Chapter Seven
Somehow, by some miracle, Alexander had survived Phase One of the Marine Corps Boot Camp, and as they moved into the second month, the even tougher Phase Two was beginning. The first week started out innocuous enough, with near constant close order drill and PT, but half way through the week the recruits learned that they would soon be tested on their drill, and a failing grade was not acceptable. This was mostly due to the fact that, along with the recruits, the junior most DI was also being graded during the test; which was something that had most of the recruits on edge.
No one wanted to be the reason their DI yelled at everyone, and if you were to mess up during the test then it was a guarantee that they would all be in trouble. So because of this they all tried to get their act together and do what needed to be done, going so far as to ask for more time out on the parade grounds to get down the parts that they were struggling on. Which, for some of them—including Alex—was most of it. He had trouble keeping time with the others and would often let his rifle dip a little when he was holding it.
Spirits were low going into the test. Their last practice had been absolutely abysmal, and it had ended with Sergeant Franklin yelling at them for close to thirty minutes. The large man had been in such a rage that he tossed garbage cans across the squad bay, pulled apart a few beds, and then told everyone to unlock their footlockers and dump the contents into the middle of the bay. When everything had been gathered, the recruits only had one and a half minutes to go through everything and gather there own stuff up and put it away. Those who didn't find everything were sent to the Pit, which was a large sandpit outside the House where the DI's sent recruits who needed extra punishment. Alex himself had been in the Pit a few times, doing PT until it felt like he was going to pass out cold. Thankfully, he hadn't been one of the poor recruits who had to do it then.
The morning of the Initial Drill had been chilly and overcast. The recruits were marched out onto the parade ground where two other regiments were gathered as well, and then, one by one, they were tested. Alex's regiment was the last to go, and they went through the movements that had been hammered into their minds with as much precision as they could muster under the circumstances. There were a few small hiccups—like one of the recruits not being able to get his rifle strap undone—but it went fairly smoothly; which surprised not only them, but their DI's as well.
They had managed to get a passing grade, but only barely. And while they had made it through that test unscathed, they were quickly informed that during their final phase there would be another drill test, and this one would be overseen by the base commander himself. To get a passing grade in that test, the recruits would need to fix everything that had messed up this time around, and all come together in a way they hadn't done before. It was a daunting task, but for now none of them tried to worry about it. There were other things to do before their final month, and now things were getting even tougher.
The second week of Phase Two was something the Drill Instructors called Grass Week, and was basically the starting point for the recruits in their journey to becoming qualified with their rifles. Most of this week was spent inside a class room, learning about the basic marksmanship principles and how to fire efficiently, while the rest of the time was out on the range learning the firing positions they would be tested on—standing, kneeling, sitting, and prone. However, even though they were learning how to fire their rifles, not once were they actually given live rounds. In fact, they weren't given anything and instead were firing imaginary rounds at the targets down range.
It was during the following week that they would finally get to fire their weapons; and not surprisingly enough, this week was called Firing Week. Alexander was excelling in this course, and was marked as the top of the regiment; a title he kept day after day. Unlike most of the other recruits, who had never held, let alone fired a weapon in their entire life, Alexander was very familiar with them. It was a bit different than firing a weapon from inside the cockpit of a Mech, but he was able to compensate for the recoil against his body and hit the targets no matter how far away they were.
It had gotten to the point that he was so good that the Primary Marksmanship Instructor, Staff Sergeant Rosen, had Alexander help him out with the other recruits. Much of the last half of the week Alex went from recruit to recruit and helped them fix what they were doing wrong. And it was at about this point, as he helped everyone out and began to stop drawing the ire of the DI's, that the other recruits came to sort of respect him. No longer was he the target for crude and disgruntled looks from the other recruits, and most were even coming to him on their own to ask for help now.
The same thing was even happening in their simulator courses, and Alexander was so overwhelmed with the amount of recruits that were coming to him for advice that he actually had to tell everyone that he wouldn't be able to help them. His own squadron was starting to struggle as the courses and tests in the simulators got harder and harder, and he figured that he had to focus on them more than the others. He didn't like having to do that, but unlike how the rest of their training was oriented on the whole regiment working well together, the simulator was all about focusing on your own group. They were scored based on the average of all the pilots together, and this meant that if enough of them failed and didn't qualify, the entire squadron would be forced to do everything over again; and not even Alexander's perfect scores could make up for this. His squadron was by no means bad, but a few members seemed to be lacking and he focused most of his attention on them.
