Monthly Short Story for June: A Trip to the IAS 3

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices once again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 18.

We finally head back to Earth, and more specifically, another glimpse into life at the IAS through the eyes of the titular Captain Li; the man who’s been our eyes and ears for the IAS for most of these bonus stories! Here, we get a glimpse of how things were like a month into Emma’s training, as I got to explore a bit more of Emma at this point in time. I wanted to use this story to explore what it was that was going through her mind and the sorts of things that she was preoccupied with at this point, as well as a brief glimpse into her training and her relations with her LREF mentor!

This story effectively acts as a direct chronological sequel to Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School’s previous two side stories, A Trip to the IAS 1 and A Trip to the IAS 2. Both of which are stories where we effectively see Captain Li arriving on Earth, and then arriving at the IAS facility proper, as it details his back and forths with Director Weir, hinting at the other sorts of things the IAS has going on beyond just Pilot II! :D So please do check those out either before or after you check this one out!

Let's jump right into it then! :D I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's eighteenth side story! :D

A Trip to the IAS 3

Earth - Atlantic Ocean - Special Administrative Zone under requisition by the United Nations Science Advisory - Institute of Anomalous Studies (IAS) Pilot Research Facility Codename: ATLANTIS II - PT Center

05/02/3047 

0700 Hours

Captain Li

A month goes by fast when your schedule is packed to the absolute brim. 

When a day has been planned far in-advance, with every minute of every hour ticking down towards an inevitable deadline, you tend to lose sight of the overall ‘flow’ of time.

This effect was amplified, heightened, and exacerbated by the isolated nature of the facility. 

Yet it was this isolated nature that aided the crash course that was the Cadet’s first month of Ab Initio training. The likes of which went far beyond just the walls of the MIL-WING, reaching far into the applied academic departments, the engineering departments, and even the ADMIN-WING.

The cadet was effectively one of the primary focuses, if not perhaps the crux of this entire operation. 

This fact was not lost on her. 

We’d joked about how it felt like the whole facility was constructed just for her, and at times, it really did feel like she was the titular ‘star’ of this whole operation.

But she never let this ‘stardom’ get to her head. 

In fact, she knew, just as any good Ranger would — that at the end of the day, we were simply fulfilling our chosen responsibilities to the best of our abilities.

This mentality was especially vital when considering a candidate for a job such as this, a position that could so easily fall into the throws of self-aggrandizement, losing sight of what was in front of you for the rewards that stood behind it. 

Yet it was undeniable that there was a certain level of prestige that came with the job, and a certain respect that was demanded from such a position. However that respect wasn’t without precedence, nor was it without merit. The proverbial, and at times literal, blood sweat and tears, along with the grueling hours and taxing demands of the role was enough to speak for itself.

And that was all without mentioning the elephant in the room that came with this specific job, whose sentiments were echoed with many a Ranger, but rarely at this magnitude; even those participating in the most daring of LREF operations.

Because unlike every other active operation within the LREF, even ones as audacious as the Outbound Missions, there was a fundamental difference in the nature of the role of Pilot II — a unique trait that rarely comes up in history. 

It was to be a one-off role.

In fact, it was by its very definition, only possible to be filled once.

This role, coveted by many throughout history, was that of ‘the first’.

It was as close as a human could come to living up to the sacrifices of Prometheus, to keep pushing the envelope of human understanding in one of the most romanticized genres that had enraptured societies from the dawn of time — exploration. 

It was a sure-fire way of becoming what so many had sought after, and what many today still desperately seek — immortality. 

An immortality found in the pages of a textbook, in common vernacular and common knowledge. 

An immortality that would guarantee you entry into the exclusive rank and file of those legends that will never grow old.

Being the first, especially this early on, was a sure-fire way of attaining that immortality that only a scant few people in history can truly claim to have achieved. 

But of course, with great rewards, comes a directly proportional, if not exponentially scalable degree of risk.

The fate of almost half of those immortalized in history as firsts, were a testament to that fact.

Pilot I, was a testament to that.

The risks Cadet Emma Booker faces were simply insurmountable. 

The novelty of literally every piece of technology meant to keep her alive, was tantamount to those first tentative forays into space, into an environment so inhospitable that one’s very existence in such a space was only possible through a laundry list worth of highly specialized tools, equipment, and systems that all exist to perform one very simple task — to curb the very forces of nature itself in pursuit of carving that slice of humanity in a space where it otherwise couldn’t. 

