Chương 49: The Experiment Failed

Life at the camp quickly settled into a routine. Every morning followed the same script: brutal physical training at dawn while fog still drifted across the parade ground, then a quick breakfast in the mess hall while we discussed the plan for the day. After that came Selina's lectures on alien anatomy and the most effective ways to kill them. Then came S-Armor piloting, a fast lunch, and finally the sessions with Sam, where the air practically crackled from the sheer concentration of S-Power.

By that point, it had become completely clear what the Awakened Corps actually expected from us. They did not need ordinary soldiers. They needed living tools, perfectly sharpened for specific purposes. Before dinner, we usually had an hour left for what I privately called the gentleman's package program, classes the brass seemed to run more out of obligation than genuine enthusiasm. For a couple of days we practiced grenade throws, naturally with heavy dummy grenades that landed with dull thuds against the dirt.

Then came knife fighting drills with wooden tantos, where we stabbed each other black and blue during training spars. Sometimes they handed out actual field radios, and we repeated "Roger that, copy, over" until our brains melted, memorizing frequency grids and call signs. Useful skills for any guy in uniform, no question about that, but compared to flying combat suits and plasma barrages, the whole thing felt like a relic from the last century.

And just like that, my week of experimental supervision over Ted came to an end. The evaluation was scheduled for the evening, when the sun had already begun sinking toward the horizon, stretching long, sharp shadows across the training grounds. A full commission had gathered at the edge of the obstacle course, and they looked painfully official about it. At the front stood Colonel Simpson, the camp commander.

It was my first time seeing him in person: a textbook career officer from the old school, with a face carved by wrinkles and the sharp eyes of a man accustomed to giving orders without ever raising his voice. As far as I could tell, he was completely ordinary. No trace of S-Power, just regulations and decades of service. Standing beside him with her hands buried in the pockets of a white medical coat was Selina. Underneath it I could see a crisp blouse and a narrow pencil skirt.

She looked like someone had dragged her away from an important experiment and forced her to sit through a kindergarten recital. Her face radiated open boredom. Sam completed the trio. To my surprise, he had traded his spotless white kimono for a formal dress uniform with a major's insignia. Every trace of yesterday's positivity had vanished. Right now he looked like a severe officer whose face resembled a granite mask. Ted and I stood frozen across from them.

Ted puffed out his chest and lifted his chin so high he looked like he was waiting for the colonel to pin a medal on him right there and then. I wanted to whisper at him to stop strutting around like a turkey and just breathe normally, but the commission's attention was fixed entirely on me. A short distance away stood our regular physical training sergeant, silently observing the scene with a grim expression. And farther out, near the fence line in the shadows of the bushes, I noticed several familiar heads.

The other cadets had failed to overcome their curiosity and had come to watch the show. Even Mary was there, leaning against a tree and observing everything with her usual detached indifference.

"Staff Sergeant Ross," Colonel Simpson's voice cut through the silence of the training ground, dry and authoritative.

"Report to the commission the purpose of your demonstration." I had no doubt he had already read every report and knew perfectly well what was happening here, but military protocol demanded a formal introduction. I straightened up instantly, keeping my expression completely unreadable.

"Sir, I'm demonstrating the results of my specialized Trainer abilities on Cadet Drake's physical performance," I reported crisply.

"During the week-long cycle, I applied an individualized load-adjustment methodology combined with an optimized diet and vitamin complex tailored to the cadet's specific metabolism. My hypothesis is that the synergy between the skill and a scientific approach produces exponentially greater results than the Corps' standard training program."

"I see," the colonel replied curtly before turning toward the sergeant.

"Run Cadet Drake through the full obstacle course cycle. Time starts now."

"Yes, sir!" The next thirty minutes turned into a one-man performance. We watched in silence as Ted practically devoured the course. He flew over barriers, climbed cargo nets, and vaulted walls with such ease it felt like his boots had springs built into them. As his temporary instructor, I noticed every detail. Here, he slightly botched the landing and overloaded his knee joint. There, he distributed his weight perfectly during a burst of acceleration.

The army officials probably could not have cared less about biomechanics. They wanted numbers and results. Ted finished the course and skidded to a stop right in front of me, kicking up a small cloud of dust. His face was dark red from the rush of blood, sweat poured down his temples and soaked through his shirt, but most importantly, he was not gasping for air. He did not look like a hunted horse or a dying seal washed onto shore. He stood firmly on his feet, maintaining a deep, steady rhythm of breathing.

For a single week of training, that was a damn good result.

"The commission will now withdraw for discussion and final evaluation," Colonel Simpson announced emotionlessly. He turned sharply on his heel and headed toward headquarters. Selina and Sam followed after him. They exchanged a few quiet words along the way, but I could not make out any of it. Ted and I remained alone on the bench near the edge of the training ground. The sergeant had also left, leaving us in the silence of the camp.

"Well?" Ted nervously tapped his boot against the packed dirt. He looked seconds away from jumping up and running after them.

"Tom, seriously... I didn't screw this up, did I? I impressed them, right?" Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I looked at him carefully. Over the past week he had changed noticeably. The childish softness in his face had begun giving way to sharper, more masculine features, and the muscles in his arms looked denser and more defined.

"Listen, Ted." I placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to calm down.

"As far as I'm concerned, you did great. Nobody can perform miracles in seven days, but you got about as close as humanly possible. The only problem is that we don't know what kind of standard the brass expects from us. The guys at headquarters have their own ideas about what counts as good enough. All we can do now is wait." I watched the commission walking away, feeling the tension tightening inside me like a drawn wire. Their discussion on the move lasted less than a minute.

