I came out past the medical wing, and the training yard opened up ahead of me, most of it empty. My squad was in the simulation centre, and the academic slots were running in the other buildings. The yard at 0915 on a Saturday was the quietest piece of compound I'd find before nightfall.
Alright, I've got some time to kill. May as well fill up the morning with some cultivation.
I walked to the far end of the yard where nobody ran drills this time of morning. Sat down with my back against the perimeter fence and closed my eyes.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — INITIATED]
[PROJECTED LEVEL: 25]
[PROJECTED GRADE: A-GRADE]
[DURATION: UNTIL DEFEAT OR VICTORY]
The copper bled in at the edges of my vision. The echo stepped into frame with its guard up and its weight centred.
I raised my guard as the echo stepped forward. Ready for it, I lowered my centre of gravity and tried to gather Ether in my arm the same way I'd seen the Echo do dozens of times.
The current drifted toward my shoulder, then my forearm, and by the time I'd pulled it back to the knuckles, the echo had pressed the attack. It came at me quickly, but I'd started to get a grasp on its speed even without increasing my perception stat. But the echo's raw power was something I wasn't able to deal with just yet.
The echo threw several enhanced strikes at my guard that blew them apart with ease, feeling the dull ache and sharp sting that came with the Ether Strike. With the Echo continuing to close the distance between us, I pulled back trying to keep out of its reach.
Too slow, need to gather before the exchange.
The echo came at me again, and I overcommitted to blocking their strikes. I held my own for several seconds, dodging, weaving, parrying. But somewhere in the combo, the echo had snuck an elbow that clipped my jaw.
Feeling the throbbing coming from my jaw I shoved out and caught the echo as it was pushed back several meters, but even with the disruption it did little to halt its momentum.
The echo threw a straight right, and I slipped it, gathering Ether in my arm as I did so. My opponent and the world seemed to slow as the feeling of Ether in my arms became more pronounced. I held the counter for a moment too long as the Ether pooled, and the echo managed to throw up a guard in time.
In my moment of hesitation, the Ether had almost slipped from my grasp. I clamped down on the Ether, forcing it back under control and pushed it through my arm as I sank a straight right into the guard of the Echo.
The ether fired through my knuckles the fraction of a second after my fist made contact. The Ether discharged thin, half of what I'd gathered, the other half blowing back into my forearm. I winced as I pulled my arm back; the Echo didn't move to follow, instead lowering its guard and looking at me.
His silent eyes watched me. What he was looking for, I wasn't sure, but I could swear I caught a look of surprise.
Then it closed the distance and put me into the ground.
I'm never telling Sato about this, the Mr. Floor jokes would be too much.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — SESSION COMPLETE]
[DURATION: 81 SECONDS]
[XP GAINED: 58]
[CONNECTION POINTS GAINED: 11]
[CONNECTION THRESHOLD: 6.22%]
[LEVEL: 18 → 19]
[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 3]
I
I opened my eyes. The sun had moved across a quarter of the sky. My body ached in places that weren't technically bruised and would be sore for the rest of the afternoon anyway. My right forearm carried a deeper ache that registered as if it were physical.
I opened the stat page.
[TRUE-NOOSPHERE]
[CONNECTION THRESHOLD: 6.22%]
[LEVEL: 19]
[EXPERIENCE: 59 / 800]
[RANK: 0]
[RANK PROGRESSION: 19 / 100]
[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 0]
[BODY]
Strength: 28
Agility: 31
Vitality: 33
[ETHER]
Capacity: 3
Sensitivity: 3
Control: UNLOCKED
[MIND]
Willpower: 22
Intelligence: 17
Perception: 21
[Skills]
[FRAMEWORK SKILLS]
[PASSIVES — ACTIVE]
— Neural Link Stabilisation. Reduced input lag on all mech controls.
— Ether Cycling Support. Automatic baseline circulation while active.
[SKILLS — LOAD COMPLETE, INTEGRATION PENDING]
— Vanguard Stance. Strength-weighted. Offensive posture. +5% activation, ramps to +25%. Ether cost per activation.
— Warden Stance. Vitality-weighted. Defensive posture. +5% activation, ramps to +25%. Ether cost per activation.
[OTHER SKILLS]
[ACTIVE SKILLS]
— Ether Strike: A regular strike filled with Ether that deals enhanced damage. Scales off Strength and Ether Control.
It registers Ether Strike as a known skill now? Is that what it meant by non-linear acquisition? That's actually quite intriguing, does that mean I can learn pretty much any skill? And on top of that, I got a level up. Today is a good day. But that raises the question, what should I put my three points into?
I sat with it for a moment.
A B-Grade platoon leader at Level 55 has base stats that outclassed me across every row. Adding a point to Strength took me from 28 to 29. A one-point gain against opponents sitting in the 60s and 70s would mean nothing, and spreading three points across Body or Mind wouldn't meaningfully close a gap that big either.
I looked down at the Ether stats that I'd recently been focusing on.
