The gym looked empty when I arrived the next morning, but as the doors slid open for me, the space transformed. What? How did it do that?
<
Holographic training stations materialized across the floor, each one occupied by a spectral figure moving through combat forms that would have been impossible for human anatomy. Sylvk stood at the center, his muscular frame outlined by a glowing diagnostic mesh that tracked every muscle group’s efficiency in real-time.
He greeted me with a nod. “You were here at what time?” I yawned, blinking away sleep.
“An hour ago,” he replied, dismissing his personal biometric display with a gesture. The ghostly figures continued their impossible routines around us.
“You have a special access protocol? The system said it only just opened to cadets.”
He nodded and tapped the neural port at his temple. “Custom training regimen. Benefits of being top-ranked in tactical specialization.”
“Good to know.”
The floor beneath us shifted subtly as Sylvk stepped onto a designated area, motioning for me to join him. The material transformed from standard impact-absorbing polymer to a reactive surface that adjusted resistance with each movement.
“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding me to a circular platform that immediately illuminated with a soft blue glow. A wireframe outline of my body appeared in the air before me, highlighting areas of muscular weakness in red and strength in green. The system looked disappointingly like a Christmas tree—far more red than green.
“The adaptive platform will push back proportionally to your strength,” Sylvk explained, demonstrating a simple squat that caused the floor to pulse beneath him. “It builds resistance exactly where you need it, based on your real-time biometrics.”
I attempted the same movement, feeling the strange sensation of the floor simultaneously supporting and challenging my muscles. “You’re stretching a lot further already,” he grinned as the platform’s diagnostics showed a five percent improvement from my baseline. “Feeling different?”
“I am,” I said, watching my wireframe adjust in real-time as my form improved. “Didn’t think I would see results in this short a timeframe.”
“The adaptive tech accelerates muscle memory formation,” he explained, manipulating a floating control panel to adjust my settings. “Imagine where you’ll be in a few months.”
As I moved through the exercises, my HUD displayed performance metrics compared to academy averages. The gap was significant but narrowing. While my body worked, Sylvk activated a neural training simulation that projected combat scenarios directly to my visual cortex, forcing my brain to solve tactical problems while my muscles struggled against the adaptive resistance.
“Multi-level conditioning,” he explained, noting my surprise. “The academy doesn’t just want strong bodies—they want integrated systems. Brain and muscle working in harmony.”
Kerry joined us thirty minutes later, her own biometric mesh already active before she stepped through the door—academy tech recognizing her signature and preparing her customized regimen. Her wireframe showed advanced muscular development with optimizations I didn’t yet have access to.
“You’ve got him on the neuromuscular integration already?” she asked Sylvk, raising an eyebrow as she slid into a stretching station that adjusted perfectly to her flexibility metrics.
“He needs the accelerated protocol if he’s going to catch up,” Sylvk replied, his eyes flicking to my performance metrics. “His cognitive adaptation is off the charts, but the physical integration is lagging.”
I pushed harder, driving myself against the adaptive platform until warnings flashed across my HUD. The system automatically adjusted, preventing injury while maximizing gains. I realized this was far more sophisticated than the crude weight training I’d imagined.
The two hours passed in a blur of physical exertion and neural challenges—lifting weights while solving spatial puzzles projected directly into my visual field, running on platforms that simulated different planetary gravities, and reaction drills that tested my reflexes against holographic opponents.
By the time we finished, my performance metrics showed a surprising fifteen percent improvement across all domains. The system logged everything, updating my academy profile in real-time. As we headed to our next class, I noticed the slight tremor in my fingers—not just from physical fatigue, but from the neural training that had pushed my entire system to its limits.
“Your integration curve is steeper than I expected,” Sylvk noted as we stretched out. “Most recruits take weeks to adapt to simultaneous physical and neural training.”
“Maybe fixing broken machines for years trained my brain to multitask,” I suggested, secretly pleased at the modest success.
“Or maybe,” Kerry added with a sly smile, “there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
If only they knew.
