A door of exciting deliciousness had opened to John; he had tried the hearty Vshyi Dynasty’s dishes, gallivanting Neven Federation’s stew and elegant Sa’lusha Concordat desserts upon guidance (and urging) from Gerasimov and Luther. The real experience was way better than just reading about them.

The Dynasty dish that he ate as demonstrated by Gerasimov featured a prime beef cut marinated with complex umami spices and accompanied by visually vibrant vegetables. All in all, it was aptly named as Vshyian Slice, representing the Dynasty’s enduring culture hailing from the start of interstellar age.

Next was Nivisiac’s Triumph, a punchy stew recommended by Luther that highlighted the boldness of Neven Federation’s founding members in hard-fought revolution against their now-dead oppressors. The stew consisted of three types of meat paired with crunchy vegetables inside a strong-tasting soup.

The desserts at the end? They were literally works of art which caused John’s heart to ache when Gerasimov told him to eat it. Such cuisines indicated Sa’lusha Concordat’s twin beliefs in form of majestic phoenix and watchful owl, made with sculpted fructose, premium chocolate and edible gold.

There were more cuisines to be had but this was cut short as the Mess Hall was nearing its closing hours. John had some minor talks with Gerasimov and Luther, further priming his confidence. He got to admit however, his ignorance on how this new world worked will eventually bite his arse in return.

Thankfully Luther was understanding but John detected his subtle irritation to green sprouts like the ex-slum dweller. On Gerasimov, even with John’s misgivings, he felt the old guy was someone really important and cannot be offended in any way. Was it a blessing or a curse to meet him? Time will tell.

The trip was filling in various ways despite his stomach asking for more. There was another task at hand; Luther contacted him and told he needed to report for duty at Analytics eight hundred hours sharp with the rest of his team. Can John do it? He didn’t know but there’s a first time for everything.

He felt a headache coming; he supposed the Analytics valued mathematical skills. He didn’t believe the rest of his mates were up to par. Numbers did not involve brute strength or bravado. Gunther was brawn. Larial was misplaced confidence. Lucas? A narcissist and worse. A strange crack team indeed.

The order from above was more explicit as Karamazov called him a few hours afterwards, “Well met, Recruit John. I didn’t know you have friends in high places.”

“Uh-oh? Well met, Majo-” John had returned to his quarters but Karamazov sudden call surprised him.

“You okay, Recruit? I heard a loud crash over there. Did I call in a bad time?”

A pot of water nearly hit the thin man, “Oh, no! Just that I got a little…spooked.” It was a mess. “I am, fine, Major Karamazov. Sort…. of?”

“If that what’s you say, okay. Just be careful, all right?” The voice continued as John scrambled for a wiping cloth, “I want to ask you about something, Recruit John. Can you talk now?”

“Give me ten seconds, Major.” John wiped the splash of bullion on his kitchenette. Unfortunately, the stain was stubborn, “Okay, what is it, Sir?”

“Well, couple of questions actually.” Karamazov sounded quite amused over the communicator, “Do you really have the time to cook?”

“How-how did Major know?” John panicked. He remembered on how the triage personnel made fun of his little brother down there. “Did Major gasp, spy people changing too?!”

“Just for you to know, it’s not my hobby to spy on men or women. I have better things to do, Recruit.” Karamazov was stern “Now, Lieutenant Colonel Luther instructed me to guide you to the Analytics branch ASAP.”

“Asap, Sir? Is it…some kind of weapon or food?” He was confused. What was it?

“Sigh…Recruit John. As Soon As Possible. Not a weapon, not a food. An acronym, so, get used to it.” Karamazov wasn’t bemused. “Do you have a time in mind?”

At this point John had cleaned his spill. He stared at a nearby clock, “Seven A.M, Major? Sir Luthe-, I mean, Lieutenant Colonel told me on my communicator that, I need to get there at least eight in the morning tomorrow.”

There was a slight pause in his communicator, “He did? Well, that settles it then. How’s your condition, Recruit? Anything?”

John patted his stomach. It wasn’t growling at least. “Uh, I am not as hungry as before, Sir.” He counted his culinary experience, “I found the Mess Hall and ate a lot!” John began to salivate when he thought of it, “Vshyian Slice was it? Major, you’re not telling me I can get good food.”

