[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210323/acf79bce37f49158e6da36bd35806f20.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent] [hr] [center][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/bcbc488f79c6914c6478a183f85ba5d3/tumblr_olx4vhFoRD1t06ubmo3_540.gif[/img][/center] “And that will end our brief lecture on the role of mecha preceding the Valkyrie Project.” The gray-haired general education instructor waved his hand across the holoboard, shuttering the image in front of his classroom of fifty-two students. As one of the elder members of the faculty at Taiyotawa, he had seen his share of students longer than most of his colleagues. This group, as far as he could tell, were earnest and hard-working cadets. Each cadet wore the same streamlined uniform with the only difference between them being the color of their highlighted trim: red for engineers, yellow for operators, and green for pilots. As his students collected their datapads and binders, the instructor’s eyes looked at each student as chatter filled the room as the alert for the beginning of lunch rung out on the speakers in the classroom as the clock struck 1200. “And don't forget that I want your essays on Isao Taiyōtawa in my databanks by tuesday!” The sliding doors swung open with a metallic ‘thunk’ as the sound of footsteps ushered in unison out of the room. The food at Taiyotawa was around what one could expect of a confederate university that was fully funded by the admiralty. The food wasn’t luxurious and it didn’t particularly taste good. Food dispensers compounded proteins into liquid-solids with a flavor profile attributed to it to stave off any sensitive stomach. It had been thirty planetary cycles since the school year had begun so any first years that were used to more traditional food products were no longer surprised by what they were forced to consume for good of their health and physique. Some may have whined initially, but the window for that had long since passed. Generally. The flashes of red, yellow, and green took their places in the gigantic mess hall. Among them stood two lone students bearing the color blue though they had decided to sit far from clear-view. It wasn’t super public knowledge, but it had become clear that the confederacy was preparing to run through its next generation of special pilots—those who had the ability to link together and pilot the Special ICW’s known as Valkyries. Last year Xalese Hol and Heres Konicek had been attached as a operator and a piloting track respectively. They were the first of a new generation, among others, whom had been assigned to a pool of potential Valkyrie candidates. Some of their peers had failed out of the program after a few interstellar months, others hadn’t. Earlier in the morning, their supervisor, the assistant to Dr. Donati, had told them that the new string of tests would begin and hopefully that a batch with the right compatibility could qualify to join the program. Xalese remembered how it worked for her, though she wondered how they would adjust should they all check out. Her eyes scanned the hundredfold of students in the mess hall, wondering which of the many would make the cut and how they would react to being forced to move their quarters to an entirely different part of the ship with more regulations and rules. You couldn’t quite hide a Zhenko Bar into your diet if they are checking your irregularities. [color=FDCA6F]“Do you think they are going to finally clear us for tests anytime soon?”[/color] Heres laughed, [color=539DC2]“What, are you sick of doing regular simulations?”[/color] [color=FDCA6F]“Mhm.”[/color] [color=539DC2]“I suppose once we are ready they will take us off-station and we'll see what the legends of the past went through.”[/color] [i]Legends[/i]. It was an interesting word to use in this case. Her parents were legends. Icons. But for Ese all they were was gravestones. She sighed, though she supposed her anticipation had gotten worse when a certain individual failed to make the grade and he was pushed out of the program. There were others, too. He wasn’t the only one. But she had a particular grudge against that specific fellow student. At least she was paired with Heres. The blond-haired boy was affable and charismatic. The antithesis to her. They hadn’t properly synchronized, but all of the tests since they made it into the Valkyrie Program had told them that they were perfectly in sync. Dr. Donati had told her that once they were linked in-machine that they would have part of each other in their being all the time. Idle thoughts. Shared dreams. Fragments of memories. She was still a little offset by that idea, but she supposed it was all part of being a Valkyrie. Not that she wanted that responsibility or the veneration it garnered. After all, Ese absolutely loathed the Valkyrie Project and what the admiralty did to her parents. Told them to sit in place while the hero got to save the day while they burned into plasma and ion. It was just a cruel irony that she was good at the same thing her parents had been good at and she was not one to shy away from honoring their deaths. She wasn’t a Hero of the Confederacy. She was just a girl who was good at being an operator. [color=539DC2]“All we can do is wait and see how things go.”[/color] Heres assured, [color=539DC2]“Besides, you should enjoy the time you have left as a normal student.”[/color] She raised a brow, but decided not to retort. Heres was dense, full of kindness and empathy, but dense. They and the few others who remained from last year’s induction into the Valkyrie Program were already micro-celebrities with the blue stripe on their uniforms shoulders. There were new students that she didn’t even know who knew her name. It was uncomfortable. But perhaps he was right in a way. Once they went off-station and suited up for real, her school days would be over. She drove her spoon into the semi-solid matter that was deemed her “food” and took a bite. What she couldn’t give for a Zhenko Bar right now… [/indent] [/indent][/indent]