The ship woke before the cadets did.
The G.A.M.B.I.T.'s internal lights flickered on in slow pulses, like the inhale of some massive beast preparing for another day of grinding its crew into something stronger. Soft alarms chimed a full minute before the official wake cycle.
And then the roar came.
"CADETS!" Sorn's voice thundered through the intercom with the subtlety of an exploding sun. "IF YOU ARE NOT ON THE TRAINING FLOOR IN TEN MINUTES, I WILL FIND YOU AND MAKE YOU REGRET EXISTENCE."
Jake fell off his bunk with a strangled yelp.
Danny leapt upright, slamming his head on the top bunk.
Swift sat up instantly, as if already expecting Sorn's voice.
Jade rolled out of his bed and hit the floor with a grunt.
Shadeclaw was already pulling on his uniform.
Mira stretched with the unsettling grace of a shadowed predator, gold eyes flashing briefly.
Danny groaned, rubbing his face. "Did we even sleep?"
Jade grumbled, "Sleep is a myth. Only pain exists."
Jake staggered toward his boots. "Sorn is trying to kill me. I know it. He looks at me and sees a chew toy."
Swift adjusted his gloves calmly. "Statistically speaking, Sorn has chewed fewer cadets than you might expect."
Jake stared at him. "THAT DOESN'T HELP."
Shadeclaw moved toward the door. "Move."
No one argued. They dressed in record time, racing down metallic corridors still buzzing with last-night's maintenance drones.
As they reached the main training atrium, Sorn was waiting—arms crossed, expression carved from disapproval.
"You're late," he growled.
Swift checked the chronometer on the wall. "We arrived ninety seconds early."
"LATE," Sorn repeated.
Jake began sweating.
Sorn pointed to the sparring chamber.
"WARM-UP: SPARRING GAUNTLET. SEVEN OPPONENTS EACH. NO REST. NO EXCUSES. IF YOU DIE, YOU FAIL."
Jake whimpered.
But they entered.
The Gauntlet wasn't a room.
It was a proving ground.
A circular arena of reinforced flooring surrounded by energy barriers that flickered like angry serpents. Inside, thirty Buddies recruits—mixed species, various sizes, skill levels uneven—waited to be their opponents.
Sorn's voice boomed overhead.
"CADET ORDER: SHADECLAW FIRST."
Shadeclaw stepped forward without hesitation.
Opponents rushed him.
Shadeclaw moved through them like a whisper of death.
He ducked under a high kick, slid past a spear strike, pivoted, and caught one fighter's wrist before flipping him into another. His tail swept low, taking two more off their feet. When a hulking four-armed alien lunged at him, Shadeclaw twisted inside its guard and palm-thrusted its jaw upward with brutal efficiency.
Five opponents down in moments.
When he finished his seventh, Sorn grunted, "Efficient."
Shadeclaw dipped his head slightly. Praise received.
"Next: MIRA."
Mira flowed into the arena like a shadow melting from a wall. Her movements had gained a predatory precision overnight—her senses sharper, her instincts honed.
Her first opponent charged. Mira sidestepped, caught the arm, and flung them into the barrier.
Second opponent swung. Mira ducked and struck upward with a clawed uppercut that knocked them out cold.
Her fourth opponent tried to grapple.
A mistake.
Mira twisted behind them, locking her arm around their neck and sweeping their leg simultaneously. The fighter dropped, gasping.
By the seventh, Mira stood centered, chest rising and falling in controlled breaths.
Sorn's eyes glinted. "Good."
"JADE."
Jade walked in cracking his knuckles. "Let's go, let's go—who wants a piece?"
All seven rushed him at once.
Jade beamed. "Perfect."
He slammed two together with a chi-powered shoulder charge. His arms glowed faintly red as he racked chi through them—shotgun-style—and blew another recruit off their feet with a concussive burst.
A kick knocked him off balance, and he laughed as he rolled back up.
"HA! Nice! But try THIS—"
He uppercut the kicker through the barrier's energy field. The crowd winced.