But unlike those first few tentative missions, this environment didn’t seem to merely be passively indifferent to our presence, it seemed to want us gone. The technologies the eggheads and engineers had come up with, would be fighting a constant war on a front we’ve never even seen. It was a front that seemingly clashed with our very being, and the very laws of reality we thought we understood. 

The sorts of risks Booker was taking were sobering. 

Yet it never once seemed to dampen her spirits, a fact that most certainly lined up with her star-studded pedigree. 

Sergeant Major Ran was a hell of a legend to live up to, and it seems as if her wisdom didn’t end at the battlefield or the commencement ceremonies. 

She raised a good kid, and it showed.

Though that despite all of that, it didn’t detract from the wild and at times unexpected tangents the Cadet was prone to make. 

In short, she just never shut up. 

Which… was probably a good thing considering the diplomatic half of this operation. 

And whilst this was definitely a good thing when it came to our interactions, as goober-to-goober communication meant we got along just fine, there were definitely more than a few elements within the science and engineering department that weren’t too fond of our combined energy. 

Which was fair, because when you put two energetic, enthusiastic, overeager rangers in the same room… you were more or less guaranteed a conversation that went supercritical. 

Thankfully however, this morning’s energies had already been spent on PT, meaning that supercriticality wasn’t a problem… or at least, not for now. 

Or so I hoped.

“What do you think was going through Herman’s mind when he went FTL?” The cadet asked, turning towards me as we just about finished the last lap of this morning’s PT. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh no, oh no, I’m going to die?” I offered with a cheeky grin, eliciting a hard shake of the Cadet’s head. 

“Probably should’ve guessed—”

“Nah, I’m just messing with ya.” I interjected, settling back into a more serious mood as we plonked ourselves at the end of the track, taking a seat on the soft cushioned floor of this part of the gym. “I think his final words are enough of an indication as to what his thoughts were.” I spoke candidly.

“‘See you on the other…’?” The Cadet shot back, cocking her head.

“No, no. Those are his final, final words. I’m of the mind that if someone wasn’t able to finish their thoughts, their sentences, or whatever else, you shouldn’t count that as their last words. I just don’t think it’s fair to judge them on that.” I offered, giving the Cadet some pause for thought.

“I never thought of it that way, sir.” 

“Eh, it’s a macabre topic but…” I paused, realizing my train of thought would’ve led to a less than desirable topic. “... it is what it is.” I shrugged, correcting my course. 

The Cadet nodded, moving the topic along by performing those post-PT stretches. “So, by that logic, his final words would be: ‘Torchlight lit, I say again, Torchlight is lit… just make sure the next person makes it the rest of the way, will ya?’” 

“Correct.” I nodded. “Which brings me back to my first point. I think you can draw a lot of his final thoughts by those final few words.” 

I knew, however, what this was all about. 

A moment of silence punctuated the air, the Cadet standing up to approach the sizable window that separated an ocean’s worth of water from the pleasant confines of the well-appointed facility. From there, she began her post-run stretches, maintaining that pensive expression throughout it all; one that reflected off of the glass. 

“But this isn’t about Herman, is it?” I offered softly, eliciting a nod from the Cadet. “You’re thinking about Pilot I again, aren’t you?”

“Sort of. I mean, it’s difficult to really move on from the shadow of his… legacy. But it’s not like I’m worried or anything, Dr. Mekis made it very, very clear that we have the new protective measures locked down now. I’d be dumb if I didn’t have faith in what the best and brightest have come up with. It’s just…” She trailed off, taking a moment to pause after those stretches by moving closer towards the viewport, revealing the scant few areas of lit ocean from the sprawling complex that was the IAS’ Atlantic facility. “... I don’t know if I can balance those two halves.”

“Two halves?” I parroted, allowing the Cadet time and space to parse things at her own pace. 

“The ‘mission’ and the ‘big picture’. You go back through history and you see all of the greats, the first man in space, the first men on the moon, the first to mars, venus, titan, europa, the first to FTL, the first to Alpha Centauri… and you start to see a pattern. They were chosen because they knew how to get the mission done. But then, as time went on, and the missions became longer and had more vested strategic value behind them… they started to develop deeper values beyond just ‘the mission’, forming something of a mindset and talent for tackling the ‘big picture’. You started to see these greats not only excelling at being able to pilot a ship, survey a system, or command a crew… you also saw them starting to have these big philosophical epiphanies. You saw them becoming more thoughtful, mindful, more… I don’t know, wise I guess?” 

