Joe Campbell looked out past the slanted glass of the control room and into the well-lit hangar with obvious surprise. “We’re actually going to use battle suits? No one’s even been trained.”

  “It’s how Safety Ed does things,” Mac replied like this was completely normal. Which it was, right?

  “Those are all Type-3 Hounds. Where did they get so many?” Joe kept talking, completely ignoring Mac.

  “Type-3?” Mac finally went to the glass to look out. Sure enough. There were twenty-seven of the smaller, company-grey Type-3’s set up in three lines. Except not all of them were grey. There was a red, blue, or white one at the head of each column. Natalia was settling into the red one as the other ladies were getting into their own battle suits lined up behind it.

  “How many millions…?” Joe trailed off.

  “My apologies,” Tiera Sardonyx began as she reached the top of the stairs from below. “We didn’t have the budget for more of the rolling ladders, so we’ll need to take turns launching as we don’t want unfamiliar people out on the floor with operational suits. Safety and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Are you not coming out with us?” Mac asked.

  “I can see how you might think that,” the shock leader replied. “I’ll be out there later. Just keep your bolt walking around and getting familiar with it while you wait.”

  “Will do,” Mac answered. “Wait, ‘my bolt’?”

  “Well for the moment,” Tiera responded matter-of-factly. “We’ll logically reshuffle the teams as needed once we see where everyone’s talents lie.

  “I’m confused,” Mac raised a finger in half-question.

  “Yes, you’re a human.”

  “Beyond that,” Mac shook his head and ignored the unconscious dig. “Am I supposed to lead these guys?” Mac thumbed at the others standing around the control room.”

  “That’s why you were out here first,” Tiera explained. “Well, partially. They’re your bolt… until you lose them. You’ll need an assistant.” Her eyes temporarily landed on John who shook his head negatively ever so minutely but came back to Mac. “I suggest you pick scruffy over there. His file looked promising.”

  “I can’t help it,” the elf replied. “It doesn’t matter how often I shave; it just keeps growing back.”

  “Hey ,Champ. I didn’t think elves shaved,” Joe picked at the metaphorical scab rather intentionally.

  “You try looking like this in sixth grade and see how your social life develops,” the elf was clearly perturbed.

  “Just leave Scruffy alone,” Mac gently chided Joe in a failed attempt at being a good leader.

  “I have a name.”

  “No one cares, Scruffy,” Joe replied.

  “It’s printed right here on my chest,” the scraggly looking elf covered his nametag as he patted it.

  “Don’t worry about it, Scruffy. Joe won’t care,” Mac just rolled with it. There was no logical reason to fight it. “Will you be my number two out there?”

  Scruffy sighed, “Do you have to put it that way?”

  “What way?” Mac quizzed, sincerely?

  “Never mind. Yeah, sure, I’ll be the assistant bolt leader,” Scruffy dismissed the slight.

  “Glad to see you have that decided,” Tiera jumped back into the conversation. “This has your bolt’s teams broken down by position,” the shock leader handed him a small sheet of paper that looked like it had been carefully torn off another piece. The handwriting was precise and legible.

  “How could you have put this together if you didn’t know who my number two was going to be?” Mac asked as he looked over it, even as he noted Scruffy’s name was listed as “Scruffy” with a star beside it just beneath John’s name. There was a bit of eraser still beside John’s name on the list.

  “I already know how you think,” Tiera replied confidently as the blue light from the control room computers lit up her already bloodshot eyes almost malevolently. “Besides, I spent… a few hours the past few nights matching profiles and developing teams.”

  “Hey, Mac,” Scruffy pointed out the slanted glass windows, “Looks like the ladies are starting to move.”

  Mac turned his head to watch the ladies take their first awkward steps after the ladders were pulled back. He was oddly pleased to notice the bright red hair of one of the mechanics assisting with the launch. Maybe he would get to talk to her a moment and patch things up between them.

  “Mac,” Tiera addressed him, “Once the ladies clear the hangar, get your team out there. The mechanics will see that they get launched properly.”

  “Yep,” Mac replied as he watched the suits awkwardly stumble onto the launch ramp.

  “Okay, follow me,” Mac led his bolt down the stairs and into the well-lit hangar. The mechanics were just finishing setting up the rolling ladders in front of the next row with his white suit at the end of the line closest to the exit ramp. Amethyst was waiting at the base of it with her bright blue eyes staring at the pad in her hands.

  “Hi there, Amethyst,” Mac grinned stupidly as he reached her. “Uhmm… Fancy meeting you here,” he added lamely.

