The UNSC Needs You! Chapter 3 - Training

When everyone was dressed, they filed outside without a word. The early afternoon sun hit them like a spotlight, burning down on the concrete yard where lines had already begun to form. A few other squads stood in formation near the far end, all standing stiffly at attention. The Corporal was already out front, hands clasped behind his back. The drill sergeant stood beside him. He looked as if he'd been forged from gravel and stone, his jaw locked and his posture so rigid it made everyone else seem soft by comparison. As the recruits from Echo-One fell into line, the sergeant's eyes swept over them like a laser sight.

Adam stood tall at the far right end of the line. He didn't fidget or glance around. Irina took her place beside him. Cassie and Dizzy stood just behind, their expressions serious now, whatever jokes they had died the moment boots hit the ground.

The Corporal stepped forward and raised his voice.

"Echo-One, all present and accounted for, Drill Sergeant."

The sergeant nodded, his face unmoving, he then stepped forward and started to walk in a line, eyeing each of them up.

"You listen to me," he said. His voice was hard and dry like sun-bleached leather. "I don't care what planet you crawled out of or who your mommy cried to when you left. Out here, you belong to me. I own your wake-ups and your shut-downs. Your piss breaks, your chow time, your sleep. You will breathe when I say. You will eat when I permit it. You will move only when I command it."

He took a slow step forward. His eyes locked on one recruit, then another.

"You think this is summer camp?" he said. "You think this is some holovid montage where you come in soft and leave a hero? This is the goddamn UNSC. And your job is to survive long enough to kill things that are not even technically alive."

The drill sergeant paced in front of them, his boots grinding against the gravel with a sound that seemed louder than it should have been. He looked from face to face, his eyes narrow and his lip curling as if he'd bitten into something rotten.

"I've been assigned plenty of squads over the years," he said. "All kinds. Colonists, inner-world rich kids, even a few dirt-chewing Martian tunnel rats. And every time, I think I've seen the bottom of the barrel."

He stopped in front of a recruit, a gangly, pale kid with ears that stuck out from his buzzcut like handholds.

"But no," the sergeant muttered. "Then I get you." He gestured to the kid's ears with the back of his hand. "What the hell is this? You trying to fly off this rock, son? You think those things are aerodynamic?"

The recruit opened his mouth to respond, but the sergeant cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Did I ask you to speak, Private Dumbo?"

"From this moment on," he said, "the only words that should ever come out of your mouth are 'Yes, Drill Sergeant,' or 'Yes, Sir.' If I want to hear anything else, I'll carve the words into your damn chest myself. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," they answered in unison.

He stopped in front of another, a short stocky girl with heavy shoulders and a jaw that was almost as square as a box. Her skin was slick with sweat already, and her eyes flickered sideways nervously.

"You," he barked. "What's your name?"

"Private—"

"I don't care," he snapped. "You look like a bulldog got stuffed in a kitbag and rolled down a hill. From now on, you're Private Pebbles."

He didn't wait for a reaction. He just kept walking, like a predator inspecting meat. He came to a tall recruit with a chiseled jaw and a perfect haircut, the kind of clean-cut look that usually got people lead roles in recruitment commercials.

"Pretty boy," the sergeant said. "You must think you're hot shit. Got that twinkle in your eye like you just stepped off a catwalk, what you here to seduce the enemy? Are we sending you off the mate with the damn bugs?"

"No, sir," the recruit answered quickly.

"Oh, you're damn right it's 'no sir.' Because from now on, your name is Calendar. You're just here for decoration. I'll flip your face over every month to keep morale up."

He stopped in front of Cassie.

"You," he said. "You've got that look. That smug little smirk, like you just stepped off a red carpet. Just cause your daddy's a big shot in Hollywood. You think this is a cute little detour before your next audition?"

Cassie didn't blink. "No, Drill Sergeant."

"Wrong answer," he snapped. "You say 'Yes, Drill Sergeant.' And congratulations, Private. From now on, you're Private Princess. Let's see how well royalty handles trench shovels and bug guts."

He moved on.

