The open training field stretched out beneath a pale sky, a controlled wasteland of steel pylons, reinforced ridges, and artificial canyons carved specifically to break pilots who mistook size for mastery. The ground was layered with composite plating and packed stone, scarred by years of prior tests—deep gouges where orbitons had stumbled, scorched marks where reactors had flared too hot, fractures where a single misstep had sent tens of tons crashing down.
Youri felt all of it through the Minerva.
Each step sent calibrated feedback into his nervous system. The machine's balance algorithms adjusted constantly, micro-corrections feeding into his spine and shoulders like phantom sensations. It was overwhelming at first—too much information, too much scale—but months of brutal simulation training kicked in instinctively.
He didn't think.
He adapted.
"Maintain spacing," Varos's voice cut through the comms. "You are not alone out there."
To Youri's left, a LEX unit advanced with thunderous confidence, each step heavier, louder. To his right, another Minerva moved almost silently, its gait smoother, more refined. He recognized the pilot's ID tag flashing briefly on his HUD.
Aiden.
Of course.
Aiden's Minerva surged slightly ahead, deliberately pushing the formation boundary. Youri saw it immediately—the telemetry spike, the calculated risk. Aiden wasn't just piloting; he was posturing.
"Idiot," Youri muttered under his breath.
He focused instead on his own unit.
The first obstacle loomed ahead: a field of uneven pylons, some rising high enough to force vertical maneuvering, others spaced just narrowly enough to punish poor footwork. Varos's earlier words echoed in his mind.
Orbitons are not vehicles.
Youri eased the Minerva forward, slowing just enough to let the machine "breathe." He felt the servos adjust, the internal gyros compensating. When he stepped between the first two pylons, he didn't force the motion—he guided it.
The Minerva flowed.
A LEX unit behind him wasn't as lucky. Its pilot overcorrected, the massive foot clipping a pylon. Alarms flared as the structure collapsed, slamming into the unit's shoulder. The LEX staggered, barely regaining balance.
"Pilot Seven, recover!" Varos barked.
Youri didn't look back.
He pressed forward.
The terrain shifted into a sloped trench, its walls angled sharply inward. This was where brute force failed. The Minerva's long limbs were an advantage here—but only if controlled.
Youri leaned into the neural link, trusting the machine.
The Minerva crouched slightly, lowering its center of gravity. Its shoulders rotated inward just enough to avoid scraping the trench walls. Each step was deliberate, precise, like a blade sliding into a sheath.
His sync percentage climbed steadily on the HUD.
SYNC: 61%STABILITY: NOMINAL
"Not bad, Kronos," came Varos's voice, quieter now, evaluative.
Youri didn't respond.
At the far end of the trench, the ground opened into a wide basin. Suspended platforms hovered at varying heights, held aloft by gravity anchors. This was the vertical control segment.
Aiden didn't hesitate.
His Minerva activated its thrusters, launching upward in a clean arc, landing on the first platform with practiced ease. The maneuver was flashy—efficient, aggressive.
Youri watched for half a second.
Then he chose a different path.
Rather than jumping straight up, he angled the Minerva toward the basin wall. The unit's fingers dug into the reinforced surface, clawing for purchase. It climbed, not fast, but steady, each movement controlled.
The machine felt… eager.
That surprised him.
As he reached the midpoint, the Minerva's internal systems adjusted autonomously, optimizing power distribution. The thrusters fired in short bursts—not enough to launch, just enough to assist.
Youri laughed softly.
"You like this, don't you?"
The Minerva crested the wall and stepped onto a higher platform without ever fully jumping.
On the HUD, his sync ticked higher.
SYNC: 68%
Below him, one of the remaining recruits misjudged a jump. Their LEX slammed into a platform too hard, the structure buckling. Emergency dampeners engaged, but the unit lost balance and crashed down into the basin.
Red warning markers flashed.
"Pilot Twelve is out," Presley's voice confirmed over the channel.
No one reacted.
They were past sympathy now.
The final segment began without warning.
"Combat simulation enabled," Varos announced. "Non-lethal systems only. Adapt or fail."
Targets erupted from the ground—autonomous drones armed with stun cannons and impact charges. They swarmed immediately, spreading out, forcing the pilots to react.
Youri's instincts screamed.
The Minerva moved before he fully registered the threat, raising its shield as the first stun bolt slammed into it. The impact reverberated through the neural link, sharp but manageable.
Youri pivoted, rifle coming up smoothly.
He fired.
The recoil was immense—but controlled. The rifle's pulse round struck a drone dead center, disabling it in a burst of sparks.
Two more drones flanked him.
Aiden charged head-on, blasting targets with aggressive precision, pushing forward relentlessly. It was impressive. Dangerous. He left openings.
Youri didn't.
He moved laterally, shield angled, rifle firing in measured bursts. When a drone closed too fast, he didn't shoot—it wasn't worth the time. Instead, he stepped in and struck.
The Minerva's armored fist connected with crushing force, sending the drone spiraling into the ground.
Youri felt it in his bones.
Not pain.
Power.
Another drone detonated nearby, the shockwave hammering into his side. Warning lights flared briefly, but the Minerva held.
ARMOR INTEGRITY: 93%
He exhaled slowly.
"Easy," he whispered again.
Then something changed.
The drones adapted.
Their movements became erratic, coordinated. Two targeted Aiden simultaneously, forcing him to split his attention. A third peeled off and went straight for Youri's blind side.
Too fast.
The hit came before he could fully react. The stun charge detonated against the Minerva's shoulder, overloading local systems. His HUD flickered violently.
Pain lanced through his nervous system—real this time.
Youri gasped, fingers twitching.
The Minerva staggered.
"Pilot Five, stabilize!" Varos snapped.
Youri forced himself to breathe, to focus. He pushed past the pain, diving deeper into the link.
The world narrowed.
He felt the Minerva's imbalance, the damaged actuators, the compensations already in motion. He didn't fight them.
He trusted them.
The Minerva straightened.
With a roar of thrusters, it surged forward—not recklessly, but decisively. Youri brought the rifle up and fired twice in rapid succession, disabling the remaining drones.
Silence fell over the basin.
Smoke drifted lazily through the air.
One by one, the orbitons powered down to standby.
Youri slumped back in the pilot seat, sweat soaking his uniform. His hands shook, adrenaline still burning through him.
SYNC: 74%PERFORMANCE: ABOVE EXPECTATION
The cockpit hatch opened slowly, letting in fresh air and distant voices.
Varos stood below, looking up at the surviving units.
"Four pilots remain," he said. "You have passed the first live test."
His gaze lingered on Minerva Unit Five just a fraction longer than the others.
"This is not the end," Varos continued. "It is the beginning of disappointment—for those who believe this was the hard part."
Youri closed his eyes briefly.
His muscles ached. His head throbbed.
But beneath it all, something else stirred.
The Minerva had responded to him.
Not like a machine.
Like a partner.