  “Oh, hello there, laddie. Have you come to wreck my machine again?” she asked in her beautiful North Anglic accent. “I’m still working on poor old Nessie after what you did to her,” Amethyst’s face was a dark storm cloud.

  “I… I’m sorry,” Mac replied lamely as he started up the ladder.

  “You should be,” Amethyst laid into him, “I’ve spent the last few weeks just trying to get her to walk normally again. You should be ashamed of yourself. I can’t believe they’re letting you still pilot one of my babies. If you do anything to hurt Haley, here, I’ll make you regret it. Don’t think even fer a second I wonnae do it.”

  “I’ll take good care of Haley,” Mac promised as he adjusted his feet in the stirrups. “Anything I should know about her?” Mac added hoping to get her to say a few more words as he reached for his helmet.

  The red-haired mechanic looked like she was mentally arguing with herself but finally climbed up to the top of the ladder, put her face close to his own and responded cryptically, “The haptics are a bit temperamental on this suit. Best mind how you treat her.”

  The smile fell from Mac’s face just before she smacked the top of his helmet the rest of the way over his face muffling his reply “What do you mean the haptics are temperamental?”

  “Best treat this lady with some respect,” Amethyst replied with a contrived smile before muttering something incomprehensible as she turned away to go back down the ladder, “unlike what you did with poor Nessie.”

  Mac waited for the beautiful mechanic to pull the ladder back and then nervously commanded, “Load.”

  The gentle pressure as the helmet sealed to his head was accompanied by a gentle woosh of air. He was expecting it this time when the faceplate blacked out completely and was then replaced by a grainy view of the hangar and the larger blue suit in front of him.

  “Synchronizing…” the friendly alto voice stated from what seemed like inside his head. It registered in his ear just a bit different than Nessie’s voice assist. The image gradually crystalized a bit slower than he remembered from last time as the world sharpened into focus around him.

  “Synchronized. Preparing launch sequence,” the friendly alto informed him.

  Mac smiled then remembered Amethyst’s words. “Haptics level check, please.”

  “General Haptics at ten percent,” the voice assistant responded.

  “Thanks, Haley,” Mac replied politely, if unconsciously.

  “You’re welcome…” There was a tingly feeling like someone rifling through his brain, “…Vivian.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Please, call me Mac,” the pilot requested.

  “Changing file name to Mac,” Haley replied.

  “Anything I need to know about?” Mac asked somewhat generically.

  There was the feel of a gentle wave rolling across his brain like the tide coming in before Haley answered, “Any system of concern is fully functioning.”

  “Please, provide me a tactical display of my bolt,” Mac requested as he remembered his days as an intern.

  “Displaying,” Haley replied from what sounded like inside his head. Eight other icons joined his own inside a wire frame map in the bottom left corner of his vision.

  “Thank you, Haley,” Mac replied as he physically turned his suit to watch the other suits come online. Scruffy was taking his helmet from his mechanic just then, which only made sense as it was taking them a moment to get ready their first time. It would be a minute or two before they were all on the comm link, although two suits had already moved out of line which meant they were likely already loaded and ready.

  “Who’s already on the comms?” Mac asked.

  “John is,” came the first reply, sounding like it was inside Mac’s mind. The corresponding blue icon had a speaker icon flash beside it.

  “Joe here,” came the second reply resulting in the similar flashing of a different icon.

  “I’m here.”

  “Me too,” responded a fourth not particularly helpful voice.

  “Shock Leader,” Mac began hopefully, “What do I call everyone?”

  “This is Shock Leader,” Tiera’s voice sounded confidently in his head. “Your bolt does not have a designation yet, so stick to numbers one through nine. You’re One. Scruffy is Two, number the others by the order they come on-line.”

  “You heard the Shock Leader,” Mac replied with false bravado. “Count off. One.” It looked like Scruffy was still loading. “Whoever was up next is Three.”

  “Three,” Joe Campbell answered, resulting in his arrow icon having a light colored “3” added over it.

  “Four,” said another voice after an uncomfortable silence.

  “Five,” said the high pitched second elf.

  “Six,” John jumped in, adding his number above his icon.

  Mac listened to the following silence hoping the others had loaded during that time. Finally, he spoke again, “Anyone else loaded up yet?”

  “Sorry, just got on,” Scruffy replied apologetically. “What are we doing?”

  “Your call sign is number Two.”

  “Seriously?” Scruffy contended. “Just, Number Two. Nothing else.”

  “Nope,” Mac answered. “Our bolt doesn’t have a callsign yet.”

  “Hey, I’m up,” said a new voice. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re Seven,” Mac answered.

