After Leon's words, a deathly, crushing silence settled over the cave. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the occasional metallic clink of a wrench and the soft ping of a stray nut bouncing across the cold stone. Before long, even those faded away.
"All done, Chief." Tony straightened up, wiped his grease-stained fingers on his pant leg, and casually tossed the wrench back into his duffel. "Take a look."
The soldiers immediately perked up, looking around to inspect the work our techs had done. Flexible but sturdy metal tubing now ran along every uneven wall, its surface glistening with moisture. Tiny spray nozzles had been drilled into the pipes every inch, just like the sprinkler systems that watered suburban lawns. The entire improvised network converged deep inside the cave at a massive distribution manifold fitted with cylinder connectors and a control panel featuring a single oversized button.
It did not take me long to understand what I was looking at. My mind, conditioned to organize information almost instinctively, recognized the design at once. It was an oversized, crudely scaled version of our standard armor.
"Holy crap! It's exactly like our S-Armor!" Ted leaned forward, shamelessly pointing at the nearest pipe joint. The tubing running from the cylinder on his back to the armor plates was laid out the same way. "Just big enough to cover an entire cave!"
"Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Mary frowned, making no attempt to hide her irritation at his noisy enthusiasm. "We went over this during the briefing. Did you already forget?"
"You sound like you're eighty instead of twelve. Quit griping like somebody's grandma," Ted shot back without even turning toward her. He tipped his head back, staring in fascination at the web of pipes overhead. "Come on, let me enjoy the moment, okay? We're literally inside a giant robot!"
"What the hell robot are you talking about?" Leon turned slowly, his eyes narrowing with unmistakable menace. Ted's excitement vanished on the spot, and the color drained from his face. "What's this kid babbling about?"
"Colonel, let me handle this," Danny cut in quickly, stepping between the grim old war dog and the teenager shrinking into himself. "I'm actually qualified for this sort of thing."
"Then keep your rookies on a leash, Kim." Leon pinned him with a hard stare. "We've got a military operation kicking off in a few minutes, and the last thing I need is some underage idiot screwing it up because he's pretending he's in a damn robot."
"I was just making a comparison..." Ted mumbled, completely deflated under Leon's glare. "I just wanted to lighten the mood..."
"Then do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut," Leon muttered, turning away. "Otherwise the Pentagon's gonna spend the next month chewing me out for traumatizing minors."
Out of habit, he reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, but his fingers found nothing. Realizing he was out did nothing to improve his mood. His face hardened into stone.
"Anybody got smokes?" he called sharply.
"Here you go, Colonel." Without even looking, Tony tossed him an unopened pack.
Years of serving as an adjutant were on full display. A good second-in-command always knew exactly when the boss needed to blow off steam. Leon caught the pack with practiced ease, flicked his lighter, and after one deep drag, some life returned to his face. At the very least, the muscles in his jaw finally stopped twitching.
"Don't sweat it, bro." Danny casually slung an arm around Ted's shoulders, bringing his trademark optimism back into the conversation. "I got the reference. Transformers, right? Like we're building a giant mech suit out of a mountain."
"I was just trying to make everybody laugh..." Ted sniffed.
"It was funny. Your timing was just a little off, you know?" Danny said with a knowing grin. "Everybody's wound up. We've got one hell of a fight coming, and everyone's feeling it. Once we finish this contract and get back to base, we'll order a couple of family-size pepperoni pizzas and laugh about it all night."
Danny's smile was so warm and genuine that Ted's disappointment vanished almost instantly. His eyes lit up.
"Wait... You're saying I'm actually gonna eat pizza with Danny Kim?" The pure, unfiltered excitement of a devoted fan practically burst out of him.
"I know this awesome place in San Francisco, bro. They've got the best stuffed crust on the West Coast."
They bumped fists in perfect sync. Standing a short distance away, I noticed Mary rolling her eyes so hard it bordered on contempt for the entire display of teenage bonding. Honestly, I could not blame her. Talking about cheese and giant robots moments before storming a fortified alien base was questionable tactical judgment at best. Even so, I understood what Danny was doing. Traditional military discipline did not work with these kids. They needed a different approach.
"All right, back to business. We're not building robots here." Leaning against a boulder with a cigarette between his teeth, Leon sounded noticeably calmer now. "This is a tactical defensive tower. We're going to hold this perimeter, and that means we'll need every bit of available energy. Anyone who can generate a shield using your own internal reserves, take off your cylinders."
The colonel was the first to step over to Tony. With quick, practiced movements, Tony loosened the cylinder from Leon's back with a wrench while his partner immediately connected it to the main manifold. A line quickly formed along the wall, made up of the recon team and about half the assault force, everyone qualified to contribute. None of the mobilized office workers, Danny included, moved an inch.
Then, to my surprise, I noticed Mary quietly taking her place at the very end of the line. She silently unclipped the straps securing the small cylinder fitted to her slight frame.
I stepped over to her and spoke quietly enough that the rest of the platoon would not hear. "You can't generate a shield. There's no reason for you to be standing in that line."
Mary slowly turned her head and looked up at me with her trademark cold, piercing stare.
"That doesn't matter," she replied evenly. "I can protect myself with telekinesis, and I can do it far better than any standard shield. My cylinder may not hold much energy, but every last bit will help."
"Your telekinesis won't stop a high-frequency laser," I replied calmly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "Besides, you're a former cadet. Nobody expects you to sacrifice yourself. Save your energy for when you'll need it."
"But you're standing in line yourself." Mary looked me up and down with an icy stare, her voice dripping with contempt. "Hypocrite."
