D-50s Part 2

The drones swarmed closer; their targeting systems locked onto the struggling squad. Lucas's D-50 flickered in and out of stealth mode, the camouflage systems stuttering like a faulty light. He dove behind a crumbling wall, his unit's movements lacking their usual fluid grace.

"Formation Delta!" he called out, trying to maintain some semblance of their training protocols. "Jules, lay down covering fire! Celine, see if you can—"

“Formation Delta!” Lucas shouted, clinging to the familiar structure of their training. “Jules, cover fire! Celine, I need you to—"

A volley of laser fire slashed across his line of sight, cutting him off. He ducked instinctively, his heart hammering as Jules’s railgun let out a disturbing, high-pitched whine. When it finally discharged, the weapon’s recoil spiraled out of control, the shot veering dangerously close to Theo’s cover position.

"Sorry!" Jules called out, fighting to stabilize his unit. "The recoil compensation is completely off!"

Matthieu's voice crackled through the comm system, distorted by static. "These readings don't make sense. The neural sync is degrading across all units. It's like... like they're rejecting us somehow."

“The readings are all over the place. Neural sync is breaking down across every unit—it’s like they’re… rejecting us.”

Lucas’s pulse quickened. He could feel it—the familiar ease with his D-50 was slipping away. Every move took focus now, each command felt sluggish, as though the machine was resisting his control. It wasn’t just malfunctions; it was like wrestling against the machine itself.

Ariane attempted to advance, her unit's energy blades humming to life, but the electro-field meant to protect her flickered and died. A drone's laser caught her unit's shoulder, leaving a scorched groove in the armor. "We're exposed out here!" she shouted, retreating to cover. "The defensive systems are failing!"

The squad’s formation unraveled further. Theo activated his smoke screen, only for the system to sputter, releasing erratic plumes that provided no real cover. “I can’t control the density!” he shouted, frustration heavy in his tone. “It’s all or nothing!”

Lucas watched in growing dismay as their carefully practiced maneuvers fell apart. The drones, sensing their vulnerability, pressed their advantage. Their attacks became more coordinated, more precise, while the squad's responses grew increasingly chaotic.

"We need to adapt!" Lucas called out, trying to rally his team. "Forget the standard protocols. Use whatever works!"

But even as he gave the order, he knew it wouldn't be enough. The neural interfaces that had made their D-50s feel like natural extensions of themselves were now working against them. Every action was delayed, every response dulled. It was like trying to run through deep water while wearing heavy boots.

Celine activated her nano-camouflage, aiming to slip behind the drones—but halfway there, the system stuttered, exposing her mid-movement. “Under heavy fire!” Her voice came through tight with panic. “My stealth’s failing!”

Jules tried to provide cover, but his railgun was becoming more unstable with each shot. The massive weapon's power regulators were fluctuating wildly, causing it to either overcharge or underpower each round. "This thing's going to tear itself apart if I keep firing!"

The mission objective—a supposedly routine exercise in drone hub neutralization—seemed increasingly impossible. The drones moved with perfect precision while the squad struggled just to maintain basic functionality. The contrast was stark and unsettling.

Matthieu's voice cut through the chaos, an edge of revelation in his tone. "Lucas, these performance issues... they're too systematic to be random malfunctions. It's almost like—"

His observation was cut short as a concentrated burst of laser fire forced him to dodge, his unit's movements jerky and uncoordinated. The distortion field that should have made him nearly invisible was instead creating a strobing effect that made him an easier target.

Lucas tried to process Matthieu's incomplete thought while maneuvering his failing unit. The stealth systems were now more liability than asset, creating unpredictable patterns that disrupted his spatial awareness. Each time he tried to sync with the neural interface, he felt increasing resistance, as if the machine itself was pushing back against his commands.

"Fall back!" he finally ordered, recognizing the futility of their position. "Defensive retreat, pattern Omega!"

