Chapter 19 #2
“I learned that you can’t go into any situation assuming you’ll know the outcome, and it takes a single second for your entire life to change.
” Though the professor easily looked down on me both physically and in experience, I kept my poise, not letting that intimidate me.
“If you have to spend ten, five, even just two seconds reviewing the map, attempting to determine who you lost and where they were when they were attacked, you could lose the entire battle while your attention is split. You’re almost better off not knowing one of your teammates has fallen at all than you are getting a vague, unintuitive sound indicator when you need to focus. ”
“Interesting perspective.” He nodded, neither arguing nor displeased.
“But don’t you think it would be useful to know if no one is coming for you?
Wouldn’t it be better to not sit in wait, merely surviving and hoping that one of your teammates is left somewhere to provide backup?
” He zoomed out on my model, and refocused on the tracker location at the base of the neck.
“Emotional deregulation can take a brutal toll on our sync with our units. If our COMMs immediately communicated who was killed or disabled, how do you think a soldier would respond if that name belonged to their closest friend? What if your own brother was injured or murdered while you were on the other side of the battlefield, surrounded, with no way to save him? Could you keep your head?”
I opened my mouth, but words refused to come out. The visual as a Ghul stomped down on Vann was immediate, vivid, and held me captive in my own mind.
Keep my head?
I didn’t even recall being in my head anymore when I saw him bleeding on the ground.
I knew that wasn’t a targeted and intentionally triggering question, but the point was loud and clear. Because I wasn’t special in my experience. He proposed the scenario because it was a reality of war. It was common, relatable, and non-specific to me.
Again, I knew that, but…
“I would want to know that,” Elio cut in, his voice loud enough to pull everyone’s eyes to him.
I released a held breath, grateful for the distraction.
He didn’t cut in to help me, that much I was sure of, but I appreciated that side-effect.
“I’m always fighting my hardest out there, but there’s a big difference between knowing I lost an untrained cadet versus knowing the enemy was strong enough to take out someone like Sebastian.
I think it’s a flaw of the Shinkas that, in this day and age, we don’t have more information linked to our final, most critical S.O.S.
system. We may know that with five allies and three pings that means half our forces are gone, but who those pings belong to can make a tremendous difference in communicating the capabilities, direction, and strategy of the enemy. ”
“A good point, Mr. Marx. Though you shouldn’t talk ill of the pilots ranked beneath you.
Sometimes the most unexpected ally can be the one who saves your life.
” He lifted a scolding finger. “You can always call for help via your linked COMMs, and if the death ping follows a desperate cry, you can infer the connection yourself.” Absolutely callous.
“But the reason it was designed this way was because of the emotional regulation required to successfully pilot a Shinka. You may be a rare pilot who can hold a perfect synchronization score, but achieving 100% sync is already an impressive feat for most, even in a moment of neutrality.” Was it?
It didn’t seem very hard. “The more information you’re given, the more likely you are to lose some of that focus, Being intentionally vague, conversely, can harbor hope even if it’s false.
That delay in emotional devastation can be the difference between life or death.
Theoretically, you shouldn’t ever be completely in the dark unless you’re not communicating with your team, but there are times when it’s better for a pilot to not know who they’ve lost until the battle is already won.
” He spoke from experience. The look in his eye made that clear.
“You are a soldier first, and human second.”
Elio shook his head, a look of defiance in his eyes. “I’m a soldier because I’m human. If I didn’t care about who lived and who died, I wouldn’t have enrolled at Astaroth to begin with.”
“That sounds admirable, but I wonder how long that kind of idealism will last?” Dr, Dorian’s amusement was unusually cruel.
“I likely would have had similar objections at one point in my youth. I appreciate that you’ve all thought about this, but I hope you understand that we thought about it too as we designed the system.
This was not an accident, nor a limitation of technology.
It was a choice that, ironically, has saved lives. ”
I dropped my chin, feeling a bit defeated by the lack of humanity in the lecture. Emotion and partiality really didn’t have a place in this war, but maybe I wasn’t strong enough to divorce my heart and my head still.
Dr. Dorian had been one of the pilots that had played a heavy hand in the victory of the Democratic Territories, and I couldn’t discount his working knowledge, no matter how much I disliked it on a humane level.
I guess that was the point, since we were the flawed control centers that held back perfect battle machines.
He paced out of my station and back to the center of the class to finish his lecture without the opinions of the peanut gallery cutting in.
“All that said, a good soldier can multitask and always knows what resources are still available.” Dr. Dorian gave me one last unexpectedly patient smile, before he added.
“But you’re right. Despite our weapon of choice, we are not robots, and emotions are a very real obstacle we all have to work at keeping in check during battle.
Perhaps not knowing who has fallen right away is easier in some circumstances, but it can also create a sense of anxiety in those with a need for information.
There are pros and cons to every system, so we simply came up with a process that worked for the widest range of personalities. ”
I nodded, no longer wanting to argue for fear I was making a fool of myself in front of everyone. Elio and Sebastian swapped a glance in some sort of silent communication, and I couldn’t begin to guess what that meant.
That was enough participation for one day.
It was good information though; knowing where the emergency beacons were, and what signals they sent to others.
I wondered if Ghuls were similar. They must have recovered the pieces of them that were left behind on the Protectorates, so why didn’t they teach us more about their findings? Maybe it was too soon to expect that.
As class tied up, I started heading toward the door, ready for a recovery chamber and some barely edible dinner, when I heard someone call out my name.
Or rather, I heard Sebastian say “Snow” Which was decidedly my name around him now. “That was a good observation,” he said, unexpectedly and unnecessarily offering praise.