As we headed to our next class, I noticed the slight shift in the way my team regarded me—less like a fragile outsider, and more like someone who might actually belong.
The feeling didn’t last long.
The sprawling obstacle course lay before us, a brutal maze of walls, tunnels, and agility challenges designed to simulate the chaos of combat. My stomach clenched at the sight of cadets already preparing themselves mentally and physically—some stretching, others bouncing on their toes to loosen tight muscles.
Andri stepped up beside me, a confident smirk spreading across his face. “Try not to embarrass yourself, tech boy,” he jeered, flexing ostentatiously.
Embarrass myself? Yeah, I was going to do that… and worse… embarrass my team.
Sylvk flexed his muscles, seemingly unbothered by the daunting course ahead, while Kerry jogged on the spot, brimming with nervous energy. Rob stood silently, gaze unwavering, determination etched into his features.
I squared my shoulders, attempting to project a confidence I didn’t yet feel. Whatever ground I’d gained this morning was about to be put to the test—and I had no illusions about what would happen if I failed now.
“The aim is finishing the course,” Sergeant Major Cotah barked his orders, his voice cutting through the morning fog, as cadets stretched and sized up their competition.
“As fast as possible.” Professor Zhal added. “Do not hang around. You hang around, you’re dead. Understood?”
“Understood,” everyone fired back. “Sir!”
My stomach churned. My chunkier frame and lack of physical conditioning were evident compared to the muscular cadets surrounding me. I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the snide remarks from Andri. He moved to talk with Devin, and I caught their laughter, the not so shy glares.
The whistle blew, and the cadets surged forward. I lagged behind almost immediately, my arms and legs protesting with every strained movement. By the time I reached the towering wall climb, my chest heaved, sweat dripping into my eyes.
The wall stood as an impossible barrier. Several cadets leapt up with ease, their strength carrying them to the top. I studied the structure, my mind racing.
<
I stared a while longer. A pattern emerged: the placement of grips and supports wasn’t random but formed a hidden sequence.
There was no way I was going up with my limited strength, not today. Maybe not for a while—my training was not good enough to be around these fitness fanatics.
<>
Nearby, discarded equipment sparked an idea. Grabbing a frayed rope and a loose carabiner, I fashioned a makeshift grappling tool.
With a desperate throw, I latched onto a high beam and hoisted myself upward. My ascent was clumsy but effective. By the time I reached the top, gasps rippled through the watching crowd.
“That’s cheating!” Andri shouted, pointing accusingly.
“Wrong,” Sergeant Major Cotah interjected. “That’s resourcefulness.”
It was however not enough for me to keep up, the others in my team were way ahead. Kerry had glanced back the once, but I’d waved her on. I did not want them losing anything because of me.
Five minutes after the others had all finished, I stumbled across the finish line, collapsing in a heap. My muscles screamed in protest, but I couldn’t suppress the grin. I’d still made it. Last, but I’d made it. I’d still finished.
My team surrounded me. Sylvk held his fist out and I bumped it. “Nice job,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you were anywhere near fit enough for it.”
“I’m not,” I replied. “But I finished.”
“You did,” Rob said. “Respectably too.”
Kerry’s shoulders slumped as a weary sigh escaped her lips, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Yet, a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, betraying the quiet relief that settled within her. “Every point still adds up.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“I know,” I replied. “I know.”
“Glad you didn’t ditch it,” she smiled and also held her fist out.
I bumped hers with a little more vigor now that I was recovering.
From the other side Andri’s glare burned into the side of my face, and I ignored him.
“Creative move,” Devin remarked, handing me a water bottle. “Not everyone would’ve thought of that.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t exactly by the book,” Andri sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. “If you can’t climb a wall properly, what good are you in a real fight?”
“One who can overcome any obstacle.” I retorted. “Put something in front of me, no matter what. I am going to finish.”
At the back of my mind though, I was worried. So far, I’d managed to work around almost everything they’d thrown at me. I knew it was a matter of time before something really knocked me on my ass.
<
I didn’t answer her.