“Well, you weren’t asking.” Karamazov chuckled a little, “Let me guess, you’re trying to make some of them yourself?” He continued over the call, “I don’t really bar you from doing it but be careful. It would be a shame if you get injured before getting any medals.”

“Con-confirmed, Sir.” The thin man deflated. He asked more as the Major did say he have other questions. “Uh, Sir, what do Sir wanted to know more?”

“Hm, I read your review after Ops A sims. I want you to do better when you’re in the Analytics. We’re not only dealing with numbers but people. Real people, lives and credits. Do you understand, Recruit?”

“Credits, Sir? Why, uh, credits?” John expected the part about life but not the latter.

“Who do you think pays for the food you eat and the gear you use? Although our Vshyi Dynasty has reached the stars, there is a limit in everything. We need to demonstrate our worth for every credit going to our cards.”

“Okay Sir. But…” John was uncertain, “I am conscripted?”

“Conscripted or not, the rule of the game is the same. Either we perform or we get the boot. Me, included. Anyway, just be ready. And read properly, this time.”

John answered as the link was terminated, “Yes…yes, Sir. Recruit John understands.”

As his communicator died down, he looked at the mess on his kitchenette. Will his future be like it? John was weighing his options. Back in the slums, he was a punching bag, a filth diver and waste eater. Now, he was an Army recruit with his talents recognized. But of course, the Dynasty chained him now.

He kept reminding himself of Glapov’s words; he shouldn’t think too much and instead focus on surviving. By following orders, he survives. By doing missions, he survives for another day. It wasn’t that different in the slums, just packaged in other form. A form of efficient, institutionalised violence.

John finally cleaned the mess although the stain looked impossible to remove. He made a mental note to access Base Exchange and go get something to erase the godawful puke-coloured stain. Evidently adding too much of a certain spice wasn’t the wisest of ideas. The next day couldn’t come any faster.

It began without much fanfare but a baritone voice, “Recruit John? Are you ready?”

“Major? Yes, yes I am ready.” John was curious on why Karamazov came to pick him. He peered at the intercom and sure it was, the Major was waiting for him. He opened the door, “Well met, Sir.”

“No need to salute, Recruit.” Major nodded at him, “Or should I say, Private John?” The burly man gestured John to follow him, “I want to get you a DSO to fit in Analytics but that can wait.” He sighed, “For now, you need to have something under your name. Call it as exposure-training, Private.”

“A DSO, Sir?” John rubbed his eyes. “You want me…to be a cadet, Sir?” His face flickered, “But…I am conscripted. Uh…others won’t like it, Sir.”

“Others? They need to respect the chain of command first.” Karamazov instructed John to take a seat in an electric cab, “Analytics need people like you due to your math skills.” The major continued after setting the destination, “Since you’re still green, I have to take certain measures. Besides, you have support from top brass, what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Okay, Sir.” The thin man tried to hide his frown. This won’t be easy. He asked next, “Uh…there’s nothing wrong with me, right?” He pointed at his head, “And about this…’noggin’ in my head?”

“I suppose it’s about time to tell you since you passed the tests.” The Major glanced at him, “You’ve guessed correctly, it’s a bona fide chip in your brain.” He stopped John from speaking by raising his right hand, “And no, it wasn’t about mind controlling people. It’s a neural terminal, used to interface with our Army stuff.”

“Does this relate to needing to build muscles and stamina, Sir?” John replied.

The Major gave a nod to passing personnel, “Yes and no. For certain specialisations such as Field Operatives, they need muscles since they strain their bodies to the limit to maneuver in three-dee.” He swiped his data slate, “For us, the chip is used for syt-integration and secure coms. Though, it isn’t without side-effects.”

“Uh, like my hunger, Sir?”

“One of it, Private John. Now, let’s disembark.” Karamazov confirmed. “We need to get you up to speed on how things work in Analytics.” He led John to a large octagonal building, “You work directly under me now, with the rest of your mates.”

“Yes…Sir. About, uh…”

“Lieutenant Sasha? Don’t worry, she will be put in a different site.” Karamazov could sense John was daunted, “She was on the edge ever since she lost her team.” The Major sighed, “Still, that didn’t excuse her behaviour and so, I put her under triage observation.”

“Oh, uh…Sir?” John tried to piece on what was said.

