“Thank you.”
Odin still couldn’t believe the day wasn’t over yet. He’d been up since four in the morning, dragged to a disciplinary hearing, then spent time analyzing the vacuum corridor escape training — and only now did he finally have a chance to properly speak with the new recruit.
Having watched everything that unfolded inside the simulator on a monitor, Odin found the Doyun now sitting across from him genuinely remarkable.
Kapu had fumed the whole time — and yet still called him “a Guide who comes along maybe once in a century.” She wasn’t wrong. His radiant Guiding wasn’t just extraordinarily wide in range; it was precise. The fact that he’d been able to bring Fred’s Rampage gauge down that quickly had every single team member struggling to contain their excitement.
Odin himself had been in a state where his expectations for the new recruit Guide — expectations that had crashed into the ground after the disciplinary hearing incident — had resurfaced. He cleared his throat and opened the conversation.
“I’ll apologize in advance if my questions come across as somewhat rude — I’m not very familiar with the Zervia Talent Development Institute’s curriculum.”
There weren’t many Earth-born personnel in the United Space Forces. There was already more than enough talent among those from Varnas Space Station alone — Espers and Guides alike — to fill every position.
Even so, the occasional Esper or Guide from Earth trickled in, one or two a year. They made the same kinds of strange mistakes without fail, to the point where “doesn’t understand plain speech” had become a set phrase used for Earth-born personnel.
Odin hadn’t met anyone Earth-born besides Doyun yet, but he didn’t think Doyun failed to understand plain speech.
Earth and the space station were nearly two centuries apart in terms of technology. Earth was the graveyard of the left-behind old humanity, and Varnas Space Station was the cradle of the chosen new humanity. If anything, the new recruit’s mind moved quickly for his age, and he wasn’t without a certain sharpness.
“Did you join without having fully learned the military structure and terminology on Earth?”
“I did study it briefly in my first year.”
Doyun thought back to the class he’d barely scraped a passing grade in. A few months of cramming in lectures during his first year, and after that, the curriculum was almost entirely practical. Since very few people aimed for the United Space Forces to begin with, even what they did cover was tailored to the Earth Defense Corps structure.
“Then during today’s training, you didn’t understand the Major’s orders at all?”
Doyun gauged the situation before opening his mouth.
“I didn’t understand about half of them.”
“…Ha. So I personally selected a Guide who doesn’t even have the basics down.”
A silence stretched as long as Odin’s sigh. Worried that his enlistment might be revoked given the unsettling atmosphere, Doyun pushed back immediately.
“I can learn.”
Odin recalled what Anna had told him and pressed further.
“So you also have no idea how to use the equipment?”
“I haven’t fully learned how to use all of it yet.”
Zone 4 in particular had outdated equipment and lacked even a proper training facility. In contrast, those from Varnas Space Station enlisted having already learned to operate most advanced devices as part of their basic education.
Doyun blinked a few times, then spoke again.
“I can learn that quickly too.”
Odin fell briefly silent and turned to look out the window, as if momentarily at a loss for words. Outside, hundreds of aircraft and satellites roamed the dark expanse of space. The satellites belonging to each unit bore the names of fallen soldiers as they drifted through the void.
“We didn’t recruit a student to teach. We recruited a team member to fight and survive alongside.”
“……”
“Terminology and structure — those can be learned one way or another.”
Odin had looked up all of Doyun’s individual ranking records from his time at the Zervia Talent Development Institute. Remarkably, despite being a Guide, he had consistently placed first or second. Yet the team Doyun belonged to had always ranked near the bottom. It was proof of exceptional individual ability, and at the same time, proof that he couldn’t even manage basic cooperation.
“The problem is the things that can’t be learned in a short amount of time. The various useless habits you’ve ingrained in yourself.”
Fatigue was layered thick in Odin’s voice.
“We go out on recon more than thirty times a year and take part in almost every battle. There’s no dedicated personnel to pull you aside and teach you things one by one, and no time either. Let alone the luxury of correcting bad habits.”
“I’ll cut back on sleep if I have to.”
Doyun stood up entirely. He had a reason he absolutely had to stay in the Genius Strike Force. Thinking of his sibling’s surgery date, he squeezed his eyes shut. The “medical priority rights” granted upon joining the Genius Strike Force were only valid for as long as he maintained his position in the unit.
“Give me a few days and I’ll come back with everything learned.”
Odin looked up at Doyun’s tense expression and paused in thought. After studying him steadily for a moment with one leg crossed over the other, Odin spoke quietly.
“No matter how skilled your Guiding is, going by the behavior you’ve shown up until now, I can’t trust you in the slightest. What do you think about that?”
Doyun bit his lower lip, thinking back on the disastrous first impression he’d made. It irritated him — the way this person didn’t just tell him to shut up and get out, but instead turned it back into a question and left him with nothing to say. That style of speaking.
For his part, Odin let out a quiet, humorless laugh as he watched the new recruit, who couldn’t even muster a hollow promise that he’d try hard from now on and to please trust him — just sealing his lips shut in silence.
He rose as if to end the conversation and tossed a single book onto Doyun’s bed.
“For now, make sure you learn all the unit terminology in there. I’ll have Anna pass along whatever other materials you need. For the time being, you’re exempt from training.”
Doyun looked down at the book, which was as thick as Odin’s thigh, and asked:
“By when do I need to…”
“The sooner the better. As you said — if you come back in a usable state before the first recon mission, I’ll give you another chance. You at least need to understand orders.”
Watching his superior’s shadow leave the rest room without looking back, Doyun let the tension drain out of him and fell back onto the bed. The weight of the basic manual resting on his knees was heavy.
Outside the rest room, Odin spotted a familiar shadow. Whether she had heard the whole conversation from out here, Anna was watching Odin more carefully than usual, which was unlike her.
He walked over to Anna, who had been waiting with her back against the wall, and gave her head a pat. At that, Anna worked up the nerve to ask:
“Are you really going to kick him out?”
Odin looked for a moment at the flicker of unease in the girl’s eyes. His voice, unlike earlier, had shed its anger as he asked back:
“Seems like you took quite a liking to this Guide?”
Anna was young enough to be the niece of most of the team members. As a result, every member of the Genius Strike Force tended to go soft where Anna was concerned. Odin was no exception.
“He’s handsome.”
Odin stopped mid-step at the unexpected answer and looked down at her. He met the prim gaze looking back up at him. Kids that age definitely had a thing for looks.
He bent his knees slightly to meet Anna’s eye level.
“You can’t tell if someone is a good person just by their face.”
“I know.”
Anna let go of his hand and ran off down the corridor.
“You’re the same way, Colonel!”
Odin watched the back of Anna already gone from sight. He’d always made an effort to be kind to the young Esper, but the slightly disgruntled expression on his face suggested he wondered if he’d been scarier than he thought.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t exactly left a great impression on Anna — given how every new Guide that came in ended up getting pummeled to near death by the time things wrapped up.
Anna, having fled down the corridor, stood on her tiptoes to press the button on a vending machine for an energy drink. She ordered twelve in total, and with a series of clunks, the machine dispensed a full armful of cans.
Taking them out one by one, Anna looked out at the empty corridor with a slightly somber expression. Doyun was much younger than Paulo, who hadn’t come back from the last mission — but he gave off a similar vibe.
A gaze that was plain but warm, at just the right temperature. She didn’t dislike the way he looked at her as a proper comrade.