Sorn did not wince.
He nodded once. "Acceptable."
"JAKE."
Jake stepped forward like he was walking toward his funeral.
His first opponent lunged.
Jake flinched—then instinctively breathed fire.
The fighter went rolling across the mat shrieking.
Jake slapped his hands to his face. "OH NO OH NO OH NO—"
Sorn shouted, "AGAIN!"
Jake stumbled through his next three opponents—panic-driven, sloppy, but somehow effective. He accidentally flipped someone while trying to avoid a punch. He ducked and someone tripped over him. He breathed fire again and melted the corner of the barrier.
By the seventh opponent, Jake was lying facedown on the mat.
"I'm done. Just bury me here."
"STAND UP," Sorn growled.
Jake stood instantly.
"Swift."
Swift entered with silent calm.
He didn't overpower opponents.
He dismantled them.
A jab turned into a joint lock.
A kick became a take-down.
A charge was redirected into a perfect hip throw.
Every motion was efficient—textbook, elegant, and terrifying.
Recruits were tossed or pinned before understanding what happened.
Sorn watched carefully, then nodded. "You have discipline. Do not lose it."
Finally—
"Danny."
Danny breathed deeply and stepped in.
His first opponent struck. Danny blocked, pivoted, moved to counter—then hesitated, fear flickering behind his eyes.
Sorn saw it instantly.
He snarled. "STOP HOLDING BACK."
Danny flinched.
"YOU FEAR YOUR OWN POWER. THAT MAKES YOU WEAK."
Danny clenched his fists, breath shaking.
The second opponent lunged.
Danny moved faster.
He ducked low, swept a leg, and drove his palm into the fighter's chest—stopping just before real damage. A burst of golden energy rippled outward, knocking the opponent back but not harming them.
Third opponent came. Danny neutralized them cleanly.
Fourth, fifth, sixth—each fell in fluid motions as Danny forced himself not to overdo it, each movement controlled, every strike deliberate.
The seventh fighter attacked aggressively, landing a heavy blow that stunned him.
Danny's instincts surged.
Something inside him roared—
—and his eyes goldenly flashed.
He didn't lash out.
He didn't lose control.
He redirected the force, stepped inside the fighter's guard, and pinned them with perfect restraint, hand glowing but not releasing the blast.
The room fell silent.
Danny stepped away, heart pounding.
Sorn approached him.
For a moment, Danny feared criticism.
Instead, Sorn said:
"Better."
One word.
It felt like being handed a medal.
The Gauntlet ended, but there was no rest.
Sorn pointed toward the Switchblade hangar.
"FLIGHT TRAINING. MOVE."
Jake whimpered.
Jade rolled his shoulders.
Swift nodded.
Mira and Shadeclaw followed without hesitation.
Danny swallowed thickly, fighting the trembling in his hands.
They entered the hangar.
Rows of Switchblades gleamed under bright lights, like predatory birds waiting to be unleashed.
A flight officer approached. "Today: cloak maneuvers. No visuals. You rely on instinct, readings, and each other."
Jade cracked his knuckles. "Oh yeah. This'll go well."
Jake was pale. "We're going to die."
Danny took a breath. "We won't."
They boarded.
Strapped in.
Canopy sealed.
Darkness swallowed them.
Then—
The simulation activated.
Cloak engaged.
And the asteroid field came alive.
The cockpit lights died the instant the cloaking field activated.
Not dimmed.
Died.
Darkness swallowed the Switchblade in a suffocating blanket. The only illumination came from faint, pulsing outlines of their harnesses and the occasional flicker of instrument glyphs struggling to maintain visibility under stealth protocols.
Danny gripped the side rails. "Okay. Okay, we just… fly blind. No problem. Normal. Totally normal."
Jade slapped the panel in front of him. "Let's punch something."
"That's not what that panel—" Mira started.
Then the asteroid hit.
More like grazed, but at high speed grazing meant the entire ship spun like a carnival ride built by a sadist. Jade whooped as he slammed into his strap. Danny gagged. Mira braced, claws out. The pilot cursed in four languages.