“I’m saying I made a mistake, Private John.” The burly man beckoned John, “Anyhow, let’s get you up to speed on what work we do around here.”

“I understand, Sir.” John wanted to ask more but he didn’t want to press his luck. Karamazov ushered him to the reception desk.

A uniformed woman was in charge of it. Her blue eyes focused on John, “Well met, Major Karamazov. This is the new guy you’re talking about?” She gazed at the Major next, “Isn’t he…a little thin?”

“Well met. Lieutenant Colonel Luther vouched for his abilities, Ilyin.” Karamazov gave his card to her, “This is his first day here so I’m going to show him around.” He took back the card after Ilyin scanned it, “Where’s the rest of his squad members?”

“In Meeting Room C3 as you ordered, Major.” The female military personnel responded. She glanced at John again, “Private John? Private John, please follow the Major.”

“Uh, okay.” John snapped out of his daze. The aquarium in the reception area was entrancing. “So, uh, Major, what’s next?”

“We’ll meet the rest of your team.” Karamazov gestured John to follow after him, “I believe you’ve met them and thought they are unconventional, right?” He walked down the corridor with John in tow, “It’s intended as the works we do are quite, how do I say this, diverse, Private John.”

“Is that why…Major is a bit, ummm, muscular, Sir?” John said. The hallway was full of people.

Karamazov replied, “Yeah. I was once a Field Operative.” He reminisced. “A suit pilot in most of my off-world tours.” His eyes glazed over, “Braving new worlds, meeting not so, compliant natives and so on. Back-breaking work, literally.”

“Do you, uh, hate it, Sir?” John talked after some silence.

The Major waved his keycard and opened the meeting room, “You’ll know once you get to it.” He turned his attention to the people in front, “Well met, Private Gunther and Lucas, plus Specialist Larial.” He told them to follow him, “Now we’re all assembled, let’s go for a short walk.”

“Yes, Major.” Gunther and Larial replied the same.

Lucas said differently, “Major Karamazov, this isn’t what you promised I.”

“Yes, yes. Your objection is noted and summarily put into review.” Karamazov gave a business smile. “Private Lucas, you’re ordered to follow your orders, here and now.”

“Why can’t I be the leader?” The effeminate guy, Lucas twirled his short brown hair, “After all what I did for the Army, no less!”

“First, the decision is final, from Lieutenant Colonel Luther himself.” The Major had a measured response, “Second, it isn’t you, but your House.” He smiled, “Third, this is the Army and we have our own rules. Only skills and merits are accepted here.” The buff man towered over Lucas. “Do, or do I not make myself clear, Private Lucas?”

“Umm…okay.” Lucas shirked back. Karamazov was a head taller than him. He knew better to adapt to the situation. The stares from the rest of his team was the last push, “Okay…I will follow what you said, Major.”

“I’m pleased to have your understanding, Private Lucas.” Karamazov smiled again. He whispered to John, “I selected you to be a team leader for your math skills. Prove I’m right, Private.”

John’s heart was heavy. Impossible task! He decided to shift the topic, “So…uh, Major. What are the works of Analytics?”

“A bit of everything, Private. Come, let’s go.” The Major said short.

The four men and one young woman got into an electric jeep. Karamazov was the driver while John on his left as the Major intended John to look around. Behind them were Gunther and Lucas. Lastly was Larial, claiming the backseat all for herself. She was quite smug about it but the rest ignored her.

Their first stop wasn’t the rest of Analytics facilities in the vicinity; Karamazov drove them to one of many Army Depots in the base. John was elated as he saw the red power armour again. It was seated to a sturdy wall with a large clamping crane to the right. The left side was littered with Army engineers.

The unit’s square back had numerous cables attached to it while its right arm was missing its armour plates. A small crane with various tools hovered on the left arm, presumably fixing whatever went wrong. A distance away was its weapon, an oversized machine gun. Or more apt, an automatic cannon.

Yes, Major Karamazov whisked them to one of few Army Depots that serviced these war machines. Said building looked more like a big concrete tent, filled with men, materiel and humongous trucks. Several Army engineers saw Karamazov and nodded at him, giving him and John’s team a closer look.

“As you saw back in Specialisation Station, we use PAs in some of our exo-world tours.” Karamazov began to explain after gesturing his guests to leave the jeep, “Twenty-tonne of steel thereabouts, worth the same in credits. Firepower a little bit low compared to our tanks and air units but mobile in its domain.”

