Playing as a 10-Meter Aindium
A few days after the attribute test ended, the first-year cadets’ specialized classes began in earnest. In the afternoon the pilots, operators, and mechanics split off to attend their own lessons. Because the pilot class was filled with cadets who would soon be thrown into real combat, most of the instruction was physically punishing.
“First squad, forward!”
“Forward!”
The cadets in training uniforms, survival rifles in hand, screamed the commands at the top of their lungs. Wedged among them and shouting along, I felt as if I had slipped back into my recruit days.
Laid out in front of us was a roughly two-hundred-meter course. It brought back memories of individual combat drills from the past, yet it was far more than a few trenches, dirt piles, barbed wire, and dangling tires. The whole thing looked like one enormous work of art—an intricately detailed miniature of an urban battlefield.
Enthusiasts who obsess over Aindium models or military dioramas often recreate battlefields in miniature, and this was every bit as precise. Unlike a diorama that only captured one corner of a battlefield, this was a scaled-down replica of an actual city center; the scale had to be hundreds of times larger.
“From now on, imagine yourselves as ten-meter Aindiums! You heard the explanation in class, correct? Then, Luna Adelt cadet!”
The instructor pointed straight at me. Unfortunately, the principal’s “goodwill” did not extend to classroom hours. As a result, I ended up being called on in nearly every lesson.
“Yes!”
“How large would you say the battlefield in front of the cadets is?”
A sign beside the training ground clearly read “200-Meter Course,” but I wasn’t supposed to read it literally. That was for the students who had dozed off. The earlier hint—imagine yourself as a ten-meter Aindium—had been the key.
If the average human height was 1.7 meters, a ten-meter Aindium was roughly six times larger. Applying that ratio to the actual two-hundred-meter square gave an area of…
“Approximately 1.5 square kilometers.”
There was no need for overly precise math; everyone’s height and frame of reference differed slightly. The instructor nodded, satisfied.
“Good. The battlefield before you is not particularly vast, yet it could contain a residential district housing tens of thousands, a bustling downtown, or even a military base. You have come here in your Aindiums to defend it.”
The instructor slapped the baton hard against his palm.
“Now, watch a demonstration from the experienced teaching assistants, then we will begin practical training!”
The moment he finished speaking, the assistants gathered in front of us gave short shouts and rushed into the battlefield. They were none other than second-year cadets—making up for mediocre grades with physical labor. Their helmets completely covered their faces, so I couldn’t tell who was who, but they were probably pilot seniors.
It was a little funny how thinking of themselves as Aindiums had turned even their movements stiff and robotic, but the friends standing beside me watched the seniors’ actions with deadly serious expressions.
“Clear.”
“Moving to the next block.”
The seniors swept through the miniature city, searching as they advanced. Though it was a miniature, the buildings were over two meters tall; once they disappeared into an alley, they vanished from sight almost immediately.
A large screen beside the instructor displayed a live feed from a drone flying above the training ground. The seniors took down surprise targets one after another, clearing each block until they finally gathered at the objective.
The instructor turned off the screen and greeted the returning seniors.
“A round of applause for the assistants who showed us such an excellent demonstration!”
Clap, clap, clap.
They might not be the best at studying, but they were still second-years. The demonstration had been flawless. Yet when the seniors regrouped, their numbers had clearly decreased. Out of what had seemed like ten people, only six had returned. They must have been preparing something.
Once the second-years withdrew, it was our turn. We had only listened to an hour of theory; I wasn’t sure how well we would manage. Still, this was practice, not an exam, so failure wouldn’t bring any penalties.
“We will now conduct the urban penetration exercise. Sorry for the long wait. First squad, begin the assault.”
“Assault!”
Our squad numbered ten in total. They had tried to make me squad leader no matter what. I had stubbornly refused, dodging that burden, but I still ended up as vice-leader responsible for keeping everyone centered.
We pulled on helmets that simulated the cockpit view of an Aindium and stepped into the small urban area.
«This view feels a little off.»
«You’ll get used to it. It’s similar to an Aindium cockpit.»
We advanced while chatting over the internal comms. At the squad leader’s signal we halted.
«From here we should split up like the seniors.»
«Didn’t the instructor tell us to stay together?»
The targets were not stationary scarecrows. They were machines that fired paint rounds. If you took a certain number of hits to the torso or received damage to the helmet, you were registered as eliminated. Since this was still training there were no demerits, but in a real combat exam it would mean immediate failure.
«The seniors are used to this, but we aren’t. We need to cover each other.»
The squad leader hesitated at the textbook argument, then shook his head.
«Ten people bunched together could get wiped out at once. We also have to watch out for friendly fire.»
The suppression rounds we carried were said to hurt quite a bit when they hit a person. We wore protective pads on vital areas, but getting struck anywhere still hurt.
«Luna, what do you think?»
When the discussion dragged on, the squad members naturally handed the decision to me.
