The abandoned high school gym echoed with the impact of Marcus hitting the training mats. Again. His head throbbed with the familiar pressure of overused precognition, each flash of future sight now coming through a haze of exhaustion. Maya stood over him, practice knife still poised from the takedown.
"That's eight times in the last hour your power's failed," she said, offering a hand up. "You're pushing too hard."
Marcus accepted the help, his enhanced tactical awareness noting how the rest of the team watched from their positions around the gymnasium. Three days since the CDC incident, and they'd converted this closed school into a temporary training facility. Sarah and Morgan worked in the converted chemistry lab, studying the contained samples. Doc had transformed the nurse's office into a medical bay. Bobby kept their security perimeter, his parkour skills making the school's rooftop his second home.
"Need to understand the limits," Marcus replied, rolling his shoulder. "In real combat, we won't have the luxury of rest periods."
"In real combat, you won't have spent three hours deliberately burning out your abilities." Maya's tone held the unique mix of respect and exasperation he'd come to rely on. "Talk me through what happened with that last sequence."
Marcus centered himself, letting his enhanced tactical memory replay the encounter. "Precog triggered at initial contact. Saw the knife coming high right. Countered, but then—" He frowned. "Second vision hit immediately after. Different angle of attack. Power couldn't process both in time."
"Overlapping predictions," Sarah called from her observation position, tablet in hand. "Your brain's trying to process multiple potential futures simultaneously. Like running too many programs on a computer."
"Not a computer," Marcus growled, but she had a point. Each prediction felt like it was carving new neural pathways, burning through mental energy faster than his worst days in BUD/S training.
"No, you're not," Doc agreed, approaching with his medical kit. "You're a human being redlining his central nervous system. Pupils dilated, blood pressure elevated, stress indicators off the chart. Time for a break."
"Can't take breaks when—"
"When the outbreak hits? When Cross's team makes their move?" Maya stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You're not just training yourself, Marcus. You're training us to work with your abilities. And right now, you're teaching us that our team leader won't acknowledge his own limits."
The truth hit harder than any takedown. Marcus surveyed his team through tactical eyes that saw more than just positions and capabilities. Bobby trying to hide his concern behind a casual lean. Sarah's clinical worry as she reviewed his biometric data. Doc's quiet determination to keep his people healthy, regardless of their own stubbornness.
"Two-hour rest period," Marcus conceded. "Then we test the tactical memory enhancement. See if it's affected by precog burnout."
"Four hours," Doc countered. "And you let me run a full cognitive baseline."
"Three hours. And I want the whole team running scenarios while I recover. Maya's in charge of hand-to-hand drills."
"Deal." Maya turned to the others, automatically shifting into instructor mode. "Bobby, you're up first. Let's see if those parkour moves translate to close quarters combat."
As the team paired off for training, Marcus settled onto a bench, letting Doc check his vitals. His enhanced awareness caught every detail of the scene: Bobby's fluid movement as he dodged Maya's strikes, Sarah comparing notes with Morgan on his power usage patterns, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the gymnasium's high windows.
"Your resting heart rate's still elevated," Doc murmured, checking his pupils. "And these pressure headaches concern me. We need to establish better baseline data for your abilities."
"Cross won't have these limitations," Marcus said quietly. "Whatever version of powers he got, he'll push them to the limit."
"Cross isn't trying to build a team." Doc's voice held the calm certainty that had steadied countless soldiers under his care. "He's building a weapon. You're building a family."
Marcus watched Maya patiently correct Bobby's stance, saw Sarah and Morgan deep in discussion over their research, noted the way every team member maintained tactical awareness even during routine tasks. Doc was right. They were becoming more than just a response team.
"Three hours," he agreed finally. "But I want all our data compiled. Power usage logs, physical effects, tactical applications. If we're going to survive what's coming, we need to understand every advantage and limitation."
"Already on it." Doc handed him a bottled water and two pills. "Standard anti-inflammatory. Doctor's orders."
The medication went down easily, chased by half the water bottle. Marcus closed his eyes, letting his enhanced tactical memory process everything they'd learned about his abilities so far. The precognition was flashiest, but it was the tactical enhancements that might make the real difference. Understanding terrain, predicting normal human movements, processing combat scenarios – all faster and clearer than even his SEAL training had provided.
"Hey." Maya's voice cut through his thoughts. "Stop analyzing and start resting. We've got watch."
Marcus nodded, feeling the familiar weight of command balanced by the newer weight of trust. They had three months to prepare for the end of the world. Every hour of training, every limit discovered, every team bond forged – it all mattered.
He let himself drift, surrounded by the sounds of his team training, protecting, preparing. The headache began to ease, but the pressure of time remained constant. Sleep now, train later, save the world soon.
Just another day in the life of a time-traveling SEAL.