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Polaris Camp, the biggest and most expansive military base the world over, is championed as a bastion of freedom and hope to all but those who are assigned there. We moved through the base while sitting in the back of a HAAPV (Heavily Armored Ambush Protected Vehicle), rushing past jet hangars and soldiers running training exercises for the thirteenth time today.

The convoy made its way down the concrete thruway, comprised of eleven mil-grade vehicles--light security protocols made even lighter being in the center of the Federation's global military might.

My grip on one of my many holstered pistols tightened for no reason other than the anxious thoughts flowing through my mind. Once you hit the firing range for at least an hour every day you can, you pick up a sense of comfort and security upon returning to those memories. Methodical, disciplined, predictable. It's one of the few places in the world where you can shut everything around you off.

The convoy went into making a sharp right turn. Five vehicles in front of us, eleven on our six. Being in the center was too obvious in the event of an attack, and being too far back could hamper getaway procedures under the right, or in this case "wrong" circumstances.

The interior of the HAAPV was surrounded by ever-changing projections that displayed the happenings of the outside world in perfect detail and then some, using stationary LIDAR to map the exterior in three-dimensional space. The reason why we were able to see out as if it was day even though it was oh-four-hundred. Even then, however, we were not exempt from the endless data dumps from the WIN that Taliya always wanted in order to stay "up-to-date." She sat across from me, flanked on both sides by security with a tablet in her paws. I don't know how she kept up with it all, but I kept my muzzle shut.

"You seem nervous, Cayden," she said without looking up, her tone teasing and friendly, an affectation she reserved for a select few.

"I'm fine, Ma'am, don't worry. I am just a little anxious," I responded, careful to shift my posture and delivery into a more respectable display, knowing all the while just how much she detested it.

She kept her head down, though shifted her gaze to mine. Her paws were still at work, most likely reviewing recent intel or coordinating Federation forces to do whatever the situation required. Her chestnut hair was parted behind her ears with a complex chignon in the back that was intertwined with a silver accessory that was shaped almost as if it was alive. That same hair covered her face, shielding her forehead and one or two of her spots, but not enough to stop her emerald eyes from keeping me on edge. "Business or personal?" It was short and sharp, but it held an affectionate tone. Almost motherly.

I tried to deflect as well as I could, "I wouldn't let it interfere in either. Anything hit the net about our arrival?"

I saw some recognition in her showing that she knew what I was up to, but she did a good job keeping her expression serious. Nonetheless, the meager and brief grin was enough for me to notice. She was likely doing the very same for my expressions. "SIGINT has picked up some recent chatter concerning a convoy moving through the Air Force sector, but it's hard to tell. I doubt it will compromise our security measures, though." She shifted her gaze to the fur on my left who wore a black suit with silver tie. The suit was ironically conspicuous due to its attempt to be unobtrusive. Of course, the two PDWs attached to either hip removed any possibility of remaining covert.

"Elaenor, you have seen to that, correct?"

The Felonian turned her head to the Sentinel, her back remaining straight and erect. A spot below her left breast created a sharp edge on the surface of the suit leaving no doubt that she held a secondary on her person, perhaps others. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very well," Taliya responded as quickly as it came. "What's our ETA?" Her gaze returned to the tablet placed above her lap, her paws dancing across it. It was a top of the line tablet with C3I--Command, Control, Comms, and Intelligence--capabilities, a CR8 hex-core processor, and the power to direct the total annihilation of any place in the world in under three minutes in the palm of her paw. The power was almost unfathomable. Almost.

She was never the one to flaunt it, but Taliya enjoyed keeping people on their toes and making sure that they were always up to the challenge. Unfortunately, Elaenor was in her crosshairs this time. She was quick on the draw, however, promptly responding with one minute thirteen seconds before returning to the display held within her shield glasses that was likely ablaze with gigabytes of data barraging her eyes and her eyes alone. Elaenor was disciplined, and she would control any room. The only thing preventing that was that Taliya was here.

We soon entered a surface tunnel, but the artificial electric lighting kept the cabin feeling as though it was 25° out and sunny. Gone were the R&D labs, the metal and glass offices, and the display screens that covered the entire side of buildings. They were replaced with the sleek and minimalistic shell of the tunnel, the walls lined with side-scrolling warning signs in bright, red lettering.

The transport's displays showed a checkpoint passing by us, though we never even slowed down for it. Just as soon as it came, it was gone, replaced with the same interior of the tunnels sans warning.

We began to near our destination, finally arriving at a drop-off station. Several furs in suits, similar to that worn by Elaenor, approached the transport we were in. They lined up in two parallel lines, creating a pathway of negative space for us. I composed myself one last time.