I'd burned about half my reserves across just a couple of attempts at Ether Strike in a single session, and I'd felt the floor of my Capacity for the first time on a successful attempt. If I were to step into a real fight with the stances integrated, and try to activate Vanguard for an opening and Warden for a defensive transition with an Ether Strike between them… I'd be empty almost immediately. Capacity 3 isn't going to cut it. Still I have to figure out how to integrate the skills, questions for later.
So I put three points into Capacity.
Capacity 3 → 6
I closed the interface and sat against the fence, feeling the wave of warmth wash over me.
The simulation centre was on my way back toward the barracks, and I kept walking past it.
The squad was in the middle of drills and wouldn't be done until lunch. Whatever they'd figured out about working as a new unit, I'd hear about it after I'd made my own decisions about the command structure.
I ate lunch alone.
"Marcus Tiernan." A voice called to my right, distracting me from my paste.
"Yes?" I turned to look at the voice.
What stood before me was an administrative worker, typical fatigues but without rank. He held a datapad in his hand.
"This is for you. A platoon datapad."
"Oh… Thank you." I looked at it for a moment before taking it.
"One more thing, you have a platoon meeting at 1300 in the administrative block, room 9. Carry on."
I nodded, placing the datapad on the table. In between a mouthful of paste, I flicked it on and read what it had to offer.
The first page was the formal designation. [Tiernan Independent Platoon One. Sponsored by the Tiernan Military Trust under Federation Training Directive 7-C, provisions for independent sponsorship at basic training tier]. My name on the command line. Reporting obligations quarterly to the Trust and weekly to the battalion liaison.
I tapped the screen, and a second page appeared. The command structure. [Platoon Commander — Tiernan, Marcus. Authority over operational assignments, tactical command, training allocation, pilot welfare, and disciplinary matters within the platoon.]
I kept reading.
[Disciplinary authority includes: Reprimand, demerit issuance, training reassignment, squad reassignment, and — with battalion approval — removal from platoon.]
That's not bad, means I can give threats to keep the harsher dissidents under heel if it comes to that.
I skimmed through the rest. It was mostly SOPs and other nitpicky details: operational reporting formats, emergency protocols, casualty procedures, and promotion recommendations. A clause about the Trust's right to recall sponsorship with thirty days' notice. Another clause about cultivation resource allocations flowing through the Trust rather than through the Federation directly if the platoon reached the top-five ranking.
I closed the datapad and finished my highly nutritiousmeal. Once finished, I checked the clock; it read 1245.
It's time.
I stood from my chair at the near empty mess hall and began my way over to the administration block. I arrived within ten minutes and stepped up to the corporal outside, who checked my name and waved me through.
I followed the signs to room 9, and I could hear several voices behind the door, muffled just beyond what I could usually hear.
Alright, Marcus, you got this. Just a platoon meeting with the entirety of Barracks 7, including Miller and Osei. No sweat, you got this.
I opened the door.
The room was small with a rectangular table that housed two dozen people. On the far wall was a display running the Tiernan Independent Platoon One designation in cold institutional blue and a coffee service just below it that had already been ransacked.
Osei was at the table, back to the door, reading something on a datapad, and Miller was across from him. His eyes came up as the door opened.
The rest of my squad stood on the opposite side of the table, Sato and Tomás waving as I came in. Jin locked eyes with me and nodded.
A woman in standard officer blues stood at the head of the table with a lieutenant's insignia on her right shoulder, holding her own datapad. She was in her late twenties, with a professional posture, and tired eyes.
"Platoon Leader Tiernan."
"Lieutenant."
"Lieutenant Vera. Battalion liaison for Tiernan Independent Platoon One going forward. You'll see me most weeks." She gestured to the chair at the head of the table. "If you're ready, we'll begin."
I walked to the chair and sat.
Vera cleared her throat and began reading. She explained the formal designations, the command structure of the platoon, 2IC to be determined, 3IC to be determined, and squad assignments pending. Further reporting obligations, the weekly engagements and the rewards of reaching the top five in the rankings. All things I knew.
"Questions on the formal structure before we move to command assignments?"
I looked around the room, and no one made a move to speak.
"None, Lieutenant," I answered
"Very well. The command structure above the platoon commander is fixed. The structure below platoon commander is the commander's prerogative, subject to battalion approval. Platoon Leader Tiernan — the floor is yours."
She stepped back, allowing me the floor. I sucked a cool breath of air in, and before I started, Miller butted in.
"Before you start, Tiernan. We should talk about something." His voice was level and direct.
"Go ahead, Miller, speak your mind."
"The sponsorship makes you a platoon commander." He paused. " And I've been told I have to follow you. But let me get something clear, Commander, I'm only following you because I have to. In fact, I didn't want this at all. Osei was the one who got me on board, and it wasn't for this."
Osei? What the hell?
I looked over to the man in question, who was conveniently checking something on his datapad.
"So what's to stop me from turning in transfer papers and taking some of your strongest fighters with me? Sell me the idea, Commander. Myself and twenty others want to hear what you have to say."
Osei's head had turned to Miller while he spoke. His expression stayed level, but his hands had stopped moving on the datapad.
Miller held my gaze.
"I'm here to serve, Commander. But I need an answer before it costs someone their life."