The Reil Transportation System was the lifeblood of movement across the Star Force Academy. Sleek carts glided silently along magnetic rails, connecting every sector with precision.
The Academy wasn’t just a facility—it was a city of purpose, constantly evolving to meet the demands of every course, specialization, and career path within the Star Force.
At its core stood Central Command, a towering structure of obsidian alloy and translucent panels. Surrounding it were specialized zones:
- Life-Sustaining Facilities, where medical care and organic processing takes place under sterile white lights.
- Training Facilities, echoing with the clash of combat, the hum of lecture halls, and the sharp crack of gunfire from shooting ranges.
- Transport & Communication Hubs, managing aerial deployments, ground logistics, and the RTS itself.
Beyond these, Peripheral Facilities—some temporary, others permanent—operated semi-independently, yet all reported back to Central Command. While most systems ran autonomously, every major decision passed through the Academy’s core.
Violet and her teammates stepped off the transport, the heat of the landing pad radiating through their boots. They walked briskly toward the nearest RTS station, the air filled with the low hum of carts arriving and departing. The falling sun creating bright reflections over the metallic floor.
— ? —
Inside the cart, the atmosphere was quiet—until Vivan broke the silence.
“Hey, how many courses have you completed, Violet?” he asked, settling into a seat.
“Fifty-six,” she replied without hesitation.
“Damn, I’m two behind you. Don’t you ever use your leisure time?”
“Not really. Courses usually offer brief windows where I can relax.”
“You mean like when you were waiting for those guys to show up during the last exercise?”
“Yeah. Though it got a little stressful at the end.”
“A little?”
“I mean… it wasn’t that bad. I used to visit a forest near my hometown before getting recruited.”
“It’s not about being in the forest. We were fighting tough opponents. I couldn’t relax the whole exercise!”
“I know. But for me, it felt more like a game.”
“A game? You see the courses as games?”
“I didn’t say that. I just meant that being out there, guarding something in the forest—it reminded me of playing chase. Haven’t you played it?”
“Chase… you mean tag? Yeah, I played it as a kid with friends and family. But you can’t really compare that to the exercise.”
Prince, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward.
“I think Violet is trying to say that your mind can either hinder or empower you, depending on how you handle stress,” he said. “If you treat it like a game, you’ll feel less fear and anxiety.”
“Aha, but how do I do that when they’re shooting at me with real guns?” Vivan turned to Prince, eyebrows raised.
“They were real, but you wouldn’t die so easily thanks to the Trial Suit,” Prince replied calmly.
“So reassuring… Remember when Violet slashed both Xin and Ada? They collapsed from the pain,” Vivan continued.
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“Reduced pain. If it had been real, they could’ve died,” Prince added.
“Guys, stop arguing,” Violet said, her voice soft but firm. “What I meant was that I felt thrilled chasing them. I focused on the goal and moved cautiously. I wouldn’t just engage without considering the consequences.”
“Right, like when you ignored Xin’s shot and continued your rampage,” Vivan teased.
“More like endured. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t stop just because of pain.”
“Fine, let’s not continue this argument,” Vivan pouted, crossing his arms.
The cart slowed as it approached Vivan’s stop. He stood, adjusting his gear.
“Well, see you soon for the next collaborative course. Let me know your next steps so we can coordinate,” he said, stepping off.
The cart continued on. Violet and Prince sat in silence, the hum of the rails filling the void.
“This is my stop,” Prince said as the cart decelerated.
“I need to take care of something before heading home. Until next time, Violet,” he added, stepping off with a nod.
Violet remained seated.
The cart rolled forward, empty now except for her.
She stared out the window, watching the Academy blur past as intermittent shadows casted by the twilight created a flashy spectacle.
I’m all alone. Again.
— ? —
After a ten-minute ride, Violet arrived at the Central RTS Station—a vast, multi-tiered hub where carts glided in and out like clockwork. The air buzzed with quiet urgency, filled with the rhythmic hum of magnetic rails and distant announcements echoing through the corridors.
From there, she had one last twenty-minute ride to reach her apartment building.
Due to high demand, aerial transports rarely made personal stops, and RTS carts followed tight schedules. Faster, unconventional methods existed—teleportation nodes, special mobility devices—but most were restricted to Officers or emergency protocols.
Eventually, Violet reached her building—a twelve-floor complex, sleek and minimalistic, with one apartment per floor. She lived on the sixth. Each unit came fully equipped: built-in appliances, smart environmental controls, and limited customization options.
Violet had made hers cozy, softening the sterile design with warm colors, decorative plants, and subtle lighting. Her bedroom featured a wide window that framed the distant Command Center, its silhouette glowing faintly under the twin moons.
“Hey! Violet!”
A voice called out as she entered the lobby.
“How did you do on the practical part of the TacOps course?”
Violet turned and spotted Nina, lounging on the small reception couch, sipping from a steaming cup.