The walls of the transport popped out before rolling along their respective sides towards the back of the vehicle. It was one of four ways to exit the HAARP. Two thin steps extended themselves from the underside of the transport, illuminating the ground with red lines as if to designate where one should disembark. Taliya's security detail got up, leaving us still sitting. Elaenor made her way to her left along with the fur sitting to the Sentinel's right, exiting out the starboard side while Elaenor barked orders into her subdermal comms device.

"Overlord, this is Sentry-One. Dragon-Actual is on-site and moving out from Areion, over." Whatever response Federation High Command returned, I was not privy to. Taliya was the next one to exit, followed by myself and the remainder of her security detail. Several other agents were already out of their vehicles. One vehicle in front of us, two behind. The rest were support.

As Taliya walked ahead, the security personnel on the side stared blankly ahead. None of them moved or twitched. In front of Taliya, however, was a fur donning a service uniform. Name and rank were typically on opposing breasts and would be angled up towards his shoulders at 135° and 45° respectively. I say typically because covering part of his back and his left arm was a cape of sorts designating him as part of the Admiralty. Perpendicular to his name and rank were dozens of ribbons that spanned the color spectrum, pointing down towards his hip. The uniform itself was ann obsidian hue with minor, silver accents. There were no buttons as with all service uniforms nowadays. They were phased out two years ago.

His suit was clean and neatly pressed, and his cape did not even have any dust at the bottom of it even as it hung next to his left leg's hook. Likely a trait carried over from his days as at the academy. It's a very common trait, though.

He held his arms in the typical Aelmerian salute--arms crossed across the chest, right over left, paws flat, and fingertips extending a couple centimeters past the shoulder. The four soldiers who flanked him, two on either side, did the same, though they wore combat gear including helmets. Capes were not worn with combat gear, but I guessed that they were not part of the Admiralty like he. Not security details either. Military attachés and direct subordinates.

The admiral made sure not to make eye contact with Taliya, though he did not shy away from her either, firmly standing his ground. He did not speak or make a move until she did.

"Admiral Courtney," she said in a matter of fact tone while nodding to him and his subordinates to stand down.

"Sentinel Itsuko, I appreciate you coming over here."

Taliya quickly flicked her head to the side, signalling them to start walking with her. She was fairly tall, standing at 1.9 meters give or take while the average height for a male Aelmerian was around the same if not a hair less. Her size was augmented by the uniform she wore. The service uniform for the Federation's Sentinel was similar to that of the Admiralty in shape such as having the one-shoulder cape, but it was different in almost everything else. The silver accents were much bolder and thicker than any other. The uniform had titanium plates built into it in addition to the Kevlar that already present in nearly all uniforms--combat and service--to prevent any damage from firearms. Around her neck was what appeared to be a metallic-silver mesh infinity scarf, though its true purpose is a rapidly-inflatable helmet to protect from shrapnel and impacts. As for the cape, on it rested the seal of the Sentinel. The breasts also did not need to hold any information, for everyone knew her as Sentinel Taliya Itsuko, commander of the Aelmere Federation and its armed forces.

After a surprising delay, the Defense Minister emerged from the transport behind us. His brisk pace showed that he likely just got off a vidcall, but he rejoined the group quickly enough as we made our way through some glass doors.

Continuing the conversation, Taliya half-turned her head to face Admiral Courtney while walking. "My Chief of Staff briefed me on the headway the project has been making as of late. If this technology proves practical to scale, we might just see a redefinition for urban warfare." Focused purely on business. The side of her she showed to the world. I knew better.

"Not if, Madam Sentinel, but when." The admiral worked hard and failed to hide his grin. "We've been able to miniaturize the power source by 145%--"

"--While improving output by 78%," she finished him off. "I know,I've read the report. You left out how often malfunctions occur."

The admiral was caught off guard but effortlessly got back in, not losing a beat. "We had many malfunctions occur in the earlier stages, but recent prototypes have had flawless records." He was working hard to earn that earlier grin.

"Flawless, you say? Over how many courses?"

"50,786 full cycles."

We continued walking, making our way through the foyer of the building and down a corridor on the right.

"At the present rate, we will need a hundred and fifty thousand flawless cycles. How does it perform economically compared to current weapon systems?"

"Economically, it is more expensive up front, but it will more than make up for that in the long term. The lack of moving parts will allow it to stay on the battlefield for perhaps a decade or two at a time, and its performance far exceeds present-day armament designs." He knew this meeting determined a lot about his fate in the armed forces. He would remain an admiral unless something catastrophic or incriminating were to present itself, but it could mean the difference between being taken seriously or given a management seat on a throwaway project.