These rambles were eventually halted by a massive breath, as the Cadet started to wind down towards what was inevitably her main point. “I’m sorry for rambling here but, I guess… I just wanted to know if I have that in me. Or if I’m just going to arrive on the other side, complete my mission objectives, and just… perform underwhelmingly, or worse… achieving the bare minimum, if even that. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I want to outshine or one-up the greats. I just want to be able to live up to them. I know I’m standing on the shoulders of giants. I know I’m going to be the crux of the hopes and dreams of a thousand scientists and an entire decades-long organization here. I’m confident that with your training, and with everything being taught, that I have everything I need to do my job. The question is… will I actually be good at it?”

I’d remained seated throughout the entire ramble, taking each and every word into account with a series of soft nods and an expression that never wavered away from that ‘supportive mentor’ vibe that I hoped would help alleviate the Cadet’s anxiousness. “We all have a role to play, Emma.” I began. “And as you’ll soon see, there’s a stark difference in how well you prepare for said duty, and how you actually execute it.” A sigh soon escaped my mouth, as I let out an earnest chuckle. “There’s a certain element of just… winging it as best as you can at first, keeping the ball rolling, until you start to get into a groove. All of this training, all of this prepwork, it’s to make sure that you know how to hit that groove, and to ensure that when you do hit that groove, that you get into a healthy and sustainable one. The first steps towards getting there, and the first hurdle you’ll face, is actually getting that ball rolling.” I kept my words leveled, my cadence polite, as the smile that came second-nature to most of my interactions remained steadfast all throughout. 

Emma’s expressions, for the most part, shifted once more to deep thought; her eyes slowly disengaging from the dark abyss to fully meet my gaze. 

“Now, it’ll be on you to actually get the ball rolling. In fact, that’s how it is for everyone when they first start off in any job really. In most other situations however, these anxieties can typically be resolved by simply having a supervisor or superior on hand to keep an eye on you. However, given your unique situation, that’s not really going to be possible.”

“And that’s probably what’s adding to the stress as well, yeah.” The Cadet admitted with a sullen nod. 

“Which is understandable.” I acknowledged with a nod of my own. “I wish I could say there’s an easy solution to this, or a simple fix, but the fact of the matter is that you’re going to be going where no one has gone before. That’s what’s both exciting and utterly terrifying about being a trailblazer. You make half of the things up as you go.” 

“And what about the other half?” The Cadet cocked her head expectedly. 

“The other half are educated guesses, based on what you bring with you. Which in your case, is the best training humanity’s premier expeditionary and exploratory arm can offer—” I paused for effect, taking a few moments to point two thumbs towards me, and the Ranger insignia proudly embroidered into my fatigues. The Cadet was not only unfazed by this, but completely underwhelmed, her expressions matching her grunt of annoyance at my cheesy antics. “—and of course, the IAS and all of their specialist assets. Which, by extension, means you have millenia’s worth of collective military and scientific expertise behind you!” I took a few steps forward towards the Cadet, before jabbing her in the shoulder with my elbow. “I’m sure there’s at least something in that collective knowledge that’ll be applicable, or at the very least, useful, right?” 

The Cadet let out a frustrated breath, palming her forehead, before wordlessly moving to untie her ponytail. “You know there’s no other way I can answer that other than a plain-old ‘yes’, sir.”

“Now that’s the spirit!” I urged with a bright smile. “You’ll be the Jackie Setanta to Jebediah Herman, finishing off what he started.” I continued, eliciting a knowing but abashed look from the Cadet.

“That’s why you brought the topic up, wasn’t it? I mean, the metaphors just make themselves here. Jeb had to crawl so that Jackie could run. He knew the risks, shattered the near half-millenium malaise of a society that had resigned itself to an FTL-less future, and sacrificed his life by doing so. Jackie finished the job for him, completing the rest of the gauntlet by being the first not only to reach FTL, and not just by surviving it, but by being the first to reach and map out another star. If that’s not a perfect metaphor for Pilot I and Pilot II, then I don’t know what is. So tell me, am I right on the money with why you brought Jeb up in the first place?”

“I wouldn’t ever dare put myself on that pedestal, Captain.” The Cadet responded awkwardly at first, her hand busying itself with her hair tie. “Especially when I have nothing to show for it yet.”

“I get not wanting to sound full of yourself, but you gotta be a bit more honest and forthcoming with me, Cadet.” I urged. “Like I said before, this is a unique situation, and you’re in a very unique position, which means there aren’t too many points of comparisons to be made when it comes to your very unique concerns.”

A few moments passed as the Cadet seemed to take those words to heart, her gaze faltering just for a moment if only to accompany a frustrated breath. 

“You’re right, Captain. It’s just… the comparisons are right there, which makes it worse. Pilot I… gave everything to pave the way forward. I… I just hope I can live up to that sacrifice, and that I’m able to scratch the bare minimum in order to make sure his death isn’t in vain.” 