Recruits Samson and Valdez had been continually failing to meet the strict requirements set forth by their SDI's, and it was starting to bring down the rest of the group. Samson, one of the men from Alex's regiment, wasn't doing too badly, but he needed a lot of work on his ranging and target acquisition; something that was easily fixed. Valdez on the other hand was a whole bundle of problems. While she was as smart as a whip—probably one of the smartest recruits in both the male and female regiments—she had trouble with almost everything that required skill and practice. She had a lot of potential, but she was just having trouble bringing that potential out.
Once Firing Week had ended, and all but three recruits passed their qualification, the course went into Team Week. This week was supposed to be a little more laid back for the recruits than the previous ones, with focus on team building exercises and doing odd jobs around the base; like maintenance, yard work, and cleaning. However, because they were on a different program than the rest of the base, their Team Week also included their first major simulation test, in which failure meant being pulled from the course entirely and sent to another branch of the armed forces. And no one wanted that.
Due to this fact, the recruits were given a lot more free time than other Marine recruits, but not without a catch. When not doing PT, team exercises, their new jobs, or any other part of the course, the recruits were given two options: clean the squad bay and square their stuff away, or group up with their squadron and practice on the simulators. And because Valdez and Samson were having problems, it was decided that their squadrons free time would be spent entirely in the simulator room working on getting better.
It was now mid week and Alexander, along with the seven other members of his squadron sat inside the simulator room and ran through exercises and mock tests to get everyone on the same page. By this point Samson was beginning to show improvement, so Alexander spent all of his time standing next to Valdez in her simulator and giving her hints and tips on what she was doing right, and what she was doing wrong.
“No, no,” he breathed and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers out of frustration. “When you're moving forward and firing, you have to press down on the pedal harder to make up for the recoil of your weapon. Which you aren't doing, because your shots keep climbing! Don't forget to set the resistance in your limbs as well, that will help you keep on target.”
“I have the resistance set!” Valdez now growled and smashed her hands into the control board in front of her. She looked up at Alexander with fire in her eyes, but he knew it was anger that was pointed more to herself than it was to him. She didn't like being the lowest ranked recruit, and she had been doing everything she could to try and get better. But nothing seemed to be working.
“You had it set for stationary firing. Whenever you move you have to recalibrate it. You're also firing for too long. In these new machines it's best to use quick bursts. They're not as robust as the Mark II's are. You've done Grass Week, right? It's just like that. Firing a weapon on a Mech is a lot like firing it from the shoulder. Just take what you learned there and you'll get better.”
“That's what you said yesterday, and I haven't gotten any better! How do you do it? How do you make it look so easy? The training programs we did at the academy weren't even a quarter as hard as these ones!” now Valdez sighed and turned in her seat to face him.
“I don't know,” he admitted, “lots of practice I guess. I think it really depends on finding your own way of doing things. Once you've learned the basics, you just have to figure out how to operate one of these machines in the best way for you. Having a comprehensive pilot profile that is suited specifically for your needs is a good way to do things, and I'm actually a little surprised that they don't allow us to create them here. It would make life a lot easier for everyone if they could customize every little detail, save it, and then just forget about it when you're on the simulator.”
“Yeah, well if there's one thing I've learned in the month and a half I've been here, it's that the Marines like to do things the hard way. Like drill, and that stupid gas chamber,” Valdez said, and Alexander was assaulted with a vivid memory when he had nearly gone crazy inside that gas chamber. “How are you doing by the way? The gas seemed to really get to you.”
“I'm fine. I just breathed in too much of it,” he lied; he was not doing fine. The CS gas, mixed with a chemical compound to make it smell like dead UNE, had really done a number on him. He was barely surviving in that regard.
The nightmares, which he had been lucky not to have until that point, came back each night with a vengeance. Often he would be woken up in the middle of the night by whoever was on Fire Watch and told to shut up, because he was waking everyone else up. They were so bad that he was told that he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and he would always wake up covered in sweat and with horrible visions hiding just behind his eyelids.
He was even struggling to keep himself together during the day, and whenever they had a moment to catch their breath, or some down time, Alexander had to find something to do or else he would be consumed by his memories. Eden had ripped him open, and the affects didn't seem to be getting any better. No matter how much he talked to a therapist about it, or how much he tried to repress images and memories that plagued his every moment, Alexander couldn't shake them.
