Turns out I would learn a lesson early on actually; I learned that assembling that 0200 means I should be up around 0100 to make sure everyone is assembled at 0200. Three hours are better than none but I am worried I may be slimming down on sleep a lot more in the near future. So we assemble for every cyborgs favorite part of life: checking energy levels. It is a vital part since if we get too low we are essentially paralyzed but it just feels weird when someone else checks. I mean imagine if someone decided to take a quick gander in your tummy to see how much food was there; like I said, it’s weird. So some uncomfortable minutes with a professional later, we have determined that everyone, including myself, needs a charge. Privately Sergeant Jacobs tells me that it is important to keep everyone full because once we land getting a good supply of energy can be extremely difficult. Sharing energy is a thing he said he has had to do and has had to order him men to do. No one likes it so we try to avoid it but it is better than being crippled. I nervously ask what the starting charge should be and he says at least ninety percent. That is beyond outrageous. Nrope I am not sitting through this every day. He just shuts me down hard.

“You really hate this whole process, don’t you Sergeant Kel?” There is a slight note of mischievousness in his voice as he asks me.

“Cheap but functional equipment makes this whole process unpleasant normally. Please tell me that the Marines are more merciful.”

Sergeant Jacobs just chuckles slightly. “Efficient but effective is how the Marines do things. If you want luxury join the Navy Sergeant Kel. I am sure they will give you something better once you finish your oil bath and massage by cyborgs of loose values.” I wish I had eyes so I could roll them.

My turn for a charge comes up the engineer removes the front part of my chest because “he does not know where my charger port is.” Sure, let’s go with that. Once inside he cannot help but whistle at the sight. Apparently I am a “work of art.” I am surprised to hear that I have a secondary backup battery almost as long as the first. The thirty percent reading was just from my main battery. Once he traces where the input is he is kind enough to reassemble me and begin the charging. The feeling is gross as “food” is forced into my body through my skin. I suppress a shudder and bear it but I can hear the men talking about the secondary battery. I have to just deal with the fact that I am going to be the subject of all sorts of talk.

Sergeant Jacobs brings up the rear, taking his feeding with the sort of presence and grace that I have come to expect from him in our very short time together. Once we are all set we can move to the exercise area to practice maneuvers. It is a broad but fairly low ceilinged area, supposedly to accommodate more level in a small space, with the usual equipment: gravity sleds; open spaces; n-tracks; bunch of other stuff in the general “improve posture/test limits” sense. I am vaguely curious what they need the other floors for.

We begin by ramming our bodies into the sleds, no rockets, not that I have any, two to a sled. Sergeant Jacobs takes me aside and wants to practice with him. A furious dash into melee where we mix things up is how shock troops operate and I need to make sure that if needed I can be alongside them and if not needed I at least know what I am ordering them to do. On terms of pure mechanical powers I am about on par with the standard shock model but without the ability to use booster of any kind; this does not please Sergeant Jacobs. “You are no good to me if cannot keep up with your Marines,” he reprimands me. Unfortunately there is not much I can do about it I don’t actually say. I want to so hard, but I am not sure what I can do.

“They put you with us for a reason I suppose. Are you sure there is not anything you can do here?” Sergeant Jacobs is almost pleading with me. “You made some good progress already with the men and I don’t want to send you away because you cannot do our job.”

“I vaguely remember something about… something energy output boost?” I try to remember but then it comes to me: I hard tried to forget. Lieutenant Kies was the one who taught me about it. I feel a terrible chill rip through my body as I try not to reveal… oh no, why? I struggle to stay on my feet when I feel Sergeant Jacobs supporting me.

“What’s wrong?” He speaks quietly but I doubt this has failed to gain anyone’s attention.

“I remember something. Kies taught me.” I cannot hide the memory. It seems so distant but yet so intimate that I had forgotten that it was still a fresh memory.

“Okay. Let’s just put you down easy.” He gently lowers me gently to the ground and turns to address the troops. “Go into the open area and spar,” he orders. They comply quickly; I can only imagine what they think of me.