The group consisting of around twenty of us finally made it into a large elevator with hologlass displays showing a clean gray background with a black, ten-pointed star in the foreground. The convoy could have arrived closer, but the route we took minimized the possibility of being seen. The elevator was surprisingly spacious, likely having a footprint of about five meters by seven meters. Once everyone was in, the doors behind us sealed shut, and Elaenor updated our position over comms.

The admiral gave a quick nod to one of his subordinates, resulting in them drawing out a tablet of their own and activating a command. Without hesitation, the floor of the elevator began to descend down, the walls looked as if they were growing out of the ground, though the reverse was true. After about going down ten meters, the funicular began to go down at a forty-five-degree angle. We were now able to look at something other than concrete walls. The access pipeline ran downwards for another forty meters or so, and while the funicular was fairly fast, it still took a minute. No one raised their voice above quiet side conversations.

Taliya and Admiral Courtney continued to go on about the quantitative data for the project. Numbers and formulae. She was an engineer at heart, and she did a hard time keeping it hidden. She held a Magna Degree in aerospace engineering and a Maxima Degree in orbital mechanics from the Federation Astral Academy. When we got the rare moments together alone, she would go on ad nauseam about the brand new tech coming out from the Advanced Research Center--ARC. She was always proud of the scientists and engineers who worked under her. Probably stemmed from her early and pioneering role in the Federation's space program.

Being Sentinel, her policies were always about Defense and Homeland Security, but whenever she could, she would sneak on over to a high school for an afternoon, talk to the students in the lab, and give them the Academy's card. She pushed hard for STEM courses in the schools across the nation, and with her near absolute power, she was able to get the changes she wanted to be done within her first months in command. She did always resent me, though, in her own way for taking bioengineering. "You traitor, it's not even real science!" The words still rang in my ears even after several years from being spoken.

My thoughts continued to go off on a tangent, though it ceased once the funicular stopped and leveled itself in front of a blast door. There was a camera perched above it, likely scanning all of us. It must have turned up all positives because the doors opened not too long after, opening up into an absolutely massive underground facility. The ceiling must have been twenty-five meters above ground, and the whole room seemed to be unending. The main research facility within Polaris. ARC, and the largest single R&D facility in the world. The Aelmerian space program was built here, as was the Federation's telecommunications array. It was more-or-less an open office space, though the sound of controlled explosions rang through the place with some semblance of routineness.

Filled with entryways, cubicles, protective barriers, computer displays, and the muffled sound of jet engines. Even below our very paws was a glass floor poised above what must have been close to a petabyte of server banks down below.

A distance down and on the other side of the hangar was a glass enclosure that stood out from the wall and even went into it. It was enormous in and of itself, likely capable of housing one of those new VTOL attack aircraft, but it was dwarfed and insignificant when compared to the vastness of the hangar. I could barely see enough past the cubicles and test areas, but I could almost make out some shock diamonds through the glass.

We continued to walk along a space in between work areas. Taliya could and naturally did walk faster, but she was restraining herself for those around her. In a workspace off to the right of us, a fur recognized Taliya, breaking away from his work to salute us as we passed.

I was almost mystified that there were as many people as there were working at this hour. Most did not look too tired, so it was reasonable enough to assume a new shift had come in not too long ago. Nonetheless, the occasional empty station popped up. I attributed that to more specialized projects.

We made our way left then right and left again, arriving at one of the many airlocks built into the side of the hangar. The entire face of the wall was glass, though it was heavily tinted. Probably triple glazed as well.

Admiral Courtney went up to the glass door and placed his paw against the surface. The surface quickly sprang to life, and holographic designs dotted the screen. A ring of light on the door encircled the admiral's paw, scanning his paw's thermal footprint. A second later, his full name, profile picture, identification number, and rank were displayed.

Adryan Courtney.

With that the door slid into the wall, enabling our passage into a black white hallway. We moved forward single file, and once we were all in, the door slid back again, sealing us in the tight passageway. The white walls were not painted that way but rather lit up like a television screen. Along the screens, gray silhouettes of ourselves appeared. All of our weapons and personal devices were painted scarlet. Before a warning could be blared, however, the silhouettes disappeared, replaced with a message.

APPROVED FOR ENTRY

The opposite side of the hallway slid back just like the door, and we were greeted with a clean, white lab staffed by twenty or so furs.

"Gordon, where are we on a manned demonstration?!" the admiral barked, causing everyone to turn their heads. All of them saluted, though none of them were surprised by our presence. A jet-black Felonian was the one to speak up.

"The demonstration is ready, sir! Waiting for your go ahead," he said. He, just like all of the other furs here, wore a white bodysuit with the upper right side of his chest colored black. His name was projected by the fabric holographically: Gordon Ichahari. The suit itself was held up with a magnetic seal pleased three-quarters of the way across the front of his body.

