It shouldn't have been possible, and yet the sight of Isaak in a pilot suit was hard evidence of the impossible.
"See, I told you it was true!" said a crewmember as he thrust his hand towards his friend. "Now give me the damn bottle, you fool."
There was a lot of that in the Maintenance Hangers — people laughing in joy and an equal amount crying in despair. Bets were made not too long ago that were now being cashed in, to the grief of many losers.
Some cried injustice but they had, unfortunately, sowed their own fate by not believing the rumors they'd heard last night...
That a wildling was to pilot a Reaper tomorrow.
The mere suggestion of the phrase was absurd in the extreme. Never has a non-citizen ever been granted permission to pilot a Reaper, not since the September Rebellion during the early years of the Federation.
After a small squadron of former wildling pilots attempted to steal an Athena-class flying supercarrier with three nuclear-fusion warheads, all wildlings were prohibited from becoming Reaper pilots.
It was also the reason why the term of service to become a citizen had been extended to five long years instead of the original two-year sentence.
Despite their troubled history, at one point in time did try to extend an olive branch of sorts to those who were less fortunate, but that goodwill disappeared after the September Rebellion. Since then, wildlings were regarded by the general populace as unruly, deceitful savages that needed to be kept on a tight leash if they were to join the Federation.
And naturally, of course, Isaak knew nothing about this. Far as he was concerned, it was just a particularly exciting day for him. He was going to take a joyride on a really cool robot. In fact, that was the only real thought bouncing around in his head at the moment...
For what it was worth, Isaak wasn't always such an imbecile. He was usually a sharp cookie, but today's planned event had completely taken hold of his reptile hindbrain.
Most guys would've been excited about spending an intimate afternoon with a lovely girl, even if she was a little scary, but alas... Isaak hopeless in this regard.
"Are you ready to go? We're going to be out in the desert for a while, so if you need to go to the restroom, now's the time to do it," said Elaine, as she performed a last-minute inspection on the battered giant they would be riding today.
Isaak felt a bit embarrassed and said, "Are pilot suits always this... form-fitting? Feels more like a diving suit rather than a piece of military tech."
A pilot suit was more than just a wetsuit, regardless of what Isaak thought — it was a pilot's lifeline in the battle.
They were a product of a deep space initiative from before the collapse of civilization, designed to support astronauts during prolonged missions out in the far reaches of the solar system.
They could keep a pilot insulated from temperatures exceeding -95 degrees Celsius to upwards of 85 degrees Celsius for short periods of time. Synthetic muscles that were woven into the legs of the suits automatically constricted when it detected high G-forces in order to prevent blackouts.
High-spec versions like the one Elaine wore had life support module compatibility, allowing them to administer life-saving medication if necessary, and even had the ability to restart a pilot's heart if required.
"Entering a Reaper without a suit is a death sentence," said Elaine disapprovingly before she turned around and inspected Isaak. "But you're welcome to ride without one if you want."
And then, a small grin formed on her face as she eyed him with a somewhat wild gaze. Were Isaak not so focused on his appearance, he would've noticed it and felt a little threatened by it.
The young lioness appeared to like what she observed, if just a little bit. Though only time would tell if he was worth all of the interest her uncle had placed upon him.
"You look nice in that pilot suit," said Elaine as she beckoned Isaak towards the opening cockpit and murmured to herself, "Now let's see if you're worthy of keeping it..."
Though the RXF-Type 09 was usually a single seater, the cockpit of the Reaper had been swapped out for a master-slave learner variant to accommodate both of them. It was similar in concept to a pilot and co-pilot system, except that any point in time the pilot in the "master seat" could take command of the Reaper from the "slave" co-pilot.
A reasonable feature, considering no one wanted to be stuck in a Reaper piloted exclusively by an amateur. Having the mentor take the wheels in dangerous situations if necessary was the logical choice.
Once they were both accommodated and the thick cockpit door behind them closed, Elaine began the activation sequence for the Reaper.
She started flipping switches responsible for turning on the "A-Drive," the beating heart of the Reaper that generated enough energy to power the 12-meter tall steel giant. And to be sure, it was a highly demanding task to do accomplish such a feat, which is why pilots wore suits capable of protecting them from extreme temperatures.
Should the cooling systems fail, or worse — become damaged in battle — the pilot would have to suffer heat flares that could reach upwards of 125 degrees Celsius in a matter of seconds.
For reference, a pilot not wearing a combat suit would find their blood begin to literally boil under their skin and begin to experience multiple organ failure... that is, if they had not already passed out from heatstroke within the first couple of minutes.
