The pilots make their way through the chow line in the mostly empty mess hall of the Floating Fortress. They have changed into more casual clothing, and each wears a white tank top and navy-blue cargo pants, except for Kora the ‘civilian’ who wears a pair of black athletic shorts.
Pretty standard military grub is being churned out of the galley—better than prison, airplane, or hospital food but in the same family tree. Tonight's menu is chicken, rice and beans, steamed broccoli.
Hanami sits alone at a table on one end of the mess and picks at her meal.
Chase joins Reo at a central table. He marvels over the veritable mountain of food piled on Reo’s plate.
“Woah, save some for the rest of us, big guy,” Chase says.
“This is just round one,” Reo laughs, tucking in.
Kora makes her way through the line and sits at the table next to Reo and across from Chase. Her plate is even fuller than Reo’s.
“I spoke too soon...” Chase murmurs in disbelief at Kora’s heaping portion.
“What? I have a really high metabolism!” she protests. “I went to Uni on a water polo scholarship, so I’m used to burning a LOT of calories.”
“Water polo? That explains why your legs are so toned...” Chase says as if it were the most casual thing in the world, stuffing his face with broccoli.
“I’m curious, Chase. Do they have sexual harassment laws in your country?” Kora asks, rolling her eyes. This guy... besides, Reo here is a REAL man. Look at this big strapping hunk!
Since she is wearing a tank top, Reo notices Kora’s patterned sleeve tattoo for the first time. He points to it with his fork.
“Say, that’s some nice ink. Reminds me of some of the designs you’ll find throughout the Pacific Islands. What’s the story?”
Kora blushes faintly, poking a piece of shredded chicken with her fork. One training exercise and now I guess it’s time to get personal?
“My father is white, but my mother descends from the indigenous people of Aotearoa. When I moved away from home for the first time to go to University I... I was doing a bit of self-exploration and wanted to get in touch with my roots. So that’s it, that’s the story of the tattoo.”
“That’s what’s up,” Reo says, raising his plastic cup to ‘cheers’ with Kora. “Ma Tua.”
Kora smiles and clinks cups.
“Ma Tua? What does that mean?”
“Ma Tua means ‘my sister.' Our people share a common history.”
SISTER? Kora thinks. Did Reo just stick me in the Friend Zone?
Chase looks over at Hanami sitting by herself.
“Shmud wme inbwight hrr owah?” he tries to say through a mouth full of food.
“Why don’t you try swallowing and say that again, ay?” Kora prompts.
“Ah, thanks. That’s better. Hanami’s over there, should we invite her over?”
Reo gets up and walks over to Hanami’s table. Chase and Kora can’t hear what they are saying but, in a minute, Reo comes back and sits down.
“Says she prefers eatin’ by herself,” he says with a shrug, resuming his meal.
She’s a strange one, Chase thinks.
Several minutes later Doctor Yi enters the mess hall. She is holding her ever-present tablet in one hand and a tray with four tiny paper cups in the other. She spots the pilots and walks over, smiling broadly.
“Pilots! I see you are enjoying your dinner,” she beams. “Ms. Goto! Please come join us. I need to speak to all of you.”
Hanami pauses, reluctantly gets up (leaving her dinner tray) and stands awkwardly near the table with the rest of the group.
The Doctor begins handing out the small paper cups. Inside are two bright red capsules.
“I forgot to mention earlier, but you all need to take these vitamins each day. As you may have experienced, interfacing with the Neural Net can be draining. These vitamins will support nutrition and brain strength!”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Kora is dubious, examines the medication. They don’t look like any vitamins she has seen. She tries to read Doctor Yi’s expression but can’t sense anything amiss.
“Be sure to take them with food and plenty of water!” the Doctor encourages.
Reo cheerfully obliges, popping the pills and swallowing them dry, then taking a swig from his cup as a chaser.
Being a career airman, Chase is used to following orders without question (unless he doesn’t like them or finds them mildly inconvenient). Chase takes the vitamins.
Kora watches Hanami. Hanami considers the capsules for a moment, then silently swallows them. Kora may not be able to sense the Doctor’s motives, but she does have medical expertise. She can run a medicine check later. Kora cheeks the medication, takes a swig of water, and smiles. When nobody is watching, she spits the capsules into her hand and pockets them.
“Be sure to get a good night’s rest,” Doctor Yi says.
“Why?” Hanami asks.
Doctor Yi looks around to see if anybody else is listening in on their conversation.
“I... I can’t say. You may have a busy day tomorrow,” she says quietly.
“Okay,” Hanami answers with her usual flat affect.
“Won’t you join us for dessert?” Reo asks. “They have flan.”
