Kai's watch read 1100. Tactical training with Kozlov and Petrov started now.
He couldn't be late—not for someone whose respect he needed to earn.
He arrived at the tactical training facility just as other recruits were filing in. The facility had been reconfigured into an urban combat environment—barriers, doorways, corridors, multiple levels.
About twenty recruits gathered, including Marcus Webb, Darius, Zara, and others from Bay 3 and neighboring bays.
Sergeant Kozlov stood at the front, pale eyes scanning the arriving recruits. Beside him, Corporal Petrov checked equipment on a cart—training weapons, rubber rounds, tactical gear.
Kai arrived at 1101—technically one minute late, but within acceptable tolerance.
Kozlov's eyes landed on him. He noted the arrival time but didn't comment.
Kai fell in with the other recruits.
Zara caught his eye briefly, positioned near the middle of the formation. He moved to a similar position on the opposite side, giving them both overlapping fields of view.
At 1103, Kozlov spoke. "Listen up. Today's training is close-quarters tactical movement in urban environments. You'll be working in four-person teams. I've pre-assigned teams based on your performance evaluations and skill complementarity."
He pulled out a data pad. "Team One: Marcus Webb, Park, Rodriguez, Kowalski. Team Two: Darius Webb, Chen, Okafor, Dos Santos."
Kai was with Darius and Zara. Good. Dos Santos was pragmatic and capable. Could be worse.
Kozlov continued: "Each team will run through a scenario. Objective: breach a fortified position, neutralize hostiles, secure a target. You'll be using training weapons with rubber rounds—they hurt, but they won't kill you. Petrov and I will be playing hostile forces. You'll also face automated targets."
Petrov spoke up: "This is not about winning. This is about decision-making under pressure. How you communicate. How you adapt when plans fail. How you handle stress."
Team One went first. Kai watched from the observation catwalks as Marcus tried to coordinate his team.
When Rodriguez got eliminated early, the team struggled to adapt. Marcus played it too safe, pulling back to defensive positions rather than pushing forward.
"Time. Team One, fall back," Kozlov announced. "Not bad. Not good. You retreated when you should have adapted."
Kai's team moved to the staging area. They quickly established roles—Kai would call tactics, Zara would provide reconnaissance from elevated positions, Dos Santos would handle breaching, and Darius would provide suppression fire.
"Team Two," Kozlov called out. "Your objective: there's a data chip secured in the central structure. Hostile forces protecting it. Five minutes to breach, secure, and extract. If you take more than two casualties, you fail. Questions?"
"Rules of engagement?" Kai asked.
"Eliminate threats as needed. Your priority is the objective, not body count."
The team moved to the entry point. Zara whispered: "I see movement. Second floor, far window. Petrov."
Kai processed quickly. "Zara, suppress that position. Dos Santos, there's a side corridor—can you breach through there?"
They executed. Zara opened fire on the window while Dos Santos, Kai, and Darius sprinted to the side corridor.
A target popped up—Kai fired twice, both rounds hitting center mass.
"Nice shooting!" Darius called.
They reached the corridor. Dos Santos worked on the locked door. "Give me thirty seconds."
"Movement on your six," Zara's voice came over the comm. "Kozlov coming from main entrance."
Kai and Darius wheeled around. Kozlov emerged, moving with predatory efficiency.
Kai fired but Kozlov dodged, returning fire. A rubber round impacted Kai's shoulder—painful but not eliminating.
Darius provided suppression while Kai repositioned.
"Door's open!" Dos Santos called.
They piled through just as Kozlov's rounds impacted where they'd been standing. They advanced down a narrower corridor.
The door ahead burst open and Petrov emerged. Return fire struck Dos Santos in the chest.
"Dos Santos is hit!" Kozlov announced. "Team Two, you're down one."
Kai and Darius faced Petrov who had superior position. His exhaustion was catching up, vision slightly blurred.
