In Training, Pt. 1

Chilly, dry winds swept along an open stretch of highway in the southerly district of Ensar-Tiye. The high-traction, thermo-regulated roadway never froze, but that didn't keep the powdery snow from swirling and blowing above it, just long enough to linger for a few moments before the heat from the road made the flakes fizzle away like magic. At night, the highway's snowy wind dance could be seen only through headlights. The sky was always dark and empty and offered no light to the lonely planet below.

The exits off the main highway led to the hundreds of military facilities built for various training purposes and run by the continent's State Security and Peacekeeping Council. These buildings were comfortably tucked into the boreal forest and rocky mountainsides of the cold, isolated district. The long roadtrains that were the primary transportation in and out of Ensar-Tiye rolled along and hugged the roadway closely to cling to its ambient heat, especially during the darker hours when the outdoor temperature dropped significantly.

During a dark and freezing hour one morning, a roadtrain snaked down an exit simply marked by a number, but to any seasoned SSPC soldier it indicated a restricted area reserved for reconciler training. Only a few buildings past the exit ramp gave away their hiding places among the tall evergreens; they could be spotted by the lights from parking lots and entrances flickering through tree branches. The roadtrain slowly made its way through three security checkpoints and parked at the far end of a building still showing signs of life. Within the building, the cybernetic ears of several tech soldiers picked up the low rumble of the roadtrain outside, and the soldiers breathed sighs of relief that their late night/early morning training would soon come to a close.

The newest hours of the morning were not a time most people would consider spending on physical training, but tech soldiers weren't like everyone else. Their natural rhythm, systems and organs were routinely enhanced or replaced through advanced cybernetics, though no two techs were alike in their exact makeup. These cybernetic operations, dubbed cygeries in Satolian nomenclature, were officially performed based on the patients' so-called needs, but more accurately they were done at the Council's own whims. In the past success rates weren't often high, but newer methods and advancements meant more recent cygeries were met with better results, therefore demanding more citizens take on the task of becoming cybernetic superhumans for the Council. Still, few volunteered, for with the lure of enhanced intelligence, cognition, senses, power and other physiological and mental benefits, came the responsibility of reimbursing the Council for their services. This meant military service, usually for life, which meant training at all hours under the assumption that as techs, they needed less sleep.

This was partly true.

Sergeant Sotiris DiSano would rather have been sleeping at the moment, his cybernetic systems be damned. He wasn't tired, but it had been months since he'd seen more than an hour of daylight on any given day. Today would be no different; he would go back to his quarters and sleep through the few hours of light yet again. He tried not to let that affect his current mood, but reconciler training had taken all night, into the morning, and all due to the lieutenant in charge taking personal issue with the progress of one particular soldier. Apparently that meant the entire training squad should stay in the training bay while the lieutenant attempted to correct the soldier. The lieutenant's actions served to accomplish nothing in Sotiris's opinion. The soldier in question looked as though she was exhausted from mortification alone, and the lieutenant's rising anger cast a pall on the already dulled enthusiasms of the rest of the trainees. Several techs had already begun to pretend they were still taking practice shots at their targets, but in reality, they were merely using the least amount of their energy on target practice and instead attempted to steal glances at the drama the lieutenant created for the young recruit.

Sotiris was unamused. He had already been in the military as a tech for five years and had just become a noncommissioned officer, a sergeant in charge of his own squad. It was his squad currently in the training bay, being held hostage by this... officer, this fierce, serious woman with about as much people skills as a toaster. Perhaps she was a toaster.

It was clear that the lieutenant, a tech herself, had undergone countless cygeries. Her features were flawless, unnaturally so. Everything about her was in absolute symmetry; even her movements were fluid and precise in a way indicative of being beyond regular human prowess. Her smooth black hair was wrapped in a tight bun at the nape of her neck; there was not a hair out of place nor a bead of sweat from her brow despite leading the current training session for nearly eight hours. She glanced keenly about the room with deep-set, dark eyes that appeared as though they contained lustful secrets, just the right lure for anyone she desired to trap in her gaze. Her black eyes were striking against her creamy white skin, and the straight slope of her nose ended in a perfect point, beckoning onlookers to follow further to her plump lips. Her dancer's figure, lithe and sinewy, yet unmistakably feminine, seemed chiseled from some master's vision of the ideal woman, and the skin-tight reconciler practice bodysuit she wore held no mysteries about her curvaceous physique, other than what her "finer" details might look like.