"Thank you, Admiral Courtney, Mister Ichahari," Taliya said. "Cayden, think you can put this through its paces?"

"Yes Ma'am," I said.

"Mister Ichahari, could you start up the course?"

Another engineer, this one with auburn fur, spoke up. "Actually, Sentinel Itsuko, we planned--"

Before being promptly cut off by Gordon. "Of course, Madam Sentinel. Praetorian Cayden, this way, please."

Gordon then signaled me to follow him while Admiral Courtney, Taliya, and her security detail went to another section behind more tinted-glass doors. Taliya must have been trying to have some fun with me. I thought she brought me out here as an advisor, but she clearly has other plans.

I was then brought through some doors into what looked like a CQC course. A high-quality one. I'd run plenty, but this was the first one I had seen to not use plywood. Full on metal, glass, insulation, mahogany, all without a hint of bullet holes. In front of me behind a pane of glass was a mock-conference room with a table, art deco walls, and wall-mounted display screens that were cycling through spreadsheets and graphs, with another one even showing Veritas News. Didn't know the technicians here were a fan of Caskyan propaganda.

Before entering the course there was a minor armory setup on a steel-mesh wall. Upon it lay a weapon, though not one that I had ever fired or even seen. And that's a very short list. It was angular, sleek, polymer-based, and appeared almost space-age. Not something that would have come from the early two hundreds, mind you. No, this was practicality above all else. Its grip was towards the front of the weapon, angled forward at something around a 55° angle, with a thumbhole behind it that angled upwards into the stock. Naturally, it was obsidian black. Federation style.

"This is a next-generation infantry weapons platform, project designation XW3. It is a miniaturized railgun with a dynamic velocity system built into the weapon. On this side," Gordon pointed to a glossy rectangle on the side of the weapon--there was one on either side for ambidextrous control. When I placed my finger on it, the rectangle lit up to from the side closest to the stock up to my finger. He continued on, saying "is the velocity interface, which allows you to modulate the exit speed of the projectile."

He was speaking a kilometer a minute, but I was able to keep up with him. Finger forward, faster bullet. Father back, slower speed.

"The XW3 is a bullpup configured weapon with a top-loaded magazine running parallel to the barrel of the weapon." He grabbed something that resembled a flat box magazine from the weapons rack. As long as my forearm but as skinny as three of my fingers put together and just as thick. He slid the magazine over the top and into the weapon. Rather than click, the magazine just stopped, locking into place with the cylinder-end closer to the back.

"Each magazine holds sixty 4.25x25 millimeter flechette petal rounds. Caseless ammunition, custom made for the project. A tungsten-based neodymium composite. Sleek enough to punch through Kevlar and ceramic plating. Once it hits organic matter, however, it splits apart down the sides, sending several thinner flechettes in different directions, maximizing lethality and penetration power without making an exit wound."

"And it's carried through the barrel using electromagnets at a velocity that I determine," I replied, trying to court favor by showing that I was not below his explanation.

"Basically. Safety is built into the trigger, fire mode selector is placed below the velocity interface. To release the mag, push in," he matched his words with the action, pushing the magazine forward, "and pull out. Naturally, it is all ambidextrous."

He moved his paws out of the way, giving me full control over the weapon. It was surprisingly lightweight and compact. The stock was large, but it was a non-issue. The grip had a paw guard, and it was placed up front in typical bullpup fashion. I was used to handling bullpup weapons, though I would be lying if I said that I was more familiar with the standard configuration used in all of the Aelmere Federation's firearms.

With his briefing out of the way, Gordon saluted me before heading off to meet with the rest of the group, leaving me on my own at the course. They were probably looking at me in an observation room, however.

A synthesized voice blared through the loudspeakers, "Test run for the XW3 project, trial designation Two-Three-Five-Mike-One, starting in T-minus 15."

The voice was promptly followed up by Taliya's, "Cayden, do you remember CQC-CT Formation Charlie?."

As if she needed to tell me. I nodded.

I had guessed that she had cameras trained on me, allowing her to track my process. My suspicions were correct. "Good, and don't miss. You have a crowd. Ready. Mark. Execute."

The same millisecond she uttered her last words, a brief and synthetic alarm sound buzzed. Accompanying it were metal target cutouts that ascended from near-imperceptibly narrow slits in the floor. I raised the firearm immediately to my shoulder, more out of instinct and reflexes than choice.

I looked around the zone of action presented to me, taking in as much as I could with quick glances. Assessing target positions, running through possible routes.

Eight targets within my FOV. Additional plating, a glossy black to contrast with the metallic gray for the target, was placed over the torso and forehead, with one target farther towards the rear-left having no part exposed. It was in front of a stairwell going down too, the pathway to the next part of the course most likely, so save it for last. Three targets in the conference room, center one had a secondary target placed in front of it. A non-combatant. A hostage. Four more targets were peppered around the pathways that surrounded the conference room, and of course the juggernaut back near the stairwell. Eight.

