Miss Brooks strode into Class 1B with that signature walk that made half the class sit up straighter for entirely different reasons than just respect. Her suit hugged her voluptuous frame, and her black hair was pulled back in a regulation-perfect bun that somehow made her look even more striking.
The redistributed bracelets on everyone's wrists pulsed with a soft blue light, synchronizing with the classroom's systems. Noah glanced at his, watching as mission data scrolled across its holographic display. He figured they gave these out during missions only.
"Eyes front," she commanded, though her lips held the ghost of a knowing smile. Noah caught at least three of his classmates practically snapping their necks to comply.
"I know you're all eager to prove yourselves," she began, resting one hand on the podium. "But this isn't a competition like your previous assignments." Her green eyes swept the room, holding each student's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than comfortable. "This time, I want every single one of you back. No exceptions."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush coal into diamonds. Next to Noah, Kelvin was already analyzing the data streaming to their bracelets, his fingers occasionally tapping the holographic interface to bookmark crucial information.
"The year three students you'll be partnering with will be taking a separate transport," she continued, triggering a wave of whispered relief through the classroom. "They'll rendezvous with us at Cannadah Base Alpha. Until then, you'll follow your squad leaders' directions to the letter. Am I clear?"
"Yes, ma'am!" The response was automatic, drilled into them through months of training.
'Thank god for small mercies,' Noah thought, remembering yesterday's encounter. 'At least we'll have a few hours of peace before His Royal Highness makes his grand entrance.'
"Squad leaders," Miss Brooks called out, causing Noah and others to step forward. "You're responsible for your teams until the rendezvous. Primary mission parameters are being uploaded to your bracelets now."
Noah's bracelet vibrated softly against his wrist as it received the data. Behind him, he could hear Kelvin already muttering analysis to Lila and Cora.
"Level 3 beast gear awaits you in the armory," Miss Brooks continued. "Remember your training. Remember your teams. And remember—" she paused, a rare smile crossing her features, "—that Class 1A thinks they've got this in the bag."
'Always knows exactly which buttons to push,' Noah thought, watching as the class's collective competitive spirit visibly ignited.
As they filed out into the hallway, Noah's team fell into natural formation around him. Kelvin kept swiping through the holographic displays from his bracelet, while Cora and Lila flanked them, already discussing tactical approaches.
"Six hours of radio silence after landing?" Cora muttered, reviewing her own bracelet's display. "That's new."
"Signal interference patterns," Kelvin replied without looking up. "The data suggests some kind of electromagnetic anomaly on Cannadah's surface."
"Which is exactly why we're getting Level 3 gear," Lila added, her voice low enough for just their group to hear.
The armory doors hissed open as they approached, revealing Chief Martinez, a scarred veteran who treated the equipment like his children. "Welcome to Christmas, kids," he announced, gesturing to the rows of gleaming black suits. "Level 3 tactical defense suits. Neural interface capability, enhanced strength assistance, and enough protection to keep you breathing in case something tries to eat you."
'Something tries to eat us?' Noah thought. 'Well, that's comforting.'
"These suits cost more than your entire education," Martinez continued, demonstrating the neural link connection. "They're calibrated to work with your individual abilities. The synthetic muscle layer will amplify your natural strength by roughly 300%, and the outer shell can take a beating from most class three hostiles."
As Noah's team suited up, their bracelets automatically synced with the suit systems, creating a seamless interface between their gear and their mission data.
"Beast weapons are in Bay 7," Martinez called out. "Standard loadout includes a level 3 Ravager rifle, Beast-killer sidearm, and three days of emergency rations. Squad leaders, check your bracelets for specific arsenal assignments."
Noah's bracelet pulsed again, displaying a list of specialized beast weapons tailored for each member of his team. 'At least they're giving us the good stuff this time,' he thought, noting the high-grade classifications.
"Flight deck in fifteen!" Miss Brooks's voice carried through the armory. "And someone tell Walker's squad to stop recalibrating their suits. They're perfect already."
'Here we go,' Noah thought, checking his team's formation as they headed for Bay 7. Kelvin was still absorbed in the data, but his steps were sure. Cora moved with predatory grace in her new suit, while Lila seemed to be running mental calculations behind her focused expression.
The distant rumble of the transport's engines vibrated through the floor, a steady rhythm that seemed to match the growing anticipation in his chest. Or maybe that was just the suit's enhanced sensory feedback. Either way, there was no turning back now.
"Ready?" he asked his team, knowing the answer before they gave it.
"Born ready," Cora replied with a grin.
"Data analysis complete," Kelvin added, finally looking up from his bracelet's display.
"Let's show them what we can do," Lila finished, her voice carrying that quiet confidence that had gotten them through countless situations before.
'Maybe,' Noah thought as they approached Bay 7, 'we actually have a shot at this.'
----
Bay 7 hummed with organized chaos as squad leaders guided their teams through beast weapon integration. The arsenal room's walls pulsed with a faint crimson glow from hundreds of beast cores, each waiting to be matched with their designated weapons.
"Cross-reference your bracelet's weapon designation before integration," Chief Martinez called out over the controlled commotion. "These aren't your training cores, kids. One misalignment and you'll be holding a very expensive paperweight."
Noah watched as his team approached their assigned station. Kelvin's eyes lit up at the sight of their loadout – four B-Class Ravager rifles, their crystalline chambers empty and waiting for their cores.
"Mark-7 integration ports," Kelvin whispered reverently, running his fingers along the rifle's spine. "They've upgraded the neural feedback systems. The response time on these must be insane."
Cora rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her own excitement as she picked up her designated beast core. The crimson crystal pulsed in sync with her heartbeat, responding to her touch. "Less drooling, more integrating, tech boy."
The integration process was methodical. Noah inserted his core first, watching as threads of energy snaked through the weapon's crystalline veins, turning the rifle from a dead weight into a living extension of his will. The HUD in his suit immediately synced with the weapon's systems, displaying power levels and targeting data.
"Clear the arsenal and proceed to Landing Bay East!" Martinez's voice boomed. "Transport assignments are uploading to your bracelets now."
The moment they stepped into the landing bay, Kelvin let out an actual squeak of delight. Noah couldn't blame him. The Greta 69 dominated the center of the bay, her sleek hull gleaming under the harsh lights like liquid mercury. Unlike the utilitarian transports flanking her, the Greta was all predatory grace – a perfect fusion of form and function.
"Is that... is that a Quantum Displacement Drive?" Kelvin's voice cracked with excitement as he pointed to the ship's aft section. "Those aren't even supposed to be in production yet! And look at those atmospheric stabilizers – they've got to be at least seventh generation. The thrust-to-weight ratio alone must be—"
"Breathe, Kelvin," Lila interrupted, though she was smiling at his enthusiasm. "You can propose to the ship later."