Suddenly Selina stopped, turned sharply on her heel, and started walking back toward us. The confidence in her stride, completely devoid of ceremony, told me everything I needed to know. Ten years in office jobs had taught me the fundamental law of corporate hierarchy: if the big boss walks away without looking back and leaves the verdict for a subordinate to deliver, the project is dead. Management always delivers good news personally so they can soak in the gratitude.

Bad news gets dumped on subordinates like unwanted ballast.

"The experiment's been deemed a failure," Selina said matter-of-factly once she got close enough. There wasn't a trace of sympathy in her voice, only dry professionalism.

"Starting tomorrow morning, Cadet Drake will return to the standard unit rotation. His physical training program will resume at normal capacity."

"What?! You've gotta be kidding me!" Ted exploded so suddenly that I barely managed to hold him back.

"Tom's a hundred times better than any drill sergeant! He turned me into an actual human being!" In a burst of righteous outrage, he yanked up the edge of his shirt, showing off sharply defined abs stretched tight beneath his skin.

"Professor, just look at this!" he practically shouted.

"I've never seen results like this in my entire life, and it only took a week! You can't just shut this down!"

"Cadet Drake, lower your shirt." Selina's voice turned genuinely icy. She did not even glance at his so-called achievements.

"Exposing your torso in front of a lady without permission isn't only a violation of regulations, it's also a shocking lack of manners. Now march to the showers. And I sincerely hope you won't stink like a draft horse during my lectures tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"But..."

"That was an order, Cadet." She pinned him in place with a look the poor kid had absolutely no chance of resisting. Ted stood there for another second, gulping air like a fish thrown onto the shore. Then he shot me a desperate glance, turned around, and ran toward the barracks. I genuinely felt bad for him. He had only just started believing in himself. He had only just gotten a taste of real progress, and now they had dumped him right back into the gray machinery of army routine.

"Walk me back to the academic building, Tom." Selina's voice warmed instantly the moment Ted disappeared from sight. She adjusted her glasses and gestured toward the path.

"With pleasure." I fell into step beside her, trying to match her pace.

"Seriously though, off the record, why call it a failure? You can see for yourself he's in great shape." Selina walked lightly, staring straight ahead. Her face carried the calm, serene expression of someone completely at ease.

"There's really nothing to discuss, Tom. It's obvious. Yes, Drake can do five times more pull-ups now and shaved a couple seconds off his obstacle course run. From a scientific perspective, the progress is undeniable. From Colonel Simpson's perspective, it's statistical noise. He doesn't see any reason to overhaul the camp's logistics and duty schedules just so one cadet can become slightly more durable."

"What exactly was he expecting after seven days?" I felt dull irritation beginning to boil in my chest.

"That Ted would start throwing tanks around by the end of the week? My power doesn't grow muscles out of thin air. All I did was perfectly optimize the mechanisms that were already inside his body. Any other trainer would've needed a month for results like that, maybe two!" Selina stopped near the edge of the park area. The setting sun flooded the walkways with thick orange light, and in that glow her white lab coat looked almost golden.

"That's exactly the point, Tom. Nobody expected anything extraordinary from this experiment," she said, looking me directly in the eyes.

"You need to understand something: Colonel Simpson's just a bureaucratic cog in the machine. He doesn't decide anything. If your training methods could really turn a cadet into a supersoldier in one week, General Crowley would've been standing here today instead of him. Personally." The name tugged at something in my memory. I closed my eyes for a second, mentally flipping through the filing cabinets in my head, searching through documents I had only glimpsed in passing.

"Crowley..." I repeated as I surfaced back into reality.

"His signature was on my mobilization order."

"Exactly." Selina lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"Crowley's the brain and the iron fist of the Awakened Corps. He's the only one authorized to approve changes to large-scale training programs. When I finished work on the first S-Armor prototype, he flew straight to my lab from the Pentagon within two hours."

"So this whole circus with the commission... this entire week... it was doomed from the beginning?" I felt like an idiot desperately trying to entertain an audience without realizing the theater was empty. Selina gave a faint nod.

"Then what was the point of all this? The formalities, the measurements, the paperwork?" I exhaled slowly, trying to suppress my anger.

"Self-interest and blind hope." She shrugged.

"The military loves initiative. Especially when that initiative's free and doesn't require additional resources. There's always that one-in-a-million chance a miracle will happen and you'll produce explosive results that defy logic. If Ted had suddenly started outrunning race cars, Crowley would've been here tomorrow morning. But miracles didn't happen, and ordinary competent work doesn't interest them." Her logic was flawless and cynical, just like everything else in this place.

The realization immediately cooled my temper. Besides, it was difficult to stay angry for long while standing in a beautiful park beside an attractive woman as the last rays of sunlight warmed my face. Bitterness simply could not survive in an atmosphere like that.

"Still, I wouldn't recommend getting discouraged," Selina suddenly said with a sly squint and her trademark catlike smile.

"The experiment wasn't a total waste. You made an impression, Tom. The military system moves slowly, but it remembers faces very well. Maybe in a couple of years, somewhere between portal deployments, they'll put you in charge of training the national Olympic team. And trust me, the pay would be a lot better than your current salary. If your athlete wins gold, they might even pin some shiny medal on your chest."

"Selina," I muttered with a quiet chuckle, "has anyone ever told you that you're exceptionally good at sugarcoating bad news?"

"No." Her smile widened even further.

"But that sounds like exactly the kind of compliment I enjoy." The next morning greeted us with the familiar barking of the physical training sergeant. I was back running in formation again, breathing in the dust kicked up by the cadets ahead of me. Ted ran beside me, staring gloomily at the ground. He clearly had not fully processed yesterday's return to the standard system. But I knew his mood would not last long. Today promised to be special.

The entire camp buzzed with anticipation: during training with Master Smith, it would finally be Mary's turn. It was time to see what kind of power was hidden inside that permanently bored twelve-year-old girl with her monstrous reserves of energy.