But even this basic maneuver proved challenging. As the squad attempted to withdraw in formation, their units' movements became even more erratic. Theo's leg hydraulics seized up mid-stride, causing him to stumble. Ariane's electro-field burst into life unexpectedly, temporarily blinding Jules and disrupting his covering fire.

The drones pressed their advantage, their attacks becoming more aggressive. Laser fire filled the air, forcing the squad to abandon any pretense of coordination and simply focus on survival. The practiced grace of their earlier training sessions was completely gone, replaced by desperate, individual struggles to maintain basic functionality.

Lucas watched in horror as his team's cohesion completely dissolved. Celine was pinned down behind a barrier, her unit's systems cycling randomly through camouflage patterns. Jules's railgun finally overloaded, venting plasma in a dangerous surge that forced him to shut down the weapon entirely. Theo's smoke deployments were creating more problems for the squad than for the drones, and Ariane's close-combat systems were too unreliable to risk engaging.

"This is impossible," Matthieu muttered over the comm, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and dawning comprehension. "Everything's wrong, but it's wrong in exactly the same way across all units. The probability of that happening naturally is—"

Another wave of drones cut off his analysis, their coordinated attack forcing the squad further apart. Lucas tried to rally his team, but the neural interface was now so unstable that even basic commands were difficult to execute. His unit's responses were becoming increasingly unpredictable, making each movement a dangerous gamble.

"Emergency protocols!" he finally called out, recognizing the inevitable. "Shut down all non-essential systems and—"

The order came too late. A synchronized drone attack caught them in a crossfire, overwhelming their degraded defenses. Warning alerts blared through their cockpits as system after system failed. Lucas watched helplessly as his squadmates' units shut down one by one, their machines freezing in place as emergency protocols activated.

His own unit was the last to fall, the stealth systems failing completely as the neural interface crashed. The last thing he saw before his cockpit went dark was the drone formation hovering above them, their perfect coordination a stark contrast to the squad's chaotic failure.

Silence fell over the training ground, broken only by the soft hum of the victorious drones and the cooling sounds of damaged D-50 units. Lucas sat in his darkened cockpit, breathing heavily, trying to process what had just happened. They had trained for months, achieved perfect sync scores, executed flawless maneuvers in previous exercises. How had everything fallen apart so completely?

The squad's extraction was swift and efficient, carried out by maintenance crews who appeared almost immediately after the exercise ended. As they were helped from their failed units, Lucas caught glimpses of his teammates' faces—all showing the same mix of confusion, frustration, and something deeper. Something that looked almost like suspicion.

Lieutenant Caron was waiting for them in the debriefing room, her expression unreadable. "Well," she said as they filed in, still dressed in their pilot suits, "that was certainly an interesting performance."

Lucas couldn't help but notice how her usual warmth seemed slightly different now—still present, but somehow more calculated. He glanced at Matthieu, who was scribbling furiously in his notebook again, his face intense with concentration.

"What happened out there?" Jules demanded, his confident demeanor shaken. "Those units were perfect in training yesterday. How could they all malfunction at exactly the same time?"

Caron's smile remained steady, but her eyes seemed to sharpen slightly. "Sometimes failure teaches us more than success," she said smoothly. "We'll analyze the technical data and make any necessary adjustments. For now, focus on rest and recovery. Tomorrow is another day."

As they filed out of the debriefing room, Lucas felt a light touch on his arm. Matthieu held him back slightly, letting the others move ahead. "Lucas," he whispered, his voice tinged with frustration, "I can't figure out what went wrong with the neural interfaces. The diagnostic readings were all over the place."

Before Lucas could respond, Lieutenant Caron appeared beside them, her warm smile offering reassurance. "Is everything alright, recruits?"

"Yes, ma'am," they responded in unison. "Just discussing the technical issues," Matthieu added, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't be too hard on yourselves," Caron said, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "The D-50s are complex machines, and mastering them takes time. Even the best pilots had their struggles at first."