“The ‘bare minimum’, as you say it, Cadet Booker, is already leagues and bounds beyond what the typical Ranger does nowadays.” A voice emerged from far along the gymnasium, intense red eyes locking onto us, or more specifically, to me; as if to make a point. 

“What’s that supposed to mean—”

The perpetually-grimacing scientist raised a hand, preventing me from saying more. “It means that all our combined efforts in this grand pursuit demand the necessity for a new form of explorer well-suited for the tasks at hand. Simple as that, captain.” He fixed the position of his glasses, finishing with a simple nonchalant tone for such a heavy topic and subject; as if the man had already figured out every variable. Very typical of him.

“Why are you here, Ivo?” I managed out with an annoyed huff. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like hosting the morning science conference or whatever?”  

“No coy remarks, not at this hour.” The scientist groaned, rubbing slight bags under his eyes. “If you’ve taken note of the updated schedule, you two are scheduled to accompany me immediately following your excessively tedious morning PT. I have to brief you on further developments on the E-ARRS.” As usual, he showed frustration in almost everything, but almost always when it came to his work. I’d commend him for his passion… if he weren’t always so abrasive.

“You mean to say, as the resident LREF field-worthiness evaluator and certifier, you need me to sign-off on whatever modifications you’ve made to the suit?” I ‘clarified’ with a cocky grin, further aggravating the scientist.

“As per the Director’s bilateral memorandum of understanding (MOU) with the LREF, yes. Yes I do. But don’t for a second let that get to your head, Calico.” The man groaned out, gesturing for us to follow.

“Is there at least time for breakfast or—”

“You can eat on the way.” The scientist cut me off once again, gesturing for a nearby robot that always seemed to accompany him, to quite literally lob sandwiches at the both of us. 

Without a moment to even react, he’d already turned on his heel, taking long strides out of the room — the pace of which caused the lower breadth of his lab coat to flutter in an awfully dramatic fashion.

=====

Earth - Atlantic Ocean - Special Administrative Zone under requisition by the United Nations Science Advisory - Institute of Anomalous Studies (IAS) Pilot Research Facility Codename: ATLANTIS II - Research and Development Wing - N-GEEM Division 

Captain Li

0730 Hours

“You should really stop, Ivo. It’s not healthy obsessing over it. It’s taking over your life.” I urged. 

“We’re fathoms upon fathoms under the ocean, with barely anything to do, I need something to take my mind off of work during off hours.”

“As far as I can tell, there was ever only one time it happened, and even then it’s literally just a rumor—”

“It happened three times.” The scientist interjected with a sense of finality. “There is no question about it. I was there on all three sightings, and we even submitted the footage to the Earth Oceanic Preservation and Research Society!” 

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” The Cadet finally addressed the elephant in the room, prompting the scientist to once again let out his signature sigh. 

“The epic altercations between sperm whale and colossal squid!” Ivo announced confidently, much to the Cadet’s befuddled expressions. 

“The alleged altercations.” I clarified with a teasing grin.

“I’ve worked in this facility for seven years.” Ivo sneered at my logical deductions. “You’ve been here for a month. You were not there when those altercations happened. Quite frankly, you missed out on the most intense natural phenomenon.”

“Wait.” Cadet Booker spoke. I could see the quick look of realization appear suddenly on her face. “In the cafeteria, there’s a table cordoned off that’s got a seaside view. With a bunch of knick-knacks on it. Does that have anything to do with—”

“Absolutely.” Ivo answered, not needing her to finish. “That’s where Lieutenant Anton sat when he noticed the initial sighting that led to the spectacle that was the clash of marine titans. Ever since, that table has become the de-facto ‘betting pool’, a place where wagers are made for whenever the next titanic matchup may arise.” There was… an odd excitement in the doctor’s tone and mannerisms on this particular subject that I found was rare — arguably more rare than the Quintessence his research team was tasked to handle.

“I don’t know, Ivo. I’ve seen the stuff people put there. Most of it’s just random items, written promises, and funny resolutions.” I gave a knowing, facetious, shrug.

“They bet with dares, random assortments, stolen office supplies, and the like. Not my place to judge the office culture.”

“One of them I saw was written in your handwriting, I think it was something along the lines of—”

“Quiet, we’re almost there.”

“Dodging the question, eh—?”

“We’re here!” The scientist announced, more or less proving my point, as we walked into the bleeding edge where science met the unknown. 