Honestly, he was surprised that he was still holding together at all. He really had his Senior Drill Instructor to thank for that. Since their little talk outside the gas chamber, where the SDI had figured out who Alex really was, he had been doing just what he had promised; helping him to overcome what had happened. He was held more accountable than the other recruits were, and the SDI made certain that Alexander knew that everything he did was supposed to be perfect. He believed that getting Alex into a set routine that revolved heavily around military protocol and duties, that he would learn to leave his memories in the past; where they belonged. And it seemed to be working a little.
Alexander had always excelled in a military environment, and he just needed to get back into that mentality. When he and the rest of the X-04 squadron had been given two weeks of holiday at the end of the training course, and Alex had been forced to go on leave with Angela, he had been lost and really didn't get anything done. Whenever he wasn't bound by the military way of life he seemed to just shirk everything and became lazy and easily distracted. And it seemed that his time in the hospital had had the same affect, only this time he was having a ton of trouble getting out of that funk.
“Should I start the program over again?” Danica Valdez asked now, pulling Alexander from his thoughts.
“No,” he answered after taking a quick look at his watch, “we only have five more minutes before free time is over. That's not enough to go through it once more. We'll have to pick this up again tomorrow. Go over your field manual tonight and highlight anything you're still having problems with. I'll take a look at it later and we can address the area's that need the most improvement.”
Valdez now sighed and pulled herself out of the cockpit. She seemed happy that they weren't going to continue, but he knew that she was still sore at herself for her poor showing. She was a very talented pilot, but she needed confidence to bring her potential out. If she could just ace one test then Alex was sure that she would have no problems scoring high on all the following ones. It also didn't help that these tests weren't exactly accurate at replicating actual conditions they would find out in the field, and that was throwing some of the recruits off a little. However, with a little practice and some more self esteem, he was sure that Valdez would become an excellent pilot some day.
Together, with the other pilots from the squadron, they left the simulator building and headed back to their House's, which were located at the opposite end of the large base. The sun was starting to set beyond the horizon, despite it only being early evening, and as they walked everyone talked about their upcoming tests on the simulators. This would prove to be their most daunting exercise to date, and it was the first time that they were facing total expulsion from the Marines should they not pass. In their earlier tests, like the swimming and marksmanship exams, if you failed you simply had to do it over again; and if you still failed you were pulled back from the main course and would then join the one behind them to do it all over again. Not this time though.
While this was not an outcome any of them would be happy with, it was completely different for Alex. If he were to fail—be it on his own or because his squadron's score dragged him down—he wouldn't just be pulled off the course like the others; but instead he would be ejected from the military entirely. His return to the squadron and the battle was completely dependant on him passing this boot camp.
“By the way, thanks for all the help, Pretty Boy” recruit Thompson, one of the males, said to him as the conversation dropped towards the end of their long walk. “I don't think we'd be even half as good if it wasn't for all your help.”
“It's not a problem.”
“Yes, it is!” recruit Kitchner now stated, the most vocal of the group and also the most skilled female pilot among the four on the squadron. “I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for your scores, we would have been kicked out of the program already. I'm really beginning to think that the rumours about you are true.”
“Rumours?” Alex now asked, not sure what the girl was talking about. He hadn't heard any rumours about himself. Not lately anyways.
“Yeah, about who you really are,” another recruit answered and Alex swallowed at the implications. “When you left the gas chamber and the SDI came after you, one of the other recruits thought she overheard you two talking about Leviathan, that British Ace. So some people think that you're their son or brother, or something like that.”
“Oh come on, the only reason this is even scuttlebutt is because Pretty Boy has an English accent and is good on the simulators. It's probably not even true, right, Pretty Boy?” Valdez came to defend him, but Alex could hear in her voice that she was waiting for an answer as well. She probably thought the same thing as the others, and this honestly made Alex laugh at how ridiculous it all was.
“P... people really think I'm Leviathan's son?” he asked as a fit of giggles overcame him and he laughed hard, and out loud. “Seriously? That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time!”
Everyone now eyed him curiously, as if trying to figure out why he found it so funny. They didn't know how ironic the whole thing was though. It was probably the strangest thing he had ever been asked before, and he couldn't help but laugh at it. It was nice though; because this was the first time in a long time that he could actually remember laughing like this. It felt good for his mind and soul, and some of the tension that weighed on him constantly was eased as he laughed.
“So, are we to take that as a no then?” Valdez asked for the group.