But his rapid assimilation was still working, analyzing Petrov's position and likely tactics.
"Flashbang," Kai said, pulling one from his vest. "On three. We rush him while he's disoriented."
"That's risky—"
"Everything's risky. But sitting here gets us killed." He met Darius's eyes. "Trust me?"
Darius nodded. "Okay. On three."
Kai threw the flashbang. The bang was deafening. They charged around the corner.
Kai fired rapidly for suppression while Darius flanked right.
Petrov dropped Kai with two rounds to the chest—the impact knocked the wind out of him and he went down hard. But Darius got a clean shot on Petrov's exposed side.
"Petrov is hit. Well played."
Kai was breathing hard on the floor, technically eliminated. Darius stood over him, offering a hand up.
Through the observation windows, he watched Darius coordinate with Zara. She provided perfect cover from her elevated position.
Darius reached the central structure, kicked in the door, and emerged with the data chip.
"Objective secured. Time: four minutes, eighteen seconds. Team Two, extract to your starting position."
The scenario ended successfully.
Kozlov approached for debrief. "Team Two debrief. Chen, you took tactical lead. Explain your thinking."
Kai stood straighter despite exhaustion. "We identified the obvious approach was covered by superior position. Rather than engage in a firefight we'd lose, we found alternate entry. Used suppression to enable movement. When we lost Dos Santos, Darius and I adapted—sacrificed my position to eliminate Petrov and give Darius the opening he needed to complete the objective."
"You knew the flashbang rush was low-percentage," Petrov observed.
"Yes, Corporal. But staying in that corridor was zero-percentage. Low-percentage was better than none."
Petrov's scarred face showed something that might be a smile. "Aggressive tactics from someone who's supposed to be a linguist."
"Aggressive when necessary, Corporal. Careful when possible."
Kozlov spoke: "Observations. Chen's tactical thinking was sound—identified problems, adapted solutions, prioritized objective over individual survival. That's good. But you're running on fumes. Your shooting was sloppy. Your movement was slower than it should be. In real combat, exhaustion gets you killed before tactics save you."
"Yes, Sergeant."
He dismissed the other three and gestured for Kai to stay behind.
When they were alone, Kozlov crossed his arms. "Your father had the same tactical instincts. See problems, adapt, prioritize mission over personal safety."
He paused. "It got him killed."
Kai met his gaze. "But it also saved his team. Ranger Wolfe survived because he made the right tactical decisions under pressure."
"True. But he also walked into a situation he didn't fully understand, asking questions that made him a target."
Kozlov stepped closer, voice dropping. "You're doing the same thing. Two days here, and you're already making waves. Commander's office, Archives, Morrison, Sokolov, now tactical training. People are noticing."
"Is that a warning, Sergeant?"
"It's an observation." He glanced around, confirming they were alone. "Your father sent me a letter two weeks before his Colorado mission. Personal communication, not official channels. You want to know what it said?"
His heart was pounding. Ghost's note was right.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"He said if anything happened to him, someone would eventually come asking the right questions. And when they did, I should help them."
Kozlov's pale eyes bore into his. "But he also said I should make sure they were worthy of the help. That they understood the cost."
"What makes someone worthy?"
"Competence. Intelligence. Willingness to sacrifice for the truth."
He gestured at the training facility. "You just sacrificed your position to give your teammate the win. That's the kind of tactical thinking your father had. It's also the kind that gets you killed if you're not careful."
"Sergeant Kozlov, what did my father tell you in that letter?"
"Not here. Not now." He checked his watch. "But tonight, 2100 hours, meet me at the armory. We'll have a conversation about weapons maintenance. And while we're cleaning rifles, I'll tell you what Marcus Chen said before he walked into Colorado and never came back."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Chen. Get some sleep before then. You're about to collapse, and exhaustion makes you vulnerable. Whatever questions you're asking, whatever you're investigating, you need to be sharp. Not running on caffeine and adrenaline."
"Yes, Sergeant."