Reo indicates his no fewer than three small plates of tan, jiggly flan.
“Not for me, thank you,” Doctor Yi says.
“Come on,” Reo taps a spot on the bench next to him. “Commander said you’d explain somethin’ to us later. Somethin’ about the ages of pilots?”
Doctor Yi hesitates, then gives in. She takes a seat and smooths her lab coat as Reo slides a plate of flan and small fork in front of her.
“Oh yeah!” Chase perks up. “The Commander did say you would fill us in on some details. Like why a 17-year-old is part of this operation.”
Doctor Yi takes a bite of flan and makes a face. Not the best flan she’s tasted.
“Well...” she looks around again, “here’s what I can tell you. You’ve all had firsthand experience with the Neural Net, interfacing directly with your Mechs. This is a work in progress, but we’ve designed the interface process to be bidirectional, and theoretically symbiotic. As our technology progresses, and as your experience in the field progresses, both you and the Mechs should be capable of greater... what’s the word... coherence? Synergy. With enough practice, piloting the Mech should be second nature to you.”
“Understood, but what’s that got to do with the price of tea in—"
“Our tests have shown that there is a window of optimal neuroplasticity for this process to work. Any subjects younger than puberty are not neurally mature enough. Any candidates past the age of 25 are not plastic, or adaptable enough.”
Kora wrinkles her nose. Subjects before puberty? Did she just admit to A-PAC experimenting on children?
“Ha! So, at 21 I’m practically an old geezer!” Reo says with his easy smile.
“I’ll start calling you Grandpa,” Chase teases.
“Not at all Mr. Mafui’e,” Doctor Yi explains. “But you only have a few years left in your optimal window. Although, since you’ve started the process, the Synergy may last beyond the window. We simply don’t have enough data yet. I don’t think the Commander would want me saying much more...” She wipes her mouth with a napkin and goes to get up.
“We appreciate it, Doc!” Chase says.
She hesitates.
“I’ll give you one more tidbit as it may come in handy tomorrow. Part of this ‘bidirectional synergy’ is that, through the interface, the Mech can store complex data and help you access it when needed. As the ancient proverb says, the faintest ink is more powerful than the strongest memory. Human memory is woefully flawed. For example, I can take a CPR class and pass the test with flying colors, but if I’m called upon to use those skills a year later, do I really have the confidence to perform the intervention correctly? Without regular reinforcement, memory fades.
“I know a few of you have completed special training programs. Mr. MacArthur and Ms. Goto, for example. Mr. MacArthur, you completed the Focused Flying training, about how to pilot a Mech during poor visibility due to atmospheric conditions. With enough Synergy, this expertise can be ‘stored’ and ‘recalled’ from your Mech’s mainframe. We call these ‘Macros.’ Likewise for Ms. Goto, I know you completed the Discern Vulnerabilities training, which aims to provide an initial offensive advantage by targeting an enemy’s likely structural weaknesses.
“As we develop more special training programs, they will be made available for you. Of course, they take quite some time to successfully complete. Right now, the Commander is anxious to get the next step of this operation underway. Now, I must be off. I’ve got an appointment with the onboard masseuse before I go to bed!”
The pilots all sit there blinking as the Doctor departs the mess hall.
“What is this now, a cruise ship?” Kora asks.
Reo gets up and starts walking back toward the line for food.
“Anybody else want more flan?”
---
At night in his small cabin, Chase lays on his bunk in a pair of boxer shorts decorated with red hearts, a pair of metal dog tags around his neck. A small portable TV set plays the news.
“—residents are having to strictly ration and rely on local staples as the Formosa Island Crisis continues and the Red Star Empire’s blockade has effectively cut off all supplies and aid from reaching the island. In a saber-rattling show of solidarity with Red Star, the hermit kingdom of West Joseon has increased nuclear missile testing. The Council of Atomic Scientists have moved the symbolic Doomsday Clock forward to 100 seconds to midnight, stating that nuclear superpowers have not been this close to an open declaration of war in a generation.”
Chase switches it off. Setting the TV aside, Chase pulls out the thick Operating Manual. Reo suggested I read this. Said it might save my life someday. Chase flips open the manual and sees pages and pages of dense text, complex diagrams, and strings of numbers. He decides to start at the beginning.
Here goes.
Three minutes later he is fast asleep and snoring.
---
Kora, in her cabin, pulls the two glossy oblong capsules out of her pocket. She examines them under a small desk lamp. They bear no imprint or number, no manufacturer’s mark, or other identifying characteristic of any kind. They are larger than most pills she has encountered, and obnoxiously red.
These are definitely not vitamins. They are lying to us.