Safety Ed breathed a sigh of genuine relief when Mac and Grist exited the locker room. A bead of sweat tried to creep unnoticed between the safety instructor’s tinfoil cap and the great plunge at the edge of his jawline. Naturally, it chickened out at the precipice and hurried down his neck to relative safety under the collar of his tattered cloak.

  “I forgot to mention that if you open the door for someone else to go in when you do, you need to also be the one to open the door when you leave,” Safety Ed explained as he wiped multiple other furtive beads of sweat from his brow, casting them into the abyss of open space before they could venture further.

  One of the far-flung beads alighted “safely” on the red clothed shoulder of the vampire who gave it such a frightful glare that it could only freeze in terror before she flicked it away into nothingness. Some vindictive remnant clung to her painted nail thinking it might yet gain some measure of vengeance. However, upon observation of the stowaway, she wiped it into the suit at her hip with a grimace and the distasteful knowledge that some bit of biological matter once belonging to Safety Ed was now touching her.

  “Why did we need fancy suits like these to work on that old forklift?” Mac asked quite logically.

  “We’re not going to work on ‘that old forklift’, at least not today,” Safety Ed explained without explaining anything. “This way, and use the man door. You wouldn’t want to offend Bertha.” The instructor led them around the attentive machine to a set of metal stairs leading yet deeper into the earth at the back of the room. Three flights later they came to a large door with what looked to be an automatic weapon recessed into the ceiling above it. Safety Ed opened the door by pressing his hand against the scanner beside it. Bright light flooded out into the glowing red stairwell revealing a very high-tech looking control room on the other side. Mac counted two humans, three elves and possibly two zombies, all in white coats, working studiously on the other side. Almost all of them looked familiar from the cafeteria.

  “Welcome to Cave Inn Control,” said a trollip in a white coat. Mac had originally marked her as a female human as she wasn’t wearing the traditional round glasses. A closer look revealed contacts that also changed the color of her eyes to an unnatural deep blue.

  “Hi,” Grist whispered beside him, approaching a state of shock.

  The female troll in the lab coat gave Grist the slightest appreciative examination and then returned her focus to Safety Ed, “We’re ready when you are, Ed.” It was only then that Mac noticed what was in the hangar-sized room beyond the outward tilting glass.

  Those were Nipponese, type-6 and type-5 battle suits. A quick count revealed seven of them he could see against the walls with obvious docking space for… a lot more. Multiple-colors and different weapons loadouts were visible on each one. They ranged from fifteen-foot older models to the twenty-some-odd foot newer versions. Mac had read about them and even seen some of the educational/propagandized documentaries on them.

  Motion drew his eyes back to the trollip. A black-colored jumpsuit peaked out from underneath the lab coat suggesting she wasn’t merely a control room officer. His eyes drifted back down to his own gently glowing jumpsuit, and a smile began to form involuntarily on his lips.

  The female troll with surprisingly long hair addressed the three trainees directly, “My name is Tiera Sardonyx. I command this unit. Please treat any command from me as a supreme directive. I will keep you alive, but you’ll need to listen to me,” her eyes shifted to glare at Safety Ed for an uncomfortably long moment. “We won’t use actual weapons or live ammo unless the order comes from me. Furthermore, please be aware that these machines are being loaned to you. The primary users will expect them back in good condition. If she permits you, Amethyst and the other mechanics will help assist you with repairs at the end of each session. Not that that’s ever happened…” Tiera Sardonyx trailed off at the end before adding one last piece, “Don’t make my mechanics cry. They’ve got a vengeful streak to put Olivia to shame.”

  The female troll then addressed Grist directly, “You’ve probably noticed a change in your meals lately. Am I correct?”

  Grist nodded.

  “Don’t keep pretending to act stupid when you aren’t. Am I clear?”

  Grist’s jaw dropped in shock, “Yes.”

  “That’s, ‘Yes, Shock Leader,’” the trollip corrected. “I earned this command.”

  “Yes… Shock Lead…er,” Grist tried. The second syllable was a conscious stretch for the brute, but he got it.

  “It’s the same for you other two meatheads as well,” Tiera insisted. “Try it.”

  “Yes, Shock Leader,” Mac and Natalia replied in unison.

  “Good, now let’s head down to the hangar and get your suits on. As imbecile Ed here always says, ‘There’s no better teacher than painful experience.’”

  Tiera Sardonyx led them out another door and down yet another set of steel stairs into the brightly lit hangar.

  “Human, you’ve got the white one,” Tiera began pointing out their assignments as they walked along the line of battle suits. “Vampire, you’ve got that smaller red one. The handsome devil has the large type-VI at the end of the line. Please remember to use the stairs and maintain three points of contact at all times. I don’t need you setting back your training because you didn’t get into your suit properly. You’re lucky Stupid Ed is not making us use a harness.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Oh, Idiot Ed, you’ve got the green camo one on the left. Do you still remember how to use it, or do I need to go over the controls again?”

  “I got here this morning in it. I think I’ll be fine,” Safety Ed replied unbaited.

  “That’s what they all say before they break a leg and miss the assault,” the shock leader retorted. “Watch your step, and try to press the right buttons. Your helmet should still be on your seat… assuming you actually followed protocol. You did follow protocol, right?”

  Safety Ed smiled back with a genuine smile that miraculously even met his eyes, “Why Shock Leader, I’m beginning to think you genuinely care about me.”

  “I hope you die… just not in one of my machines,” the trollip rolled her eyes.