“Take a short break for some food before the next test,” one of the instructors ordered.
Kerry bumped me. “Come on, food. All that exercise this morning, I’m starving.”
My stomach growled again on cue, and I rubbed it, nodding.
“Seems Piotr is too.” Rob laughed.
***
The mess hall buzzed with chatter and laughter as trays clattered and food was doled out. I found a seat next to Rob and Kerry, who were mid-debate about Andri’s dramatic leap during the obstacle course.
“He looked like a damn superhero,” Rob said with a grin. “Shame he missed the landing.”
Kerry chuckled. “You’re bitter he finished ahead of you.”
I smiled, but my attention drifted to my tray of food. My arms still ached, and my mind churned with thoughts of the next test.
<
<
No answer.
“Hey, Piotr,” Rob said, nudging me. “Still scheming? Or are you mentally redecorating the mess hall?”
“Both,” I replied dryly, earning a laugh from the group. “Checking my stat’s, actually.”
“Oh,” Sylvk brightened immediately, looking up from crunching his massive pile of food. “What’s the differences?”
“Physical mostly.”
He held his wrist out for me, and I put mine to his allowing him to see my stats.
“No fair,” Kerry whined.
“Who is looking after his physical well being?” Sylvk growled and then after his eyes glazed a moment he was nodding. “Excellent progress.”
“Thanks,” I beamed. “It’s good to see the changes.”
Sylvk noted Kerry still frowning. “He’s down 6lb and up in muscle. BMI reflects it.”
<
Of course I had to look then too.
“Well, Mr. Shortcut,” Kerry said, smirking. “What’s your brilliant plan for beating the next test?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” I said, my tone light but my determination burning beneath the surface. Sylvk sat with a tray of snacks, shoving them in his face.
“Any ideas what the next test might be? What kind of simulations?”
“Could be anything,” Rob said. “They change it all the time. Nothing is predictable here.”
I groaned. I hoped it would be easier than the flight simulations at least.
Break was over way too fast, and we made our way back to the auditorium.
Sergeant Major Cotah stepped to the front of us, “Follow me.”
The next room he took us into was breathtaking, a vast space illuminated by a soft, ambient glow. Before us stretched the Academy’s state-of-the-art simulation pods, arranged in precise rows like gleaming sentinels of technology. Each pod was sleek and futuristic, with a seamless blend of matte black surfaces and softly pulsing lights in hues of blue and green. Their curved, cocoon-like design suggested both comfort and sophistication, as if they were crafted to envelop their users in a world beyond this one.
I rubbed my hands together. This was what I wanted more than anything. I’d loved to have gotten my hands on one of these to play with instead of the games at the arcade.
The air hummed faintly with energy, a subtle testament to the advanced machinery at work. Transparent panels revealed intricate networks of wires and components within, hinting at the incredible power these pods harnessed. My hands twitched with excitement. Above, a vaulted ceiling shimmered with embedded displays projecting holographic images of virtual worlds in vivid, almost lifelike detail.
As we stepped further into the room, Sergeant Major Cotah gestured proudly to the nearest pod, its door sliding open soundlessly to reveal a plush interior lined with ergonomic cushioning and an array of tactile controls. “These pods,” he began, his voice resonating with enthusiasm, “are equipped with the academy’s state of the art neural interface technology, capable of immersing users in simulations so real, they rival the waking world.”
Around us, the others picked a pod. Some stepping into them with practiced ease while other instructors monitored data on large, glowing consoles.
<
<
<> Doli said.
I was glad, because with every test I did, I was losing belief in myself.
“These puzzles are designed to push your cognitive limits,” Sergeant Major Cotah said. “You’ll need logic, creativity, and calm under extreme pressure. Good luck.”
I steadied my nerves as I slipped into the pod. Here, in the realm of puzzles and systems, I was much more at home. Physical tests, nope. Ship maneuvering, nope. But here….
<
<
<
<
The first challenges were straightforward.
Like the flight testing, or the Zero-G I navigated digital mazes, I decrypted encoded messages and repaired failing circuits with relative ease.