Next came Dizzy.

He squinted at her for a moment, tilting his head.

"What the hell is going on up there?" he asked, motioning to her hair like it was an active crime scene. "Did a jungle cat die on your head or did someone just throw you into a tumble dryer?"

"No, Drill Sergeant."

"I didn't ask for commentary. From now on, you're Private Poodle. Try not to shed on my goddamn floor."

Dizzy bit the inside of her cheek but kept her eyes forward.

Then he came to Adam.

He stopped cold, took a step back, and craned his neck. He looked up and then let out a long theatrical exhale.

"Goddamn, son."

He said nothing for a moment, just let the silence linger. "Where the hell did they dig you up from? Did you take a wrong turn out of the Spartan program? Or did you just smell the blood of an Englishman and come down from your beanstalk?"

A few nearby recruits tried not to laugh.

"I have never seen a man so tall in my entire life. Jesus H. Christ. I didn't know they were cross-breeding humans with gorillas out in the colonies now."

He stepped in closer, inspecting Adam like he was trying to find bolts or cybernetics. "You sure you're not wearing stilts? You carrying a fusion reactor in those calves? You could step on a goddamn Warthog and it'd take a week to notice."

Adam stood still and waited for the Drill Sergeant to stop berating him.

The sergeant grunted.

"Well," he said, finally stepping back, "you're mine now, and until we find a circus to return you to, I guess we'll have to train your oversized ass."

He gave one last shake of his head.

"From now on, you're Private Bigfoot. Try not to leave crater tracks across my parade yard."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," Adam replied, without missing a beat.

The drill sergeant took a few steps down the line. His eyes scanned one last face. He stopped in front of Irina She stood at full attention, her hands at her sides, her face unreadable. She didn't so much as blink.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, ain't you just a little porcelain doll," he muttered. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, Private?"

Irina didn't flinch. She didn't move. Not a word left her lips.

He leaned in slightly. "I asked you a question."

Adam cleared his throat. "Drill Sergeant," he said respectfully. "She's mute."

The sergeant slowly turned his head toward Adam like a turret, one eyebrow raising just slightly. "Mute?" he repeated, as if tasting the word. He turned back to Irina, who still held her posture without a single twitch of emotion. "Well, that's just great," he said, stepping back. "They give me a damn Sasquatch, a princess, a poodle, and now a recruit that doesn't even talk. What's next? A goddamn psychic?"

A few of the other recruits suppressed uneasy chuckles.

He turned back to Irina and tilted his head.

"Well, you're in luck, sweetheart," he said. "Talking ain't required for push-ups or crawling through mud. But since you're not gonna speak, I'll give you a name that suits you."

He stepped back into formation, nodding to himself.

"Private Quiet. You better pray your silence doesn't get someone killed, because if it does, you'll find my hand so far up your ass I'll be able to do your talking for you!"

Irina didn't look away. Her eyes didn't drop. She simply stood as she had from the beginning.

The sergeant moved on, pacing back toward the front of the line.

"You're all mine now. Every one of you. Your asses are mine. Your minds are mine. You want your freedom back? You'll earn it. Inch by inch. Rep by rep. Until I look at you and see Marines instead of whatever the hell this is."

He came to a stop.

"You have five minutes to form up at the PT field. In uniform. Lined up by height. If any of you think about walking, you're gonna wish you were never born."

The recruits turned at once and rane. They crossed the yard and passed other squads already moving in formation. They followed the signs that pointed toward the PT field. The path opened into a wide training ground. They slowed as they reached the edge. The squad formed their line without a word. Private Pebbles stood at the short end. She planted her feet wide and kept her shoulders back. Calendar stood in the middle. He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. Private Dumbo stood near him. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Irina stood just ahead of Adam. Her wiry frame stayed rigid and her ponytail brushed her collar as she breathed. Adam stood at the tall end. He kept his posture straight and his hands loose at his sides.

The drill sergeant waited by the field. He crossed his arms over his chest. He lifted his chin toward the far quarter of the field. The Adaptive Gauntlet stood there, the structure was a shifting pit of dangerous obstacles; it looked more like a death game than a training exercise.