"Getting baked," as Reaper pilots referred to it was a grim ending that only occurred out in the Badlands — hostile territory controlled by wildlings — though, as it was a cheap tactic employed by them. It was one of the few ways they could cripple Federation Reapers, who hopelessly outmatched them in terms of firepower...
Once the A-drive reached a stable state, the pitch-black coffin they were inside of began to flicker with light as several monitors, touchpads, and blinking buttons came to life.
A cold, inhuman voice suddenly filled the cockpit — the Reaper's onboard artificial intelligence.
[Preflight check initiated. Master-slave configuration detected, please stand by...]
[Reactor Core: OPERATIONAL/ OUTPUT AT 100%...]
[Weapons Systems: OFFLINE/ NO MODULES DETECTED...]
[Reactive Armor: OPERATIONAL/ INTEGRITY AT 100%...]
[Cooling Systems: OPERATIONAL/ OUTPUT AT 100%...]
[Communication Systems: OPERATIONAL/ IFF SIGNAL ACTIVE...]
It continued to rattle off statistics as it meticulously went through every operating system in the Reaper without fail. And only after confirming that everything was in working order did the AI finally cease its verbal assault on their ears.
"Why does it have to do a preflight check even though we already did one ourselves? Isn't that kind of stupid and more importantly, needlessly redundant?" asked Isaak in an irritated voice as he wrestled with the seat belts on his seat almost as if he were a child.
And if only for a brief moment, Elaine laughed a little bit for some odd reason. It sounded as if she had heard some funny, so Isaak inquired what made her laugh. Surely, it must've been something real funny to make even her smile a bit.
"There's a miniature antimatter reactor no more than three meters below us and you're asking why we have to do double checks on Reapers? I've never met someone as... carefree about their life before, haha..." said Elaine.
She turned around and looked at him in the eye and said, "I wonder where uncle plucked someone like you from if that's how you feel about standard safety protocol."
Isaak kept quiet and let out a bemused snort, as he realized what he'd gotten himself into.
'Ahh, fuck. I should've known. Little scamp's got me now that I can't leave.'
In any case, it was too late to back out now. Not that Elaine would've let him out of the Reaper even if he asked politely.
A large thud echoed within the cockpit, only slightly dampened by the fact that were encased in a meter-thick titanium coffin, signifying that the safety anchors which locked the Reaper in the hanger had been released.
There was no escape anymore — and without further ado, Elaine immediately kicked the Reaper into high gear, scaring the living hell out of everyone in the maintenance hanger.
A great swell of superheated air hit everyone in the hanger, the output of the four heat exhausts that kept the Reaper from melting itself — which also doubled as thrusters — leaving them running around in panic as a couple of poor fools cried for help...
Their clothes had been unfortunately set on fire by the sheer heat generated by the Reaper's exhaust thrusters.
Almost immediately, a communications channel opened up and a furious voice began yelling a string of intelligible curses and threats.
Isaak knew that voice very well; it was Williams in a state of what could only be described as pure, molten fury.
"Don't you dare think I won't throw you in isolation, young lady!! I couldn't give less of a SHIT that your father is an admiral, you hear me?!! I'll end you MYSELF next time yo—"
Elaine yawned and closed the comms channel before she said," Sorry about that. Uncle's a grouch on the surface, but he's actually a real softie at heart."
"He sounded pretty serious there," said Isaak nervously before he asked, "Are you usually this reckless? H-Heh, and to think you had the gall to say that I was being too carefree about my life..."
And as if a response to Isaak's criticism, she pushed the pedal on the Reaper even harder.
In an instant, an immense force hit Isaak like a brick wall as he struggled to properly breathe. A natural reaction to the fact that Elaine had pushed the Reaper into speeds that were obviously beyond his capabilities to withstand.
Going from 150 mph to 480 mph in the span of mere seconds put nearly 3 g's on him, causing him to experience severe tunnel vision as he struggled to endure the pressure put on his unaccustomed body.
This was to be expected of someone without any High-G training to speak of, and it was a sort of nasty rite of passage between pilots. It was a "tradition" to break in new pilots on their first day by making them taste what was termed a g-LOC — a state of G-forced induced loss of consciousness due to loss of blood flow to the brain.
Isaak couldn't even force out a complaint as his vision completely blacked out and his thoughts trailed off into the great beyond. He was done for...
"Sweet dreams, baby..." said Elaine in a sweet tone that betrayed her actions.
"Fuck... you..." were the last words that rang in his head before Isaak passed out.
Unfortunately, they would never reach their reciepent, not that she would have minded them at all.
She liked prey that put up a struggle. In fact, they were her favorite type...