I swept right-to-left, using my right eye to aim at targets and my left eye to locate the next ones. I double-tapped the first target, two trigger pulls sending a pair of bullets into its forehead. One dead center in what would be the eyes, and one slightly below it. Right on the nose. I was overcompensating. I had fired hundreds of ARs, but none of them had the recoil, or lack thereof, like this one. It wasn't nonexistent, but it was so minor that it didn't even matter.

I made a mental note of the handling, making sure that I did not try too much to keep the weapons barrel level like one might with most firearms. I moved on to the next one in the same hallway as the previous one, double-tapping it with the bullets having a much tighter spread than the previous. I strafed sideways while doing this, slightly crouched, in order to maximize both my movement and close the distance to my next waypoint as fast as possible.

This time shooting through the glass, I turned the weapon yet again more to the left of my FOV as I took down the target with the hostage in front of it. The hostage was covering the target's face on the right side slightly, so I made sure that my sights had already made the adjustment before centering and unloading two more bullets. The bullets did not shatter or even fracture the glass in its wake, leaving only pin-sized holes in the pane. The fourth and fifth targets were just as easily dispatched, though I had to double back to my right a tiny bit after going for the hostage taker first. We were taught to minimize collateral damage during raids and military operations. Sometimes it was unavoidable. An accepted part for many about defending the tens, hundreds, thousands, or even millions of lives in this conflict-ridden world. I myself did not have a flawless record, though there is not a single night where I wish that was not the case. Even in a training exercise like this, I always prioritized taking out the people who could most quickly harm innocents, even if it cost me milliseconds.

Turning again to my left, I took aim at the two target cutouts on the other side of the conference room, aiming through two panes of glass this time at an angle for both. They went down quickly enough.

After all of the light targets were taken out, I gifted myself a brief moment to sprint, weapon still raised and sighted of course, in order to move to the corridor that ended in the HAT (Heavily Armored Tango). Before I rounded the corner, I aimed up the best line-of-sight I could attempt and unloaded five bullets down range with five respective pulls of the trigger, aiming right below the forehead before sprinting like the bunker was coming down to the stairwell.

I moved as briskly as possible down the stairs, keeping my barrel trained on the opening into the level down below, tracking for potential targets. At the bottom of the stairs was another target, to which I responded with putting two bullets into its skull, letting it descend into the floor before passing over it fluidly.

Once out of the stairwell, I moved into a much more confined set of rooms that switched back into one another almost akin to a cargo ship, though still retaining the office building/embassy feel. The weapon was compact enough, however, that the confined spaces were not much of an issue. The shape of the lower level prompted me to take a quick left turn with the wall turning in increments of 45° angles. The next room was filled with another table with a laptop placed on it, two chairs, and two armored targets. Four more shots. The room was much more confined than the conference room up top, but I paid it little mind as I continue on.

Twenty-five bullets expended, thirty-four left in the mag and one in the chamber. Making my way out into the next room through a door on the left, I was confronted with a more empty version of the room I was just in. Same size, no table or chairs, and one HAT instead of two light ones. Five bullets for it.

I slid through an open doorway on the left yet again. The place, while trying to be realistic, still retained a type of fluidity to it. Built for efficiency in testing, rather than real-life hostage rescue.

I was confronted with a hallway stretching horizontally to me. There was an open area that was enticing me to go into it, likely to complete the exercise, but a room adjacent to my own was open. Filled with what I would expect to be two to three targets. I checked both sides of the hallway, switching promptly while trying to take in as much as I could in a glance. Making my way into the room, it was roughly the same size as the conference room above if not a little larger. In it were four metal cutouts, though three targets like I expected. A second hostage.

Great.

The three targets were, of course, fully covered. The hostage, however, was positioned directly in front of one of the targets, covering up all exposed and armored areas that I could have shot at otherwise. Trying not to lose any time, I shot the hostage cutout in the hind paw, causing it to drop into the floor and opening up all of the HATs. Fifteen shots fired in a brief moment of fully automatic fire. I then turned heel and made my way out into the open area sprinting. There was a series of yellow circles within one another of different sizes on the ground, signalling the end. I ran over it, only slowing down once I heard the same alarm buzz that I heard in the beginning.

I turned right and made my way behind a wall where the rest of the group waited. The Admiral, Elaenor, and the rest of Taliya's security detail were blank and emotionless, some of the engineers were wide eyed, and Taliya herself wore a warm smile. The Defense Minister looked unimpressed. His tail was hanging loosely and motionless as his eyes were staring off at nothing, blank and lifeless. Eventually, someone spoke up to break the silence.