  “I thought there was just one of me, but whatever you say, boss man,” the human responded.

  “I mean your callsign is Seven,” Mac replied with amazing restraint.

  “My usual handle is NoobSlayer Forty-two,” the disembodied voice answered.

  “Just go with Seven, okay,” Mac replied.

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yep,” Mac replied, “You have no choice.”

  “Aw…”

  “Don’t worry about it Seven,” Scruffy chimed in. “Seven times seven is forty-two, so it’s like you’re even more you than you were before. It could be worse, you could be Number Two.”

  “Oh, okay, since you put it that way,” the voice responded.

  Wait a second, Mac started doing math in his head…

  “Yeah, that’s coolsville, I can be Seven. Look out, here comes Seven. Seven’s gonna totally slay all you fools,” Seven tried the callsign audibly. “I’m gonna go Seven on your rear ends.”

  “Is the last person on yet?” Mac interrupted Seven’s musings.

  “Sorry, I’m afraid I just got on. This isn’t quite like the trucks I’m used to,” the upper crust sounding accent replied.

  “You’re Eight,” Mac named him.

  “What, sorry, didn’t hear you, helmet’s not quite w…”

  “I said you’re eight, eight,” Mac said it twice to make sure he heard.

  “Sorry about that, I’m Eighty-eight,” the high-class voice responded, marking “88” on Mac’s HUD.

  It wasn’t worth the struggle. It wasn’t worth the struggle, Mac repeated the mantra in his mind. “Great, we’re all here. Now try walking to the launch ramp in my direction. It shouldn’t be too hard. Just try to walk like you normally do. Take up the rear will you, Two.”

  “Seriously?” Scruffy replied. “A little respect, please.”

  Mac moved his legs in the stirrups and felt the battle suit respond. Haley felt a bit smoother than Nessie, but had a lower point of view due to being a few feet shorter. He stretched his arms out to the side to get a feel for the range of motion and also because he needed the stretch. When Mac looked behind him, all but one of the battle suits was echoing the same T-pose. Mac grinned and suppressed a chuckle.

  “What do you find humorous, Bolt Leader?” Haley asked from inside his mind, abruptly pulling his attention away from the bolt setting up on the launch pad.

  “Was I laughing?”

  “Yes,” Haley replied. “Should I repeat my inquiry?”

  “No need, Haley,” Mac answered, “I just thought the way my bolt mimicked me was funny.”

  “You found the mimicry humorous?”

  “Basically… yes,” Mac answered.

  “Basically… yes,” the voice assistant responded.

  Mac wasn’t sure how to answer that.

  “You didn’t laugh,” Haley observed rather bluntly. “Is not mimicry humorous?”

  “It depends,” Mac replied. “The right timing and situation are required for it to be effective as humor. It can be annoying otherwise.”

  “Noted,” Haley replied. “Filing away for future reference.”

  “Haley, did I just see a ninth icon on my wire map?” Mac asked, returning his attention to the job.

  “It is possible,” Haley replied, “Most bolts consist of nine battle suits when at full strength. End of ramp approaching. Nine type-3 battle suits awaiting near landing point.”

  “That would be our ladies,” Mac thought aloud. He took a moment to look back at his bolt standing silently on the quickly rising platform as they approached the exit point. He remembered at the last second, “Bolt! Get ready for launch and land!”

  “Launch and land?” Scruffy replied a bit confused a moment before the floor tilted and the suits were ejected from the tunnel and into the open air.

  “Woo hoo!” called out Seven loudly over the varied cursing of other soon-to-be pilots before crashing through the undergrowth in an uncontrolled rolling landing.

  “Please help me stick this,” Mac requested of his battle suit.

  “Anything for a gentleman,” Haley replied before executing an eloquent bent knee landing that would have made any gymnast proud. A quick glance around revealed about a fifty percent success rate.

  Seven got back to his feet quickly if awkwardly and began wiping bushes off his suit. Eighty-eight was assisting with the removal of plant debris having landed reasonably well. “I say, good chap,” the upper-crust sounding human commented, “Did you have to pick up every bush you passed?”

  “I was thinking some natural camouflage might be helpful,” Seven replied enthusiastically. “But then I thought it might slow me down and some noob would be able to pick me off. That would be most uncool.”

  “Yes, it would, old chap,” Eighty-eight agreed, “Maybe you should consider that next time.”

  “Right, right,” Seven agreed.

  “Are we all… able to walk?” Mac questioned his bolt.

  “I can see everyone moving,” Scruffy replied. “Hey, One. Are you seeing that phantom blip, too?” he asked over private comms.