There was little doubt in Sotiris's mind that the lieutenant, as abrasive as her personality might be, had the advantage of looks to make up for most other social shortcomings, at least to those that mattered. Sotiris did not feel like one of those privileged people. Attractive as this woman was, he couldn't look past the way she was treating his squad, especially Private Agha, the current target of the lieutenant's lack of patience. Sotiris might have been partially artificial, but his heart was still intact. Right now it broke for Myrini Agha, a well-meaning new recruit with an unfortunately long list of cygery adjustment problems. They affected her in nearly all areas of her training, except mental stamina, which came naturally to Private Agha.

Myrini didn't have the lieutenant's same advantage of beauty and form. While Private Agha was not homely by any means, her new cybernetics were not improving her looks. In fact, a natural resistance to many of them had taken a toll on her physically. One of the more pronounced side effects was her once golden skin had been sapped of its melanin in splotches across her entire body. She appeared like an ink blot test in light and dark skin tones. She also had ongoing vision impairment in her left eye, and her hair was thinning drastically. Sotiris suspected she'd been dying it back to its original color, dark brown, because occasionally he spotted white at her roots. There were times when Sotiris felt ashamed for observing Myrini more closely than he would his other soldiers, but he took his responsibility as squad leader seriously and Myrini was definitely lagging behind the rest of his troops. Besides, it was hard to ignore her hair problems when he was at least a head taller than she was. The top of her head was the first thing he noticed during indoor formation inspections.

It helped none that the truckload of medicine Myrini took daily and the time away from training for more medical testing caused her incredible trouble in her enlistment. Not many squad leaders would have concerned themselves with a soldier like Myrini, who was viewed by most as a liability, but as Sotiris continued to dole out instructions to the rest of his squad while the training officer hammered away at Myrini, he also kept an eye on her just to make sure the officer didn't fully cross the line to flat-out torture.

Sotiris heard the officer belt out an emphatic "Again!" and flung another bright, blue-white burst of plasmic energy from the bionic firing mechanism implanted in her right forearm. The narrow arc of energy flew towards Myrini like a boomerang; its span lengthened as it drew closer to Myrini. She barely had time to deflect the strike, and though she successfully activated her plasma shield in time, she reeled from the collisional force of the two energies and fell to the ground. Sotiris's knee-jerk reaction was to come to Myrini's aid, even though he knew the vulcanized floor cushioned her fall.

His impulsive flight to Myrini was cut short as he watched her quickly--though painfully--rise to her feet and fire off her own round of plasma at the lieutenant. What fortitude! Sotiris was impressed that she'd managed to regain some of her earlier pep. Perhaps she heard the roadtrain outside as well. A grin played across Sotiris's face as he silently cheered Myrini on.

The cheer lasted a mere tenth of a second. Sotiris witnessed the lieutenant not only deflect Myrini's shot but volley it back towards her. It partially connected with the one spot on Myrini not protected by her training suit: her face. Once again, Myrini met the ground. The lieutenant barked at Myrini to get up, but she did not wait for her to do so before she unleashed another plasmic burst. This time Sotiris invited himself into the line of fire and absorbed the lieutenant's round before it could hit Myrini, who was on all fours. She tried wobbly to peel herself from the rubber floor. He activated a plasma dome around himself and Myrini and prepared to follow through with a course of actions he had planned a while ago, should the session come to this very moment. Sotiris liked being prepared.

The lieutenant sneered. "What do you think you're doing, Sergeant? Deactivate your shield at once!" She marched towards the half bubble of protective plasma surrounding Sotiris and Myrini.

Sotiris ignored her request and helped Myrini to her feet instead. She was visibly shaken, but more notable to Sotiris was the fresh burn across her cheek where she'd been hit by the lieutenant. He whispered to her, "I'll help take care of that shortly. I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner." He held Myrini under her right arm and turned her towards the lieutenant, who now stood right in front of Sotiris's shield.

"Sergeant! I told you to-"

Sotiris thought the moment was important enough to interrupt his superior. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I must act under my duties as Private Agha's squad leader. As you can see, she has sustained an injury that requires immediate medical attention."

"I can't see anything, Sergeant. Stand down!"

