame? Right now, all I have is this ballistic shield, but I have to admit it’s pretty outstanding,” I said, holding out the small shield proudly.

“You get what you came with or settle with the traditional stuff. You know how the tip of the spear operates. Sure, we might not be welding plate steel to our transports like the old days, but they didn’t exactly send us a warehouse of extra parts. When we came here, there were a lot more people running around in full sets, commanders and senior Non-coms had them to some extent,” Rooker scratched the back of his neck and gave me a little smirk.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Well, most of that old Armor like yours is corrupted now. We think it was that Chinese computer virus or something. I wouldn’t just run around picking it up and putting it on unless you want to end up dead. You got lucky with that Ballistic shield, but I wouldn’t use it again until we can get it checked out,” he warned.

Babbs suddenly cut in with a knowing laugh. “Yeah, we are going to go get some chow. You’re rolling the dice asking Rooker about gear,” he grinned.

Rooker waved them off, and the group headed toward what I took as the chow hall.