"This beast is your new god," the sergeant said. "It shifts positions. It adjusts to your movements. It forces you to repeat sections until you complete them without error. You will spend more time in its dirt than in your racks. It will occupy your thoughts during rest periods."

The sergeant holstered the pad. He smiled without showing teeth. "That is the lowest difficulty setting. Now get on the field. You have twenty seconds to reach the start line. Anyone who stays behind loses a leg to a round from my sidearm."

The recruits broke formation and ran. Private Pebbles took the lead. She pumped her arms and drove her legs into the dirt with as much force as she could, her breath coming out loudly as she forgot to control her breathing. Her face tightened as she pushed forward, already feeling the exhaustin of the heat and her own body. Calendar moved up beside her. He kept his eyes locked on the course and ran without looking at the other. His steps were long, and he tried to control his breathing, but sweat was already sliding down the side of his face, as fit as he looked he only worked out his glamour muscles.

The other recruits also poured in after them including the four bullies who had tried to assault Miles, including a few others. The more intelligent members of Echo Squad waited behind so they wouldn't get caught in the stampede. Private Pebbles reached the first wall. She grabbed the lowest rung with both hands and pulled her body up. She placed one foot on the next rung and reached for the third. She climbed three rungs before the surface released hydraulic oil. The oil coated her hands and feet. She slipped backward and fell into the pit below. Her ankle twisted on impact with a snap. Bone broke through her skin. She screamed constantly as she grabbed her leg, but soon the med drones arrived and the drones injected tranquilizers into her thigh.

Calendar managed to past the first challenge and reached the netting section. He grabbed the bottom edge and vaulted over the first layer. He pulled himself up to the second layer and swung his legs over. However a ram swung and fast from the side. It struck his thigh in mid-air. The impact shattered his femur. Blood flowed from the break as he fell to the ground. Med drones pinned his arms and legs while treated him.

Private Dumbo reached the razor coil section. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled forward. He pushed his body under the first coil. The wires shifted and tightened around his torso. Barbs pierced his back and tore downward. They cut deep enough to expose his ribs. He gasped for air. A barb punctured his lung. Pink foam bubbled from his mouth. His body jerked once and went limp. Med drones soon came in and untangled him from the mess and brought him out.

Other recruits entered their sections. One boy reached the balance beam. He stepped onto the narrow plank and walked forward. A spring-loaded spike rose from the beam. The spike drove through his palm and pinned his hand to the wood. He shrieked and pulled against it. Blood sprayed from the artery. Another girl reached the swinging log section. She timed her step and moved under the first log. The second log swung faster than expected. It struck her chest full force. Her ribs cracked and folded inward. She fell to her knees. Pink froth bubbled from her lips as she collapsed forward.

Dizzy reached the climbing lattice. She grabbed the lowest bar with both hands and pulled her chin over it. She reached for the next bar and pulled again. Her Powerball training let her climb higher than the others. She reached the halfway point. The lattice panels retracted under her weight. She fell straight down into the trench below. Spikes lined the bottom. One spike caught her calf as she twisted in the air. The spike tore through muscle and scraped bone. Blood sprayed across the dirt. She landed on her side and dragged her body forward with her arms. Her jaw locked shut. Med drones clamped her leg and sealed the wound.

Cassie reached the low crawl section. She dropped to her belly and pulled herself forward with her elbows. She ducked her head under the first laser beam. The beam singed the fabric of her sleeve. Floor panels buckled beneath her. She fell into a hydraulic press pit. The jaws closed behind her as she rolled forward. The edge of the jaw caught her shoulder. The joint dislocated with a wet pop. Tendons tore as the bone shifted. She staggered to her feet and clutched the arm to her chest. Bone ground against bone with each movement. She collapsed against the nearest barrier. Tears ran down her face as she waved over the approaching med drones.