“No, I'm not his son; I promise you that.”
“Well, that sucks then. It would have been cool if you were. I don't think anyone would believe us if we told them that we trained with Leviathan's son though. Oh well,” Kitchner now sighed and her shoulders sagged a little in disappointment.
“Yeah, that would have been pretty awesome,” Valdez admitted, and the others nodded in agreement with her. “Anyways, we're over this way; so we'll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Don't forget to go over your field manual,” Alex said as the women turned to head off down another road that led towards their squad bay.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Alex and the rest of the males made their way back to their own squad bay, making it back inside just as Sergeant Franklin was making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. Even a few seconds later and they would have been in some trouble; although, that's not to say that they weren't in trouble. Franklin still tore into them a little, saying that even though they were on time, they had cut it too close. Still, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and they weren't given any punishment for it.
“Lights out in ninety minutes, recruits!” Sergeant Franklin then told them, after he was done berating Alex and his group. “Make sure everyone showers! I don't want no stinky recruits at PT tomorrow! Those who don't shower will do their morning PT in the Pit! I'm talking to you, Evans!”
“Yes, sir!” recruit Evans snapped to attention, his face turning red from embarrassment. Although, to be fair, he had to constantly be told to shower and brush his teeth.
“Oh! Those of you who just arrived: you missed mail call! Your mail has been left on your racks! And Pretty Boy, you received a package from Germany; it's probably from your fiance! If there is any contraband in there you are to bring it to me in the office immediately, is that understood?”
“Aye, sir!” Alexander replied, a moment after remembering that Franklin thought that Angela was his fiance.
Heading over to his rack, Alex found a large box sitting on top of his footlocker. The moment he saw it he knew it wasn't from Angela, but rather most likely from Kimberly. A few weeks ago he had sent Kim a letter, asking her to send him some better toiletries. The stuff the Marine Corps gave out was good if you were in a pinch, but honestly it was low grade stuff. The toothpaste was the worst; it said it wasn't flavoured, but Alex was sure that was a lie. It tasted like stale and soggy mint, if that was even possible. The after taste was even worse though, and Alexander had had enough of it. He needed something better if he was ever going to make it through the tough mornings.
However, as Alex opened up the package and pulled out all the packing peanuts, he instead found something very peculiar; something that made him think that maybe Kimberly wasn't the one to send this package. Inside the box was a large and varied assortment of toiletries, with multiples of each item in different brands, scents, flavors, and sizes. There were roughly ten different types of each item, including razors, soap, shampoo and conditioner, and toothpaste. It was the strangest thing, and it took Alex a few moments to realize that, whoever had sent this didn't know what he liked; so they instead sent a bunch of everything to cover their bases.
“Pretty Boy, you're engaged?” his rack mate, recruit Morris—the recruit who slept on the rack above his—came over and asked.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” he lied, knowing that this wasn't a lie he wanted to get caught in. If word ever made it to Franklin that Alex wasn't engaged, he couldn't even imagine the amount of crap he would be in. He would be lucky if he wasn't forced to sleep in the Pit.
Now Morris looked at the box on Alex's lap and his eyes went wide when he saw the contents. “Jesus, man! Are you trying to open up a shop or something? What do you need all that stuff for?”
“Seems there was a mix up,” Alex answered, and now quickly pulled out all the stuff he was actually going to use. “Here, if you need anything, take it.”
Morris quickly grabbed the box from Alexanders hands and sat down on the rack next to him, going through the contents with a smile on his face. “Thanks. All I have is the crap my mom sent me, and I'm sick of being the guy who smells like a girl all the time. Hey, there are two letters in here for you.”
Alex, who had been in the process of putting all his stuff into his footlocker, looked up and found Morris holding out two envelopes. Blinking in confusion, he grabbed the envelopes from the outstretched hand and turned them both over, finding no name or address to identify who they were from. There was only one way to find out, and he now sat on the edge of his footlocker and opened one of them up.
He had expected to find a letter in there from someone, but instead simply found a small white card with the words 'Do you think I'm your slave?!' written on it in large and angry looking letters. He knew instantly that it was written by Kimberly, and he couldn't help but chuckle at it. He was sure that she wouldn't have been pleased when the first time he wrote to her was simply to ask for some things. That had been part of the fun of it. But, looking back on it now, he was sure he was not going to get away with it so easily.