"STABILIZE," Mira barked.
Danny tried.
He really tried.
But without visuals the ship was a drifting shadow on inertia alone. The asteroids moved unpredictably—some tumbling, others gliding eerily like they were alive. The only indicators were soft pings on the radar that felt three seconds behind reality.
Meanwhile, Swift's Switchblade was slicing through the dark like a blade dancing on intuition.
"Enemy vector north," Swift said calmly.
Jake screamed, "WHICH WAY IS NORTH?"
"In space," Shadeclaw rumbled behind him, "north is whichever direction your enemy decides to kill you from."
"That doesn't help me AT ALL!"
A drone streaked past, its stealth shimmer barely visible.
Jade fired reflexively. The blast illuminated the surrounding asteroids for half a second, giving Danny a brief window to reposition. Mira called out environmental cues even faster than the ship sensors could track.
"Left! Roll! Descending rock mass incoming!"
Danny pulled hard.
Too hard.
They spiraled, again.
"STOP SPINNING US," Jade yelled.
"THEN STOP SCREAMING IN MY EAR," Danny snapped.
"THAT WAS A BATTLE CRY."
Swift's voice crackled through comms. "Your trajectory is destabilized. Correct with micro-thrust taps—Danny, use smaller bursts, not full propulsion."
Danny tapped.
The ship stuttered like it sneezed mid-flight.
Then—
They straightened.
Barely.
"Much better," Swift said.
"Why were we not taught this BEFORE the blind asteroid fight?!" Jake cried.
"Experience accelerates learning," Mira replied coolly.
Swift located the last drone the moment it uncloaked to fire.
"Three o'clock!" he shouted.
Danny turned. Jade blasted. Mira braced.
The drone exploded into bright shards that briefly filled the cockpit with reflected light.
Simulation ended.
Darkness faded.
Danny gasped. Jake vomited. Jade stretched triumphantly. Swift exhaled with satisfaction. Shadeclaw nodded subtly. Mira smiled at the team—just a little.
Sorn stood outside the sim chamber, arms folded.
"WEAK," he said.
Jake whimpered.
"BUT IMPROVING."
Jake fainted.
There was no time to rest. Sorn marched them straight to Heavy Infantry Bay.
Rows of B.E.A.R. suits towered overhead—fifteen-foot titans of armor, weaponry, and bad decisions waiting to happen. Their metal surfaces glowed faintly under the hangar lights, intimidating even when dormant.
A tech officer stepped forward. "Cadets, today you enter live rigs. Safety limitations are active, but the suits can still break you if you're stupid."
Jade whispered, "Oh hell yeah."
Jake whispered, "Oh hell no."
One by one, the cadets climbed into the rigs.
The neural-feedback helmets clamped around their heads, linking them directly to the machine's nervous system. HUD overlays streamed data into their vision—heat maps, ballistic arcs, thruster charge, missile inventory.
Danny tested an arm movement.
The massive metal limb mirrored him… then lagged… then surged with too much force.
He nearly punched a hole in the wall.
"Danny," Swift said over the neural link, "reduce neural impulse amplitude by 34%."
Danny tried.
The arm moved smoothly this time.
"Yes! I did it—"
The arm accidentally fired a minigun burst.
Tech officers dove for cover.
Sorn didn't blink. "Again."
Shadeclaw, by contrast, moved like he had been born in a mech suit. His B.E.A.R. walked fluidly, claws slicing the air in practiced arcs. Neural sync: perfect.
Mira struggled for thirty seconds, then adjusted; soon, her B.E.A.R. moved with quiet, wolf-like precision.
Swift's mech was a model of stability—every step measured, every weapon perfectly balanced.
Jade punched a practice target so hard the feedback nearly shorted the internal gyros.
Jake's mech launched itself using the jump jets.
Straight upward.
Into the ceiling.
The entire bay shook.
Jake's muffled scream echoed inside the suit: "I DIDN'T TOUCH ANYTHING, I SWEAR!"
