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“Cover left, cover left!” Pirra yelled.

The next target rose in front of her from behind a barricade, his rifle taking aim for her-

And a dozen rounds ripped through him from behind her.  Her team had her back.

Their drones were down; all power was down, except in their suits, which had a backup.  How the drone control systems had been disabled was something they were still not clear on, but there were a few possibilities running through her mind.

The Hev boarding party didn’t have theirs, either, which suggested some kind of electromagnetic bomb that killed everything in the area.  Their suits were much better shielded than the drones.

“Check the rooms,” she said.  “Look for improvised doors – and check your damn corners!” she barked, taking up a position next to a door.

The Hev vanguard had stormed deep into the ship.  They were near Reactor Three, and couldn’t risk leaving any enemies active in this area.

Her HUD had no mini-map, all those sensors were down with their drones.  That meant old-fashioned room clearing.

Across from her, Lorissa Kiseleva took up position.  Her face was set in determination.

“Now!” Pirra said, hitting the manual release.  The door opened a dozen centimeters, and Kiseleva threw in the grenades.

The room could contain civilians, but the grenades were smart; they were set for Hev, and not only would refrain from exploding if so, but sent a live feed of their sensor array to their helmets.

But they were limited.  Every piece of tech had to strike a balance between cost, disposability, and hardiness.  A sensor that could instantly sweep the whole room was not a sensor that would survive the kind of action an espatier might face.

The grenades went off; that meant there were or had been Hev.  She kicked the door, sending it sliding back into the wall, and went in.

She covered the right, and Kiseleva was behind her, hand on her shoulder.

Even with sensors, she couldn’t see much.  Still too much ambient particles and heat, but the room seemed clear.  She took a step forward-

And felt a sharp pull knock her back.

“Down!” she heard Kiseleva say.  The woman fell on top of her.

And a moment later a boom shook the room.

It was a trap, she realized.

Her system popped up; INJURED it said, then ran through the various types.  A shattered lower right leg, her left mildly harmed.  Only a few minor shrapnel wounds on her torso, and a broken rib.

She let out a curse.

“Kiseleva, are you all right?”

“I’m alive, Commander,” the woman said.  “But it’s a good thing I looked down, or you would be dead.”

Running back the simulation – for of course there were no enemies on board the ship, and this had only been an exercise – she examined the sequence of events.

A medical drone arrived, and her system now informed her that her odds of survival at this point were 98.5%.  Which was good, but not good enough.

She should never have gotten hurt.  She should have been looking down, not Kiseleva.

The other woman rose, and offered her a hand.  Pirra took it, and was hauled to her feet.

“Are you out as well?” Pirra asked.

“Yes, Commander.  We should head to the medical kiosk to help them with practice.”  A lopsided grin went across her face.  “I never enjoyed acting, but I am apparently a good patient.”

Probably because of her personality, Pirra thought.  The woman was difficult, but only because she always demanded the best of everyone around her.

She’d been a fine pick for Pirra’s new right-hand officer.

“I suppose I can pass.  Just funnel my disappointment at myself into it.”

“It was a cunningly hidden bomb,” Kiseleva said with a shrug.  “If I wasn’t an engineer, I’d not have seen it.  I can forgive you for getting us knocked out of the fight.”

Pirra chuckled.  The two began back towards the medical station, where others who had been mock-wounded were lying about.  Many were acting the part quite well, thrashing and yelling as the drones and volunteer medics rushed to treat their fictional wounds.

She noticed that Corporal Lal was playing it up just a bit too much, loudly saying a prayer and interspersing it with cries for his mother.  Her system assured her that he was, in fact, unhurt, suffering only from a severe case of ham.

Remembering that she was supposed to be injured, and seeing that Kiseleva’s injuries would let her be the walking one, Pirra leaned onto her.  The woman took the cue.

“The Commander is injured!” Kiseleva barked.  “Medic!  She’s bleeding badly!”

Pirra tried to act the part, hopping on one leg, but her mind was elsewhere as the drones and medics laid her back.

“You’re going to be all right, Pirra!” the medic said, flushed and slapping a wound cover onto her leg.

“That’s good to know,” she said half-heartedly.  Her screen was showing her the feed for other squads, on other exercises.

“It would help if you played the part, Commander,” the medic whispered.  “I’ve seen combat on Echose, but a lot of these others haven’t.  It’ll help if you cry out.  You should be in a lot of pain.”

“Oh god the pain is unbearable!” she yelled.  “But the pain of failure stings so much worse!  By the Sky, just get me a new leg, I have to get back out there for bloody revenge!”

“You should join the theater troupe,” the medic said flatly, finishing his work.  “And you’ll get the chance, since I stopped the bleeding.  Should be just three months before your leg is regrown.”

“Good work, medic,” she said honestly.

The man saluted and ran off to take a look at Lal, who was now pleading with any god who would listen to let him see just one more day.

She let her system bring back up the view of the other teams.

All of them seemed to be doing at least passably, for their current level of training.

Her eyes focused on the team that she’d put Iago in.  They were currently sealing a fake breach in the hull that was leaking water.  A dozen civilians had been taken out with it, and others were trapped.

The team was doing quite well, she thought.  Actually far above what was expected of them.  She brought up more data.

Iago was, at that moment, affixing an emergency tent around a room with trapped civilians.  It was something he’d done a thousand times under far more pressure, and he was handling it . . . well, just fine.

Kessissiin was also in his unit, and she jumped to him.  He was actually outside the ship; a risky move, but it was the right move for the scenario.  He had to seal the leaking water valve, or the ice would complicate the hull fix.  He was working swiftly, and she found herself grudgingly impressed.

He got it sealed in half the time she’d have expected from a volunteer team . . .  That was good even for a professional Response officer.

As he came back in, he even caught simulated damage to the suit of another team member, sealing the leak before the woman even knew she was losing air.

He was talking to her, and she considered listening in on their frequency, but the words were not as important as the effect; clearly, he was giving her a pep talk, as she looked frightened.  They were truly facing a hole in the ship, even if one that was in a section reserved just for that sort of exercise.  It was stressful for anyone, even experienced hands.  Everyone feared the possibility of drift-off – being lost to the void.  It was unlikely, they had numerous safety drones to catch someone if they did get loose, but it was a possibility anytime you were out in the dark.

The woman seemed to be rallied by his words, and he slapped her on the helmet and she moved off to begin the next part of the sealing operation.

It was all very good.

She cut off her feed and lay back, appreciating a moment of just relaxing.  She’d been working hard for days now, barely seeing Alexander, running her teams through every possible scenario.  Even a counter-boarding action.

This was one of their last test runs, now that they were in the system.  Some of the secondary teams would do others, but her team would have to be ready for instant action from here forward.

She’d been concerned about Iago, how he’d handle himself.  He’d had such a hard time since Terris.  But this work was second-nature to him.

It had to be good for his mental state in a lot of ways.  A great sense of relief flooded her-

Her helmet alarm went off.  It was not her suit, but a general alarm for the whole ship.

“Unknown ships surfacing from zerospace,” the system blared at her.  “All crew to action stations.  This is not a drill.  Repeat, this is not a drill.”

Jumping up, she began to bark orders.

“Drop the simulation!  All crew to stations!”

“What’s going on, Commander?” the medic who had helped her asked.

“A Hev fleet has appeared,” she told him.  “It seems that the Hev Overlord didn’t want to wait for us to come to him.  He’s here.”

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