"I have a realistic understanding of my own abilities," I replied calmly, refusing to rise to her childish attempt to get under my skin. My pulse remained perfectly steady. "My control over raw S-Power energy is close to perfect. My internal reserves are more than enough to sustain a personal shield for an extended period without relying on external support."
"You're lying." She folded her arms across her chest. "I saw you during training back at camp. You could barely squeeze out a single plateau before you hit your limit."
"I have learned a great deal since then." Without any unnecessary flourish, I slowly raised the index finger of my right hand.
With a faint, dry crackle, an ultrathin, perfectly transparent bullet of compressed energy formed on the tip of my fingernail. It quivered almost imperceptibly, bending the light around it. It was the unmistakable signature of exquisite control, a level of precision possessed by only a select few.
"You... can do that? Like Master Smith?" Mary's eyes locked onto the glowing point. For a fleeting moment, the Ice Queen facade cracked, revealing nothing more than a stunned teenager. "How did you pull that off? In just a month?"
"A lot of practice, along with making proper use of my own abilities," I answered honestly. There was no point pretending to be some mysterious master. Straightforward facts were always more persuasive than manufactured mysticism. "So I have energy to spare. Besides, without two heavy cylinders strapped to my back, I'll be far more mobile. You, on the other hand, would be giving up your biggest advantage."
"Ross, why the hell do you even care?" She narrowed her eyes, searching for some hidden motive. "Is this because of my mom's call before we went through the portal?"
"Yes." I met her eyes without hesitation. "Megan asked me to bring you home alive. I intend to keep that promise."
"Please. Like I need another babysitter."
"I simply evaluated the situation and your strengths," I interrupted, steering the conversation toward the language she understood best: efficiency and practical results. "Your smaller cylinder won't make any meaningful difference to the defensive tower. It's a drop in the bucket. For you, though, it could mean the difference between life and death. You're slow on the ground and usually fight in the air, so the extra weight barely affects your mobility. During combat, your telekinesis already has to handle three demanding jobs at once: keeping you airborne, defending you, and attacking. If you keep your cylinder and let your armor's automatic shield take care of defense, you'll free up your concentration. You won't have to split your focus maintaining a mental barrier, and you'll be able to devote your full attention to offense. Your combat effectiveness will increase by at least fifty percent."
Mary listened without interrupting. I could practically see the gears turning as she weighed every argument. There was no fault in the logic.
"Fine, Ross." She let out a dismissive huff, stepped out of line, and tightened the straps across her chest. "I'll do it your way. But don't start getting ideas about my mom. If I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up."
I simply watched her walk away. Dragging romance into the conversation was exactly the sort of childish jab I had expected, one last attempt to get the final word. I dismissed the thought immediately. I had more important things to deal with.
By then it was my turn. The techs worked with flawless efficiency.
I sat down on the cold stone with my back to the technician, feeling the practiced movements of his wrench behind my shoulders as he loosened the clamps. The heavy metal housing settled onto the ground with a muted clank. I rolled my shoulders the instant the weight came off. It felt as though someone had stripped an iron vest from my body. Every movement became lighter, and my muscles practically begged to move.
Next, I handed over both of my S-Guns. Without cylinders on my back, they were nothing but expensive chunks of alloy that would only get in the way.
"Move it, people! Pick it up!" Leon barked as he paced along the line.
While some people surrendered their cylinders, everyone else focused on preparing the defensive positions. Moments like these made the true value of awakened soldiers impossible to ignore. If we had tried to haul in the equivalent amount of firepower using conventional explosives and engineering equipment, it would have taken an entire convoy of trucks.
The techs were already mounting heavy defensive turrets near the cave entrance, turning the damp cavern into a miniature bunker bristling with gun barrels. I felt strangely useless just sitting in the corner watching everyone work. Even Ted had found a job. With infectious enthusiasm, he coated the approaches to the cave with the sticky white substance he proudly insisted on calling plasma, creating concealed tripwire traps.
At last, the activity settled down. Every pipe joint had been tightened, and the turrets hummed quietly as they finished cycling through their diagnostics.
"Everything ready?" Leon stepped to the edge of the ledge, his sharp eyes sweeping across the jungle.
"Yes, sir!" Tony answered, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
"Good work. It'll hold for about five minutes under sustained fire." Leon ran a hand along one of the main pipes bolted to the wall, let out a slow breath, and turned to face us. There was no trace of sympathy in his eyes. "Listen up. You're the holding force. Your only job is to make as much noise as possible and draw every Loz'an soldier you can out of that fort. While you're keeping them busy, I'll take the second team around the back and, let's just say, capture their flag. Any questions?"
"No questions, sir!" the platoon answered in unison.
"One more thing." Leon paused, his eyes settling on one of the assault troopers. "Sandra, during the briefing I said you'd be in command of the defense."
"Yes, Colonel." A fit, disciplined woman with her hair pulled into a tight bun stepped forward.
"Plans changed," Leon said flatly. "Ross is in command of the defensive position now."
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. My mind froze for a split second as it processed the unexpected information.
"Colonel, permission to ask why. Why me?"
Leon flashed a wolfish grin, clearly remembering our conversation back at the base. "You were the one bragging that your brain runs faster than a Formula One car. You'll figure it out."
Before I could respond, Leon turned and disappeared into the dense green jungle with the rest of the recon team. We were on our own. Every weapon, every defensive position, twenty-five frightened but determined soldiers, and the crushing weight of responsibility now rested squarely on my shoulders.