“The seniors are hiding somewhere. If we scatter, won’t we get picked off instantly?”
«The seniors are hiding?»
«You didn’t notice? A few of them didn’t come back earlier.»
At another member’s jab the squad leader finally looked startled. This wasn’t going to work.
“For now let’s all advance together along the main road. There are ten targets between here and the objective, so whenever we see an open alley that doesn’t look like it has an ambush, we’ll duck in quickly to search, then return to the wide street.”
«Got it. Everyone heard? We’re sticking to this road. I’ll take point.»
At least he still remembered he was the leader; he moved to the front. I took the very rear of the formation, watching our backs and scanning for suitable side streets.
“This alley looks fine.”
«Good. Entering. Watch the directions I mentioned earlier.»
The squad leader bravely dashed into the alley. As if they had been waiting, targets rose and began spraying paint rounds. The moment he dove behind cover, supporting fire opened up. Our accuracy was still shaky, but within seconds we managed to drop the target.
«Got it!»
The brief cheer over our first successful hunt lasted only a moment. Suppression rounds flew in from somewhere; the squad screamed and scattered. A second target that suddenly appeared began picking them off with paint rounds.
“Everyone stay calm! Squad leader, tell them to fall back to the main road!”
«Don’t panic at the seniors’ fire! Retreat carefully!»
Since I was in a relatively safe spot, I laid down covering fire to support the others. I even managed to hit one target twice in a row and drop it. We barely regrouped on the main road, but only seven of us remained. The three who had taken too many paint rounds had their helmet visors blacked out and sat quietly where they were.
«Ugh. This is too hard.»
«Isn’t the first training a bit much?»
“Just hang in there a little longer.”
I soothed the grumbling squad members and pressed on toward the objective, destroying three more targets along the way. The seniors’ ambushes continued the entire time. By now the squad had learned not to attack a target the instant they saw it; they checked their surroundings first.
Only three of us were left, including me.
«Should we wrap this up soon?»
The squad leader had been taken out as well, and the remaining members’ morale had hit rock bottom. The other two kept glancing at me.
“Five targets destroyed isn’t bad for beginners.”
They had only just started walking; there was no need to rush. I wanted to finish this and catch my breath before heading to the CT Club.
The objective at the end of the main road was only about twenty meters away. We trudged forward on exhausted legs.
Tap tap.
Light footsteps came from a nearby alley. I immediately ducked behind cover, but the other two were too slow. While two senior assistants holding paint guns finished off the exposed members, I raised my rifle and returned fire.
“Ugh.”
The moment one senior took a suppression round to the helmet and fell, the other closed in at frightening speed. As if using a booster, he accelerated instantly. Instead of a gun he held a training plastic sword.
I couldn’t see his face, but recognizing him was easy. Apart from his skill, there was a character in the original story who preferred a plastic sword over a gun during practical exams.
Why was Rendel here? His grades shouldn’t be bad enough to need him as an assistant.
Bang!
I reflexively fired at the charging Rendel, but he lightly dodged the round and closed the distance. He drew the sword far back and swung it lightly. He must have thought that would be enough. I had no intention of going down easily.
I thrust my rifle forward, catching the blade between the barrel and grip, then deflected it sideways. Rendel seemed slightly startled and stepped back. I didn’t miss the opening. I flipped the rifle around, planted the butt stock forward, and thrust.
Clack.
It was blocked by his sword, but the bayonet technique I had only ever used in theory actually worked. I got excited and swung a couple more times before I was promptly subdued. Rendel knocked my rifle aside, then lightly tapped my helmet with his sword.
My vision went dark. Soon the speakers installed throughout the training ground carried the instructor’s voice.
1st Squad annihilated. Five targets and one assistant defeated. Good work. Remove your helmets and return to the entrance.
I took the helmet off as instructed. The long hair I had stuffed inside spilled down, tickling the back of my neck.
“Luna?”
Rendel, standing in front of me, recognized me and spoke in a flustered voice. He removed his own helmet, revealing his face.
“Hello, Senior Rendel.”
“Uh, yeah. Hello.”
Rendel glanced around nervously, then hurriedly dug through his pocket and pulled something out.
“Here, I’m returning this.”
It was the handkerchief he had been trying to give back for days. The reunion had been far more violent than I had imagined, but there was no reason to refuse it now. I snatched the handkerchief and smiled brightly.
“You kept your promise.”
Rendel nodded silently. He clearly had nothing more to say, and the next squad was waiting, so I turned to head back to the entrance. Rendel started walking beside me.
After following me a short distance he hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“Um, Luna. Could you spare some time later?”
“Actually, I have a favor to ask the seniors as well. Would it be all right if I stop by the CT Club later?”
“Of course. Come anytime.”
Rendel answered with a relieved expression, gave a small nod, pulled his helmet back on, and disappeared into an alley.
He had returned the handkerchief, so why was Rendel looking for me again? I would have to ask Kirié about it when I commissioned her to make the replica.