I was completely taken aback, to the point there was a good chance my mouth was hanging open.
I glanced around, in case there was someone behind me he could have been talking to.
Elio gave me a side eye, but said nothing to either of us as he exited the room.
Did that mean something? If this was how men communicated, it was no wonder there was such a rift between the sexes.
I brushed it off and returned my attention to my squad leader.
“It just seems like an odd failure point, especially considering the trackers will still transmit on the map. I guess as long as the enemy doesn’t know that, it’s not likely to be exploited, but if they did?
” I frowned. There were a lot of ways one could use a live tracker without a live pilot against us in battle strategy.
“My father designed the system,” Sebastian stated bluntly, and I wasn’t sure if that was a signal that I needed to shut the fuck up about it or if that was an indicator that he had the most knowledge to criticize it.
“But I agree with you. There’s no technological reason they couldn’t provide that information, they simply choose not to. ”
“For fear of emotional deregulation?” I asked, still wrapping my head around the fact that he was talking to me at all, really.
“I guess if Sync is linked to emotional stability, then it makes sense to not readily provide personal details during battle, but the concept of it bothers me, and I’m not sure how to explain why.
” I knew exactly why, but it might make me look overly sensitive if I said it out loud, and I didn’t need to add that to my reputation.
“Because it doesn’t acknowledge the importance and unique strengths of each soldier as an individual person, and instead reduces us to a number.
It trains us not to care about each other and only focus on the self, while it attempts to remove partiality and the risk of rash decision making in the heat of battle.
But if someone close to me needed my help, then he died without my knowledge, the trauma that would follow would far outweigh my deregulation in the moment.
To prioritize the short term mission over the long term health of the soldier is flawed when natural ability isn’t universal.
Beyond that, there are some intense emotions that are especially helpful during a battle, and the right kind of resolve and determination can increase adrenaline, reaction, and prioritization.
” He cut himself off with a shake of his head, but that was unexpectedly candid from someone as stoic as Sebastian.
“Emotions like anger?” I asked, knowing that wasn’t the answer, but wanting to hear his opinion.
“Emotions like attachment that drives us to protect our loved ones.” That was what I had wanted to say.
“Not everyone is willing to give their life for their country, even within our military, but a lot of people are willing to give their life for… another person.” He took a step back, as if I was a threatening presence that was coaxing these words out of him.
“I apologize. I don’t mean to burden you with my frustrations.
I shouldn’t be speaking about policy like this.
Your statement struck a chord with me, and as your Unit Captain, it felt important that I reinforce astute observation.
” He cleared his throat, like he was still trying to rid himself of this normal human sentiment.
I couldn’t help the smile on my lips. I’d never thought of Sebastian as cute before, but that was the only way to describe how passionate he was about this. “I’m sure we’ve all made some drastic decisions to protect someone we care about.”
Sebastian tipped his chin. “Right. My father designed a system that works for soldiers of his own caliber, without considering the majority are nothing like him.” The way he broke eye contact only emphasized that point.
“Strategy here is implemented as though it doesn’t matter if the ten men on the field are the ten best or the ten worst. It would be wonderful to say that all Shinka Pilots are created equal, and all soldiers can perform at the same standard, but no amount of technology erases the human factor.
All the tests and certifications in the world don’t prove or guarantee equal competence.
Strength shouldn’t be based on the human ability to replicate the mindlessness of a machine, rather by leaning into the unique thought patterns of the individual. ”
“Because if it was anyone else who had been demoing a Shinka on 005 two months ago, I might not be alive right now.” I offered, eliciting an uncharacteristic recoil.
“There are many people from 005 who can’t say that, because I wasn’t adequate in the heat of battle.
” Sebastian covered the lower half of his face, though a feint blush reached his cheeks, visible between his fingers.
“008 had more survivors than 005, because their demo pilot was better equipped for the mental strain.”
008 did? But the pilot who would have been demoing at 008 would have been the one who was ranked below him. Ranked second, actually…
I paused on that realization that it was Elio who had been on the other station during the concurrent attack.
I was oddly relieved I didn’t owe him that gratitude, but also surprised that Elio would outperform Sebastian in any situation.
Sebastian was always so stoic, I couldn’t imagine emotions ever getting the best of him. Elio, conversely…
Still, I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d done a lot in the circumstances, and no two battles were truly comparable. “It was an ambush of ten against one,” I justified it for him, but he only shook his head.
“Was Fianna Callan your sister?” He asked next, and my heart froze in my chest. “I’ve pored over the death toll maybe a bit obsessively. I just assumed relation.”
“Y-yes. Yes, that was my little sister.” I spoke through a terrified lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better pilot. I hope by the end of your time under my tutelage, we’ll be able to work together and prevent deaths like this going forward.
” His tone was solemn, while his words were carefully chosen to sound professional.
Yet I couldn’t help but think that was the single most vulnerable statement he’d ever said out loud.
How much was that battle eating at him?
“Thank you. That was my hope in coming here. I’m glad I got you as my Unit Captain.” I returned a formal sounding thanks, and Sebastian acknowledged it before he turned to head out.
“I look forward to tomorrow’s training,” he said as he headed out the door.
I stood there in quiet solitude, wrapping my head around what the fuck just happened.
Sebastian Takeyama acknowledged me. He even agreed with me.
He even confided in and worried about me.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that even the most untouchable icons were just normal people with normal feelings, and yet, it still surprised me that he would speak to me so candidly.
The distress in his eyes was impossible to miss as he talked about the incident, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to that story than just a moment of perfect heroism.
Either way, I wouldn’t be forgetting this conversation any time soon.