“No access?” Hadish Barnes asked, apparently not comprehending. “He attends a private preparatory school. Surely his family can afford to see him properly instructed?”
“Reidon Ward has no family. He was abandoned by his parents before they even granted him their last name, and became a dependent of the state until he emancipated himself from the ISC at age fifteen. Hence his surname. He attends Grandcrest Preparatory Institute partially through well-earned scholarships, and partially through his own income working part-time as a custodial staff at the school.” Valera’s gaze fell on Sarah Takeshi again. “What was the other part of your theory, captain? Adequate training time?” Another eye command, and the projection changed to an outline of a student’s weekly schedule, a small portion in each day’s late afternoon highlighted in red. “Reidon Ward has barely two hours a day to train following classes before his cleaning shifts start five days out of each week. Even that time he carved out for himself by quitting the Grandcrest combat team, where he has been an active participant for the last two years despite measuring at more than five inches shorter and thirty-five pounds lighter than the average fighter. Including the female combatants.”
More muttering, now, with even the colonel leaning over as Maddison Kosh approached to show him something she’d pulled up on her tablet.
Perfect timing, Valera thought, catching the woman’s eyes subtly and giving her the smallest of winks.
She would have to thank her later for her tactfulness.
“His family,” Guest rumbled over the conversations, still reading off his assistant’s pad. “Ward’s birth records list only ‘medical abandonment’ as the cause for their relinquishing him to the state. Do you have an explanation?”
Valera nodded, a little of her excitement ebbing. She was confident in her argument, but it didn’t make the subject any easier. “Reidon Ward was diagnosed at birth with a condition called ‘fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva’. It is an exceedingly rare genetic disorder that steadily replaces his skeletal tissues—muscles, tendons, ligaments—with bone.” She frowned. “The disease has no pharmaceutical solution—it’s not common enough to warrant one, even in an age of 250 billion humans—and I can only imagine his parents were unwilling to take on the toll such a disorder would place on them, either financially or emotionally, or both.”
“So he’s crippled?” Reese demanded angrily, staring at Valera through the projection like he couldn’t believe his ears. “You asking us to take on a crippled boy into one of the most prestigious military programs in the ISC?”
“He’s anything but.” Valera found herself having a hard time keeping the distaste out of her voice as she snapped back, the synthetic skin stretching uncomfortably along her jaw again when she sneered at the man. “There may be no medicine for Cadet Ward’s condition, but there is treatment.”
“Surgery.”
It was Lieutenant Colonel Mayd who interrupted the threat of an argument. He had removed his glasses, and was reading large-printed script off the frame of his NOED.
“The only current treatment for fibrodysplasia is extensive and frequent surgery,” the old man explained, summarizing whatever medical source he was scanning through. “Typically minor, but invasive in severe cases, or if growth isn’t caught early enough in the process. They remove the excess bone, stimulating replacement tissue, and do so over and over and over.” It was the chief medical officer’s turn to frown, and his NOED winked out. “Captain Dent, pull up Cadet Ward’s body scan again, if you would.”
Valera did as instructed, and a moment later Reidon Ward’s mostly-naked form was rotating before them once more.
Mayd replaced his glasses, squinting at the projection. “Now focus in on his arm, please.”
“Which one, sir?”
“Either. It makes no difference.”
Valera complied, deliberately zooming in around Ward’s left elbow, thinking she knew what the doctor was after.
There were more than a couple of gasps from the other committee members, then.
Harder to see in the glow of the hologram when the figure had been half-sized, the markings that carved an ugly pattern into Reidon Ward’s skin were suddenly brought into keen relief. Even Valera—who hadn’t examined the boy’s body in this detail—felt her stomach clench when the image rotated to show the longer scar along the back of the Cadet’s elbow. Involuntarily she lifted a hand to her cheek, fingers tracing the visible line of her full-frame prosthetic jaw. Realizing her slip, she forced herself to cross her arms again.
She had no desire to recall a time when the agony had nearly driven her mad.
“Reidon Ward has had more than 165 surgeries over the course of his life.” Willem Mayd spoke for her, fortunately. “Some twenty of those have been invasive, hence his larger scars.” The chief medical officer waved at the projection, indicating the line behind Ward’s elbow. “Otherwise, he is seen almost every month for minor laser removal and tissue regrowth.” He paused, eyebrows pinching together in consternation. “This child has likely lived in constant pain his entire life…”
“And despite that, he has risen above every obstacle, every unlikely scenario.” Valera was finally able to speak again, looking to the colonel, now. “He’s been through hell—a hell so profound it turned his damn hair white—and he survived, then got himself into a preparatory school on the planet of the military academy he wanted to attend. He paid his own way through for four years, made the combat team in his third after failing to do so in his first and second, and is set to graduate with top marks, not unlike the astounding written score of his Assignment Exam. Now, not only has he been appointed an actual Device, but he is applying the only advantage he has—an S-Rank Growth spec—as best he can to get as strong as he can as fast as he can.” She set her face. “Colonel… If we let this boy go, I swear on my name that the Galens Institute will regret it…”
Rama Guest said nothing, contemplating her words as he watched the damaged arm of Reidon Ward turn slowly over the center of his table.