  “I almost forgot about it. Was it with us in the launch tube?” Mac asked.

  “Was what with us?” Scruffy asked.

  “The blip thing you mentioned earlier,” Mac explained.

  “Oh, that, I don’t know?”

  “Don’t know what?” Mac asked honestly.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scruffy answered. “What’s next?”

  “Uhm… Bolt, follow me,” Mac commanded and waved. “I’ll go slow so you can get used to walking. Try to space out a bit and form two arrow heads, one behind the other,” Mac recalled proper squad formation. “Who’s got the heavy weapon?”

  “We have heavy weapons?” Seven asked far too enthusiastically.

  “We should have two and an assault class loadout or two as well,” Mac explained as he recalled the earlier training and logically did the math to expand what everyone should have.

  “I’ve a mortar,” Eighty-eight replied as he hefted the long tube.

  “That would be one,” Mac confirmed. “Does anybody else have one?”

  A chorus of “No’s” sounded in his head. So only one, then. Not what he expected but okay. “Hey Seven, are those sword hilts sticking out over your shoulders?”

  “I have swords?” Seven sounded like a kid in a candy store being told to pick whatever he wanted.

  “Maybe. Pull gently, just in case,” Mac suggested.

  Seven gently drew two long, reinforced steel training swords with a gentle curve to them but no bladed edge to speak of. “Awww… they’re dull,” Seven’s disappointment came crystal clear through the comms as did the relieved silence of the rest of the bolt.

  “We’re training, today, Seven,” Mac reminded the disappointed human. “How’s everyone doing getting acclimated to the suits?”

  On cue someone tripped and face-planted into the ground. “Shouldn’t have asked,” Mac grimaced as Scruffy helped the person back to their feet while the bolt paused momentarily. “There are the ladies,” Mac pointed ahead to where Natalia waited with her bolt.

  “Natalia, can you read me?” Mac asked, testing the external comms.

  “Hey Mac, I hear you,” She responded pleasantly, “Did your team land softly?”

  “Most of us I think,” Mac replied. “I forgot to warn them.”

  “Me too,” Natalia replied.

  “Who’s that?” Haley interrupted inside Mac’s mind.

  “That’s Natalia,” Mac replied as he felt the gentle tide rolling over his brain.

  “She’s a threat,” Haley stated surprisingly simply.

  “Not exactly,” Mac replied as the brain rifling feeling intensified. “Are you doing that?”

  “Doing what,” Haley replied innocently.

  “Rifling through my mind,” Mac clarified.

  There was some silence, before Haley replied, “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Since when does a computer reply, ‘Maybe’,” Mac challenged.

  “I am not just a computer,” Haley replied with what sounded like pride. “I’m an advanced AI designed by none other than Dr. Obsidian of the HeHeHe Headquarters R&D section. A few others helped too, but he was the lead coder,” Haley clarified.

  “Okay…” Mac replied.

  “Mac, you still there?” Natalia asked in his head.

  “Sorry, my AI distracted me for a moment,” Mac replied.

  “You find me distracting?” Haley sounded creepily hopeful.

  “They do seem a bit different than the other suits,” Natalia replied. “They seem to have a bit more… personality.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Mac replied with a slight chuckle. “Would you introduce me to your team?”

  “Sure,” Natalia replied, “This is Mary-Shelly, next to her is…” The voice became garbled in Mac’s head after that.

  “Haley… Please, patch through Natalia,” Mac requested as sweetly as he could.

  “… Then there’s Silky, an elf, and you met Freyja in the sparring pit earlier today,” Natalia concluded.

  Ah yes, Freyja was the waif-like blonde lady in her lower thirties that got knocked unconscious when she fell into the guard rail. Mac distantly remembered her glaring at him, but from the brief interaction he had today, she seemed like a super nice girl if a bit short, but she had trouble remembering anything beyond her name after taking that bad fall.

  Mac gave a quick introduction to Natalia as his team formed up haphazardly behind him. No sooner had he finished than a large blue suit catapulted through the night air above him followed by eight other suits with jet packs already alight and primed. They landed smoothly as a group in a recognizable formation where he had just come from. Not a single one crash landed. The troll must have remembered.

  “It seems like Grist’s team landed well,” Natalia commented. “By chance, did the Shock Leader tell you her plan for training today?

  “I’m afraid she didn’t find any reason to let me know much about the plan,” Mac replied. “It’ll probably be pretty similar to our last time out…”

  The two bolt leaders’ faces were suddenly etched with concern behind their face plates.

  “Evasive action!” Mac screamed into his mic.