Ancient Armada

In the middle of the room, standing like an ominous, incredibly deadly golem, was a single suit of Armored Mechanized Battle Armor. It was finished in a red and white motif, and looked as if it had just been manufactured. Its cockpit yawned open invitingly, revealing rows of switches and groups of monitors. The sight stirred Davis’ blood and got his adrenaline flowing. He would be the first of his group to sit inside an AMBA, and he would relish every second of it. The instructor for the exercise, a thin engineer named Drake, motioned for Davis to come to him. Drake was standing next to the AMBA, and every step Davis took toward him and the armor made his heart beat a little bit faster. When he reached the instructor, the man looked him over with a disapproving smirk. “So, you’re the one they chose to be the first to sample the delicacies of the AMBA, eh?” He spit a thick line of tobacco juice at Davis’ feet. “You don’t look like much to me.” Davis reddened. He wanted to retort, but knew it would be a mistake. He couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his shot at being the first to train in the sim. Instead, he clenched his jaw and responded to his superior. “Yes, sir! This warrior is indeed the first to engage in the vaunted combat simulator!” Drake’s look of disgust increased. “You can drop the fancy flattering talk, cadet. I’m just an engineer. Plus, it doesn’t suit you.” He motioned into the interior of the AMBA. “I’ve never been much for small talk; jump inside, cadet. Fire her up.” Davis eagerly scrambled into the cockpit, nearly tripping over the control stick as he settled himself into the seat. “You good?” Drake asked, seeming bored. Davis gave the man a thumbs up, and the expansive front of the AMBA slid shut, encasing Davis in darkness. For a split second, he panicked, claustrophobia setting in. Then, the soft whine of the suit’s power plant coming online filled his ears, and the blinking lights signaling a successful power-up sequence greeted him. All around him, monitors blinked online, filling the cramped space with views of his surroundings. Davis was very impressed with the technology, as he expected he would be. Not only was the holographic image of the outside perfectly clear, but he was able to toggle views of what lay behind and beneath him at will. The sound of Drake’s voice filled his ears, abnormally loud as it came through the AMBA’s internal speakers. “As you can see, Cadet Martin is now successfully encased in the armor. There is very little that can damage him now, such is the power and might of the AMBA.” Drake turned toward Davis and the battle armor. “Cadet Martin, there is a softly glowing blue panel next to your right hand. Place your hand on it, palm down.” Davis did as instructed, and nearly jumped at the effect it caused. The blue pad served as a sort of buffer between the armor and its inhabitant. Electrical currents emanating from the panel were siphoned straight into the warrior’s brain, connecting him to the machine in a symbiotic relationship that mirrored the Scuratt’kan’s. Once this mental connection was established, the interior of the AMBA faded away, replaced by a surreal sensation of control. It was as if the armor had connected its cameras and sensors directly to Davis’ brain, allowing him to literally sense and see what was around him. The monitors lining the inside of the suit were there only for back-up purposes, in the event of a malfunction. The slight jerk Davis gave upon becoming connected was mirrored by the suit, and Drake gave a knowing smirk. “Cadet Martin, you have just undergone your first AMBA connection. Ergonomics have reached a new level, yes? You can respond to me, cadet. I can hear you.” To the rest of the eager cadets, Davis’ voice sounded hollow and tinny, yet loud and intimidating as it passed through the armor’s loud-speakers. “Yes, sir! This is quite a sensation. I feel as if all my senses have been heightened. It’s a wonderful feeling.” Drake laughed at the response. He seemed genuinely amused. “Cadet, I have been training new blood for several months now, and that is the first time I have ever heard someone describe the sensation as wonderful. Perhaps you are simply lucky, or perhaps simply mentally retarded. Either way, it is a sensation you will grow used to.” He began to walk toward the group of cadets, yelling over his shoulder as he did so. “The remaining cadets and I will observe your first simulation behind the safety glass on the far side of the hangar. The simulations are fake, but the weaponry on the AMBA is live. Please refrain from shooting in our direction.” That was the end of the lecture. Davis was surprised Drake didn’t mention anything about the penalties associated with firing in his direction, yet assumed there would certainly be some. He made a mental note of the position of the ‘safety box’. He couldn’t afford to draw the ire of someone who wasn’t even a training officer. Regina was bad enough as it was. When the cadets and Drake were safely ensconced in the ‘box’, the room’s lighting dimmed considerably, awash now in only the positioning lights on the AMBA. Drake’s voice came through the AMBA’s built-in comm channel, loud and angry, startling Davis. He nearly yelped at the sudden intrusion. “The first exercise will pit you against a single Scuratt’kan elite warrior in a jungle environment. I am under instruction to inform you that despite the realism of the sim, you are in no way in danger, so stay cool. This is, after all, just an illusion.” Drake’s voice clicked off the comm, and there was nothing but the sound of Davis’ breathing. As the holographic images of a lush, vibrant jungle began to fill the room, Davis’ heart-rate intensified. Finally he was about to engage in the training he had dreamt of for so long! He was suddenly glad Drake couldn’t see his face, for he surely had a stupid grin plastered across it. The sim room finished loading the environment, and the fabricated sound of birds squawking filled the air. Davis looked around, searching for his enemy. He was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the program parameters had been incorrectly entered? As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice of Drake came through the comm once again. “Cadet, you aren’t to stand there like a fool waiting for your enemy to appear. This exercise is supposed to represent realistic battle conditions. Stop standing around and search for the enemy!” Davis nodded out of habit, despite the fact that Drake couldn’t see him, and started moving forward, his hand gingerly grasping the throttle stick. The massive machine moved forward, its heavy, clunking footsteps echoing through the ‘jungle’. The floor of the sim unit was built to move as the AMBA did, allowing enormous arenas to be depicted in the relatively small space. In the far corner of the ‘jungle’ lay a yellow rectangle designating the position of the safety box. Davis put the yellow shape behind him and began moving through the simulated environment, eyes darting across trees, rocks, and even small streams as he made his way to the enemy.