Irina entered the Gauntlet and moved to the first ram section. She watched the ram swing and ducked under it. She bent her knees and leaned to the side as the next ram passed over her head. She reached the wall climb. She placed her fingers in the lowest holds and pulled her body up. She planted her feet against the wall and pushed with her legs. She reached the top in four pulls and dropped to the ground on the other side. She entered the razor coil. She crawled forward on her elbows and knees. Metal thornes snagged her sleeves but did not tear skin. She cleared the section and stood up. She stepped onto the balance beams. The beams tilted left as she placed her weight on the first one. She bent her knees and shifted her hips to counter the tilt. She walked forward with small steps and arms out for balance. A blade rose near the end of the beams. It nicked the side of her shin and drew blood. She continued to the final trench. She ran to the edge and jumped. Hydraulics widened the gap in mid-air. She missed it and dropped down fracturing the bones in her leg and almost impaling herself on one of the spikes.

Adam entered the Gauntlet last, he moved forward without pausing. The first wall rose ahead of him. He reached up with both hands and caught the lowest grip. He pulled his body upward in one smooth motion. His feet planted flat against the wall. He pushed with his legs while pulling with his arms. He reached the top in two pulls. He swung one leg over the edge. He swung the other leg over and dropped to the ground on the far side. His knees bent to absorb the landing. He straightened and continued forward.

Electrified barbs lined the next section. He adjusted his stride to approach the jump. He bent his knees and swung his arms back. He drove his arms forward and jumped. His knees lifted high. His body cleared the barbs in one jump. He landed with both feet flat and stood upright. He moved to the next lane.

Battering rams swung across the lane. He watched the first ram swing from left to right. He stepped forward into the gap after it passed. The second ram swung from the right. He shifted his weight to his left foot and let it pass under his right leg. The third ram swung high from the left. He leaned his torso to the right and continued forward. He stepped into each gap between swings without stopping.

The razor coil crawl waited ahead. He dropped to his hands and knees. He placed his hands on the ground and drove forward into the coils. The wire bent under the pressure of his shoulders. He pushed the coils wider with his body. Sparks snapped from the barbs against his uniform. He dragged himself forward with pulls from his arms and pushes from his legs. He cleared the section in ten seconds. He stood up and brushed dirt from his knees.

Balance beams stretched across the next pit. He stepped onto the first beam. The plank tilted to the right under his weight. He bent his knees to lower his center. He spread his arms slightly for balance. He walked forward with short steps. The beams shifted left then right. He adjusted his hips to match each tilt. He kept his eyes on the end of the path. He stepped off the last beam onto solid ground.

Chain blades rotated up from the floor ahead. He stopped at the edge and watched two full rotations. He tracked the speed of the lowest blade. He stepped forward into the path. The first blade swept across at waist height. He twisted his torso to the left to let it pass. The second blade came across at chest height. He leaned his upper body back until it passed. The third blade came low at ankle height. He lifted his right foot and stepped over it. He continued through the remaining blades with the same timing. He stepped clear on the other side.

The final trench opened in front of him. Hydraulics activated and widened the gap as he approached. He did not slow his pace. He planted his right foot at the edge. He pushed off with both legs. His arms drove forward for momentum. His body sailed across the gap. He landed with both boots flat on the far side. His knees bent to absorb the impact. He straightened his legs and stood tall.

'That wasn't too bad,' he thought to himself as he turned around and started to jog back to the other side of the obstacle course. Though when he did it was to the shocked faces of the Corporal and the Drill Sergeant, both looking at him like he was a unicorn. The other recruits were surprised too, though they didn't look as surprised; it was mostly looks of envy and slight anger.

"Now son... can you explain to me what in the Sam Hell that was?" The Drill Sergeant asked, as he marched straight up to Adam.

"Sir?" Adam said a little unsure of what the man was talking about. "I completed the obstacle course as instructed sir!" He said saluting and standing straight.

"Completed the obstacle course did you!? Oh hell Private Bigfoot I must've missed it, thanks for telling me! Now get back in line!" He shouted and Adam rushed back into line with the other recruits.

Adam jogged back to the squad's line and rejoined the others. The shocked gazes of the Corporal and Drill Sergeant still followed him, their eyes wide as if he'd sprouted wings mid-course. Adam slowed to a stop, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension from the Gauntlet, and took his place at the tall end of the line.