Sotiris finally complied and waved the shield away. Myrini looked at him worriedly. She mumbled to him, "Sergeant, I-"

Myrini shut up the instant the lieutenant drew close enough to run a finger down Myrini's cheek. She ended at the corner of her mouth and swiped at a spot of blood. Myrini gasped. Sotiris jerked Myrini away from the lieutenant, incredulous over the officer's current actions. The lieutenant rubbed the blood between her index finger and thumb and took a long whiff of it with closed eyes. She looked hypnotic. Myrini stood with her mouth agape and matched Sotiris's stunned expression.

"Ma'am?" said Sotiris at last. "Private Agha is-"

"Bleeding." The lieutenant's voice was breathy and low.

When the lieutenant opened her eyes again, they briefly flashed as darkened hollows before she blinked once more, returning them to normal. Sotiris's grip on Myrini tightened until she let out a grunt and wriggled out of his hold. He glanced at Myrini to see her shaking her head at him. There was an unmistakable smell of an overheated processor coming from Myrini, and Sotiris attempted to reach for her again to stand by his assertion that training was over. Myrini dodged his grasp and frowned at him. Tears formed at the corners of her bloodshot eyes. She swallowed before addressing the officer.

"Ma'am, I'd like to finish this training session," she said with a trembling voice. "I refuse whatever treatment Sergeant DiSano is suggesting I need. I'm not damaged, and I don't want to hold up the rest of my squad members now that the roadtrain has arrived."

The lieutenant smiled maniacally. "Good." She turned to Sotiris and dropped her grin. "Gather the rest of the squad in the foyer and I'll dismiss you after I complete this round with Agha." With a sickeningly foreboding tone she added, "This won't take long." Her eyes blinked hollow once more.

"No," said Sotiris with frustration. "Section 8A, line 24 of the General Code of Justice states that under no circumstances should-"

"I don't care about the code! Your soldier here has already refused services! I am in charge of this session, and I am the one who says yes or no! Now take your squad away or there will be repercussions! You want me to put a mark on your record?" The lieutenant was no longer hiding the fact that she could not restrain her metamorphosis into reconciler mode. Sotiris noticed a few tough shingles--like serpent's scales--had formed around the lieutenant's wrists, which were the initiation points of true reconciler activation. This was totally unacceptable behavior from a training officer.

Oh, how it paid to be prepared. Sotiris wasted no more time and retrieved a recording chip from the panel behind his right ear. He held it in front of the lieutenant.

She gasped. "You... you can't have that in a restricted area!"

Myrini wiped blood from her lip with the sleeve of her suit and took a step closer to Sotiris. She mumbled her words. "Are you trying to get us in trouble? She'll claim this was a setup, you know."

Sotiris raised his hand in assurance. He had a plan. She'd thank him later.

"Ma'am, your session is in its entirety, right here. How are you going to explain your actions to the Captain? You can't even control your reconciler processor right now." He pointed to her scaly wrists.

The lieutenant grunted and backed away slightly. Her eyes turned black and this time stayed black, and the rust-colored shingles near her hands steadily multiplied. They covered her arms, then shoulders, then worked up her neck and down her chest. Soon she was fully covered in her flexible cybernetic reconciler armor. She was no longer the striking military beauty; in her place stood a creature from fantasy. She had shifted into a human/reptile half-breed, with a leathery skin of red and brown hues, an elongated cranium and a powerful, protruding jaw, and menacing claws at the end of each finger. Her form was feminine only in the vaguest sense.

Her voice carried in shrill notes. "Care to make this interesting, Sergeant? I'll end this session now, as long as you agree to stay behind for a personal match."

Sotiris hadn't used his true reconciler function since giving a demonstration to his new recruits a few weeks prior. He'd also been outfitted with the function for less than a year, but now was not the time to think about his odds against the more experienced officer. He nodded at her, stepped away from Myrini and squared himself in front of the lieutenant. He brought his hands to his sides and slowly rolled his fingers into tight fists. The first of his reconciler scales formed on top of his skin and clothing. The sensation of growing scales used to feel foreign and unsettling to Sotiris, but now it felt almost pleasant, like having warm wax poured over him.

Myrini ran up to him and grabbed him around a scaly arm. "Sergeant! Don't do this! I can take care of-" Sotiris pushed her away and ordered her to follow the rest of the squad outside. Before Myrini complied, she leaned close to him and asked, "Do you really think you can beat her?"

The last of Sotiris's armor formed down the bridge of his nose. He held his right arm out and formed a long arc of white-hot plasma out of his palm. "I don't need to beat her." A matching plasma arc formed in his left palm. He held both arcs at the ready. "I just need to wear her out."