SSS-Awakening: I Have Infinite Talents

"Coming together is a beginning; keeping together is progress; working together is success." — Henry Ford.

– – –

Micah spent the rest of his time training. His new Awakened Soldier body was dramatically stronger than anything he’d had before, and he needed to calibrate his movements to match.

The density of his bones changed the weight of his strikes, the speed of his pivots, and the rhythm of his footwork.

Techniques that had worked at being a Basic Soldier will definitely not work as an Awakened Soldier. He needed to know exactly how different before he led a squad into combat.

He didn’t seek out his drafted squad members, and they didn’t seek him out.

The silence between them was deliberate, a mutual understanding that nothing productive would come from conversation until they were actually in the field.

– – –

Deployment day came. The entire deployment force gathered in the central plaza at 0500, two hours before dawn.

Nine squads in total, each led by a senior soldier except one. The senior soldiers were hardened veterans.

They were men and women who had spent years on the border and carried themselves with the quiet confidence that only came from surviving things that should have killed them.

Dexter stood at the far left of the formation. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two days.

He didn’t even respond to the recruits who had tried to congratulate him on his third-place finish.

He’d spent the entire isolation period in his quarters, and when he emerged on deployment morning

Myra stood beside him. Her right shoulder had healed enough that the tape was gone, but she still favored her left side when she moved.

Her twin short blades were sheathed at her hips, and her expression was the same calm mask she wore during combat.

She was a soldier doing her job, and personal feelings weren’t part of the job description.

Thomas was at the back. He’d been cleared for active duty by the medical wing the previous afternoon, and the medic who signed the clearance had looked at him with the kind of pity usually reserved for condemned men.

Tasha stood between Myra and Thomas. Her dual blades sheathed at her sides, her dark red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

She was the most composed of the four. She had accepted the draft with the same professionalism she applied to everything.

Micah stood at the front of the formation, looking at his squad. The Widow’s Wail was strapped to his back, the Phantom Carapace was hidden beneath his uniform, and the throwing knife harness was concealed on his right thigh.

He looked like a standard recruit, but the power sitting inside his body was anything but standard.

A senior officer stepped onto the main platform and addressed the deployment force.

He went straight to the point.

"Nine squads are deploying to the eastern border. Each squad is assigned a patrol sector. Your sector maps and mission briefs have been transmitted to your Squad Leader’s comm-pads.

Patrol duration is thirty days, with resupply drops every ten days. Contact with hostiles is expected and authorized for lethal response.

Radio check at 0600 hours daily. Any squad that misses two consecutive radio checks will be considered lost, and a recovery team will be dispatched."

He looked across the formation one final time.

"Move out."

– – –

The transport trucks were old military vehicles, armored and rough-looking, with bench seats bolted to the floor and canvas flaps hanging where the doors should have been.

Each squad was assigned to a single truck, which meant Micah and his four soldiers were about to spend the next six hours sitting in close quarters with nothing but the hum of the engine and their own mutual resentment for company.

The ride was exactly as uncomfortable as expected.

Dexter sat at the far end of the bench, his eyes were fixed on the canvas flap opposite him.

His Flux output was tightly controlled, but Micah’s Beast Analysis could read the tension in his muscles.

The only thing keeping him from snapping was the military code that Vice-Principal Jason had invoked.

Myra sat two seats away from Dexter, her back resting against the truck’s metal wall, her eyes closed but she wasn’t sleeping.

She was meditating, using the time to maintain her physical condition and mental focus. It was exactly the kind of thing a professional soldier would do, and it was exactly the kind of thing that made her the most reliable member of the squad.

Thomas sat in the middle. He held a protein shake in one hand, the only thing he could consume through the gap in his wiring, and stared at the floor.

Tasha sat one seat away from Micah. Her hands rested on her knees, her grey eyes focused on the far wall of the truck.

Micah sat at the front of the bench, closest to the cab. He spent the first hour reviewing the sector map on his comm-pad, memorizing the terrain, marking potential ambush points and fallback positions.

The eastern border was a mix of dense forest and rocky hills, with narrow valleys that funneled movement into predictable paths.

It was perfect terrain for mutant predators, and terrible terrain for soldiers who didn’t know how to work together.

After two hours of silence, Micah spoke.

"We need to talk about how we’re going to operate."

Nobody responded. The engine hummed. The canvas flapped. Myra’s eyes stayed closed. Dexter just stayed mute. Thomas took a sip of his protein shake.

Tasha was the one who broke the silence.

"What exactly would you like to discuss, Squad Leader?"

This time, there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or contempt. She was giving him exactly the respect the rank demanded, nothing more and nothing less.

"Patrol formations," Micah said. "Combat protocols. Chain of command in the field."

"We’re listening."

It wasn’t enthusiasm. I’d say it was an agreement. It was tolerance, the bare minimum cooperation that military duty required. But it was a start, and a start was all Micah needed.

He pulled up the sector map on his comm-pad and projected it in the center of the truck.

The blue hologram hovered in the air between them, showing the terrain in detailed 3D relief.

Forests, hills, valleys, and the border line that separated civilized territory from the wild zones where mutants bred and hunted.

"Our patrol sector covers twelve kilometers of border, mostly forested terrain with three major valleys that funnel toward the border wall.

Mutant activity has been increasing in this sector for the past three months. The last squad assigned here reported fourteen encounters in thirty days, including one Alpha-class beast that killed two soldiers before it was brought down."

He tapped the map, and three red markers appeared.

"These valleys are the primary movement corridors for mutant packs.

I want Tasha on forward recon, working ahead of the main group. Her acrobatic style and speed make her the best fit for scouting terrain and detecting hostiles before they reach us."

Tasha nodded once. She didn’t make any comment. Just acknowledgment.

"Myra, you’re on rear guard. Your stealth technique and blade work make you the best option for covering our retreat if we get flanked.

Thomas, you’re on the left flank. Your size and Flux output make you a solid wall fighter. Dexter, you’re on the right flank."

Dexter just kept staring at the canvas flap.

"I’ll take point when we move as a group and center position when we hold ground. Any questions?"

Tasha looked at the map for a moment, then back at Micah. Her grey eyes were analytical, studying the terrain with the same focus she applied to combat.

"The three valleys converge at a single point about two kilometers inside the border. If a mutant pack uses more than one corridor simultaneously, that convergence point becomes a kill zone. For our team."

Micah nodded. She was right. He’d seen the same thing in the map, and the fact that she’d identified it within seconds confirmed what he already knew. Tasha wasn’t just a fighter. She was also a tactician.

"Which is why we don’t hold at the convergence point," Micah said.

"We patrol each valley independently, rotating every four hours. If one team encounters hostiles, the other two collapse inward to flank. Nobody gets caught in the kill zone."

Tasha studied the map for another moment, then nodded. It was barely noticeable, but it was the first sign of actual professional acknowledgment she’d given him.

It wasn’t trust or respect. It was the recognition that the plan wasn’t stupid, and for now, that was enough.

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