One of the Army engineers next to the big power armour got into the conversation, “Fresh recruits eh, Major?” He spoke next to the Major’s ears, “Why do you have an odd one out?” The oil-stained engineer discreetly glanced at John, “Can he do basic MPT, even?”

“I know what I’m doing, Luke.” Karamazov hushed, “I’ve been searching for someone that can read between the numbers.” He gazed at John. “Lieutenant Colonel endorsed him.”

“What?!” Luke almost exclaimed but kept his cool. “Lieu-Col did?”

“Music to my ears, Luke. Watch over them, will you?” Karamazov smiled, “I’ll bring you to a nice place I know later.” The muscled Major turned to face the rest of John’s squad, “So, any questions, guys? If you want to know more, you can ask our in-house Army engineer here, Luke Kiridov here.”

Gunther was the first one to ask, “Can-can me pilot this red one? It’s big and powerful. Perfect for da-great Tandar ova’ here!”

“Pfft, tandar?” Luke chuckled. “If you have stellar track record, you’ll get your PA painted red. Or any colour you want.” He patted one of large tools he used to service the machine, “It’s just for flavour. Everything under the hood isn’t that different from others.”

“Red? Mine is cooler.” Larial interjected. “Valiant blue, custom bang-bang and will floor this red one without breaking a servo.”

Karamazov’s ears perked up, “Yes, yes, we heard how Neven Federation’s PAs are better armed.” He smirked, “But our Dynasty’s have next to zero casualties.”

“Major, I have a question.” John said before Larial could speak. She was furious thus; his question was timely. “Why do we, uh, use PAs?” His statement invited weird stares from the rest of the Army engineers. “I had seen some of the tanks our Army used.” John gulped a little, “A tank is…uh, more stable and can mount a bigger gun?”

“Ha! I heard that all the time, Private.” Luke answered, “It’s a matter of doctrine; look around you.” He pointed to a large city in the distance, “In this day and age, we have lots of big cities. Things that aren’t that great for tanks or any vehicles to that matter.” The engineer gestured with his dirty gloves, “The best compromise is this bad boy here. Scales rubble and barriers like nothing. Like how we walk.”

“Luke’s right. It’s a compromise and is still debated until today.” Karamazov agreed. “For one PA, you can buy like, five of our standard tanks. But can five tanks fight well in a collapsed city where debris are everywhere?” He added more argument. “The power armour can simply step over it.”

“A right tool for the right job.” Lucas commented. He felt being left out.

Larial harrumphed, “And we Federals pioneered it first!” She had an aura of ‘praise me’, “I know we’re right!”

“Specialist Larial, I understand you like your homelands very much.” Karamazov had a cold smile, “But as the saying goes, a wise person submits to the circumstances.”

“Hmph.” She grunted, stopping short of insulting the Major. There were a lot of unfriendly gazes here and she didn’t want to prompt more trouble.

“Engineer Luke, Sir?” John asked next to break the ice. “Major told me about how we have this, uh, neural links in our brains.” He stared at the one-storey high machine. “And suit pilots can control the PA with it? Can you demonstrate?”

“Why not?” Luke nodded and shouted next, “Guys, stand clear! Arms test!”

The engineer grabbed a rectangular helmet and put it on. Two short antennas sprung from it as he flexed his arms. The power armour in the background followed his arm movements, moving left and right. Opening and closing its armoured fingers. It was as if this metallic giant was a super-sized human.

He pushed a button on the side of his helmet and it parted open in the middle, “Basically that’s it. All motions trackers, can pick weapons, clear rubbles and smash your face in.”

“Can me try, Engineer Luke?” Gunther was starry-eyed.

Luke removed his helmet and pushed several more buttons on it before handing the helmet over, “Yeah, go ahead. Only to move the arms though.”

“Wow! It’s working…working!” Gunther wore the helmet. The power armour’s arms moved as he wished albeit slower than its usual speed. “Major, when can great me pilot one of these?!”

“When you finish all the necessary certs, Private Gunther.” Karamazov explained and then urged him to remove the helmet, “Okay, that’s enough. Engineer Luke and his friends have more works to do on that power armour.”

“So, Major…” John looked at Gunther’s attempts to remove the helmet, “What Analytics have to do with, uh, these power armour units?”

