Millennia: Eye of the Storm

by Thunderblast

26. Rites of Passage

Arc woke in a shock, gasping initially as if his breathing had ceased for a prolonged period. In the moments after catching his breath at last, he carefully studied the room he was in. Still dark, still cold, still creepy, but... different. It took him a bit longer to realize what was on him until he found that he could not move.

What ever it was that encased him, it prevented any sort of movement aside from his head. His vision clearing revealed there to be a bluish visor over his eyes attached to the helmet on his head. Styled similarly to the structure of a royal guard's headpiece, it extended down around the back of his neck to meet his shoulders, where it continued around the whole of his barrel and down his hooves, as well. The only parts of him left exposed were his ears, muzzle, and a sliver of his neck below his chin.

Evidently this 'suit' was powered, which he discovered to be the reason why he could not move freely in it, no matter his struggles. What else he knew was that Armet was successful in sticking him in this strange armor and even remembered what he had said before being knocked out. Now it was adding up.

Before his next thought could process, a crackle like that of a speaker sounded in both ears, like it was surrounding him, and the deep voice that followed. "Good evening, Arc Nobis. How are you feeling?"

He looked around himself at first, attempting to pinpoint the voice before determining it to be in his helmet. Something about the voice itself, however, was not right. It did not sound like Armet's, and it even had the slightest tinge of an accent, one he could not quite put his hoof on. Because he could not spot this pony physically, he came to the conclusion that they were both in separate rooms.

"Who are you? What is this?" he questioned, continuing to examine his surroundings.

"My name is Acrocephaly, Armet Mace's leading neurologist. I was ordered to operate on you as part of his new program. Now, how are you feeling?"

Arc's gaze danced around some more, trying to determine a way out of there. "Why am I here? What the hell am I wearing?"

"You volunteered. That is why you are here. What you are wearing is the third prototype of the first model of the AVB Enforcer-class of GenTech armor suits. I respect your bravery and dedication despite the risk, and your life sacrifice in the name of science."

"I didn't... volunteer for shit, I was brought here against my will!" Arc shouted, continuing to examine the glass surrounding him.

"I see. I understand. You are not the first to feel hesitation and remorse, and you shall not be the last. I can assure you that everything will be just fine, Arc."

As soon as the stallion finished, the whirring hum of what Arc could make out as a power source booting up had him returning his attention to the armor. Between the heavy steel plates now glowed bright blue, and he could move at last, except in a stiff manner.

He took a brief moment to fully examine what he was wearing. Beneath the armor sat a full-body compression suit of some sort that was not there prior. Before, the suit felt like he was encased in a block of cement. In his mind, he theorized that the energy source located under his stomach had remarkably altered the structural material to grant him movement, meaning if the power ran out or is destroyed, he would be trapped.

"Oh, and do not fret about becoming stuck, Second Lieutenant," said Armet in the speakers. "It is self-recharging, next to impossible to breach with conventional weapons."

Arc's eyes grew wide, darting around. "How... how do you know what I am thinking?"

"Coincidence, I suppose," Armet chuckled, hinted with sinister intent.

Immediately, Arc reached up, grabbing both sides of the helmet with his hooves and pushing upward. The lower of the piece detached easily from the rest of the suit through magnets. As he lifted the helmet up two inches, he suddenly yipped with pain, releasing the helmet and allowing it to be sucked back down by the pull of the magnets.

Pain tinged not only the sides of his head, but inside as well. Having attempted to remove the helmet felt as if there were extremely small, thin, cold needles that tugged at his brain and the skin of his temples. Along with the pain, the feeling of it sent shivers up his spine. "W-what have you done?" he panted softly.

"So, about that coincidence. I lied. The helmet you are wearing is wired directly to either hemispheres of your brain through the temporal lobe, and neurally connected to your brain stem. This routes activity from your neurotransmitters and receptors through your suit and feeds it back to us, which we can decipher on the go as your mind functions. Don't worry, the holes are sterile... for now."