The maze required me to adapt quickly, noting patterns in the paths that reset dynamically, and I found efficient ways to bypass traps by rerouting energy to disable barriers.
The encoded messages demanded a sharp eye for linguistic nuances, and my knack for spotting inconsistencies proved invaluable.
Repairing circuits tested my technical skills, requiring me to work under simulated pressure as sparks flew from failing panels.
But as the levels advanced, and the problems grew more abstract—I found I still wasn’t struggling.
<
<
<>
That made me smile.
The next stage required me to reconstruct an incomplete schematic of an alien device, piecing together functions based on trial and error combined with deductive reasoning.
It felt like I was slower here, but Doli didn’t agree.
Another demanded simultaneous multitasking: solving a logic grid puzzle while managing a simulated team of bots to prevent an artificial reactor meltdown.
<
<
<
That surprised me. <
<
<
The final puzzle kicked in—a seemingly unsolvable system lock.
<
<
<
It presented an encrypted system with layers of overlapping defenses that reset with every failed attempt. Conventional logic wouldn’t work here. I had to think deeper.
Studying the problem, my mind firing on all cylinders. I noticed the resets followed a pattern, resetting only partially under certain conditions. Exploiting this, I forced the system to reset in a controlled manner, gradually stripping away its defenses layer by layer. For the final lock, I used an elegant shortcut: rewriting a segment of the system’s code to trick it into opening.
The simulation acknowledged my solution with a soft chime.
TEST COMPLETE
138 minutes
I emerged from the pod to find the instructors exchanging impressed glances, and almost the entire class was slow clapping.
Even Andri couldn’t hide his surprise. Devin elbowing him to at least attempt to join in.
Rob slapped me on the back. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Sergeant Major Cotah and Professor Zhan walked toward me. Pulling me aside from the others.
“You think differently,” Professor Zhan said, her tone serious. “That makes you dangerous, for better or worse. Keep honing it.”
“Did no one else complete the last task?” I asked.
“No one,” Sergeant Major Cotah replied.
Pride swelled, tempered by the weight of Zhan’s words.
“Congratulations,” Professor Zhan announced and with a wave of her hand pulled up the leader board.
There were again no names for anyone else to see. But that top spot read –
1- 8 tasks complete
2- 7 tasks complete
3- 7 tasks complete
4- 7 tasks complete
5- 7 tasks complete
6- 6 tasks complete
7- 6 tasks complete
8- 6 tasks complete
9- 5 tasks complete
10- 5 tasks complete
“Take your lunch break, we’ll convene again in three hours, let it settle.”
When people started to move away, Rob and Kerry moved in. Sylvk went to the instructors.
“That was outstanding.” Kerry said.
“When everyone pulled out, you were the only one missing.”
“It was clear you weren’t giving up. Devin persuaded the instructors to let us see exactly what you were doing.”
“They let you watch me?” Heat flushed up my neck.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Kerry said. “That was amazing. I never thought like that, I just didn’t see it.”
I smiled at her.
“You got the top spot,” Rob congratulated.
“No one knows the places of anyone else though, right?”
He shook his head. “Not at all, but I’d imagine it’s a pretty even split. I struggled with only one other task.”
“Same,” Kerry admitted.
“So top three?” I asked.
“Maybe!” Kerry said.
Sylvk came over a moment later his face told us something wasn’t right. He was pale, and sweaty.
“What is it?” Rob asked.
“I’m feeling sick,” he said.
Kerry’s face changed from mocking me to sheer concern in a flash. “What kind of sick?”
Sylvk wobbled slightly. “I can’t put my finger on it, Professor Zhan told me to go the infirmary.”
Kerry linked arms with him, “Come on then.”
“I can’t leave you,” he said. “The next test is in a few hours.”
“Think you’re just hungry?” Rob asked, hopeful.
“Nar, this isn’t hunger,” he clutched his stomach.
“Screw the test,” I said and took his other arm. “Infirmary, now.”