As they headed toward their quarters, Lucas couldn't shake the disappointment of their failure. They had trained so hard, achieved such promising results in the simulations, only to fall apart when it mattered. His grandmother's words from before his conscription echoed in his mind—her pride in knowing he would serve, just like his father had.

That night, as he lay in his bunk listening to the ever-present hum of Le Bastion's systems, Lucas found himself reviewing every moment of the failed exercise. The perfect coordination of the drones, the catastrophic failures of their units, the way everything had spiraled out of control—there had to be something they could learn from it, some way to improve.

From somewhere in the darkness, he heard the soft scratch of Matthieu's pen against paper. The engineer in him was probably documenting every technical malfunction, every system failure, determined to understand and overcome. The sound was oddly comforting—a reminder that they were all working to be better, to be worthy of the trust placed in them.

"You still awake?" Matthieu's whisper carried across the darkened room.

"Yeah," Lucas replied softly. "Can't stop thinking about today."

"Me neither. I've been going over the diagnostic data. The neural sync degradation followed a strange pattern—I'm trying to map it out, see if we can prevent it next time."

Jules's voice joined the conversation from his bunk. "We'll do better tomorrow. Lieutenant Caron said the first few weeks are always the hardest. We just need to keep pushing."

"She's right," Ariane added, surprising them with her wakefulness. "My sister went through this too. Said her squad failed three missions before they started clicking."

The quiet conversation continued, each of them sharing their thoughts on what had gone wrong and how they could improve. The frustration of failure gradually gave way to determination, to the shared resolve to prove themselves worthy of their D-50s.

Lucas found comfort in their unity, in the way they were already analyzing and learning from their mistakes. The advanced technology surrounding them, the perfect meals, the warm welcomes—all of it represented the standard of excellence they were striving to meet. Le Bastion had chosen them for a reason, and one failed exercise wouldn't define them.

Sleep eventually came, bringing dreams not of suspicion or doubt, but of future successes. In his mind, Lucas saw their squad moving in perfect harmony, their D-50s responding as natural extensions of themselves, protecting the home they'd all sworn to defend. Tomorrow would be another chance to prove themselves, another opportunity to grow stronger together.

The soft hum of Le Bastion's systems provided a steady rhythm to their rest, a constant reminder of the technological marvel they were part of. Somewhere in the darkness, Matthieu's pen continued its documentation, recording not mysteries, but the technical details they would need to master their machines.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, they would be better.

--

"Again!" Lieutenant Caron's voice rang through the training arena. "This time, focus on individual strengths. Don't force the formations if they're not working."

The morning sun lamps cast long shadows across the simulated urban terrain as six D-50 units spread out for another attempt. Lucas felt different today—the neural interface humming with a clarity he hadn't experienced before. His unit's stealth systems activated smoothly, the advanced camouflage rippling across its surface like liquid mercury.

"Initiating sequence," Jules announced, his heavily armored unit taking point. "Standard sweep and—"

A barrage of training drones burst from hidden compartments, their weapons already charging. But this time, Lucas was ready. His D-50 moved before he consciously commanded it, as if anticipating his thoughts. The stealth system engaged perfectly, rendering him nearly invisible as he slipped between buildings.

"Contact, multiple hostiles!" Theo called out, his unit deploying smoke screens. "They're trying to flank us!"

Lucas watched the battlefield unfold from his elevated position, his unit's advanced sensors painting a clear picture of the chaos below. The drones were using the same attack pattern as yesterday—but today, he saw something different. A rhythm to their movements, gaps in their formation.

"Jules, Ariane—draw their fire!" Lucas called out, his fingers dancing across the neural interface controls. "Matthieu, can you mark their sensor nodes?"

"On it!" Matthieu's unit raised its plasma rifle, firing precise bursts that highlighted key points on the drones' armor.

Lucas's D-50 moved like a shadow, each step perfectly placed. The high-frequency blades extended from his forearms with a soft whisper of activation. Time seemed to slow as his neural sync deepened, the machine responding to his intentions faster than conscious thought.

