GuNNhead

Over the next few days, I’m trained in some basic forms of combat. Through their enhanced training, I learn some of the finer points of my suit. I go through their training with relative ease. I demonstrate my great power. The weapons training did not go over well. The guns all seem to have the same basic functionality, even when their shape may be quite unique and distinctive. These weapons were very odd in shape though. The fronts were round and hollow, with a needle in the center where the energy blast comes from. There are rings around the needle that light up to charge the weapon; it has setting from stun to explode to disintegrate. Though, the maximum setting has a mass capacitor, so it can only disintegrate so much of something. As in, if you shot a building, it would only disintegrate the wall, and not the whole building. The back of the weapon was also round, and enveloped the hand, like a shield. The trigger was on the inside, and had a very organic feel to hold, it is typical to hold it sideways, but it can also be held ‘upright,’ though it is much less effective in that position, and feels awkward. Weapons that are not part of the suit feel unnatural, disconcerting. Most of the soldier’s interest came to my own suit’s power, and so I did not get their weapons training, finding my own inherent weapons more effective. I bested their best in nearly every aspect. It took armies of them to stop me in training simulators. Not killing them is what takes most of my strength.

“Now,” Vokrssel said one morning, “we must talk of your ship, this is crucial, as, as had been said before, we will be approaching some trouble before we’ll be able to reach our next destination, in accordance with the prophecy.”
The flight room was large, with many replicas of their ships attached to the floor for training purposes. I can sense it. My craft. It’s been repairing itself faster than ever since I’ve regained my suit. I think I’ve gone to it at night. I begin to lead him toward it in my haste. As we walk, he long-windedly explains their flight training.
“Now, when in flight, everyone has to wear their helmet, because it has sensors in it that are required to control the ship. It’s mostly neurological, and responds to their thoughts. Though, there are also manual controls, as well as a highly advanced autopilot. We’ve found that no autopilot can compare against a skilled, natural pilot who knows how to best and intuitively utilize it, and do what inherently feels right for them, so, that is why we must train in these simulators to the extent that we do.”
“Okay,” I say, as we make it to the GS-336. In a flash of outlining light, my helmet appears, “let’s do this,” I continue in the altered voice of my helmet. I enter my craft, and it powers on. I head to the controls, and run a full diagnostic. These past few days have helped, it’s fully repaired.

Attached to the training simulator, the ship lifts, and shakes about, getting ready. The System charges, powers up, the lights inside go on, and a grid view appears, monitoring my surroundings. The simulation starts, and my ship warns me of enemy ships approaching. My virtual ship begins to move at an incredible rate, the ships following. They open fire, the laser blasts zoom by me, I stop, and they zoom by me, I start moving again, catching up to them, and return fire, destroying one. The other flips around, getting behind me. Something in my subconscious is telling me of the non-reality of it. It is hungering for real death. I deploy a surge bomb backwards, destroying the second ship. Ship after ship come out, and each are easily dispatched. This ship was not built for destruction at all, but the suit. It’s bonded. Soon, the simulation stops. I step out, and am greeted by a small group of the soldiers.
“We’re quite pleased that you did so well and completed it in record time, but had to stop this early, your ship was beginning to resist the simulation, hovering, shaking. We truly did find the one who was foretold of would be found, the one who’d tip the scales, and help us achieve our goal. We’re telling you now, now that you’ve completed your training: we’re depending on you, and we beg of you not to abandon us, sentencing us all to our demise.” Vokrssel realizes he went off on a rant and stops before he carries on further. The mood has gone down; the soldiers are now contemplating their fate, what lies before them, a battle to attain another piece of the prophecy.
“I have only death. I do not mean to insult you, and I thank you for what you have afforded me, but I cannot stay. I will stay for the battle, so that I may kill. That is the reason I am here.”

This entry was posted on January 11, 2010 at 3:33 am and is filed under Exploration: Cosmos, Fiction, Gravity Surge, Sci-Fi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.