“What about the scars…?”
It was, strangely, Maddison Kent who asked the question, and when Valera looked at her the woman was staring at the projected limb with a painful sadness that hollowed out her dark eyes.
It made Valera’s heart ache to witness.
“The ISC covers the cost of surgery for debilitating or life-threatening illnesses,” she said quietly. “It does not, however, shoulder the responsibility for ectodermal restoration, deeming it an ‘elective’ intervention.”
“The Collective will not pay for them to be removed, and he has likely never been able to afford the procedures himself,” Colonel Guest translated heavily.
The quiet that took hold of the room then carried a different weight than any previous moment.
Until, that is, Dyrk Reese decided to break it.
“Reidon Ward’s condition is truly terrible,” he said, sounding genuinely subdued, “but if anything it is all the more reason why Galens is not a good fit for him. Aside from the irresponsibility I would feel participating in putting a deteriorating body through the rigor of CAD-training—even our initial parameter testing is demanding—we need also consider the toll of taking on the surgeries and care Cadet Ward would require. It cannot seem reasonable to everyone at this table that we expect Lieutenant Colonel Mayd and his team to assume responsibility for that level of—”
“I thank you for your concern, major, but you needn’t bother yourself on my count.”
Willem Mayd’s wheeze cut across Reese smoothly. The chief medical officer was on his pad again, reading even as he spoke. “Cadet Ward’s diagnosis is typically secondary to a genetic mutation. A malformation in the ACVR1 gene, to be specific. Now that he has been assigned a CAD, his Device will have already started making adjustment to that code.” The lieutenant colonel’s eyes stopped moving as he focused on something separate from their conversation. “By my estimation, Reidon Ward is li
kely to be symptomless by the beginning of the next calendar year, and completely disease free soon after that. If the Device’s genetic correction can additionally reverse any ossification already in progress, it is quite possible the Cadet will never need another surgery related to his fibrodysplasia again.”
It was at that point, apparently, that Dyrk Reese seemed to realize that he was going to lose this battle. He started to look around, his desperation only subtly apparent as he sought support from the others seated about the table, but even Sarah Takeshi didn’t meet his gaze despite her earlier reservations.
“But Galens has never accepted an individual below a D0 Rank,” the man said with a touch of anger as his looming defeat began to weigh on him. “To change that now—”
“To change that now would be to adapt to a situation of greater potential than merely judging a possible student on their starting specifications,” Valera interrupted him. “I asked you before to remember that this Institute’s goal has always been to provide the military with the best Users it can develop, doing so by focusing its energy on only those it believes have an extraordinary ability to achieve greatness in the world of CAD-combat and military potential. I’m not asking you to change that mentality in the least. I’m not asking you to abandon your ideals or your methods. On the contrary, all I’m asking is that you expand your concept of ‘extraordinary’.” She looked around, meeting Rama Guest’s even gaze. “I’m challenging you to consider something outside the norm.”
The colonel took in her words for a long moment, contemplating them without breaking eye contact. After what seemed like an eternity he sat back in his chair with a sigh, entwining his fingers on the desk before him before holding his tongue a few seconds longer.
Finally, when he spoke, Valera felt her heart leap.
“All in favor of acceptance, please show by a vote of hands.”
As arms began to lift around the table, one after the other, Valera closed her NOED and joined with enthusiasm. The script across the frame winked out, hiding the final push she’d been ready to give, but hadn’t been forced to use.
CAD-Assignment Exam - Test 3 Interview Results:
Institutional Recruitment Recommendation Level:
TOP PRIORITY
CHAPTER 9
LateMay - One Week Later
Astra System – Astra-3 – Sector 6
“When it comes to the best of the best, there always seems to be a story behind them, a tale of need, desire, or both that pushes those Users to a level beyond those of us lacking such a driver. You see it across the centuries, from old favorites like the Gatecrasher to newer celebrities like the Lasher, or Aria of Flames. Even Stormweaver. It’s a strange thing to contemplate, honestly. There’s jealousy. Jealousy at the fact that there are fighters out there who have something that pushes them in a way I lack.
At the same time, though… I can’t imagine what life must have been like for them—what struggles they each must have gone through in their own way—to need to outrun their old lives with such absolute desperation…”
- Razielle “Monster” Arroh
Post-Match Interview, c. 2480
Rei’s NOED flashed red, and he brought Shido up to shield the right side of his head just as his simulated opponent sent an arching kick at his temple. The CAD offered little additional protection given it wasn’t more yet than a flashy steel plate with a grip, but the minimal reactive shielding provided by its new F2 Defense helped stabilize his closed fist as he accepted the blow. His arm strained under the impact, but held, the minor improvement to his Strength spec Rei had managed to pull out of the Device over the last two weeks working wonders. Taking the opening his block offered, he punched at his opponent’s face, but the figure—a pre-rendering of a generic male in a plain combat uniform—ducked under the strike. Immediately it responded, driving its own fist into Rei’s gut, the physical projection landing with the same simulated impact the phantom-call of a CAD was supposed to feel like. Rei very much experienced the hit, and he grit his teeth against the blooming mix of real and imitated pain.