Cassie leaned toward him, a grin breaking through her sweat-streaked face. "Holy shit, Darwin you made it look like a damn stroll through the park." She shook her head, brushing a damp strand of hair from her eyes with a quick flick of her wrist.

Dizzy nodded from her spot, her curls still half-loose from the frantic sprint. "Yeah, man, that was unreal. I was halfway up that lattice thinking I had a shot, and you just blew through like the spikes were toothpicks. You hiding some cybernetic mods under those fatigues or what?" She flashed a playful smirk, folding her arms across her chest.

Irina, standing just ahead, turned slightly and gave Adam a quick tap on the shoulder with her fist, her lips twitching into the faintest smile before she faced forward again, ponytail swaying as she adjusted her stance. Adam caught the gesture and grinned back, his broad face softening. "Thanks, all of you. Just tried to keep my head down and move, you know? Irina, you were no slouch either, you damn near made it clean."

Before anyone could respond, the Drill Sergeant's boots crunched back toward them, his shadow falling over the line like a storm cloud. He stopped dead center, hands on his hips, his hat tilted just enough to let his eyes rake over the squad. "Now, I suppose you're all wondering how so many of you are still standing after that meat grinder. Some of you got impaled by spikes. Some of you caught fire like cheap kindling. Hell, some of you flat-out died." He paused, letting the words sink in, his gaze lingering on Private Dumbo, who swallowed hard and pushed his glasses up his nose. "But one quick jab from a drone, and you're all shiny as new. Anyone care to guess why?"

The squad stayed silent, though Calendar shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching near his waistband. Miles blinked rapidly, his fingers brushing the spot where his scalp had split in the simulation, now unmarred. Cassie and Dizzy exchanged a quick glance, their brows furrowed, while Irina kept her eyes fixed on the ground ahead, her hands clasped behind her back.

The Drill Sergeant raised his voice. "Computer, end program!"

A sound vibrated through the field, and the Adaptive Gauntlet flickered out of existence. The towering walls, spinning blades, and gaping pits dissolved into nothing, leaving behind a flat, empty expanse of concrete under the Sierra Largo sun. The squad's collective breath caught, a few recruits stepping back as the reality sank in, their eyes darting across the now-bare field.

The sergeant's lips curled into a hard smirk. "This, you damn shitbags, is a simulation course. Some fancy tech from Project Freelancer, it can whip up obstacle courses, battle zones, anything we want to throw at you. Don't get any bright ideas, Private Calendar, I see you itching your balls right there."

Calendar snapped to attention, his face flushing red as a ripple of chuckles passed through the squad. He clasped his hands in front of him, "Sorry, Drill Sergeant."

The sergeant didn't acknowledge the apology. He paced a few steps. "Any injuries you felt in there? Not real. But they hurt like a son of a bitch, don't they? Those drones are just there to make it feel authentic—keep your sorry asses from slacking off. You think you're tough because you limped through? Think again. That was the lowest setting, and most of you folded like cheap cards."

He stopped and turned. "Now that you've been baptized in your new church, we're moving on to PT for the rest of the day. I hope you're ready, because by the time I'm done with you, you'll be praying for the Gauntlet to take you back. You'll sweat so much your bones'll cry, and I'll still be here, cracking my whip. Move out to the PT track! Double time!"

The squad snapped into motion, falling into a loose jog toward the track at the field's edge, their boots kicking up dust as they went. Adam kept pace the same as the others, while Cassie and Dizzy flanked him, their breaths already quickening. Irina stayed just ahead, and Miles hustled to keep up, glasses bouncing slightly on his nose. The sergeant's voice chased them, a relentless whip cracking at their heels, promising a day of fire to forge whatever was left of them into something new.

...