“I’m glad you asked, Private John.” Karamazov faced the squad as Luke moved on to his pending duties, “These units are complex machines and give out complex data.” He pointed his hand at the arm of the gigantic unit, “For example, arm movement. What we do are to crunch the data from it and find out how to make it better. Faster, safer, etcetera.” He beckoned them to enter the jeep again, “In a bigger picture, we assess how effective the power armour is and whether it’s worth it to keep them running.”

“So, to say-” John looked at the machine before entering the jeep with the rest of his squad, “to find out whether it’s worth the credits when we have other options?” He peered at some trucks in the distance, “Versus tanks and other vehicles?”

“You Dynastians are slow.” Larial snorted. “We had it from the very beginning. We use them as force amplifiers.” Unexpectedly she agreed with Luke and Lucas, “A right tool for a given job. Combined arms.”

“That’s right, Specialist Larial.” The Major agreed with her as he drove the jeep to the next stop, “I admit, we’re a little slow in these matters but things are turning better.” He gave a short nod to nearby personnel, “A decade ago, we don’t have as much. Now, you can see it pretty much everywhere in the Dynasty.”

The Major drove them to an aerodrome next to the power armour’s depot. Numerous drones and manned helicopters can be seen landing and departing from it. It was a curious contrast; on the side, a building sized mechanized unit. The other side, aircraft that disobeyed the usual aerodynamic rules.

John saw three helicopters, a bit shorter than the power armour, flying in a formation up above. They looked as heavy as the latter yet they’re flying with the grace of a ballet dancer. Up and down, forward and backwards. Their five-bladed coaxial rotors defied gravity and their missile stores were menacing.

Karamazov opened the jeep’s side windows, “Greetings, Ensign Drukov. Mind giving me a pass today?” He gestured his head to John and the rest, “New guys. Twenty or so minutes will do.”

A burly Ensign that was happened to be next to the aerodrome’s guard’s building replied, “Oh, it’s you, Major Karamazov. Well met.” He took a brief view at the Major and his entourages, “I can only give you ten minutes as we’re halfway in the cycle, Sir.”

“I appreciate it, Ensign.” Karamazov said and drove the jeep to an empty parking lot, “How’s things?”

Drukov which had a square black hair and beard guided them after they alighted, “Busy as you can see, Major. Our tops are instructing the new guys right now.” He muttered in his communicator before continuing, “Would you guys join them?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” The Major agreed to his proposal. He didn’t want to impose any more than necessary. “Remind me to get you a bottle of Lirekuk later.”

“Major, this and that are two separate matters.” Drukov laughed, “Well, let’s take a look at an ongoing class.”

“What class, Sir?” John asked.

The Ensign responded, “Ops Theory. I suppose it’s of interest for you guys in the Analytics too.” He added more, “Next, we’re going to the machine shop. Get to know a bit or two what we use here.”

Drukov motioned them to enter a large room after passing several walkways filled with men and robots that worked like ants. The room had a nondescript title as Study Section but was almost full. Said Ensign gave some gestures to the lecturer as the group entered and stayed at the farthest back.

The lecturer wasn’t as muscled as Karamazov but his age was showing in his graying hairs. His eyes remained sharp, indicating wealth of experience. His oratory skill aroused interest in what initially perceived as an utterly boring course. There were some questions and answers, making the room lively.

The Ensign gestured again after few minutes had passed. This was just a short visit and more people were coming to the class, “Okay, let’s go.” He waved his hand at the lecturing veteran, “Thanks, Sir! New guys, Analytics.”

Lucas voiced out after exiting the busy class, “Who’s lecturing, Ensign Drukov? I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere.”

“Him? Oh, it’s Senior Warrant Officer Tyunan.” The Ensign guided them to their next destination, “I believe he’s around during your Specialisation test? Yeah, at one of the sims. Probably you saw him then.”

“Anything you want to ask, Private John?” Karamazov glanced at John. He looked like he has some questions.

John was a little surprised but managed to keep calm, “So uh…I guess part of the stuff Senior Warrant Officer lectured also draws heavily from us Analytics?”

“That’s right. Numbers, mostly. Numbers and models.” Drukov led them to somewhat chaotic area, “From models developed by Analytics, we put new tactics into practice.” He slapped a tool shelf, “And you know, find out how we can make our stuff better.” The Ensign glanced at the direction of the power armour depot, “And of course, to support our PA or hunt other PAs. Your work is actually very important to us.”

