it implied he was getting special privileges off the training field?
More to the point, why
He wasn't the best of the trainees, certainly—Deutsch alone proved that. Nor, he thought, was he the worst. The youngest? Oldest? Closest physically to some old friend/enemy? Or—and it was a chilling thought—did Bai secretly share some of Viljo's biases?
But whatever the reason, there was no response he could think of except the one he was already using: to endure with as much outer stoicism and inner calm as he could manage. It proved more effective than he'd expected it to, and by the time the second week drew to a close he was able to face Bai's comments or work alongside Viljo with only the slightest nervousness. How much the other trainees noticed his new attitude he didn't know, but Halloran made at least one comment on it.
And then the third week began; and all that had gone before paled to the relative significance of a quiet summer's stroll... because on the first day of that week they began working with their computerized reflexes.
'It's dead simple,' Bai told them, gesturing to the ceiling barely two meters above their heads. 'You first key your targeting lock on the spot where you intend to hit, and then jump, giving your body a backward motion as you do so.' He bent his knees and straightened them, simultaneously arching his back. 'Then just relax and let the computer run your servos. Try not to fight it, by the way; you'll just strain your muscles and make it harder for your subconscious to adjust to having something else in charge of your body. Questions? Um? All right. Aldred, target lock:
One by one they all performed the ceiling jump that had been their first introduction to Cobra abilities those four long weeks ago. Jonny had thought himself adequately prepared; but when his turn came he found out otherwise. Nothing—not even the now-familiar servo enhancement effect—could quite compare with the essential decoupling of body and mind that the automatic reflexes entailed. Fortunately, the maneuver was over so quickly that he didn't have time to feel more than a very brief panic before his feet were back on the floor and his muscles returned to his control. Only later did he realize that Bai had probably started them with the ceiling jump for precisely that reason.
They went through the exercise five times each, and with each flawless jump Jonny's anxiety and general feeling of weirdness eased, until he was feeling almost comfortable with his new copilot.
As he should have expected, though, he wasn't allowed to feel comfortable for long.
They stood atop a five-story building, looking over the edge at the ground below and the reinforced wall facing them about fifteen meters away. 'He's
Jonny nodded wordlessly, his eyes shifting to Bai as the instructor finished his verbal description of the maneuver and stepped to the edge to demonstrate. 'As always,' Bai said, 'you start with a targeting lock to give your computer the range. Then you just... jump.'
His legs straightened convulsively, and an instant later he was arcing toward the facing wall. He hit it feet first about five meters down, his shoes scraping loudly as they slid a short distance further down along it. The combination of that friction plus the impact-absorbing bending of his knees flipped him partly over; and when his legs straightened again an instant later, the push sent him back toward the original building in a heels-over-head flip that somehow managed to have him feet forward when he struck the side, another five meters closer to the ground. Again he shoved off, and with one final bounce-and-flip off the far wall, he landed safely on the ground at the base of their building. 'Nothing to it,' his voice drifted up to the waiting trainees. 'I'll be up in a minute, then we'll all try it.'
He disappeared inside. 'I think I'd rather take my chances with a straight jump,' Noffke said to no one in particular.
'That's fine for a five-story building, but you'd never make it with anything really tall,' Deutsch shook his head. 'We
'I'll bet the Great Horizon Hope could give you a dozen more reasons why this is a good maneuver,' Viljo put in, smiling sardonically at Jonny.
'Would you settle for two?' Jonny asked calmly. 'One: you're never in free fall for very long this way, and besides making for a softer landing that'll play havoc with any manual
He had the satisfaction of seeing some of the other trainees nodding in agreement, and of watching Viljo's smirk sour into a grimace.
There was more—much more—and for ten days Bai put them through their paces. Gradually, the daily computer modules began to remove the restraints set onto their most dangerous equipment; just as gradually, the scorch-lasers and dye-pellets used by their metallic opponents were replaced by genuine weapons. Half a dozen of the trainees picked up minor burns and pellet wounds, and a new seriousness began to pervade the general attitude. Only Deutsch retained his bantering manner, and Jonny suspected it was simply because he was already as serious beneath the facade as the man could possibly be. The evening lectures were replaced by extra training sessions, giving them the chance to practice with their enhanced night vision the techniques they had so far used only in daylight and dusk. All of it seemed to be building to a head... and then, almost unexpectedly—though they all knew the schedule—it was over.
Almost.
'There comes a time, Cobras,' Bai told them that final afternoon, 'when training reaches a saturation point; where drills and practice don't hone so much as fine-polish. Fine-polishing is okay if you're a gemstone or an athlete, but you're neither: you're warriors. And for warriors there's no substitute for genuine combat experience.
'So, starting tomorrow morning, combat is what you're going to get. Four days of it: two solitaire and two in units. You'll be up against the same remotes you've been training with; your own weapons and abilities will be identical to what you'll have when your combat nanocomputers are implanted in you five days from now. So. It's sixteen hundred hours now, and you're all officially off-duty until oh-eight-hundred tomorrow, when you'll be taken by transport to the test site. I suggest you eat tonight as if you'll be on field rations for four days—which you will be—and get a good night's sleep. Questions? Unit dismissed.'
It was a somber group that gathered in Jonny's room that evening after dinner. 'I wonder what it's going to be like,' Noffke said, sitting at the table shuffling his cards restlessly.
'Not easy, that's for sure,' Singh sighed. 'We've already had minor injuries when everyone knew what he and