"That was...interesting," Admiral Courtney said. "With the second hostage, that is. We expected most people who tested on this course would just resign their moral compasses and shoot through them."

"Well, that's awfully cynical," I responded before shifting topics. "I take it I am the first live soldier to run this course? I thought as much from the Mike-One designation. Manned test one?"

This time, it was Gordon who spoke. "That's correct. We were going to have another trained soldier run it, but...revisions were made. It was mostly to look at the design and construction of the XW3 through a soldier's perspective rather than a scientist's. In the end, the soldier's view and handling of the weapon are what matters, not the way we designed it to be used. So..."

"One question. Where's the recoil? The velocity was set fairly high by default, the projectile is larger than most rounds, and yet I hardly felt a thing."

An engineer behind the admiral spoke up. A Felonian with beige fur. "The XW3 uses a downwards folding receiver, transferring the horizontal kinetic energy from the bullet downwards into the stock. A recoil management system. I--we thought that it would improve weapon accuracy, especially during sustained fire." He was probably around my age, maybe younger, and bursting with energy and pride even if he was trying to contain it. The recoil was probably his design from the way he corrected himself.

"It was good, though it was a little surprising. I just worry that there might not be enough force to register that a shot was fired. In the thick of an engagement, a soldier might worry that their weapon has jammed on them or that the bullet was not fired."

I could see his ears fall down a bit as I said it, quickly adding "Perhaps a haptic feedback system in the stock would be nice. It should not affect accuracy, though still giving the soldier enough force to tell whether or not their shot was unloaded."

"Admiral," Taliya asked, expecting him to reply whether or not it was possible most likely. He turned to Gordon, signalling the engineer to answer, though, rather than doing it himself. "Yes, Madam Sentinel, that should not be an issue. Even with the RMS and power source in the stock, we should still be able to fit it in without unbalancing the platform."

"Good," Taliya responded. Not curt, necessarily, but a mix of brevity and satisfaction.

"Any other suggestions, Praetorian Hawkes," Gordon prompted.

"A rail system would be appreciated. Being able to add a forward grip--vertical or angled--would be nice to have. Same goes for lasers, range finders, and custom sights. I know some guys in my old company are very sentimental about their rifle customizability. Anything else that I come up with will probably be in the report I'll send you later today"

"We were planning on printing a prototype with a native grip. We will test it out, though. Thank you for your time, Sentinel Itsuko. Praetorian Hawkes." With that, Gordon and the rest of the R&D team made their way off, leaving only Taliya, the admiral, the sentry agents, Defense Minister, and myself.

"You know, Praetorian," Admiral Courtney started off. "CompSims have clocked in on that course with the fastest speed being twenty-one-point-five seconds. You somehow did three-point-two seconds better."

"Some things you just have to learn on the field. Next year, though, the computer should be able to do it in eighteen flat, or I better have Taliya break up the Computer Science department." Taliya got a smile out of that before turning to the admiral.

"Adryan, how many of these can you produce by the end of the year?"

"At our current resource allotment, around fifteen thousand. If this 3D printing technology becomes more that just a prototyping device and moves into manufacturing, we might be able to see twenty-five thousand."

"Yeah, scratch that, Admiral. I want enough of these by the time the year is out to arm a fifth of the Aelmerian military. In three years time, this weapons platform should be in every Federation soldier's paw. Move this project into phase two--the R7A1 program. I want it done, understood?" Her word choice was firm and unwavering, but the charisma she held allowed her to pull it off while donning a friendly and understanding tone, sacrificing none of her authority. She was asking for a fifty-five fold increase in what the Admiral was saying was possible, though I doubt he would not get it done. Military estimates in my experience tended to lowball expectations unless it was a personal achievement. Still, I bet she knew she was asking for far too much.

The Admiral nodded his head, shifted into an Aelmerian salute, and after two seconds made his way over to where the R&D team was. They would not be excited about the quota, but I had no doubt that a significant increase in funding would come out of that, which means a bigger team and a higher profile project to put on their records. The Defense Minister and Taliya locked eyes before synchronously nodding. No words needed. The Minister went over to finalize any details with the admiral and his team. Most likely, he would tell them about getting the annual Military STEM Team Award and refer them to his office. A guess based on my past observations.

Taliya raised two of her fingers to the right side of her throat. "Asher? I need you to finalize the reports on nuclear proliferation into terror cells and Taurian divisional strength along the Krel Passage once he arrives in his office. You also needs to schedule a call between me and the Eglitican Prime Minister."