A warning line appeared in the top corner of his neuro-optic, read out loud for him by the training simulation.
Organ damage registered.
Internal bleeding in process.
Applying appropriate physiological restrictions.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rei grumbled, ignoring the notification even as he felt the projection bind him, slowing down his movements and limiting his abdominal flexibility. His opponent, meanwhile, had retreated a safe ways away, bouncing on its toes as it eyed Rei’s “wounded” torso, then the rest of his body, looking for openings.
Thus far, of all the simulations the ISCM granted new cadets access to, these mixed martial arts trainings had felt the most realistic.
Another flash of red, and Rei dodged back in time to avoid a front kick to the chest, chased by a punch at his face. He caught and redirected the fist that had been aiming for his nose, just managing to snag hold of the projection’s bare wrist with one hand, twisting it and bringing his elbow down on the extended back of his opponent’s. The blow hit with a heavy crunch, and Rei knew with a thrill he’d done good damage, but refused to allow himself to be distracted just as he finally had the advantage. Keeping a hold of the wrist, he wrenched on it, trying to get the projection’s whole injured arm behind its back to pin it. The figure, though, flipped with the twist, landing on its feet again, and Rei was suddenly on the receiving end of a cutting chop at his exposed neck. He dropped the arm in time to dodge, then lunged forward again, bringing Shido up for a heavy blow.
For another minute the pair of them battled it out like this. Rei had indeed “broken” his opponent’s elbow, so between that and the pain and restriction of his own simulated internal injuries, they found themselves fairly evenly matched again. Ducking and darting about became steadily harder as time passed, Rei’s F1 Endurance Rank little more than theoretically better than that of the average person’s. Blows came weaker, kicks slower, until the pair of them were pulling apart more and more often to catch their respective breaths, him realistically, his opponent only well-simulated. They would collide again, though, over and over, until finally the projection overextended, its pseudo-exhaustion causing a slip in focus, resulting in a too-heavy swing at Rei’s head. Rei ducked under the blow, then brought Shido up into the underside of the opened shoulder, dislocating it instantly. Seeing his victory at hand, Rei didn’t stop, taking the figure about the torso with a looped arm and sweeping the back of its legs out from under it with his own. His opponent fell heavily, hitting the ground with a thud, and Rei followed it down with a driving punch from his CAD that caught the simulation full in the face.
“Fatal Damage Accrued,” the training program announced in the smooth mechanical voice of an Arena. “Winner: Reidon Ward.”
Rei let himself fall back to sit with his arms extended behind him, holding him up as he gasped in an attempt to catch his breath. The program hadn’t rendered any sort of environment—only his opponent and the notifications of damage—so he sat there gulping on the same sweaty combat mat he’d just actually fought on as the physical hologram of the still man glitched and disappeared. He waited, hoping against hope, his chest heaving. That opponent had been the strongest martial art’s simulation he’d managed to bring down thus far, and it had taken him more than a dozen attempts over the last three days to do so.
He was rewarded a moment later as his NOED flared to life of its own accord.
...
Processing combat information.
...
Calculating.
…
Results:
Strength: Adequate
Endurance: Lacking
Speed: Adequate
Cognition: Adequate
Offense: Adequate
Defense: Lacking
Growth: Not Applicable
…
Checking combat data acqui
sition.
…
Adequate data acquirement met.
Device initiating adjustments to:
Endurance.
…
Adjustment complete.
Endurance has been upgraded from Rank F1 to F2.
“Yyyyes!” Rei exclaimed, punching Shido into the air in victory as the notification blink out of his vision. F2 in Endurance wasn’t any great leap overall, but it was the last of his specs to have been left stubbornly clinging to its F1 Rank after two weeks of training in the simulations every spare second he could grab out of the day. Grinning, Rei focused on his CAD and made a Specifications Request, the data pulling up at once as the application was acknowledged.
Combat Assistance Device: Shido. User identification… Accepted.
Type: A-TYPE
Rank: E1
…
User Attributes:
- Strength: F2
- Endurance: F2
- Speed: F4
- Cognition: F3
…
CAD Specifications:
- Offense: F2
- Defense: F2
- Growth: S
Finally feeling himself start to catch his breath, Rei dismissed the request with a blink, falling back onto the mat to smile at the ceiling. “Recall,” he told the air, and he felt Shido shift away from his right hand to return to his wrist.
Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1) Page 11