"The big terms are impressive, I must admit. That does not mean I understand all of it, Armet," Arc grunted as the pain diminished.

"In short terms, we can see everything that you see and think, hear everything you hear. We are quite literally in your head."

"That's great. Now get the fuck out before I make you," Arc retorted.

"If that were even a possibility, Arc Nobis, I would not recommend such. Your suit is simultaneously wired with a 'safe mode' which, if activated through a remote switch, will subject an electric shock that will do one of the following. Either it will force you out of consciousness, it will permanently paralyze you, or it will kill you. It is as simple as that. Now, are you willing to cooperate?"

With much reluctance, the stallion eased himself just enough, this displaying in front of Armet, who then continued.

"Very good. I appreciate your compliance. Now, shall we begin test number two?"

"What is that?" Arc calmly questioned.

"Why, how tactful of you to ask, Second Lieutenant! You see—"

Arc's gaze fell slowly to meet the floor in front of him. "I am not a second lieutenant anymore."

"Oh, pity! I quite enjoy the title. Now, moving on! This program is only a two-step process. First is appliance of the armor and its acceptance of the body. The second is the body's acceptance of the suit. That comes with many tests. Are you ready to begin yours?"

***

"All right, Shooter, one-ninety-two. Please, step off now," said Davenport, scribbling on a clipboard form that he had kept close by the duration of the exam.

"One-ninety-two?!" my voice peaked with shock. The unicorn raised his hoof, motioning for me to tone it down. "Isn't that... overweight?"

The medic sailor nodded, placing the pen and clipboard on a counter. "In a way. That said, you have healthy amounts of body fat, Corporal. Your weight may consist more of muscle based on a simple visual perspective. Do you visit the gym often?" he questioned.

I blinked twice. "Not as frequently as I used to, no," shaking my head. "I wouldn't exactly say that I am inactive, though."

"Oh, heavens, no. If that were the case, I would know as soon as I laid eyes on you," smiled the white-coated unicorn. "It is imperative to retain an active lifestyle and eat healthily, but, you are already aware." His look transformed into one of inquiry. "Are you unhappy with your weight?"

I hopped back up onto the exam table. "It was a bit surprising. But, if you insist nothing is abnormal, I will take your word for it."

Davenport nodded, taking the pen and jotting down a bit more. With how fast he writes with his magic, I am more surprised that the clipboard did not already have a hole burned through it.

When he reached the bottom of the page after a few brief pauses to go over what was written, he clicked the pen's button and levitated both it and the clipboard, turning to me with a smile.

"All right. I will be right back so we can move along with the drug screening!" he said, heading out, closing the door.

That wasn't anything to be concerned about. There have been so many previously that I've had to take. All it was is a plastic tube and a cotton swab that they dab around my mouth to collect saliva samples and send it in to a lab. I knew for a fact that drugs, legal or not, weren't in my system.

What had me worried the most was the possibility of more shots. Sure, it was less urgent for the fact that this appointment is meant to be a pre-deployment screening and not me rushing over after a rat bite to make sure I don't have rabies, like my last visit here.

It hadn't been more than a minute when the door reopened and Davenport removed a small white stick rounded off with a gentle cotton, discarding the plastic bag it and the tube were stored in.

"You know the procedure," he smiled, levitating the swab a few inches from my muzzle.

I parted my maw widely, allowing for him to wipe around every nook and cranny he needed—in reality, the roof of my mouth and beneath my tongue. Only about two or three seconds before he placed the swab in the tube and capped it off to prevent contamination.

"A bit of forewarning, Doc, I don't think you will find anything but saliva on that thing," I remarked with a grin.

"I would hope not," he replied with a similar smirk, disappearing back out the door again to deliver the sample to the lab upstairs, once more initiating a temporary wait for the next step of the screening, and mildly re-inflating the worry of needing shots sooner or later.