Opening up the second envelope, Alex found that this one was actually a letter. He quickly went to the end of the letter and found that it had been written by Angela, something that he found a little shocking. He honestly hadn't been expecting to get any written mail from anyone, so he was mildly surprised. Although, to be honest, it was quite nice to actually get some mail for once. Every time the recruits were given their mail, Alex was the only one who didn't receive anything and it was a little depressing. He had tried not to let it bother him, thinking that the only person who would really have any reason to send him a letter would be Kimberly; and he knew that she was keeping a close eye on him anyway. Besides, they had never been the type to keep in contact like that before. Maybe a phone call here or there, but not much else.
So, with a sense of excitement—that he hadn't expected—filling his mind, Alex read the letter from his second in command. If she was going to take the time and actually write something, then he was going to take the time and read it.
Dear Alex
I really don't know how to start this letter, and this is my third attempt. I'm just gonna leave it as it is, so deal with it. Anyways, how's it going? I haven't heard from you in a while, so I thought I would write you a letter to see how you were doing. Actually, now that I think about it, that's pretty lame. It's not like you'll actually be able to tell me how you're doing unless you write back, which I would assume you don't get much time for. Not that it matters. I understand that you're busy and all, so don't worry about it.
You probably think I've lost my mind right now, don't you? Which might not be far off from the truth, now that I've read over what I just wrote. More letter, less rambling!
I hope everything got to you in one piece. Lisa offered to pick up the stuff you asked for, but she didn't seem to know what you actually wanted, so she bought a bunch of everything. It didn't help that Kimberly refused to help, because she thought it would be funny if you got a random assortment of things instead. By the way, she said she was going to slap you the next time she saw you, so I'd watch out if I were you. She was not happy that the only thing you wrote was a list of things you wanted sent to you. I can't really blame her though; she is pretty worried about you. But I'm sure you already know that.
OH! How could I forget this! You're never going to believe who joined the squadron temporarily! Thomas Mathers! Your friend from the Second Battalion that we met during the squadron test in France. Yeah, when Kim got back from the States, she brought him to the base and said that he was going to fill in one of the open spots for a little while. We were all pretty surprised at him showing up, but he seems like a nice guy. He gets on Kimberly's nerves pretty easily though. By the way, what's the deal with them? If I didn't know any better, I would swear that they used to date or something. Kim denies it outright, and Thomas just smiles and laughs whenever Sarah or I ask them about it.
I'm sure you're probably wondering how the squadron is doing, so I'll catch you up. We were stuck doing escorts and defensive missions and patrols for the longest time; mostly protecting the forward lines during a UNE offensive. But when Thomas joined up with us, we were pulled off the duty roster until he got qualified in a Rogue. It didn't take him very long, but we didn't see action for some time. Only now are we starting to get back out into the field, but they're giving us the crap missions and it's really annoying. Another squadron, called Havoc, is taking all of our old missions, and no one is happy about it. I know, you're probably think that's not the kind of attitude I should have about all of this, but you don't know these guys. They're just a bunch of show offs, and their commanding officer is probably one of the worst human beings I have ever met. I'm not even really joking here.
Not that it really matters anymore. Lisa (yes, you read that right. I said Lisa) almost beat the crap out of him a few days ago. We haven't seen him since. He's probably hiding in his room the entire time he's on base. Funny enough, I can't blame him if that is what he is doing. I've never seen Lisa like that before! She tore into the guy and hit him with her helmet! He deserved it though, so I guess I can't complain too much. It was just strange. She's becoming a different person, and I don't really know what to make of it. She's not the shy girl we once knew anymore, and I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Oh, I should probably tell you something. Try not to get mad or anything, but I officially named the squadron today. I know it's your squadron and all, but it's been without a name for too long and I, along with the others, felt that it was time to just pick one. I'm not going to tell you what it is though. Not yet, at least. I'm curious to see what your reaction will be to it, so I'll wait until I see you in person. So you better keep working hard and get through boot camp!
So, I'm really not sure what else to say; besides that I hope you're doing well. Oh, wait! That's not true. There was something I wanted to talk to you about. I was hoping to have an actual conversation, but seeing as how I don't know if we'll be able to talk on the phone any time soon, I guess this letter will have to do for now. It's about the trip you said you wanted to take. Now, I don't know if that's still something you wanted to do or not, but I've looked into it a little bit. Okay, maybe more than a little bit. I got some information on your course, and it turns out that when you finish it you get ten days off to do whatever you want and go wherever you want. Now, it just so happens that when your course ends is only a few days off from when we all get our next leave, so it kind of works out perfectly. If that's what you wanted to do. You might not, but I thought I would bring it up anyways.
