Titanfall: A Titan's Heart

Chapter 5: Freshies

(A/N: First off, I'd like to thank you lovely people for reading my story! I enjoy reading your comments and am really glad to hear you enjoy it so far. I'm sorry that I've been really sporadic with my updating thus far, but I'm working out a schedule to continue writing this story! :) Happy reading!)

It took a couple minutes, but it seemed as if we had finally gotten a bit more orderly. The receptionist had led us into some sort of lab, hologram screens appearing at regular intervals with login screens at the ready. Our names were printed neatly across the top in bold letters. It seemed like we would be taking a test, possibly the PCT, here.

I observed the people around me, gauging their intellect and whether they would pose as a threat to getting into the Pilot program. It was a weird way of thinking, I knew, but it kept me from having a panic attack at what I'd dragged myself into. I then stared at my hands, wondering if I truly did have what it takes to become a certified pilot.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. I looked up from the desk to see a uniformed man. He had deep set eyes and a tall, thick build. His expression was one that made me think that he looked down on the world.

He quickly surveyed the room before addressing us as a whole. "If you hadn't already figured it out, in this room we will be giving you the written portion of the PCT, or the Pilot Certification Test." The sound of his boots clicking against the tile floor could easily be heard amongst the growing silence as he paced. The man had this fiery hunger in his eyes, and I questioned his being here somewhat.

"This test, basically, will decide if you're not too dimwitted. It will determine if you move onto the next area of testing. If you do not pass," This expression of sick amusement passed over his face as he paused for dramatic effect, "you will be entitled to train as a grunt or a field medic."

Bursts of outrage sounded out throughout the room, along with the exchange of pale faces and upset features. I think every one of us knew that becoming a grunt was a death sentence. They were worse than pawns in a chess game!

"Now, now, let's not get carried away..." He clicked his tongue as if he were chiding us. "Let that be motivation for you to succeed. Continuing, please face your screens and begin. Also, you cannot cheat. Each test is individualized with different questions. Happy testing!" He laughed smugly before moving to sit at a desk in the corner of the room. And from that point on he became known Mean Guy.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to look at the hologram screen. How in the galaxy am I going to do this? I tried not to think too much of failure as I tapped on the start button with my finger.

The testing then began. Most of the questions were multiple choice, actually. They contained things such as scenarios I would be put in as a pilot, how I felt about certain subjects, and even how physically active I was. It seemed a little too easy. It didn't really feel like an elite testing program as it was described in the magazines I read.

I finished the test in about an hour, right in the middle of when everyone else was finishing. The guy on my left seemed to be struggling, as his completion bar was still only about 60% finished. I frowned at his screen in response. The test wasn't that hard. I guess some people just aren't ready for it... As hard as it was for me to believe.

That guy actually finished in the 90 minutes we were allotted for the test, surprisingly. Mean Guy gave some of the other stragglers cold hearted laughs as their screen went blank, signifying that time was up. I pitied them somewhat. They didn't know that failure meant more time as a grunt or introduction to the life of a grunt.

After everyone had gone quiet, Mean Guy motioned to the door without rising from his place at the desk. "Out you go, Freshies. You'll be assigned bunks, and then it's simulation time!" His eyes grew particularly happy as he announced the word simulation. I felt anxiety blossom from my chest in response. Why did he say it like that? Can I die in simulation?

I didn't have time to dwell on my worries, however, as we were ushered out of the room and back to the waiting area where we had first entered. The lady at the desk stated that it might be a while before everyone is assigned a room, so we all settled down in couches or lounge chairs.

I took a seat next to a man with brown hair and brown eyes. He smiled at me kindly as I sat down, and I noticed the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Seems like a nice guy... I thought absently.

"Hey. You look pretty young to be applying. I'm Jason, by the way." He held out his hand in greeting, and I shook it with a small smile on my face.

"Kyna. I guess I am a bit younger than most of the others here. I didn't think that pilot training would be quite like this." I shrugged, and Jason laughed quietly before answering.

"I see. Well, best of luck to you. Some of the people here have already made a name for themselves because of their military past."

"Like who?" I realized I was completely oblivious when it came to the military scene. The only general I knew of was my own father, and I sure wouldn't know if there were any people with serious potential. As I tried to hide the light pink on my cheeks, I had Jason point out a few of the ones who had "made a name for themselves."

"That's Jonathon Pratt." He nodded in the direction of a blonde haired man in his mid-twenties who was in a deep conversation with another person. "I've heard rumors that he's taken down more pilots than other pilots themselves. And that's saying something, especially since grunts get less than a quarter of the gear that pilots do.

"And the one standing by himself is Marty. He was actually stationed in my platoon at one point." Even though Jason said he knew him, the look on his face told me that this Marty guy wasn't close with him. "He's got a good shot though. Kid shot a can from 100 meters out." He whistled low for emphasis.

"That's the only ones I know of, but I'm sure you'll hear about others as training progresses." He looked over at me and stared for a second before asking, "How 'bout you? You got a name for yourself? How'd you get in that young-lookin'?"

A nervous smile tugged at my lips. I really didn't want to tell him who my father was in case he knew. However, I decided that I would tell the truth. Having a friend in Jason didn't seem like a bad thing. "Um, first off, my dad is General Galen." I trailed off the end, looking towards Jason. I was surprised to see that there was no surprised or elated expression on his face. Just a look of understanding.

"Oh, Galen. Heard o' him. Not to be rude, but from what I've been told, he's ruthless in battle. He sent a whole platoon o' grunts and some 15 pilots off to get massacred down somewhere in the Sector 9 region. Never heard anything good 'bout that man."

The revelation shocked me, but I kept a composed look on my face. "I'd have never guessed. I mean, I didn't know him that well, bu-" I was cut off as the lady at the desk called out Jason's name to show him his room.

With a light pat to my knee, he gets up to leave. Before he does, though, he looks back and smiles. "Catch ya later, Kyna." I give a small wave in response.

After he left, I rested my head back against the loveseat and closed my eyes. Listening to other peoples' conversation gave me something to keep me from thinking, even if it gave me no knowledge on anything related to the I.M.C. or training.

It seemed like forever, but five minutes after Jason left my name was called. "Kyna, this way please." The lady behind the desk gave me a warm smile before leading the way out of the waiting room and into a long hallway. One right turn later I was standing in front of what would be my room. "This will be your room. There is a bathroom and a bed, with some books and other things if you get bored. You'll be assigned a permanent room on one of our war ships if you pass training. You can relax here for a few hours, at which time someone will be around to take you to the others." She exits gracefully after that, and I feel as if I was just dumped here, despite the forced kindness behind her words.

I stalked over to my bed and fell onto it with a soft whoosh. The comforter enveloped me slowly, and I felt the air slowly leak out of it as it formed to me. I sighed and rolled up to my back, staring at the ceiling with one thought on my mind. What next?