It all varied on where specifically we were heading this time around. Previous deployments brought us out to a region of the ocean and looped us back around to Manehattan. The possibility of actually sailing somewhere and making port existed, but according to many, that was unlikely. Usually in times of conflict where ships are then moved to a certain region if necessary, and with venturing to another land came the risk of sickness, bringing my thoughts around full circle.

Speaking of previous deployments, this upcoming one would mark my fourth since enlistment. Fourth! But two of those three times we were forced to make an early turn towards home. This time, however, it seemed we would not have to be concerned about any severe weather. At least, I hoped not, because I am sure as hell not boarding another damn ship that cannot handle its own.

No, for once, I had good vibes. Alas, the crew briefing is later on this week anyways. Whatever our objective is and how long we will be at sea is due to be revealed in the powerpoint. Something has to be out there for the higher-ups to vote on it. Of course, knowing this adds a little bit of tension to the thought. I understood the chances all too well, especially after my second time underway. Those risks lived each and every time, whether it be the smallest of accidents, or an intentional act of war.

There had been political tension overseas for quite some time now. To our relief, it never truly escalated anywhere above a figurative staring contest between Equestria and Ajerstan, and a few other nations in that general direction. Talks of the situation simmered down on base between Marines as time went on. Then it was mostly sailors expressing their concern of what a war would be like against Ajerstan and its allied neighbor, Foscovia.

Seeing as both were significantly smaller as compared to some place such as East Griffonia, or the Undivided Kingdom, likeliness is a war might not last long, and especially not end in their favor compared to Equestria's firepower alone. That is only assuming none of our allies step up to our aid.

In all reality, though, war is a terrifying concept as it is. The one in Manehattan over five months ago was more than enough to support that fact, especially now where I am still struggling to leave it all behind. Worst part of it all, we were not even fighting an established army. Just a rather large band of exiles who believed they could take an entire city and kill as many innocents as they please.

Then again, the damage was done. Even though not all of them made it to shore to be wiped out by us anyways, those that did threw the country into a temporary tailspin. It raised question as to why it was not prevented. My friends and I were the only few to show force the day it began as far as on the ground, up until the few thousand or more hurried back from Baltimare, where belief was that the Constitution would attack. The diversion worked too well and everypony knows that.

And there were ponies that died. Civilians and military. One of whom was my friend, and he died far too young. It should not have happened. None of it. We were all caught off guard as horridly as the changeling attacks in Canterlot during the Royal Wedding. Now I just hope that should it happen again, big or small, we will all be prepared. I crave that assurance one day.

"All right, Shooter! Hate to tell ya, buuuut, you're in for one today. It will be quick, I promise!" Davenport said with a warm smile, drawing a small syringe from his pocket in a magical grasp.

How lovely.

***

Later on that evening, I went to the usual meeting place in one of the base's offices where Shadow had ordered us to gather. A few days prior, before my checkup with Davenport, the mess hall stood in place to occupy the hundreds to be informed of the upcoming deployment. Only a tiny portion of those sailors—primarily ones stationed on the bridge, including myself—were requested to this briefing.

I met up with a couple others in the hall before continuing to the room somewhat early. In there we found the senior chief and Shadow in conversation. With salutes, we silently entered, collected booklets for each of us to go over, and took our seats while we waited for the rest to fill in.

Discussions were mostly casual going around the room. This was one of those lovely times where superiors dropped their terrifying mask and became civilians, talking about life and other things in between. I kept quiet for the most part other than to respond to a question or chime in on something I knew about and not make myself look stupid in front of the others.

Over the course of a few minutes, the rest of the bridge crew trickled in, including Vernon and Sea Watch, among a couple of other chiefs. Most of these ponies I did not see the majority of the time because they had opposite shifts. Some of them worked down below in the operations room, or in flight control, so these meetings were the only instances I ever see them.

Eventually the talk died down and things turned serious. Formality took over. Six minutes past the time to begin the briefing, everypony settled down and focused on the captain as the final sailor entered.

