|
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Apr 21, 2022 0:41:18 GMT
Reach. It was hardly the first time Eliza had visited the planet, though she'd never actually lived there. This time, however, felt different, hell, it was different. It was the beginning of an entirely new phase in her long life, or at least, it felt that way. The contracts that had begun the change had been signed nearly two weeks ago, though. As she guided her ship onto an approach vector, the ashen-haired woman opened a comms channel to the ground control to declare her identity and purpose.
"This is Reach Planetary Control, please present your identification and state your business," a rather bored-sounding technician announced over the Dancing Goddess's speakers.
"This is CPV Dancing Goddess, Eliza Lockheed speaking. Reporting to Confleet Basic Training Facility as per ordered. Transmitting copies now," Eliza replied, speaking devoid of her usual heavy Scottish accent in order to be utterly certain her words were clearly understood as she transmitted the documents needed to confirm her statement.
Several moments passed, then an approach vector was highlighted in green on her console, indicating her landing zone. "Proceed on this vector, and welcome to Reach, recruit," the technician stated before ending the connection.
Eliza followed the path indicated for her, guiding the sleek vessel to a more isolated installation on the planet's surface without incident. As she powered down, she was unsurprised to find a squad of soldiers waiting, each bearing the distinctive insignia of the Department of Advanced Warfare. "Ah, good. Suits are in th' armory, passcodes're on this 'pad," she explained as she approached the lieutenant that appeared to be in command, extending the device to other woman. "Analyze all ye like, but this is still private property, and I've got everythin' documented. If ye're na certain how ta disassemble a part properly, ye should contact me, and I'll walk ye through it. Especially th' prototype weapon. That was a pain in th' ass ta crack. So, that said, where do I report?" she asked.
"You'd do well to remember you're not in charge anymore, Lockheed, but your point is noted. The transport to in-processing will be here in thirty minutes. More than enough time for my team to gather what we came for," the lieutenant stated evenly.
Eliza said nothing in response, knowing perfectly well that to argue the matter now that she was enlisted was not a route she'd want to take. Half the reason she'd enlisted in the first place was to prove to her handlers that she wasn't simply some aloof self-declared guardian, and that she could in fact work as part of a unit. After all, no one who had seen the combat footage of her missions in the past 2 years could question her martial capabilities, but that was only part of what was needed. She needed trust, and to do that, she'd need to prove she was worthy of it.
"Why do I feel like this is gannin ta be a long couple of months..?" she muttered quietly to herself as she made her way out to the edge of the landing pad to wait for her pick up.
Three weeks later...
Eliza sat on the edge of her bunk, quietly reading over the technical manual she had been given, as all her fellow recruits had, perusing a section detailing how to perform a bounding overwatch. It wasn't horribly unfamiliar to her, though she'd rarely even used such a formation, as even on the relatively few occasions when she'd undertaken any sort of combat operations, it had been more of an ambush and retreat methodology, or else continental lines. Not that her fellow squadmates in the bay with her knew such a thing of her. She was regarded as oddity enough with her surname and stated age, and she struggled to maintain the façade that the physical elements of their training pushed her as much as it did the others. In general, she'd achieved this by speaking only when spoken to, with only the most minimal of idle chatter with her peers.
"Hey, Lockheed," a voice interrupted as one of her squadmates, a human female by the name of Leefield. "What's this here about?"
Eliza looked over to see the brunette standing by the nightstand beside her bunk, then shrugged indifferently. "Jist some ideas I had bouncin' about durin' personal time," she replied. "Used ta do that sort of work civilian side, but my mind donna jist stop thinkin' that sort of shite, ye know?" She wasn't about to elaborate on the nature of her work, but plenty of civilians that had worked in the defense industry had decided that they could do more by taking up arms as soldiers, and in that respect, Eliza was no exception.
"Looks pretty advanced. Why'd you join up if you have that kind of skill? Be safer and pays more, right?" Leefield wondered as she glanced back down at the diagram.
"DAW's got plenty of engineers, and they're na likely ta be needin' replaced. Plus, I guess I jist figured I'd sat back in th' safe seats long enough. Got plenty of family what's served, only right I take my turn, aye?"
"I mean, I guess. What'd you say your MOS training was gonna be?"
"Intelligence specialist. Reckon if I push myself hard enough, maybe I'll even get tapped fer ÆSIR duty," the Witch replied with the faintest smirk, almost as if making a joke.
"Good fucking luck!" Leefield laughed. "I saw your PT last week, about as average as you get. Might wanna get on that, right?"
"Hmm..I suppose that's a fair point," Eliza mused. "Guess we'll have ta see how this all turns by th' end of trainin'. When'd Drill say we all needed ta report downstairs, by th' way? 1600?"
"Yeah, we should probably get our shit."