So, considering that I don't know if or when I'll hear back from you, here's what I'm going to suggest. When you get off I'll just be heading into my second week of time off. I'm going to spend a week at home with my parents, but after that I can head to Japan for a week if that's what you want to do. Wait, no. Is that even going to work if you don't get a chance to let me know until the last minute? Probably not. Okay, then here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to book a flight from Minneapolis to Tokyo, and I'll attach the information to this letter. That way you'll know when I'll be there. So, if you wanted, you could just meet me there. Or not. It's whatever you want to do, but I'll be there regardless. If you don't show up, then I'm sure I can still have a nice vacation. It'll be fun... I hope.
Wow, if I didn't sound crazy before, I'm sure I do right now. Setting up a vacation to a foreign country in the off chance that you'll still want to go there. Maybe I should stop while I'm ahead. Or maybe it's already too late. Well, I should probably end this letter before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
I hope you're doing okay, and that you're not pushing yourself too hard. We're all looking forward to having you back in the squadron, so don't hurt yourself, okay? And please, if you can at all, write or call and let me know if you're going to go to Japan. I'll still probably end up going even if I don't hear from you, but it would be nice to know if you're going to join me or not. Anyways, keep working hard.
—Angela Baker
Alex now turned to the last page of the letter, finding that Angela had indeed attached her flight information to it. He gave it a quick cursory glance and then folded the letter up, fitting it into the envelope a moment later. As he placed the letter in his footlocker and made it sure it was sealed and locked properly, he couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since he and Angela had talked, and as the training camp wore on he found that he greatly missed talking with her. Speaking to her had been one of the few things that had kept him going when he was back at the hospital, and he didn't realize how much support he got just from talking to her until they hadn't talked for a while. So getting a letter from her, especially one as quirky and tangled as that one had been, made him feel happy; like he could take whatever the Marine Corps threw at him.
It was also really nice to hear how the squadron was doing in his absence. He was glad that Thomas was there to look after them. He and Kim were the only ones he trusted to be there with them, and he was happy that both of them were now. While a bit over the top and more than a little flirty, Thomas was a good man and a good pilot; and Alex respected him. He just hoped he wasn't up to any of his old antics. Then again, he was sure that Kim was keeping him in line. Or at least she was trying to.
“You okay, Pretty Boy?” Morris asked as he came back towards their rack. He held a now empty box in his hands, and looking around the room, Alex found that several recruits were putting away new stuff. He must have taken what he wanted and then passed it around for the others.
“Yeah, why?” Alex asked and grabbed a change of clothes and towel; along with his new shampoo and conditioner.
“You're smiling... I... I don't think I've ever seen you smile before. That must have been a good letter you got.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he now laughed.
“Awesome. So, what's your fiance like? I never would have guessed that you were engaged.”
Alex chuckled to himself and shrugged his shoulders, moving towards the showers as he answered. “She's pretty amazing.”
*
As Team Week came to an end and the final phase, Phase Three, loomed just ahead of them, the recruits were put through their simulator test. This turned out to be a full day affair, with multiple simulations that covered varying aspects of Mech marksmanship. Being the last squadron to have been formed, Alex and the rest of his members had to wait until all the other recruits had gone through their tests first. At first he had thought that this would have been a blessing, giving them a chance to see how the others were doing and show Valdez—who was so nervous that she couldn't stop shivering—that it wasn't going to be as hard as she thought it was. However, they quickly learned that all scoring indicators had been turned off, and the recruits wouldn't know how they did until everyone was finished.
As the day wore on and more and more squadrons finished their tests, Alex and his squadron prepared themselves for their own. He went over the basics with them again, reminding them of what to do in certain circumstances and telling them all to relax and remember not to jerk the stick around. This would probably all come down to how well they aimed, as these simulators weren't full ones and the recruits had already been tested on how to actually operate a Mech back at their academies.
“Loosen up, you guys!” he whispered loudly as they huddled around him and looked over their field manuals. “If you think you're going to fail then you probably will. Just stay confident and remember what you've learned. If you can do that then I promise you that you will pass. Believing in your skill is the first step to doing something right.”
“Pretty Boy's right,” one of the other recruits now chimed in, nodding his head frantically like he was trying to psyche himself and everyone else up. “We can do this! We've come this far!”