The day had been a grueling crucible, a relentless barrage of sprints, jumps, and drills that pushed the recruits' bodies to the edge of collapse. They ran laps around the PT track until their lungs burned, leaped over hurdles that their left shins bruised, and hauled weighted packs up inclines until muscles screamed for relief. Sweat soaked their fatigues, and most of the squad staggered by the end. Adam alone stood unfazedd by the ordeal, not a bead of sweat marring his brow, his breathing as even as if he'd spent the day relaxing in the bunkhouse.

By sunset, the squad lined up outside Echo-One, their bodies sagging but held upright by sheer will under the drill sergeant's gaze. He stood before them as the fading light painted the sky in streaks of orange and violet. "Since it was your first day, I took it easy on you shitbags," he barked. "But rest assured, tomorrow will make today feel like a damn picnic."

He paused, letting the threat sink in as the recruits stood rigid, some swaying slightly. "You didn't pass out today, so I'll grace you with my name. I am Drill Sergeant Charles Zim, and this is Corporal Benjamin Rand. You're Echo Squad. When training's done, you'll fold into Bullet Company under Captain Davis. But I'll be damned if I hand such a decorated officer a pack of sorry excuses for human beings."

Zim paced a step, his boots crunching on the gravel. "These next weeks, we'll introduce you to standard-issue weapons and battle armor. You'll get lectures on the enemy. You'll be forged into weapons of war. The best among you will become leaders."

He gestured toward the bunkhouse behind them. "The bunkhouse is split into four sections for a reason. Those are your fireteams. Four fireteams make a squad—that's you, Echo Squad. Over the next weeks, one of you in each fireteam will rise to Private First Class and lead. But don't get comfortable. Slack off, and you'll be demoted. Prove yourself, and you'll climb. At the end of training, the fireteam leaders will make Corporal. Work like your life depends on it, because it does. Now get some chow and hunker down for the night. Dismissed."

Zim turned sharply and strode off with Corporal Rand in tow, their silhouettes vanishing into the dusk. The moment they were gone, the squad's discipline crumbled. Recruits collapsed onto the ground, sprawling on the dirt like marionettes with cut strings, their gasps and groans filling the air. Cassie dropped to her knees, her hair plastered to her forehead, one hand clutching her side as she wheezed. Dizzy sank beside her, curls matted with sweat, her hands braced on her thighs as she sucked in ragged breaths. Irina sat cross-legged, her ponytail loosened but her face still unreadable, though her fingers flexed as if shaking off lingering cramps. Miles slumped flat on his back, glasses fogged, chest heaving like a bellows. Only Adam remained standing as he looked down at his fireteam with a slight grin.

Cassie tilted her head up, squinting at him through the haze of exhaustion. "Darwin, you're a goddamn monster," she panted, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "We're all dying out here, and you're just... standing there. What the hell are you made of? Nanites? Spartan serum? Give me some of that."

Dizzy let out a weak laugh, her voice hoarse as she pushed a damp curl from her eyes. "Yeah, man, that was inhuman. I played Powerball for years, and took hits that'd make a person cry, but this? This was hell, and you didn't even flinch. You some kind of secret cyborg farm boy?"

Adam chuckled. "Wasn't too bad, you two. Just a long day of moving, is all. Kinda like hauling crates or herding sheep back home, just with more yelling." He grinned, stepping closer and crouching slightly to meet their eyes. "Come on, let's get you to the racks before you pass out in the dirt."

Before they could protest, Adam leaned down and scooped Cassie up with one arm, her slight frame dangling as she yelped in surprise, her good arm flailing for balance. "Hey! Put me— okay, fine, you win," she muttered, half-laughing as she went limp in his grip. He turned to Dizzy, who raised her hands in mock surrender but didn't resist as he hooked his other arm under her knees and lifted her effortlessly, her curls bouncing against his shoulder. Irina, still seated, looked up with a faint smirk, but when Adam extended a hand, she nodded once and let him pull her to her feet. He shifted his grip, hoisting her over his shoulder in a single fluid motion, her slight weight barely registering as she hung there.