"All right. I hope everypony has collected their briefing manuals and has them open to the opening page—"

"Wait! Wait! I'm here!" came a voice hurrying down the hall. Everyone turned their attention to the window looking out into the hall and to the door as a unicorn sailor came to a skidding halt at the doorway.

Upon entry, the stallion was panting heavily, moving a lot slower as he grabbed his own book from a table. The longer I took, the wider my eyes grew, likely to the size of saucer pans by now.

"Better late than never, eh, Petty Officer?" Shadow commented with resent in his tone, watching him closely as he then took a seat beside me. "Do not bother with excuses as we were only just beginning."

"Yes. Of course. My apologies, Captain," the unicorn responded as he removed his cover and placed it on the table, flipping open the folder-like book and turning his attention to Shadow, neglecting to take notice of the utter shock and puzzlement that grew on my face with each passing second.

"On that note, I would like to formally introduce Petty Officer Silver Edge, recently transferred from the Marines to third class," Shadow gestured toward him. "He is the newest addition to our little... circle, so to speak. Although we will not be on the ship for another week, welcome aboard, Silver."

In the dark of the room, it was hard to make out his faint blush. "Thank you, sir. It is an honor."

"The honor is mine, Petty Officer," Shadow nodded his head to him. "Now, listen up, mares and gentlecolts. Canterlot is adamant that we resume our mission from last time. As it turns out, the pinpointed signals have shifted further east. However, we will not be tracking down all of them. Orders are that we must locate at least two and find out what these signals may be."

At the press of a button on his opened laptop, a projector on the ceiling mirrored the image onto a rolling screen on the wall, displaying a map of shipping routes and predicted weather patterns, as well as eleven marked points forming a bow-like shape across the ocean.

One by one, Shadow tapped his hoof over each of the epicenter markers in red. "These are our objectives. Intelligence reports that they come and go every other day and that being in the general vicinity should have us pick something up on frequencies. The issue is, we still do not know which frequency to use for extra assurance, because no one currently understands the wavelengths. Not from this distance, that is. Which is why we are being shipped out to investigate... again."

His eyes fixed on the communications officer, Vernon. "I see that grin of yours, Petty Officer. Before you ask, yes, this is where you will come in. You are our best option as far as figuring out signals goes. That is your assignment for when the time comes. Operations will call in if you are needed below deck."

Smiling ear-to-ear, the plum purple-coated unicorn understandingly nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"As for the mission, it is not under wraps ship-wide, mind you. Everypony will be informed either prior to or as we leave port. So, if one of your fellow shipmates asks "hey, what are we doing out here this time?", feel free to fill them in," Shadow continued.

"Like anything else, however, I am obligated to remind you all that what we do is none of the public's business. So, no phoning home your loved ones or chirping updates of what is going on. I know my crew well enough to assure myself that will not happen," he added. A few quiet chuckles went around the room.

"So, orders are plain and simple. We treat this deployment like any ordinary one. But, as usual, we must be prepared in case it hits the screws. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Captain," we replied collectively.

Shadow nodded once. "Excellent. I expect no less of you," shifting attention to the enlisted beside him. "Senior Chief, would you care to do the honors?"

"Of course, Captain," Tacimo stood up, clearing his throat. "All right. So. We are to be accompanied by a portion of the Lunar Fleet, much like last time so we may cover more surface area. Each ship has a task of their own to locate these 'beacons', as we are referring them as."

"As far as air support goes, we shall be occupying the Airborne Early Warning team on board, as well as the Silver Diamond flight squadron. Both will be performing their duties as our eyes from above." He then paused as one sailor raised her hoof. "Yes?"

"Sir, please excuse my interruption, but it is to my knowledge that the Silver Diamonds are reserved for times of conflict and specialize in aerial warfare, as well as the Airborne Early Warning squadron if there is a viable threat at sea or if surveillance of a region is ordered," she remarked, before asking, "Are we going after someone, Chief?"