Everyone around him nodded, and Alex forced a smile to his face; even though he wasn't in a smiling mood. Everything came down to this moment. After today he would either continue his training and be one step closer to getting back out into the field, or he would wash out and become a civilian. He needed them to pass. As long as they scored above a seventy five percent they should be fine; his score should bring them above the passing mark.
He had done everything he could for them, and now they had to do it for themselves. He was certain that most of them would be fine, but as his eyes moved around the group and he found Valdez staring anxiously at her feet, he knew that she was most likely going to have problems. In their last practice session she had been over compensating for her fire rate, and she had gotten her worst score yet. She had to pull it together today though. It was paramount. Not just to the others, but to him.
“Valdez,” he said as the others turned back towards the room to see how the final group was doing, “how are you doing? You okay?”
At first the young woman didn't seem to hear him, but after he repeated his question she looked up and he found her eyes were bloodshot and wide, with large black bags under them. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I... I'm fine. Just going over everything in my mind.”
“Just relax,” he said softly now, and nodded at her. “You know all you need to know, and you've done this over a hundred times in the last week alone. Just remember to breath and take it one step at a time, okay? You can do this.”
Valdez nodded and then looked back down at her feet, her lips moving over unspoken words. Alex stared at her for another long moment, but then their SDI called out and he turned back to find that it was their turn to be tested. Time had run out, and all he could do now was hope and pray for the best. It was actually a little funny, but in that moment he actually found himself hoping that this wasn't his last day at boot camp. That probably wasn't something a lot of Marine recruits thought.
The squadron took their places inside the simulators and booted up the testing program they would be doing first. It turned out to be a simple target acquisition simulation, one they had done a thousand times already, and Alex did as he had always done: he destroyed everything put in front of him. Two hundred perfect bulls-eyes, and only two hundred rounds fired. It wasn't hard to figure out that he had gotten a perfect score, even with the ticker in the corner not being displayed.
The next test proved to be a little more challenging, and now the targets moved around the screen and you had to chase them down. It took quite a bit of skill to move a massive machine like a Mech, and even more to move it while firing at the same time. This was what separated a Mech pilot from a marksman. While chasing down targets you had to be doing about five different things at once; and you had to be doing them perfectly. If you missed a part or forgot to type in one single command, you could end up crashing your machine or walking right into the middle of an ambush. In the field it usually ended with the death of a pilot and the loss of a machine.
However, once more Alexander's skill and experience saw him through it and he once more got a perfect score. It was amazing how good he felt each time he destroyed a target, and for a moment he almost forgot that he wasn't the only one being tested in that moment. He had no idea how the others were doing, and he wasn't sure he even really wanted to know. Everything was riding on this moment.
The third and final test they did was the closest to actual battle simulations that these old machines could create. Their targets were still two dimensional and round, but now there were hundreds of them all moving across the screen at once. And not only were they moving all at once, they were also coming towards the pilot like a real UNE horde would. The test was simple: destroy as many targets as you could before they swarmed you. For each target that was destroyed they would be awarded five points, and for each one that hit them back they would lose one point. It was basically a race against time.
It was probably one of the most intense tests that Alex had ever done inside a simulator before, and he found himself struggling to keep up. His rate of fire was almost constant and he mowed down anything that got too close to him; but in the end there were just too many to keep up with. After expending all his ammunition and destroying somewhere close to four hundred targets, Alexander was overcome by what remained and the test ended. He was pretty sure he had gotten more than enough to get himself a high score on the final simulation, but he really wouldn't know until they got their results.
He climbed out of the simulator and grouped up with the rest of the squadron now, everyone waiting quietly while the DI's went from machine to machine and gathered their scoring information. Looking around at all the pale and sweaty faces before him, Alex saw a lot of nervous looks. More than ninety percent of the recruits looked like they were about to throw up, and the air was rife with tension as the DI's grouped up and went over everything.
It was another twenty minutes of waiting in silence before the DI's finally broke apart and then went from squadron to squadron. Each group was given a piece of paper and left alone, their eyes going over their results. As Alex and his group waited for a DI to come and give them the news, he noticed more than a couple of people just utterly break down as they read how they had done. By his count it looked like eighteen people had failed, which was not a good sign at all. Four of them appeared to be from the same squadron, and that meant that the entire group had failed. Just like that! Eight people, four who had probably actually passed, had been removed from the course.