Sergeant Jacobs sits down next to me while watching the guys break of into pairs and fight. The thunder of their duels can easily cover any conversation.

“Just sit. This is bad but I am not sure how we can fix it. Undoing damage like this is hard and simply takes time. I think we need to let Captain Salazar know.” He looks at me briefly. “I don’t want to tell you what to do about this, sort of, but if you are suffering that level of performance issue because… Well we need to know soon.” I just pull my knees up to my chest and look down. “Don’t be ashamed. I am going to tell you a secret; don’t tell anyone outside of this squad ever, alright?” I nod, not looking up. “Lieutenant Kies works at the primary conversion facility for Marine cyborgs much of them time. He has a fetish for victimizing us, shock troops, specifically and even Marines generally but between his extreme skill in robotics and talent for containing his mess he goes unpunished. Complain too loudly and you may suffer instead. When he sees someone he wants to get his hands on though there is pretty much nothing they can do about it. Whatever he does he gets in their heads and warps them, badly. Remember that little crouch Davis does? As far as I know it has a lot to do with Kies training him for some purpose. He was kept on base for an extended period due to ‘irregularities’ with his conversion, ones I assume were entirely Kies lying to satisfy some sick desire, but he came out pretty badly. It is some instinct to always be prepared to serve someone’s pleasure when they need it; he does not even realize he does it. I admit I don’t fully understand it. He cannot contain himself around other cyborgs either. He slept his way through the old squad pretty quickly and I would not be surprised if he does it again as soon as he feels comfortable around the new guys.” I look at Frank and I have never seen something as terrifying in my life: the perfect picture of infinite serenity hiding universal fire.

“Will he get in trouble for that,” I ask with some trepidation. Even as briefly as I have known him I already feel some kinship toward Davis, strengthened by our mutual suffering at the hands of a monster.

“No, if he keeps things under wraps. He is toying with some regs but has not clearly broken anything. Mind yourself around him, okay? Right now I think neither of you can handle yourself properly and I don’t want to see either of you suffering because of someone else.” He is kind, but still hiding that fury. I feel disgust with myself with how I acted before and disgusted that someone I want to respect so badly thinks so little of me. Thing is, Frank’s ability to read minds is terrifying. “I don’t think badly about either of you. You are both struggling hard with something terrible. I am not warning you for any reason save that you could both get in trouble and I want you both to do well in spite of this disaster.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, good and strong. “I trust you both, okay? I wish there was a good way to say ‘I trust you both but I also realize that you have weaknesses that entirely the fault of other people and I want to protect you both from those weaknesses because I value you so much.’ The fact that both of you are fighting so hard is amazing and I don’t want to make you feel anything but.” He keeps his hand on me. It is a good feeling though; when I think about what happened I immediately feel disgusting, like I had rolled in engine oil. The hand means I am not untouchable.

“Can you try to be less angry about it though? It just makes me feel worse when I see you so mad. I cannot shake the feeling that it’s at me for being dumb enough to put myself in that situation.” I try to push into his hand a little more, makes me feel normal.

He straight up turns and looks at me, “This is not your fault Kel. Don’t blame yourself no matter how hard you want to.” His voice is stern but softens as he continues, “and of course I will get angry. I am a Marine, being angry is what I do. My life is simple: the problem is someone over there and the solution is punching them until they stop being a problem. Repeat as necessary. Come to think of it we need to get you better at being angry. If you are up for standing we can practice that now.” I simply get up in response just trying to remind myself that my life really has gained a purpose beyond toy for greater powers. I have friends, family even, and I will fight to protect them.

I follow his commands to the letter, channeling my rage onto the grav-sled with my fists before Sergeant Jacobs insists I turn to fight him. The battle is both brutal and one-sided. My fighting technique was acquired from bar fights, his from real fights, and training yes. Thing is I don’t feel ashamed of my performance. The terrible noise caused by us clashing was invigorating and I felt a bit better when I learned that I was maybe not as helpless as I felt. I still had the problem where I felt dirty, but a vague part of me wanted to roll in the mud with someone. I push the thought from my mind as Frank calls the squad back from sparing. They line up by rank, this time two rows of five, and stand at attention. It is then I realize, I was fighting for over an hour. I lost track of time because I was doing something fun. Even the soundtrack meshed up nicely thanks to the program designed to optimize the music selection. Sergeant Jacobs eventually puts them through a series of drills to help them fight and coordinate; he privately mentions he will help tutor me and in time have me participate. He finishes off with all twelve of us being told to sit down for an hour of meditation.