She was using her subdermal comms equipment with her digital assistant, Oracle. I myself had one as did all members of the Admiralty and Praetorian ranks. Voice recognition, access to Echelon directories, and constant connection with the Federation's military communications satellite array.

She let out a lethargic sigh before raising her glare to me, smiling. "It's all abstractions nowadays. A few soldiers die here, we can take X with only Y civilian casualties, 43% of furs in a given area have been forced to relocate, but we'll restore order to the area in two to five years...it feels so distant and cold."

"Ruthless calculus, Ma'am. You serve the Aelmere Federation and its people. It's by necessity that sacrifices have to be made." I tried to empathize with her, I really did. I just don't think that I could, though. Leading a battalion of troops or losing a member of my squad was never easy. You know that some people will not go home to their families, to live another day. I had to deal with deaths on a battlefield. She has to deal with all of them spanning the globe. They are similar, but in no way equivalent.

"I know. For the greater good." Her mood appeared to perk up a little bit, but I was not sure if it was genuine or deceptively artificial.

"For the greater good," I repeated back. "I have to ask, Ma'am," I said, trying to shift the conversation away from the previous subject matter. "Why did you bring me along? I highly doubt that it was solely for showing off my slightly above average marksmanship."

"Just--first off, you can drop this whole 'Ma'am' thing, Cayden. No one's watching," she said.

"Elaenor and a dozen Sentry agents are," I said, gesturing behind her. Elaenor, listening in on her subdermals, lightly flicked her paw at me as if telling me off.

"See?" Taliya acted exasperated, though the dramatic emphasis only made it sound like she was having fun, trying to have some time away from thinking about who to send to their possible death come morning.

Always follow orders, Cayden. I planned in my mind to let out a little sigh, but my body instead let out a little snicker. "Yeah yeah, alright. We can probably make our way out to wherever you planned on going next, but you still have to answer my question." Parry and riposte, defend and attack.

"Very well," she began as we made our way back out into the underground hangar. "I wanted to ask about the progress you and your team has been making on the genotype virus project."

"It should be completed soon," I said. "We ran several trials of a flu-like version on military volunteers, and it was able to target who we wanted without leaving anyone else with symptoms. It could be used for specific individuals, ethnic groups, solaerens with specific genetic mutations, or just furs with blue and green eyes, leaving brown and hazel alone."

"What's the transmission rate?"

"Within ten meters of a person: 15%. Five meters: 45%. One meter and you have almost a guaranteed transmission. With sheer numbers, however, and societal demographics of people living in urban areas, we could infect the entire population of Taipys in ten days."

"How does it react with our air purification systems," she asked.

"Well," I said. "Most of our current day systems should be able to prevent the transmission of it. That can be easily rectified with a few modifications, but we did not want to create a prototype without some safeguards in place."

She seemed to relax a bit at that, her shoulders and posture becoming less stiff. "Alright, I'll pass it up to the GC. Are you concerned about its usage, Cayden?"

"Full disclosure, Tali?" She nodded. "I think this will be our undoing. Not the military's or even the Federation's, but for all solaerens. We could cure disabilities, accelerate the rate of evolution, cure cancer...but what happens when--not if--it gets weaponized? What if Nova Security gets their paws on it, or worse, SRG? It could help everyone, or it could kill anyone. If Nova gets their paws on it, we risk state-sanctioned assassination or lethal corporate takeovers. If SRG gets it, we risk them wiping out entire ethnic groups. There's even the chance that some rogue organization or whatnot can unleash the virus, leaving the entire global population symptomless when out of nowhere, you get a heart attack and die in the Sit-room. I--Tali, I'm scared out of my mind."

"That's why I have had you working with forming and directing CBRF," she said. It was direct. She was not angry or worried or disappointed. She was focusing on the job. We continued down the side of the facility, weaving in between high-tech workstations littered in monitors and furs to tending to them, even at this hour.

"There's only so much we can do to contain it, Tali. There are no guarantees that we can detect it, respond fast enough, and contain it before it spreads elsewhere. That's the cost of a globalized world with state-run, international transportation. We have had enough trouble stopping SRG's attempts at unleashing sarin and VX, not to mention worrying about when the next epidemic will appear. We've been due for one these past few months."

"I know, Cayden. That's why I am shutting down the program." She returned to that tense state before, her jaw tightened and neck strained.

There was a pained silence after that. "Tali, you know how the GC will respond to that."

"I do, but I also know the cost of what happens if I don't. You said it yourself, Cayden. It's not if but when half of the Aelmerian military drops dead from it. That's why I brought you along. To ask about how I, and therefore the GC, should proceed with the project. Now I know. I need you to scrub all of the data. Burn the samples."

I nodded, but it was subdued. "Yes, Ma--" I barely caught myself. "I'll get it done. Have you told the Defense or HS Minister? Does the Health Minister even know of the project?"