"And prepare ta have it smoked out of us," the ashen-haired woman quipped as she closed the manual and went to her locker to grab her PTs. "Make sure th' others are ready, too, aye?" she called as she began to change uniforms. Thus far, training had been at once absurdly easy and remarkably challenging, Eliza thought as she got ready for the evening PT formation.
The physical aspects had been difficult only insofar as she needed to rein in her magically augmented abilities so that she didn't stick out too much, while at the same time holding a standard befitting of the responsibility that she'd been handed. That responsibility, however, had been the challenging part. Though she officially held no greater rank than any other recruit, she had been designated a 'squad leader,' meaning that she was meant to make sure the other seven recruits assigned to her squad were, as they said in the military, 'squared away'. She suspected that someone had nudged that particular decision for two reasons, being that she knew perfectly well that DAW was watching her and that simply put, she was somewhat paranoid about the matter, but it could just as easily have been luck of the draw, as it were. Whatever the reasons for it, Eliza had thrown herself into the role as fully as she had any project. If this was a test to see if she could be more than a hunter, then she would pass it, whatever it took to do so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Most fresh recruits would be nervous at the mere idea of being instructed to report to their drill instructor's office. It was generally regarded that the less they noticed you, the better off you were, after all. Eliza, however, was a far cry from most, yet even she felt a twinge of concern as she knocked on the door to announce herself.
"Sir, Private Lockheed, reporting as ordered!" she called, her thick accent apparent even with her clearly enunciated words.
"Enter and at ease, Private," Gunnery Sergeant Bai answered as the short, wiry man rose from his seat to circle around his desk, halting in front of Eliza. To her surprise, he wasn't yelling this time. "I saw you're contracted to go to for intelligence specialist. You scored high on your entrance exam to get that, didn't you?"
"Aye, sir."
"So it's safe to assume that you're a reasonably intelligent woman, correct?" he continued, leading Eliza to silently wonder where he was going with this particular line of questioning.
"Aye, sir," she answered with a twinge of uncertainty.
"I thought so," Bai replied before holding up a datapad displaying her rifle qualification results and the PT scores from the past two tests. "So why do you seem to think I wouldn't notice that these two things don't match? You're literally as average as average can be with your PT, but God help you if you can't hit every single damned target on the range, and dead center at that. Out the gate, no less," he continued as he set the datapad down. "I get the feeling like you're not taking your physical fitness nearly so seriously as you do your marksmanship, but I've got news for you, Private, you need both as a soldier, and if you're not gonna take every aspect of your training seriously, then I'll pass your position over to someone who will, understand?"
"Aye, sir. I'll improve to fit your expectations, sir," Eliza replied firmly as she began considering just how much she could push without raising an entirely new set of questions.
"I'm holding you to that, Lockheed. Square your shit away. Dismissed."
Eliza nodded curtly, then executed an about face to return to her bay. She'd read through the general overview of what topics were covered when prior to enlistment, and knew they'd begin small unit tactics training soon, both with hologram simulations and with the less pleasant tactical training rounds.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So, what was that about?" Hayes, another female in her squad nearly as short as she herself was asked as Eliza made her way over to her bunk to sit.
"Sergeant Bai says I need ta pick up on my PT or someone else is squad leader. Seems ta think I'm holdin' back and he's less than impressed," the Witch explained.
"That's a load of-"
"Truth," Eliza cut in. "I've na really been pushin' hard in th' tests."
"Wait, what? Why?" Leefield blurted.
"Tryin' ta keep out of th' limelight, get through trainin' and on ta my unit."
"Well clearly, that didn't work like you planned, now did it?" Hayes quipped.
"Evidently na," Eliza remarked dryly. "Donna ye worry about that, though. I'll have it sorted. Gather up th' others, though. Small squad tactics is up in a few days if I remember th' whole trainin' schedule, and I was wantin' ta teach ye hand signals so we can communicate silently."
The other two women stared for a moment, surprised by the revelation. "Where'd you even learn something like that?" Leefield wondered.
"Da was military back in th' day, and he taught me a fair bit. Way I figure it, if I can teach ye, then ye can learn other codes at yer units, or teach this one ta them yerselves."
"Why would we need to know tactical hand signals, though?" Hayes asked, still trying to process the whole idea.
"Coz we're at war wi a species that has been known ta wipe out entire planetary populations, so there's a decent chance any one of us will end up in combat against th' damned bassas, and silent communication's incredibly valuable in such situations if ye've no sealed suit wi comms or need ta maintain radio silence. Now gan get them over here, alright?" Eliza explained patiently, then looked over at her journal before briefly flipping through the pages, containing a bizarre mishmash of technical diagrams, notes on one detail or another from her training, and runic ciphers that pertained to the spells she currently maintained within her repertoire.
"Really startin' ta think I underestimated her a lot more than I first guessed.." she muttered.
|