“Yup. Now you see why getting into Analytics is a good thing?” Karamazov smirked at the pouty Larial, “We basically do everything.” The burly Army Major faced John next, “That said, this is just the beginning. Some of you already have the foundation but not John.” He turned stern, “I hope you guys can get along.”

“You’re brave, Major.” Drukov whispered to Karamazov, “Never thought I’d see this unbalanced squad before.”

“Hey, I’m willing to buy you a Lirekuk.” Karamazov said in a light tone. “Besides, approved by brass.”

“Oh well, if that’s what the brass said, so be it.” Drukov shrugged. “Okay guys, we’re at our second machine shop in this aerodrome.” He pointed at the work being done, “We do everything here. Servicing, fitting, you name it. Anything that flies in 141st Army, we know and worked on it.”

“How’s this different from PAs, Ensign?” Gunther stared at some of the partially disassembled helicopter. To him, power armours were superior. “Why use these when we have big guns on PAs and tanks?”

Larial answered for Drukov, “Combined arms, you idiot.” She continued, “Who’s protecting the grunts from PAs when tanks are not around?”

“She’s right, Private Gunther.” The Ensign agreed before whispering to Karamazov, “What, you even have a Federal suit pilot? How do you get her?”

“It’s a long story, Ensign.” Karamazov answered and then attended to Gunther’s question. “A war isn’t just about PAs, Private Gunther. There’s no one-to-one. Things don’t exist in a vacuum.” He glanced at some of the munition stores here. “Each tool has its specific job. This missile for example, can down a PA with a good hit.”

“Helicopters huh.” Lucas mumbled. “My House made some of the parts.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Alcavel Munitions. Though we have other suppliers too.” Drukov commented.

John asked next, “So…this helicopter can deal with PAs? But…”

“It’s fragile?” Drukov interrupted him, “Yeah, that’s right. But we can’t have the cake and eat it too.” He gave a slight nod to working personnel in the area, “There’s always tradeoffs involved.” He pointed at John, “And that’s where you guys come in. Calculate us new stuff so we can respond better to our current and future duties.”

“Can me control this helicopter with my ‘noggin’ too, Ensign?” Gunther was rubbing his hands together. He liked practical the best.

Ensign Drukov however, shot down his request. “No can do, Private Gunther. You need specific qualifications for it.”

“Uh, not even a little? Just…a tiny little bit? Me promise not to break anything!”

“Sorry, order’s orders.”

“Now now, Private Gunther.” Karamazov intervened. “We took enough of Ensign Drukov’s time already. Let’s go to our next stop.”

Gunther was dejected but when Karamazov told him he can do some demonstration at their second last destination, he brightened yet again. Ensign Drukov gave them a weird gaze but guided them back to the parking lot regardless. As they entered their jeep again, the Ensign got back to his current duties.

John stole a last glance at helicopters and drones on the tarmac before leaving. Their aggressive lines were visible; they had a squarish chin gun of some kind, two packs of dozen missile canisters and several small ball turrets spread across their hull. It was hard to imagine they can hunt power armours.

There must be more underneath all that metal and composites; back in the machine shop, he saw some curious components jutting out from a helicopter being serviced. The drones were a bit smaller as they didn’t need a human cockpit by design but they seemed to carry just as many weapons as former.

Karamazov drove them to southwest of the base with wide open spaces and tall walls. In contrast of previous two places, this new area had more people than materiel. John caught a glimpse of someone running on such walls and then jumped with a cable from his arm. He landed, rolled and shot his rifle.

Gunther was beyond excited, “Major, three-dee Maneuver course?”

“Yes, that’s right. The one you’re certing into.” Karamazov replied simply. “Come, let’s introduce ourselves.” He led them to meet the person in charge, “Well met Sergeant Stanilov.”

“Well met, Major Karamazov.” The black-haired man greeted the Major, “New guys?”

“Yeah, particularly this Private John. The rest? Nah.” The burly Army Major nodded at Sergeant Stanilov’s salute. “Can you free a slot for Private Gunther? I believe seeing is better than explaining.”

“Okay, Major.” The sergeant agreed and brought them to a long building, “Private Gunther only, right? You have five minutes max on the clock. No guns, just roll up there.”