“So… is there a livestream of the outside of the facility so we can keep an eye out for the next matchup of titans? Or a notification system or—”

“There’s 24/7 surveillance, you know that.” Ivo interrupted yet again, his annoyed visage returning once more. “But here’s the secure feed-link, if you’re interested.” He quickly added, sending the Cadet a quick info-packet through FFC. “Now that you two are here, we can begin.” The man walked us over a section of the lab that had glass panel screens showing separate diagrams of the E-ARRS’ components. In the middle of it all was a motorized pedestal that rose up as we neared it. On it was a skeletal wireframe of the E-ARRS helmet, with the main attraction being something that looked to be a standard, yet considerably bulky, comms-unit attached to the side. It looked… underwhelming, to say the very least. 

“So what’s the innovation in this oversized antenna?” Booker blurted out, more or less voicing my thoughts in a way that clearly offended the scientist. “I swear I saw this in one of those Call to Valor games set in the intrasolar wars.” 

Ivo went silent, only responding with a death-glare.

“That’s meant as a compliment, by the way. If you haven’t noticed already, I like retro vibes and aesthetics, so this is definitely a plus in my book.” The Cadet quickly attempted to course-correct, though there was definitely a truth to her statements, as evidenced by her choice of civilian-wear. 

“This isn’t some cosmetic from an outdated title re-released for the fiftieth time, Booker. While it may look and act as your standard LREF exo-suit transceiver, we’ve traded some capabilities to maximize for your specific brand of solo operations.” He quickly gestured at the cut-away of the antenna suite. “Upgraded bandwidth throughput to host and command a formidable number of drones, intelligent signal-locating to take into account the potential of communicating signals through non-conventional spatial geometry; just in case. And we haven’t even scratched the surface on the N-GEEM detection suite which takes up half of the antenna’s total space, which is a major reason why the design is, as you put it — retro.” 

“The other half of it’s on the backpack looking part of the suit, I assume?” Emma quickly replied, pointing at the E-ARRS’ bulky and hefty backpack. 

“Yes, the backpack, as you say, contains the other third of the systems. Whilst another third resides in decentralized nodes throughout the exterior of your suit.” The man paused, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning towards me. “Overengineering, for redundancy and field-repairability requirements as set forth by the planning committee, all thanks to the advice of your LREF superiors. The research and development department prides itself in being able to turn the impossible requests of pencil-pushers and gun-toting space cadets into reality.”

The scientist continued to prattle on and on about the upgrades and changes, most of which were incremental, but ultimately important when tallied together. 

A half hour was spent just going through the details, with the Cadet present to ensure that she understood the gist of what was being presented, if only for her to be aware of the purpose, basic function, and most importantly — the capacity for repair she had at her disposal. 

Ultimately however, the entire presentation was handed to her on a hefty update to her field manual, which was transferred seamlessly to her quick-access personal electronics (QAPE). 

However, just as quickly as the Cadet was inundated with more reading material, so too did a ping pop into the periphery of my vision. 

The email header was enough to clue me into what’d arrived in my inbox.

And a grin soon manifested as a result.

“You know, speaking of these N-GEEM — or let’s just call it what it is, these mana and quintessence sensors — you know how we’ve been discussing about Operation Backyard Cleanup, right?” I spoke up, turning towards the Cadet.

“Yeah? What about it?” 

“Well, guess who just got approval to see the latest refit in person?” 

An enthusiastic grin broke through the haze of the Cadet’s morning fatigue, her eyes now brimming with as much excitement as my own. 

“No way!” 

“Yes, way. So make sure you get your dress blues pressed for tomorrow, and remember to bring your lanyards too. Because Operation Breaktime to Luna-Ring is a-go.” 

“Okay! Alright! Oh gosh erm, so what exactly are we going to see tomorrow? Are we talking explorer class? Or will it be the Pioneer refit variant? Wait no, are those platforms a bit too generalized? Are we going to get to see a Voyager class? Marathon class? Pathfinder? Oh, maybe something in the Ariane series? Wait! Don’t tell me we’re going to see something beyond cruiser grade? I mean, there are battleships assigned to Operation Backyard Cleanup, right?” The Cadet managed out in a breakneck rapid-fire pace that would’ve caught me off guard if it wasn’t for the second-hand excitement I quickly caught from her infectious smile.

“I’ll let you see for yourself. For now, just get to SIOP classes or whatever you have scheduled today. And make sure to meet up with me at 2000 hours sharp for a briefing of tomorrow’s itinerary.” I beamed out brightly. 

Our excitement reached a fever pitch, only for Ivo to bring us crashing back down to earth with an unamused frown. 

“Get out of my lab.”