With Cassie tucked under one arm, Dizzy cradled in the other, and Irina slung over his shoulder, Adam strode toward the bunkhouse pretty easily despite the load. The door swung open under his nudge, and he carried them inside, ignoring the stares of the other recruits already sprawled on their bunks. He set Cassie down gently on her mattress, her legs sprawling as she groaned in relief. Dizzy landed next, rolling onto her side with a muttered, "You're ridiculous," though her grin betrayed her gratitude. Irina he lowered carefully, her feet touching the floor as she gave him a quick nod, her fingers brushing her ponytail back into place before she sat on her bunk.

Adam stepped back, brushing his hands together with a satisfied nod. "There. Now you can all sleep off Zim's welcome party. Tomorrow's gonna be worse, so might as well rest up." He flashed a grin and headed to his own bunk, the frame creaking slightly as he sat, already pulling off his boots while the others quickly passed out.

_____________________________________

While Sierra Largos remained loud with the shouts of Drill instructors and the cries of recruiters,  the officers' barracks remained quiet. The gym doors stayed open to the corridor. Captain Michelle K. Davis worked alone at the power rack inside the gym. She placed her hands on the bar and lifted it from the floor, the bar flexed and then straightened as she raised it. She lowered the weight to the floor and lifted it once more. Sweat flowed down her neck and entered the collar of her shirt. The moisture gathered between her breasts and traced lines along the curve of her cleavage. She returned the bar to the rack after the set.

She applied chalk to her hands from the container on the bench. She walked to the pull-up station and gripped the handles with her palms facing each other. She pulled her body upward until her chin passed the bar. She held the position at the top for one second and then lowered her body without swinging. Her breasts shifted with each pull, pressing against the fabric of her top as her chest expanded. She completed the repetitions without speaking the count. She inhaled and exhaled through her nose between each pull. She maintained the same speed for every repetition. The sweat from her underarms darkened the sides of her top, and beads formed on the exposed skin above her waistband, sliding down to pool at the base of her spine.

She released the handles and lowered her feet to the floor. She shifted into a plank position with her hands and toes on the ground. She engaged her abdominal muscles and held the position until the timer signaled the end. Her shoulders remained stable during the hold. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the mat below her.

She rose from the floor and moved to the dip bars. She grasped the handles and lowered her body until her elbows formed right angles. Her breasts lowered with the motion, the weight pulling at her top until the fabric stretched across her nipples. She pressed her body upward until her arms extended fully. Her triceps contracted during each press, she directed her gaze toward the timer on her watch and finished the set and released the bars.

She picked up the towel from the bench and passed it over her face and arms to remove the sweat. The towel lingered between her breasts, absorbing the moisture that had soaked through her top and outlined the shape of her areolas. Her chest expanded and contracted in a regular pattern. She consulted her watch and reached for the bar at the next station. Her shorts clung to the crease between her thighs, the fabric damp where it met the heat of her groin.

The door to the gym opened at that moment. First Lieutenant Annika Hansen entered the room and stopped three steps inside. She raised her right hand to her forehead in salute. "Captain."

Michelle placed the towel on the bench beside her. "At ease, Annika. You do not need to salute when no one else is present."

Annika brought her hand down to her side and relaxed her posture. "Yes, ma'am." She inhaled once before she continued. "Sergeant Zim arrived to speak with you about the recruits assigned to Echo One."

Michelle maintained eye contact with Annika for another second. She was slightly annoyed as this was her free time and she preferred to complete her training session without interruption. She nodded in acknowledgment. "Understood." She retrieved the towel and passed it over her arms and hands to dry them. "Allow me two minutes to prepare."

She left the gym and entered the locker room adjacent to it. She opened her locker and placed the towel on the shelf inside. She removed her shirt and shorts and walked to the shower enclosure. She activated the water for a brief rinse and stood under the stream until her skin felt clean. The water ran over her breasts and down her stomach, following the lines of her muscles on her stomach to the folds between her legs.

She turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for the towel and drying off quickly. From the locker came a clean undershirt, pulled over her head and smoothed down. The uniform blouse followed, buttoned from the bottom, she then stepped into the trousers, drew them up, and fastened the belt, centering the buckle at her waist. The cap went under her arm. In front of the mirror, she adjusted the collar, aligned the insignia, gave one last check, then shut the locker and left the room without a word.