"I'll tell Minister Allen once he catches back up with us. He won't be enthusiastic about it, much like the GC, but I am sure he will understand. Same with the Homeland Security Minister. Minister Dulles knows. He might be disappointed with the lost potential, but I have no doubt that he feels just as deeply about it as you. That's what you get when you are more focused on keeping everyone healthy than taking down terrorists."

That last part was basically semantics, but I let it go. "Makes sense. We might be able to repurpose the project to--"

"No," Taliya said, cutting me off. "Everything has to go. If you want to start up another project targeting genetic disabilities, I'll get you any resources you request, but it has to be built from the ground up, and I need to see to it that safeguards are in place to prevent any weaponization." She paused after that, making an attempt to collect herself. "Sorry, Cayden. I just cannot have any risks. I know this is your field of expertise and not mine, but I need to be sure."

"I get it, Tali. No need to apologize," I told her. It was odd to have her bark at me like that, but I understood it. Didn't mean that I had to like it, but I kept that to myself." I'll see to it within the hour. I'll make sure to meet with the furs working on it, too. Make sure that they get the message without any physical or digital copies of it."

She smiled at that. "I'm glad that I have you on my side. I don't want to have to imagine what would happen to Darryl or Casdy if that damned virus was unleashed on me." At just the thought of it, her smile vanished, replaced by a dark and blank stare.

Wanting to make the question not seem as daunting as it was, I folded my ears in concern. "Don't you have contingencies and plans of last resort?" I knew, though, that it likely would have done little to aid me if I was in her position. Still, she and I needed every little boost of courage we could get.

She scoffed at the remark, covering her insecurity with levity and humor. "Asher, the GC, Defense Minister, myself--we've toiled over continuity of government plans in the event that I am forcibly removed from office. Troop morale, confidence in our security abroad, the values and merit that the GC will look at for a successor...but I don't have a plan for my family. I don't know how they'll deal with my passing. To be frank," she turned to face me, her eyes filled with fear and worry, "I've been running away from the issue, as if that will make it disappear. Then again, there's dozens families that have to deal with that same tragedy daily, and mine won't be the last."

"I know. I can't think about not being there for Kayetlin for more than a few minutes before I have to get some air."

"How is she doing organizing those clinics in Qi Sheng?"

"They got an influx of patients after Hurricane ACS-1337, but overall they're operating nominally. She's actually arriving in Taipys in the morning."

"Really!? Cayden, you should have told me. You know how packed my schedule is. Um, uh...maybe Darryl and I can have you two over next week for some evening coffee."

"Tali, it's fine. We both know you are very busy. That's why she asked me to hold off on telling you, because otherwise you might reschedule a national security meeting for some catching up. She'll be arriving at around oh-seven-hundred. Caught the redeye hyperloop from Xin Baolei."

"I am going to guess that is why you were anxious.

"Well, I'm rather preoccupied as is. Speaking of which, I should probably go burn it." I turned my head towards her, my tone pitching up as if to ask for permission.

"Ah, right. Get to it, Praetorian." Her ears perked up, adjusting from the shifting tone of personal to professional.

"Yes, Ma'am." I gave her a salute and broke away from the group, making my way to the main exit that was not hidden within a secret elevator. Instead, it was half a dozen sleek escalators that opened up into a contemporary lobby. High ceilings, open floor spaces, and enormous glass panes that lined the exterior wall. That was, of course, besides the layers of security that one would have to go through to go in or out of the facility.

Similar to the security pathway we had to experience into the XW3 project testing area, I went through a small corridor that had three sides of it glow white, highlighting the several weapons on my person before being cleared due to my rank.

I went through the giant glass doors whose height must have been nearing in on three stories or so. The slid open easily after picking me up on approach. The lobby itself only had around twelve people in it or so at this hour even though it could easily hold a thousand or so. Exiting the lobby opened up into Polaris Camp. Trees were intermittently placed along the sides of the thruway along with light posts that angled upwards, a long strip of LEDs acting as the light bulbs.

Several vehicles passed along the thruway on both directions, their head and taillights offering the occasional, rolling illumination in the small slits of road that the street lights did not cover before moving along.

Going on what I had experienced on operations in Caskya, it was rather similar to one of their technology conglomerate's campuses. Contemporary, geometric architectural designs with an abundance of metal and glass. Open and bright outdoor spaces with a surprising amount of vegetation for such an industrial and contemporary space. The frequent blaring of aircraft overhead and the barking of orders off in the distance breaks the vibe, though.

I went off to my right, going further towards the inner ring of the base. I thought that the walk would take around ten minutes. It took about eleven; I had to stop to allow a convoy of cargo transports pass before crossing a road.