Chapter 12
“Well, he doesn’t give up easily, I’ll give him that.
” Breaker said, standing beside me as the new recruits were finishing another circuit.
In the name of setting a good example, while subsequently keeping up my own fitness standards, I’d opted to perform all training exercises alongside my unit, but both Breaker and I had finished over half an hour ago, while not a single cadet had even come close.
We both frowned as we watched the rest of the squadron stumbling over themselves.
Even the best among them were still buffoons.
Breaker had been the only decent soldier in my lineup, and I was fairly certain they’d only assigned him to me so it would appear that my team was ‘balanced.’ I knew I was going to get shafted in this arrangement.
Elio, conversely, already had all of his men jogging in time with each other.
Even if some of them were faster and stronger than others, they were all adequate enough.
Enforcing discipline might have been the one place he’d always outrank me.
I was much better at disciplining myself than I was at attempting to corral other people.
I wasn’t fond of this kind of chaos that was so far outside my control.
It was going to be a feat to maintain my ranking with so much distraction, and an even greater feat to not look like a failure in front of Father when my leadership proved imperfect.
I once enjoyed Basics. It was my time to, wake up, unwind, and stretch out each day, as I sank into the endorphins of a run or the thrill of lifting something heavier than I had the day before. I’d not anticipated that my first task as a third year would look anything like this.
“Maybe we should ask the Counsel if they can go back and draft their sisters instead. They’re probably more capable than this mess,” Breaker added with a half-smirk.
“If women could be pilots, I’d agree with you.” I sighed heavily. “Although considering this is the sorriest bunch of men I’ve ever witnessed, I doubt any of them will be pilots either.”
“I guess it’s different when you sign up for this voluntarily.
” He continued to watch the rest of the team with an easy amusement.
He really shouldn’t have been in my group at all, honestly.
He should have been a leader of a unit just like I was.
He had incredible sync in a Shinka, he could run laps around even someone like Elio if he tried, and he’d bested me on the sparring mat more than once.
And yet, I often thought he purposely sabotaged his own ranking.
But every time I brought it up, he always deflected. I didn’t currently have the patience to reiterate that conversation.
I watched as Vann approached the rope climb-to-horizontal ladder obstacle.
He gripped that rope with his arms and legs with the direness of a man dangling over a snake pit, only to flail his way up a single inch then slide back down from his poor climbing form.
His skin was red with rope burns, eliciting yet another dejected exhale from my disappointed lungs.
“It’s like watching a worm try to fuck a caterpillar.” Breaker noted matter-of-factly.
My face blanched at the visual. “That can’t possibly be an Earth-ism.”
“No, just an observation.”
“Some days, I wish you were less observant.” I shook my head, while Vann tried yet again to squirm his way up the thick rope, and now I couldn’t unsee it.
By the stars, Breaker.
Why was he so bad at this? Did they not require rope climbs in Protectorate 005? What exactly did they teach our medics? The territories had become entirely too comfortable with the idea that they were safe and secure.
On the other end of the course, I watched two men, both with different shades of silver hair, tackle an obstacle made up of rings, where they were expected to run through the offset rows of cylinders quickly and smoothly without tripping.
They both waddled with questionable rhythm, until the second man caught his boot on the inner lip of a ring and toppled forward, bowling over the first, so they were both awkwardly stuck between the crevasses.
And off to the far right, a recruit with light blue hair—Venus born, maybe? I’d have to ask Elio. He was better at identifying those sorts of markings—had to be rescued from the water trap when he fell from the balance beam, and apparently didn’t know how to swim.
“We truly have no chance of winning this war.” I grumbled quietly, to Breaker’s muffled snickering. At least one of us was having fun.
“In their defense, none of these obstacles are natural or intuitive, and most shouldn’t ever occur on an actual battlefield. Maybe they’ll surprise you in sparring.” Always the optimist.
It was a lovely notion.
And a completely wrong one.
Relieved when the obstacles were over, and I no longer had the misery of watching whatever that was, I stepped up to the mat first for the hand-to-hand training, planning to demonstrate the moves we would be practicing for the day.
Breaker joined me, and I was grateful I had at least one person on my level to work with.
Major Blume commanded the general Basics warm ups, which the squadron leaders were still expected to participate in, but sparring practice and the specialty training for my unit was entirely on my shoulders.
“As you likely already learned in your mandated training sessions prior to enrollment, if you were paying attention,” I felt the need to qualify the statement, since that had clearly been a point of failure on the part of the pre-war instructors, “hand-to-hand combat is the most important skill you’ll develop in your time here.
Whether on the ground or in a Shinka, the coordination and tactical decisions you’ll develop while fighting in the ring, with nothing but your own body to save you, will likely be the difference between victory and defeat.
While it’s important to also focus on sharp shooting and weapons training, it’s how you maneuver when you are all you have that will make or break you as a pilot. ”
Everyone looked to be listening, but I couldn’t say I had a lot of hope for the execution round of the demonstration.
I turned to my opponent and got into stance. “Today we’ll focus purely on defensive strategies, starting with dodging.”
Breaker nodded, not needing me to explicitly tell him what I wanted him to do.
Maybe it was because we’d been roommates for so long, but we didn’t often need words to communicate, and I appreciated that about him.
My relationship to Elio wasn’t far off, but only because Elio was incapable of hiding his emotions.
Where Breaker was like an afternoon with an easy and comforting book, Elio was more akin to screaming prose into a black hole.
Without further ado, I threw a punch in line with his face, which he had no problem dodging without the slightest contact.
While he was in mid parry, I shifted my weight and made a bid to take his legs.
He matched my movements with the quick eyes and reflexes I always expected of him, and he judged my every move with precision worthy of a demonstration.
I let him fall into our usual rhythm, no intent or viciousness in my strikes, then once he’d gotten comfortable, I changed up the game without a word, catching his wrist, and tugging him off balance.
I saw the micro-second where he was about to catch himself and counter, then I saw him give it up, and allow me to put him on his back on the mat.
“A battle is like a dance, where every partner brings a different style and rhythm to the table. You might expect a waltz, while your opponent only knows capoeira, and you have to be prepared to redirect and predict any possible sway, so as not to ruin the performance.” I helped Breaker to his feet, and we began our demonstration again.
He was light on his feet, and his movements were so quick and effortless, I almost worried the men wouldn’t be able to track them.
“The best way to do this is to look for ‘tells.’ Every movement has a lead up, be it a slight shift in balance, a movement of the eyes, or a quickly held breath, and the sooner you recognize these micro expressions, the easier it will be to predict which way your opponent will swing.” I ducked under Breaker’s punch.
“Or what limb they’ll attempt to target.
” I caught him by the ankle using my own, and I used my entire body to put him on the floor.
In this instance, Breaker was letting me take him down. In most others, I rarely looked forward to facing off against him.
“Pair up and spar as normal, but take special mind to observe both your opponent’s movements and your own as you fight.
Identifying your own habits is also key to creating a less penetrable guard as you learn to hide those tells, while also giving you insight into how your enemy may move.
Eventually, you should start to recognize patterns, and it should make dodging much simpler.
You will need these skills every single time you get into a Shinka.
” I finished my speech, then I stepped back to observe the matches.
Vann paired with the light blue haired boy who’d recently half drowned in six feet of water.
I couldn’t recall his name, though the fact that I knew Vann’s was only due to special circumstances.
He certainly hadn’t done anything noteworthy to merit memorability, unless you considered being astoundingly inadequate.