  Mac kept his mouth shut throughout the exchange wondering just who had ruined whose engagement to the spouse of their dreams. He carefully climbed up the rolling ladder and eased himself into the velvety cockpit of the humanoid machine. The human glanced around to familiarize himself with the few buttons and safety warnings scattered around him after settling his feet into the stirrups built into the upper legs of the large suit. “Shouldn’t there be more buttons?” he commented half aloud as he swiveled his head for a better view.

  “Aye, Laddie. You’ll see ‘em once you put your helmet on,” the angel looking in from her perch on the ladder stated in the sweetest and thickest north Anglic accent he had ever heard. Her crossed arms rested on the edge of the cockpit leaving her face tantalizingly close to his own. The halo created by the hangar light positioned just behind her curly red hair softened her already delicate facial features. Even her mechanic’s suit seemed to radiate a soft light from within its fibers. There were angels singing sweetly somewhere… or maybe that was just the sound of another suit powering up.

  “Uhm, I… I…” Mac tried as words failed him.

  “Hello there, laddie, I’m Amethyst, sorry fer forgetting the introduction. Take care of ole Nessie here for me.”

  “This machine is called, ‘Nessie’?”

  “Aye, that’s what I said,” Amethyst replied with a smile as her pale face reflected the light blue glow emanating from the cockpit. “Don’t be asking such stupid questions again or I’ll take you fer a fool and start treating you the way Shock Leader treats poor Safety Ed. Now hurry up and put yer helmet on, and I’ll give you a few pointers so there will be less work fer me when you get back.”

  Mac put on the white helmet that the wingless angel handed him. The faint yellow tinge of the full face-plate displayed a single blinking rectangle at the upper left.

  “Say, ‘load’,” the beautiful red-haired girl instructed in her mesmerizing accent.

  “Load,” Mac repeated.

  The first thing he noted was the gentle pressure as the helmet sealed to his head accompanied by a gentle woosh of air. Next, the face plate blacked out completely and was then replaced by a grainy view of Amethyst standing on the ladder in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed the baggy, company-grey mechanic’s suit she was wearing before that.

  “Synchronizing…” the friendly alto voice stated from what seemed like inside his head. He had heard that voice before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The image gradually crystallized and he realized he could not only read the small print beside the intake vents on the machine across from him, but make out the few freckles on Amethyst’s face. As cool as this was, he wouldn’t mind staring at her like this for a while. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice. Could she? “Hi,” Mac’s mental monologue began. “I use multiple-million-dollar battle suits to stalk pretty girls.” Not an abuse of company property or creepy at all… Better stay focused. He wouldn’t want to miss something important and make her cry.

  “Synchronized. Preparing launch sequence,” the friendly alto informed him. It would drive him batty until he could figure out where he had heard that voice.

  “Laddie, can you hear me,” the angelic north Anglic accent intruded on the inside of his mind.

  “Yes,” Mac replied as his focus returned happily to the grey clad girl backing carefully down the ladder. The headset she was wearing crushed her red hair a bit out of place, which only made her that much more approachable.

  “Give me a bit to step away,” she instructed. “The key to using one of these battle suits is thinking of it like it’s yer own body. I’ve already set yer haptics for base levels, as you wouldn’t recognize the input without at least a little more training… unless you’re some prodigy like the Nipponese seem to produce… in droves.”

  “I’ll be turning this channel over to the shock leader once you are underway. “Take care of Nessie for me… or I’ll max out yer haptics,” the threat implicit in the final phase was unmistakable.

  “This is Shock Leader,” the female troll’s voice emanated from somewhere inside his head. “Prepare to move out. We’re going to walk to the launch elevator at the end of the hangar. Just take it nice and slow like you’re out for midnight rounds.”

  “Midnight rounds,” Mac repeated to himself. “I got this,” he told himself as he took his first somewhat shaky step.

  The step was a bit long and he kicked the rolling ladder towards a growing cluster of mechanics who were forced to dive out of the way. “Sorry!”

  The second step was backwards, which is never a good direction in a hangar, warehouse, or other place with moving parts. At least this time he lucked out and no one had entered the space just vacated. He held still a moment as the mechanics fled the area like frightened mice.

  “Forward only in the hangar,” Tiera rebuked him over the comm as nicely as possible after potentially damaging a multi-million-dollar machine. Shouldn’t they have had at least a short class, first?

  “Easy there, big guy,” the shock leader instructed Grist as his machine stumbled forward, “Normal steps. Just like walking the colony back home. No one’s going to mess with a tough guy like you.”

  “I wish,” Grist replied.

  “There you go. Now, you’re doing it,” the encouraging voice continued. “Miss Pardova, well done. I see you’ve found the launch point. Everyone, line up behind the red one… Actually, give each other a little room.”

  Mac walked his stirrups forward, allowing himself to feel the vibrations of the battle suit with each step. It was like being a soul in another body and took a moment to get used to. If just the voices echoing in his head would start sounding through his ears.

  Wide doors parted at one end of the hangar revealing an oversize platform beside a forty-five-degree wall with tracks on its. Natalia stepped on first followed by Grist. Mac carefully stepped aboard next and glanced up the diagonal shaft. Multiple red lights lit the top in a hazardous glow.

  “Control,” Tiera ordered as the last battle suit took its place in the three-by-three grid inscribed on the platform. “Begin launch sequence.”

  The platform began to accelerate along the wall. “Get ready, recruits,” Tiera stated, “Try to land softly.”

  “Wait, land?” Mac and Natalia questioned in unison as the platform continued to accelerate toward the red lights.

  The launch doors popped open at the last moment and Mac realized he couldn’t feel his feet touching the ground anymore.

  “Grist fly.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Dragon Scales!” Mac cursed as the ground leapt up in anticipation of his imminent arrival. These people were all insane.