Danny muttered, "Of course it was Jake…"
They spent the next hour learning recoil management, missile lock cycles, assisted jump arcs, and power-usage discipline.
Sorn's critique at the end:
"YOU CAN WALK. YOU CAN SHOOT. YOU CAN NOT DIE QUICKLY. THIS IS ADEQUATE."
Jake sobbed inside his helmet.
Most cadets would assume training was done.
But Staff Sgt. Sorn was not "most cadets."
He dragged them to Simulation Dome Three.
The floor was a grid of levitating platforms suspended above a swirling gravity well simulation—projected to mimic the sensation of falling into a collapsing star.
Shadeclaw sniffed. "This… smells like fear."
Jake whimpered.
Sorn stood before them.
"TRUST EXERCISE. YOU WILL FALL BACKWARD INTO THE VOID. YOUR PARTNER WILL CATCH YOU. IF THEY DO NOT—THE GRAVITY WELL WILL DISCIPLINE YOU."
Jade narrowed his eyes. "Like a trust fall?"
"NO," Sorn snapped. "LIKE A TRUST TEST. FALL. OR FAIL."
The pairings were deliberate and torturous.
Danny stood on the precipice, Shadeclaw behind him.
"You will catch me, right?" Danny asked.
Shadeclaw's eyes glowed faint gold. "Yes."
Danny let himself fall.
Shadeclaw caught him with precise timing.
Swift stood with Jade behind him.
Jade flexed. "Bro. I will catch you. Probably."
Swift fell backward.
Jade caught him—with surprising gentleness.
Jake stared at Mira in terror.
Mira simply nodded. "Fall."
Jake fell.
Mira caught him effortlessly.
Jade now had to trust Jake.
He crossed his arms. "Don't let me die, bronze boy."
Jake trembled. "I'll—I'll try!"
Jade fell.
Jake caught him.
Barely.
But he did.
Mira stood before Danny.
Her eyes steady.
His aura calm.
She fell.
Danny caught her.
Shadeclaw stood before Swift.
Shadeclaw fell without hesitation.
Swift caught him flawlessly.
Sorn watched the entire time.
Expression unreadable.
When the final catch succeeded, he inhaled deeply, then declared:
"You are beginning to understand what 'team' means."
Danny smiled. Mira nodded. Jade fist-pumped. Swift bowed slightly. Jake fainted. Shadeclaw looked… proud.
For the first time, they felt like something more than individuals. Something deeper. Something strong.
The training day should have ended.
It didn't.
As they walked back through the hangar corridor, the lights flickered.
Not from power strain.
Something else.
A tremor traveled down the length of the G.A.M.B.I.T., subtle but unmistakable, like a ripple across metal skin.
Danny froze.
Swift stopped walking.
Mira's ears twitched.
Shadeclaw growled low. "Something touched the ship."
A red warning sigil blinked on the wall monitor.
Just once.
Then vanished.
"Energy anomaly detected," Swift murmured. His fingers danced across a console. "Micro-wormhole. Duration: less than 0.3 seconds."
Jade frowned. "Someone knocking on our door?"
"No," Mira said softly. "Someone watching."
Jake shivered. "Stop. Stop saying things like that."
Danny exchanged a glance with Shadeclaw.
With Mira.
Then Swift.
Something had brushed against the ship—something cold, curious, and wrong.
Sorn didn't appear to see the alert, but that felt impossible. He stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed.
"STOP STARING AT SCREENS," he barked. "GET REST. TOMORROW WILL BE WORSE."
They all knew he understood more than he let on.
They all knew that anomaly wasn't normal.
But they were too exhausted to argue.
As they made their way back to the barracks, Danny glanced at the stars beyond the viewport.
A faint shimmer flickered—like something slipping away before it could be fully seen.
Not the BLOB.
Not Bones.
Not Magic Kid.
Something else.
Something new.
And it was watching.
Waiting.
The G.A.M.B.I.T. hummed around them.
Unaware that the galaxy had tilted one degree closer to chaos.