Finally Sergeant Franklin came up to him and handed him the piece of paper they had all been waiting for. With his heart in his throat and his knees threatening to buckle, Alexander looked at it. To the right side of the paper was the final score for each recruit, and he focused on those numbers as they were really the only ones that mattered.
“Don't just read it to yourself silently!” Kitchner growled, and Alex glanced up to find her, and the rest of the squadron, staring at him intently.
“Right, sorry,” he apologized, having been to caught up in how they had done to actually tell them. “Kitchner: Eighty six percent. Vannik: Eighty one percent. Rogers: Seventy nine percent. Samson: Seventy six percent. Smith: Eighty four percent. Simpson: Eighty two percent. Woods: Ninety nine percent. Valdez—” he read out loud, but before he could read the last one, Kitchner now interrupted him.
“Wait! We passed! Even if Valdez got below a seventy five percent, we still passed!” she exclaimed, and now everyone heaved a large and loud sigh of relief. Everyone except for Valdez that is.
“That's great and all, but... but how did I actually do?” the woman asked and Alex looked to her now. Her eyes were hard and her shoulders set, and Alex knew that just passing wasn't enough for her anymore. She had been trying so hard to improve herself that if she didn't do any better than she had before, she wouldn't be happy; even though she would remain on the course.
Now Alex looked back down at the piece of paper in his hands and found her name at the bottom of the list. At first he didn't think he had read it right, but as he went over it once more and even checked her individual test scores, he realized that he had read it right. He just didn't think it was possible, and he now stared at the woman with wide eyes as he tried to find something to say.
“Is it that bad?” she groaned, but Alex shook his head and quickly gathered himself together.
“You got a ninety two percent...” he whispered, and now all the chatter in the squadron suddenly stopped and everyone stared at her in shock.
“Really? Awesome!” Valdez squealed, and even the other recruits overcame their shock and congratulated her. Alex, however, didn't. He simply stared at her and tried to figure out what was going on. He knew she had it in her to get a score like that, but he really hadn't expected it. Not like this; not after how poorly she had been doing.
“How did you do it?” he now found himself asking, and the girl looked at him curiously. “Seriously? I'm happy for your score and everything, but how did you manage to do it? I wouldn't be surprised if this was the second best score among the recruits right now.”
“I just did what you told me to do,” she smiled and shrugged, but then quickly added something more, “and I created a profile to help me out. You said that it's standard practice right?”
Now Alexander balked and stepped away from the woman before him. She blinked and flashed him a funny look, but it was lost on him. He had indeed told her that pilot profiles were used out in the field to make things easier and relieve a lot of the strain. But making one on the machines they were using shouldn't have been possible. For the most part they were rudimentary, and really only focused on testing accuracy and pilot competence. For her to have actually made a profile, from scratch and during the middle of the exam was astounding. Even Alex himself would have had trouble doing that with so much else going on.
“Are you serious?” he now asked and everyone was looking at him like he had just lost his mind or something. “You just created one on a ten year old machine in the middle of a test?”
“Yes, really. It was pretty easy once I bypassed the program running the test and input my settings. Why... was... was I not supposed to do that?”
“Oh god! Please tell me you didn't cheat!” Kitchner now groaned and she rounded on the brunette. “I swear, if we get kicked out because you cheated, I will kick your ass!”
“Calm down,” Alex now stepped between the two women and got them to quiet down before anyone overheard them. “She didn't cheat. She just found an easier way of doing things for herself. She got her score through skill, and that's all there is to it. So don't worry, you won't be kicked out because of this.”
Kitchner sighed and stepped away from them, her large smile touching her lips again. She turned back to the others and they all began to talk like nothing had happened, allowing Alex to be alone with his thoughts for a moment. He actually didn't know if what Danica had done was considered cheating or not, but to him it didn't matter. The amount of intelligence and quick thinking it took for her to do something like that was remarkable, and he figured that only a few people could actually do it and say it was easy.
So he decided that he was going to keep his mouth shut. Partly because he couldn't afford to get kicked off the course, and partly because he was intrigued by Valdez. He had known she was smart and that she was full of potential, but he had never thought it would be as big as it actually was. He was going to have to keep an eye on her and see how well she did in the following weeks. If she could keep improving like she was, and finding the best way to do things then he didn't think there was anything she couldn't handle. When it came to pilots who could multitask like that, only one other name came to his mind: Lillian.