“Aw, no guns?”

“Private Gunther, I didn’t say you can shoot any.” Karamazov lightly scolded the burly Private. He ushered him to wear the training exo-skeleton, “Off you, go, Private.” Next, he talked to Stanilov, “Appreciate the help, Sergeant. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Major. Well, get the new guy up to speed-” Stanilov looked at John, “and we will put some request.”

“The usual?” Karamazov asked as Gunther was fully suited. The rest of the squad was sitting aside.

Stanilov stopped Gunther for a moment and tightened some loose components with a wrench, “A bit lighter, I think? Don’t want to burden your new guy, despite brass’s stamp of approval.”

“That settles it then.” The Major complied and then said to the waiting John, Larial and Lucas, “So, our Private Gunther will demonstrate what this exo-skeleton gear can do.” He waved at John, “Especially to you, John. While you cannot use these gears now, you need to see how they work.” The Major gazed at Gunther next, “Private Gunther, do the usual exercise. Make sure Private John can see it.”

Gunther nodded vigourously and began priming his legs after standing clear of anyone nearby. It was an explosive jump; the muscled man hurled through the air like a cannonball. He didn’t lack any finesse as he effortlessly grappled a tall pole and swung around. Gunther killed his momentum by rolling over.

He ran again, this time sideways on a five-meter high wall. Next came an arching somersault as Gunther dashed back to his starting position. He threw out more cables and used them as fulcrums, to avoid slamming to a nearby wall. Overall, it was energetic acrobatics that was settled in two short minutes.

The muscle brain didn’t even break a sweat, “How do you like me, the great Tandar?”

“I could do better.” Larial puffed her modest chest upwards.

Sergeant Stanilov shrugged, “Just about average, Private Gunther.” He helped Gunther to get out of the suit, “Well, you’re still new so, you can improve.”

“So? What do you think, Private John?” Karamazov glanced at the wide-eyed ex-slum dweller, “This is the reason why muscles and stamina are important in this line of work.” He gave the data slate from the Sergeant to John, “See these numbers. See how much energy and strain Gunther went through.”

John had his mouth agape. The numbers were scary to look at. “Uh…okay. I…understand, Major.” He thanked Gunther next for his performance and then asked, “Specialist Larial and uh, Private Lucas can do it too, right?”

“Of course, I can. Hmph.” Larial responded with a haughty tone.

Lucas on other hand shook his shoulders, “No big deal. Even I can do it, better than this brute.”

“Well, sorry to break to you guys but the time’s up.” Stanilov received back his data slate, “Anyway, thanks for your exercise Private Gunther.” He gazed at some people nearby Gunther’s training area, “Showing is indeed better than telling, Major.”

“Glad to be of service.” The Major nodded at the people’s salutes. He invited the squad to their last stop after dispensing pleasantries. “I’m bringing you guys to see the HQ. While the rest of you guys did, John didn’t.” Karamazov spoke to Stanilov next, “Keep up the good work, Sergeant.”

The group returned to their jeep and made way to their starting position, the Analytics Section. There were less people around as the twin stars above were sinking below horizon. The Army base lit up, dispelling the coming darkness. Of course, with two megacities nearby, the skies weren’t truly dark.

Karamazov led them to a different building in Analytics. It was more like a huge storehouse versus typical Army buildings. Even at this time of the day, activities never ceased in here. Jeeps and electric cabs outnumbered men. There should be more men inside, doing tasks assigned by the Service branch.

The Major and the rest passed a number of automated gates, “This is our last stop. Due to security reasons, I can’t show you all of it.” He mulled for a bit, “Private John, I will try to get you a station here ASAP.” Karamazov stood at the last automated door, “The rest of your squad did. It’s just a matter of formality.”

“Okay, Sir.” John looked left and right. The environment was full of holograms, stacks of unwashed caffeine-laden beverage cups and people, “So, uh…what do they do here?”

“Studies.” Karamazov paused a bit as he greeted random personnel, “Basically anything you seen before, are collected here and calculated upon.” He brought John to the sidelines. “Some say, we’re the Logistics Section worst nightmare, haha.”

“Uh…me don’t like math…” Gunther complained. The sheer amount of work here soured his face.

