Leo stared at the sleek, translucent envelope in his trembling hand. His apartment was dim, the only light coming from the warm, amber glow of the city's skyline outside his window. Terranova was a marvel of engineering, a sprawling jewel of the United Colonial Systems. Flying transports zipped between towering skyscrapers, their trails glimmering like comet tails against the evening sky. It was a sight that used to fill him with awe. Now, it just seemed so far away.

The letter's UCSM insignia gleamed in the light, the golden eagle with crossed swords behind it. The most elite force humanity had ever known. Legends were born under that banner, but not people like him. Not a man bound to a wheelchair, whose body had betrayed him in the aftermath of a drunk driver's mistake, ironic considering people don't do much driving these days.

He ran his thumb over the seal and hesitated. Was it a mistake? A cruel joke? He hadn't applied for anything in months, let alone a military program. But his name and ID were printed clearly on the envelope.

[Leo Trask. Application accepted.]

"Compatible..." he murmured, his eyes scanning the details.

There it was: Neuro-Pilot Compatibility - 1%. A one-in-a-hundred shot. His mind raced. He'd read about this program before, about the neural integration technology that allowed pilots to control mechs as if they were extensions of their own bodies. A dream for anyone—an impossible fantasy for someone like him.

His heart pounded. Desperation flared like a spark in his chest. "Max," he said aloud, fumbling for his communicator.

The holographic display flickered to life, projecting the face of his best friend, Max, a wiry man with unruly hair and a perpetual smirk. "What's up, Leo? You finally decide to call me for a drinking buddy—oh, wait." Max's teasing tone softened when he noticed Leo's expression. "What happened?"

"I need you to take me somewhere," Leo said, his voice shaking. He held up the letter. "To the recruitment centre. I've been… I've been accepted."

Max squinted. "What? Accepted for what? Dude, are you—"

"The UCSM pilot program," Leo interrupted. "They say I'm compatible."

For a moment, Max was silent. Then he barked a laugh. "Yeah, okay, and I'm the president of Terranova. Leo, come on. That's got to be a scam. There's no way—"

"Max." Leo's voice was sharp now, his eyes burning with something Max hadn't seen in years. "It's real. Just get over here."

Max came fast enough, he kept telling Leo it has got to be a scam, but Leo held on to his application, a lifeline for him to maybe be something more than cripple, and so they left.

The recruitment centre loomed like a fortress of glass and steel, its walls reflecting the bright, bustling streets of Terranova. Uniformed personnel and eager recruits streamed in and out, their chatter a mix of excitement and nerves. Max pushed Leo's wheelchair up the ramp leading to the main entrance, grumbling under his breath.

"This has got to be the craziest thing you've ever dragged me into," Max said, steering Leo around a group of fresh-faced recruits. "And that includes the time you tried to pilot a hoverboard while blackout drunk."

Leo didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the massive UCSM emblem engraved above the entrance—a golden eagle with crossed swords behind it. For a fleeting moment, the weight of his own body disappeared, replaced by the faintest glimmer of hope.

 Inside, the centre buzzed with activity. Holographic displays projected images of towering mechs in action—engines roaring, plasma cannons blazing, and their pilots standing victorious. The sight sent a shiver through Leo's spine. He couldn't help but wonder if any of those pilots had started out as hopeless as he felt.

 A stern voice cut through the noise. "Next group, line up!"

 A recruiting officer in a crisp navy-blue uniform stood near a registration desk, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd. The group ahead of Leo moved forward, leaving a space in the line. Max wheeled him up, drawing the officer's attention.

 The officer's eyes narrowed when they landed on Leo. "What's this?" he barked, stepping closer. "Is this a joke? The UCSM doesn't have time for pranks."

 Leo raised his head, his voice steady despite the sweat beading on his brow. "I got the letter. I'm compatible." He held up the envelope, the UCSM seal gleaming under the harsh lights.

 The officer snatched the letter and scanned it, his frown deepening. "Neuro-Pilot Compatibility… One percent," he muttered before glaring at Leo. "This must be a mistake. We need soldiers who can stand, fight, and endure, not—" He gestured at Leo's wheelchair dismissively.

 "Not what?" Leo shot back, his voice rising. "Not a cripple? Is that what you're trying to say?"

 "Enough!" A sharp, commanding voice interrupted.

 A woman in a lab coat stepped forward. Her auburn hair was tied back, and a pair of sleek AR glasses perched on her nose. She glanced at Leo, then at the officer. "Sergeant, that's enough."

 The officer snapped to attention. "Dr. Cortana. With all due respect, this—"

 "Is exactly why I'm here," Cortana interrupted, her tone icy. She turned to Leo, her eyes calculating. "Leo Trask, correct? Neuro-Pilot compatibility is rare enough, but to see it in someone with your... circumstances? Fascinating."

 Leo's lips twitched. "Fascinating enough to let me try?"

 Her smile was thin, but not unkind. "We'll see. Follow me." She gestured toward a side door. "You'll need to undergo further evaluation."The sergeant looked like he wanted to argue but held his tongue. Max, still holding the wheelchair, leaned in and whispered, "Guess the mad scientist likes you."

 Leo smirked. "I'll take what I can get."

 As Cortana led them deeper into the facility, Leo felt the spark of hope reignite. For the first time in years, he wasn't just being seen for his limitations. He was being seen for his potential.

As the door slid shut behind them, Cortana led Leo and Max into a sterile room filled with sleek, humming equipment. A large holographic display dominated the wall, showing a 3D schematic of a UCSM mech. Its massive frame bristled with weaponry and thrusters, the neural control nodes glowing faintly in key areas.

Cortana stopped in front of the display and turned to Leo, her AR glasses catching the light. "Before we proceed, I need you to understand something, Mr. Trask. Your acceptance into this program was no mere coincidence."

Leo frowned. "What do you mean? The letter said I was compatible—"

"True," she interrupted, "but compatibility alone doesn't make you unique. There are others in that one percent—more able-bodied candidates. You, however..." She gestured toward his wheelchair. "You represent an anomaly. An opportunity."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Opportunity? He's paralyzed. How is that supposed to help him in this program?"

Cortana clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing. "Piloting a mech is unlike anything else. The neural interface connects the pilot's mind directly to the machine, making it an extension of their body. But here's the problem: the human brain is already overloaded with keeping the body functional. Hundreds of muscles, organs, systems—all managed subconsciously. That consumes a significant portion of the brain's capacity."

Leo tilted his head. "And that's why two pilots are used?"

"Exactly," she confirmed, nodding. "The neural load is split between two pilots to avoid catastrophic brain damage. Even with training, no single human mind can handle the complexity of operating a UCSM mech alone—at least, not with a fully functional body."

The room fell silent as her words hung in the air. Then Leo's eyes widened. "But I... I don't have that problem."

Cortana's lips curled into a faint smile. "Precisely. Your paralysis means your brain isn't expending resources to control your body. If we were to... fully sever the connection between your mind and the rest of your body, theoretically, your brain would have the capacity to handle the mech's neural load on its own."

"huh?....."