A drone spotted him, turning to fire—too late. Lucas's unit twisted in mid-air, a movement that should have been impossible for something its size. The blade struck with surgical precision, severing the drone's main sensor cluster. Before it could fall, he was already moving to his next target.

"Holy shit," he heard Jules whisper over the comm. "When did you learn to move like that?"

Lucas didn't respond, too focused on the flow of combat. His unit danced between laser fire, using its stealth capabilities not just to hide, but to confuse and misdirect. The plasma guns on his chest opened fire at precisely calculated angles, forcing drones into Celine's line of fire.

"They're clustering!" Ariane called out, her unit's energy blades crackling. "We can box them in!"

Lucas saw the opportunity immediately. "Celine, right flank! Theo, smoke pattern Delta! Jules—"

"Already on it!" Jules's railgun charged with a thunderous whine.

The squad moved with renewed confidence, following Lucas's calls. Celine's unit slipped through shadows while Theo's smoke screens created the perfect cover. Matthieu provided precise supporting fire, each shot disrupting the drones' coordination.

But it was Lucas who turned the tide. His D-50 seemed to flow through the battlefield like water, striking from impossible angles. The stealth system created multiple ghost images, making it impossible for the drones to track him. One moment he was behind them, blades flashing; the next, he was above, plasma guns forcing them into Jules's killzone.

"Incredible," Lieutenant Caron murmured from the observation deck, making notes on her tablet. "The neural sync readings are off the charts."

The final phase of the exercise began with a massive wave of drones emerging from underground bunkers. Lucas felt his heart racing, but his hands were steady. The neural interface sang with energy, his D-50 becoming more an extension of his will than a separate machine.

"They're trying to overwhelm us!" Matthieu warned as his distortion field flickered under heavy fire.

"Not today," Lucas growled, his unit's systems responding to his determination. "Everyone, pattern Sigma—but follow my lead on the timing!"

What followed was a display that would be talked about in the barracks for weeks. Lucas's D-50 became a blur of motion, its stealth systems creating a web of false targets while he struck from every direction. The high-frequency blades left trails of light in the air as he wove between enemies, each strike perfectly placed.

Jules provided earthshaking covering fire while Ariane's electro-field created safe zones for the squad to regroup. Celine and Theo worked in perfect sync, their units herding drones into carefully planned killzones. Matthieu's supporting fire never missed, each shot setting up Lucas's next attack run.

The final drone fell to a combination strike—Lucas's blade severing its defensive shields while Jules's railgun delivered the finishing blow. As the training ground fell silent, Lucas became aware of his heavy breathing, his heart pounding with exertion and excitement.

"Status report," he called out, his voice hoarse.

"All units operational," Jules responded, a grin evident in his voice. "Minor damage to outer plating only."

"Holy hell, Lucas," Theo added, his unit venting excess smoke. "That was like something out of a combat vid!"

As Lucas lingered in the maintenance bay, taking in the satisfaction of a successful mission, a sharp tone echoed through the comm system. The familiar yet uncharacteristically tense voice of Lieutenant Caron came through.

“Recruits, report to Gate 7 immediately. Another squad is returning from an external mission.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Lucas exchanged glances with the others, a hint of confusion crossing their faces. They had trained relentlessly for combat scenarios, but this was different—a real mission, from the world beyond Le Bastion’s walls.

Lieutenant Caron gestured for them to follow; her usual warmth replaced with an unreadable expression. “This will be a valuable experience for all of you.”

The group moved as one, their footsteps echoing in the sterile, metallic corridors. Any sense of accomplishment from their training exercises dissipated, replaced by a simmering apprehension. Though no one spoke, Lucas felt the tension radiating through his squadmates—unspoken questions hung in the air, each step drawing them closer to the unknown realities of life outside Le Bastion.

As they neared Gate 7, the hum of distant voices grew louder, mingling with the sounds of equipment and hurried footsteps. The squad steeled themselves, their training etched into their postures. But as they rounded the final corner, Lucas couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in his gut—a quiet, gnawing unease about what lay ahead.