“Oh, it’s you, Nina,” Violet said, walking over.
“Well? How was it?” Nina asked again, eyes curious.
“Just fun.”
“Just fun?”
“Well, it was also exciting. I gave chase to Matt’s group.”
“Oh, you faced Xin then.”
“Yes. He really tried his best to stop me. He even landed a shot!”
“I know you’re trying to be sincere, but why do I feel you’re mocking him?”
“What do you mean? He did give his best, I guess.”
“Right…” Nina sighed, standing up and stretching. “What’s next? Any idea which course you’ll take?”
“Not really. I can’t be picky now. I’m near the sixty-course mark. I could be eligible for the Graduation Exam by the end of the cycle.”
“Oh, that’s right! With this, that would be fifty-six, right?” Nina asked, approaching the vending machine.
“Yes. Just four more to request the GE.”
“Weren’t you aiming to become an Officer? Then you’re still missing thirty-four completed courses.” She bought a cup of hot Nubia coffee, its rich aroma filling the air.
“Yes, but I still need to pass the GE first. Then I’ll be allowed to register for advanced courses while serving as a Star Force Soldier.”
“I see… I only need six more to request the GE. I could continue, but I’m not sure I’m cut out to be an Officer.”
“You once told me you wanted to be deployed near your home planet. Becoming an Officer is the easiest way to choose your deployment.”
“I know, I know… It’s just… I’ve been thinking…” Nina’s expression darkened.
“What?” Violet asked, her voice softening.
“It’s been almost three years since they recruited me. I left only my grandmother behind, and she doesn’t particularly care for me. Is there any good reason for me to go back?”
“…”
“Maybe it’s best to continue my life here, as part of the Star Force. They were the ones who saved me, gave me a chance to survive and grow stronger.”
“Nina…”
“Forget it, Violet. I’m being selfish. I know you lost your family too. That’s why you fight so hard—to prevent more senseless loss.”
“…”
“I’m not as strong as you are, Violet. I just wanted to protect my family… to stop being useless. I’m not that fragile little girl who couldn’t stop a creature from devouring my parents anymore. I can defend myself now. I can work for a better cause. Becoming a Star Force Soldier is the first step.”
“It doesn’t matter what your goal is. I’ll support you, Nina.”
“Thanks, Violet…” Nina whispered. “It’s getting late. You can almost see the double twilight. I’ll go hit the sack.”
They entered the elevator together, riding in silence to their respective floors.
“Good night, Nina. See you later.” Violet said to Nina as she stepped off the elevator.
— ? —
Violet stepped into her apartment. The door sealed behind her with a soft hiss.
The cold air greeted her—the thermostat set low, as usual. She felt the weight of exhaustion settle into her bones, a mix of stress, fatigue, and emotional residue from the day.
She began stripping off her gear, placing each piece in its designated spot with mechanical precision. Light armor, personal handgun, utility belt, and her terminal bracelet—all standard issue for Recruits.
Now, only her Trial Suit remained—a full-body layer thinner than skin, designed to protect, monitor, and interface with advanced systems. It clung to her like a second layer of flesh, so familiar she often forgot it was there.
Until it was time to shower.
She adjusted the temperature, dimmed the lights, and played ambient music—soft tones that mimicked wind through trees.
In the bathroom, she began deactivating the Trial Suit. Each section dissolved into a transparent membrane, leaving behind nodes and bands that detached with a faint hiss.
She stood before the mirror, observing her reflection.
Her body had changed—lean, sculpted, shaped by years of training. She remembered her arrival at the Academy at fifteen, the medical exams, the sterile rooms.
Now, at eighteen, she searched for signs of growth. The suit’s regenerative properties had erased every scar, every injury. Her skin was flawless.
She felt conflicted—relieved to retain beauty, yet uneasy about losing the evidence of her struggles.
She thought of her mother—softer features, fuller curves. Violet’s body was different. Sharper. Hardened.
This is my body. It feels…artificial.
The remaining devices detached and compacted into a bundle. She placed them by the sink.
She stepped into the shower. Hot water cascaded down, steam rising like a soft cloud. Her muscles relaxed, her thoughts drifting.
A floating device hovered nearby—her Trial Key.
“Quit bothering me and stay by the sink,” she said, eyes closed, washing her hair.
The device obeyed, resting quietly. Its violet lights pulsed gently.
She glanced at it, marveling at its complexity. The Trial Key was essential—her bio-firm, gear interface, system controller.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll access my Development Tree… see what’s next,” Violet murmured, slipping into a long camisole.
She turned off the lights and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Then she turned to her side, grasping a section of her pillow.
Silence.
Then—
ALERT: SOURCE DISTURBANCE DETECTED.
HOSTILE VESSEL APPROACHING THE ACADEMY.
ALL RECRUITS REPORT TO ASSIGNED DEFENSE STATIONS.
— ? —