Her office lay two doors down the corridor from the gym. She opened the door and entered the room. Sergeant Zim occupied the space in front of her desk and rose from the chair when she appeared. He raised his right hand to his forehead in salute. "Captain."

"At ease, Sergeant," Michelle said. She walked across the room to her chair, sat down, and placed the cap on the desk surface. She positioned her hands with fingers interlaced and kept her spine upright. Her expression remained unchanged. "I expect this discussion to justify the interruption to my routine."

Zim lowered his hand and sat in the chair opposite the desk. He positioned his boots flat on the floor and met her gaze directly. "Yes, ma'am." He inhaled briefly before he spoke. "Echo One finished their initial run on the Adaptive Gauntlet while I supervised. The majority of the recruits failed before the midpoint. Several displayed potential during the attempt. One recruit completed the entire course without error on the first pass."

Michelle observed his expression as he reported. "Provide the name."

"Darwin, Adam. We assigned him the designation Private Bigfoot during formation," Zim said. "His height exceeds standard measurements, and his strength is beyond normal as well. He remained composed during the sequence. He navigated each section without unnecessary movement re. He avoided any display of superiority after completion."

Michelle leaned back in her chair, her fingers still interlaced as she processed Zim's words. "That sounds like a good thing, Sergeant. Why are you bringing this up to me?"

Zim shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening briefly on the armrest before he forced them to relax. He met her gaze but swallowed, the muscles in his throat working visibly under the skin. After a moment, he cleared his throa. "I told the recruits that I set the Gauntlet to the lowest difficulty."

Michelle's eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, giving him the space to continue.

"But in reality, it was at the hardest."

"You set it to hell?" Michelle said with a slight edge to her tone.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Zim replied, his stutter breaking through for the first time, his posture stiffening as if bracing for impact. "It's just something us drill sergeants do on the first day. Breaks down any arrogance early. Makes the real improvement hit harder when they think they've got room to grow."

Michelle held her stare, her expression unchanging as she waited, the quiet stretching between them until Zim felt compelled to fill it. "Private Darwin didn't just clear it, ma'am. He moved through that thing like he was taking a Sunday morning walk."

Michelle uncrossed her fingers and placed her palms flat on the desk, the subtle shift drawing Zim's eyes for a split second before he refocused. "What are you trying to tell me, Sergeant?"

Zim exhaled through his nose. "I figured it's possible that Adam might be one of you. You know."

Michelle shook her head once, the motion deliberate and unyielding. "All personnel who underwent the MO surgery are accounted for, as well as every child born to parents who received it."

"Ma'am, be that as it may," Zim pressed, his voice gaining a touch of insistence despite the flicker of unease in his eyes, "I believe Adam Darwin to be a super soldier of some kind. The way he handled hell mode on day one... it doesn't add up for a standard recruit, no matter how farm-strong he claims to be."

Michelle paused, her gaze drifting to the window for a beat, where the training fields lay under the settingf sun, before returning to Zim. The silence lingered just long enough to make him wonder if he'd overstepped. Finally, she straightened in her chair. "You've made your point, Sergeant. That's all for now."

Zim rose immediately, snapping a salute before turning on his heel and exiting the office, the door clicking shut behind him. Annika, who had remained standing quietly by the wall near the door, her presence unobtrusive until now, stepped forward as the latch engaged. She crossed the room and stopped at the side of the desk, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. "If he's right, Captain, this soldier could be a good addition to your company."

Michelle nodded, her fingers drumming once on the desk before stilling. "Especially with where we've been assigned. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Annika inclined her head slightly, waiting for the directive she knew would come. Michelle met her eyes. "Annika, keep an eye on this Adam Darwin. If he shows signs of being enhanced, keep a record and report back to me."

"Yes, ma'am," Annika replied.

(AN: Damn so Annika Hansen, I wonder how many of you actually know who she is. Anyway training won't be too long. Tbh I want to get into the action, and finally showing off Adam. Plus sex I want to write sex!)