Karamazov chuckled, “Hey, not every one of you need to do this kind of work everyday.” He looked at the men here, whizzing back and forth. “But of course, every one of you need to know about this work.”

“Can Private John do all of it?” Lucas was bored out of his mind.

Larial continued, “Yeah, I’m a suit pilot, not a calculator, Major.”

“Hey now, everyone has their own responsibilities, Private.” The Major lectured them, “Even though I was a suit pilot, I did this kind of work too. Everyone needs to go through it.” He stopped Lucas from objecting, “And I mean, everyone. You’re dealing with multi-million credits worth of gear. Are you sure you can pay the Dynasty back if you broke it?”

“My House can, Major.” Lucas was dissatisfied. He found the previewed work was unbefitting for him.

It was as if Karamazov was waiting for him to say it. The Major argued, “It’s not just about paying the costs. We’re in the Army, guys. We have our own courts.” He smiled, “Do you really want to try getting into our military tribunal?”

“Uh…so, Major…what kind of work they actually do here? I am sorry that I don’t really understand it.” John interjected before the matter got worse.

Karamazov asked for a data slate from a nearby personnel, “Well, if I want to explain it in detail, we probably need to get a class and a few days so I will be brief.” He brought them to an empty meeting room, “We collect data, process them and calibrate models.” The data slate began to emit some holograms, “It’s not only that. We’re talking about a big scale here. We’re working with our Dynasty doctrines and see where our means fit in grander scheme of things.”

“Does Major mean, from our soldiers to, uh, Dynasty spacecraft up there?” John asked.

Lucas was feeling chatty at this point of time, “You forgot about economics, Private John. My House paid a bit for these stuffs too. We want the best value out of our credits.”

Karamazov raised his eyebrows. Lucas was almost right. “Half of the story, Private Lucas. We compute the trends. Economics, politics and military.” He changed the holograms to series of graphs, “Being an Army, we need to know what we can and cannot do. That takes serious number crunching.”

“Humph, you and your outdated methods.” Larial grumbled to the side.

The Major glanced at her, “Did you say something, Specialist Larial?” He clapped his hands, “That’s right, how about we hear on how the Neven Federation do things?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Major.” Larial refused. “Never been my line of work. It’s above my paygrade to discuss.”

“Oh well, if that’s it, that’s it.” Karamazov looked at the time, “Well, you guys are dismissed.” He pointed at the ex-slum dweller, “Except you, Private John. I have some words for you.”

“Yes, Sir?” John stayed behind as per the Major’s instruction.

Karamazov waited until the rest of the squad left, “I want to ask; how do you meet Lieutenant Colonel Luther?”

“Well…” John was trying to recall his memories. It had been a hectic day. “After I left the Specialisation Station, I went to the Archives.” For some reason, John omitted the part where he met Gerasimov, “After reading and asking around, I went to the Mess Hall.”

“And that’s where you meet Lieutenant Colonel?” The muscled Major was trying to make sense of the situation. “By chance, over dinner?”

“Yes, Major.” John nodded. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Karamazov didn’t buy it. He knew how hard was it to get personal audience with Luther, “Are you pulling a fast one on me, Private?”

“Uh, Major. That’s it. Fingers’ crossed.” John shrugged. He didn’t know how to further convince Karamazov.

Karamazov was silent a bit and then talked. “Er…okay.” He gestured John to leave and the mumbled to himself. “I should watch for my own hide, is it?”

“Major?” The ex-slum dweller looked at him with a strange gaze, “Are Sir worried about something?”

“Nothing.” Karamazov dissipated his ridiculous thoughts. “Well, as I promised, I will get you a station here, so, you can do a little bit of work under me.”

“Okay Sir. When should I begin?” John paused his paces.

The burly Major consulted the data slate, “Perhaps...a few days from now. I’ll tell you over the communicator. Take a good rest, Private.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Until then.” John saluted at the Major and then left.

Thankfully, Gunther insisted the rest of his squad to stay and wait for John as the former knew the latter wasn't familiar in this part of the base. John felt a little guilty about making them wait but his muscled companion dismissed it as nothing important. They took another jeep and came back to their respective quarters.

Throughout the way, John recalled on how Karamazov twitched a bit when he explained the bit about Luther. Am I imagining things? He removed such thoughts as he had other things to worry about. There were much to digest and process from this long day. His future might hang in the balance relative to what he had seen.