Some in the room exchanged looks, too beginning to ask the same question as her. Up until this point, I had no clue what the Silver Diamonds' purpose was. Almost immediately after, the senior chief let off a friendly chuckle.

"Lemoore, I can assure you right this second that what it is that they will be doing is completely routine and there is no cause for alarm. They simply serve as aerial aid in our mission, so to speak," he confidently answered.

Despite the surety in Tacimo's response, there were a few of us to detect to the captain's notable scorn regarding both the mare's question and the answer given. Silver darted his eyes over to me for a moment, but I was too honed in on the senior chief to notice.

The greenish-grey earth pony stood behind him proceeded to move around him and take the reigns. "Petty Officer, if your concern is that we are heading to war, what Senior Chief Tacimo is trying to say that I can also confirm is, no, we are not. As stated before, we are to treat this deployment as any other. As of right now, there is no present danger to Equestria that we must take action in to prevent."

"Yes, precisely," Tacimo added, swiping away a strand of his mane that had fallen in front of his eye with his hoof. "As such, come next Monday, I expect each and every one of you on the pier at 0600, bright and early. Even if you are one millisecond behind schedule, you are punishing everypony! Is that clear?"

Like before, each of us responded in unison, "Yes, Chief!"

"Perfect." Shadow then nodded, pressing a button on a hoof-held remote and switching the slide displayed. "Moving on..."

***

Bloodcurdling screams filled the room, followed by pained grunts, and a loud thump as the stallion's hooves gave out from underneath him. He gritted his teeth and tightly held his eyelids closed as an agonizing sting ripped through his head. Plates of his armor rattled quietly in the vibrating motion of his body as it trembled with weakness.

The shock finally ceased, letting him slowly recollect his thoughts and manage to get himself back up on all fours. His chest heaved with every deep breath, heart pounding relentlessly within and threatening to burst. Even it was beginning to hurt along with the surging aches that channeled throughout every square inch of his body spreading from his head down.

"Tell me, Arc. Just how long do you plan on resisting? There is no use in it. Your struggles will not last forever," echoed a deep voice in his helmet, the words slightly distorted by the confused state he slowly recovered from.

Panting, the stallion's lids reopened to reveal bloodshot purple irises surrounded with red and puffiness caused by the mental and physical strain endured for hours upon hours of torture. "L-long enough until you are convinced to finally kill me."

"Kill you?" the voice chuckled, no longer fuzzy in his head. "Oh, no. No. You, Arc Nobis, you are too precious of an asset to terminate. You are precisely what I have been searching for all these months."

"Just... fucking... kill me!" Arc desperately screamed, bringing down his hoof powerfully. Enhanced by the armor trapping him inside, the force buckled the tile beneath and spread cracks in all directions surrounding his hoof.

"You see that? Prime example of your potential. Just imagine what you could do to your enemies. They will not stand a chance!"

He threw himself down onto his haunches, shaking with fury, despair, and fear not for himself, but for the harm he could do. He realized by now that there was no escape for him and his protests only delayed one of two inevitable possibilities.

"I... won't... let you... do this!" Arc grunted out, head dipping and teeth clenching again. "Please... don't do this."

From the control console he stood in front of, monitoring the stallion's vitals and everything in between, Armet Mace grew a sinister grin on his muzzle at his captive's sudden plea, followed by a low nicker. "What's this? The Marine is begging for mercy?"

One press of a button had Arc flat on the floor, writhing in pain as another electric shock stunned him, administered through needles in the suit's helmet that penetrated his skull and settled into his brain. While not strong enough to cause permanent damage, each dose steadily weakened him. It was only a matter of time.

A few painful moments later, he was back up, only held by his forehooves that trembled and once more threatened to give way. The anger inside him went unmasked, even as he stared forward in a room of test dummies propped up and dressed with the heaviest of combat gear. He could not see Armet, but he knew he was there, observing, waiting his next move, and vice versa.