I try to empty my mind but my thoughts are buzzing like of swarm of angry… bees I think they’re called. Didn’t the poem about women mention them. That was a good poem; how exactly did it go? Nono I need to meditate. Empty my mind, relax. You know I wonder if… stop it. Bad me. Relax, empty. Breath slowly, in and out. Does it stand out I don’t breath like they appear to? Meditation is hard. Can we go back to punching things? Okay calm, clam, slow. Okay so the music is also talking about slowness but has a good beat. Can we go back to the weird music and the lady talking? No? Okay so turn the music off and then calm, calm, slow. Just focus on in and out, in and out. I should talk to Frank tonight actually. Okay so I am terrible at this meditation thing since this just going to continue until the hour is up.

We stand after it is done, after I have failed to do it. He sets the guys back to performing more drills, followed by the twelve of us sparing again. It feels great to work out some tension but the more I fight Frank the more I realize that he is definitely holding back against me; every time I begin to learn his patterns and tricks he just gets better; the number of times he has gotten behind me is insane. I eventually try to start using the new sensors to be able to detect what he is doing back there and it helps when I land a lucky back kick right in his stomach. He does not make that mistake again though, dancing rapidly in and out of my reach too quickly to properly tell when I should strike and end up making some embarrassing whiffs. The fights continue some time though and I am not sure how long it lasts until we are done, a two hour session for that alone.

Once we march out for a short break before some sort of study period I sit next to Sergeant Jacobs. “You’re holding back on me Sergeant.”

He nods back at me, “of course. I need you to learn, not be so overwhelmed you give up. That kick took me by surprise though, good aim or some secret?”

“Hardly good aim. I missed you while you were standing still in my reach. I was starting to use these things.” I gesture to the lines visible in my face. “They work decently if I am not thinking about it.”

Sergeant Jacobs just turns to look at our men. “Ah, right. So let’s just keep working at that when sparing, okay? I wish we could take it slower but don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll need to learn balance in a lot of things fast; meditation is good for that.” He turns back towards me, “And don’t think I didn’t notice that twitching when you were supposed to be meditating. As I said Sergeant Kel, a lot to learn.”

I want to chat with him a bit but for some reason I get the impression he needs to focus on something so I join him in studying everyone. They are sitting around a rectangular table and talking at what I would call a decent level for sailors but they are not being rowdy so I don’t think Sergeant Jacobs will challenge them right now. I try to ignore the general chatter and focus on their bodies, the movements and postures. With this many and these distractions I make no headway, even with Davis and Rodriguez. Whatever Sergeant Jacobs is seeing so easily I will just have to learn.

Once the break is over, about 15 minutes, there is a class taught by Sergeant Jacobs about tactics, reviewing information about their bodies, combat techniques, weapons, and the special add ons they will be using. I fight the temptation to play music and zone out since knowing how they work is important but this information tells me annoyingly little about myself. It feels like my motivation is suffering from this constant ebb and flow as I get so excited about one this and the next pales in comparison so I just give up. I think the balance thing is going to be very important.

When we are finally done I slip in line behind Sergeant Jacobs and try me best to be quiet but something finally occurs to me: weren’t we supposed to cast off yesterday? When we finally stop briefly I get close I ask the quest to which the only response is a short nod and a gesture to get back in line. Sad that I let my curiosity get the better of me while surprised that I, a seasoned sailor, did not notice anything when the ship moved, I add the confusion toward the sudden attitude change by Sergeant Jacobs into the swirling mix of thoughts.

After a few moments he turns to us and says, “Lance Corporal Higgins. Take everyone and continue drills. Sergeant Kel you’re with me.” I find the slowly becoming too common anxiety settling in my heart again.