Self Improvement

"Hey, kid."

"Hmm?" Ryuga had his head under the console of the Crystal Heart, fiddlingwith something. He didn't look up or pause, absorbed as he was in his work. But he was aware of Laura hovering over him, looking him up and down like a cat might examine a strange new object.

Up until this point, it had never really bothered the AI what her new pilot looked like, or how well he did by himself. The fact that Ryuga had performed as well as he did during the attack on Capital City meant that she didn't really care. He was a good kid, open-minded and willing to listen despite having the constitution of a nervous mouse. And there was a streak of bravery about him that she admired a lot, coming from someone who'd literally dropped in on her. So his physical appearance hadn't mattered so much to her.

Now, outside of the heat of battle, she could look at him properly. And she could see that whilst his frame was certainly thin, he himself wasn't all that. Lying on his back revealed the beginnings of a belly formed through fatty food and energy drinks - the fare of a Junior Mechanic who pulled regular all-nighters. It wasn't flattered by the form-fitting pilot's bodysuit he worse, against which his tummy pushed up like a small hill. And his limbs, whilst wiry, had a faint pudginess that was noticable on a closer look.

Especially on his thighs, Laura thought, smirking. But she kept it to herself.

"You... enjoy being a Wyvern Pilot, right?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," replied Ryuga, earnestly. "It's better than being up to my arms in cable and pipes."

Laura waited until he'd tugged something into place, and then dropped her next question like an apple on an unsuspecting head.

"Would you," she asked, "like to be the best at it?"

Ryuga paused. Then he drew his head out from under the console and looked up at her with wide eyes. Laura couldn't help but notice how his stomach creased as he sat up, nor the doughy softness to his face. At the time, she considered it gave him an adorable quality, like a teddy bear that had too much stuffing put in. But now, she wondered...

"You mean it?" she heard him ask.

"Sure, why not?" Laura smiled as she lowered herself down to his level. "It's an achievement you could tick off the bucket list. Ryuga Kanzuki, Best Pilot in the Realms. Imagine that stamped on your ID Card."

Ryuga considered this, his head on one side.

"Well," he said at last, "that'd be nice. But I don't really think that's possible."

"Why not? You did well out there when we first met."

"Yes, but that was mostly because you did most of the work," Ryuga insisted. "You see, I only practiced flying on the old Hornets, not on a Wyvern. And I hadn't flown for at least two years since. I'm nothing like as good as those flying aces and I never could be."

Laura shrugged. "Point taken. But you could be a damn sight better than you are now."

"How?" asked the boy.

"Well, there's two things you'd have to do." The AI put her hands on her hips in an authoritive manner. "First, you'd have to go into proper training. Catch-up lessons are all well and good, but you're not in a Hornet anymore. You'd have to do some real practice - live-fire courses, bombing runs, dogfights. I'd help, of course, but the point's to wean you off me doing all the work. And some ground work, too, with rifles - just in case."

Ryuga nodded eagerly, taking it all in like a sponge. Then he hesitated.

"But... You said there were two things," he murmured. "What's the second?"

For answer, Laura leaned over and gave his tummy a slap. The embarrassed yelp he gave put a grin on her face.

"Change your diet," she laughed. "The way you're going, that suit's gonna make you look preggers! No more energy drinks for you, champ - way too sugary, never mind the wreck they've made of your sleep schedule. And no more late-night pizza bagel binges."

Ryuga's expression was like a puppy sitting next to a damp spot on the carpet.

"Not even one?" he whined.

Laura's grin didn't change.

"We'll see."

-------

And so it was for about a month or so.

Under Laura's direction, Ryuga signed up for a series of exercises under the base's Air Marshall. These were mostly aimed at veterans who already knew what they were doing, and thus were focused on simulating real-world battle situations. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were air-focused. At any time, the pilots were taking on an entire dreadnought with minimal backup, or escorting a damaged carrier through enemy gunfire. Tuesdays and Thursdays were lessons in on-foot combat, whilst weekends were optional exercise routine to complement the ground training.

Ryuga learned quickly in the air training. As time went on he found himself relying less and less on Laura for things like targeting, able to do it himself almost without thinking. He wasn't quite so immediately good at the ground combat, however, since he'd never held an ArcRifle in his life. He made all the rookie mistakes - dropping his ammo, overheating, venting heat too early and causing the mechanism to jam. He even bloodied his own nose during ironsight aiming when the kickback of his weapon smacked him in the face.

In the end, however, his mechanical aptitude helped him in those situations. And it wasn't long before he could fire off a round, reload, vent and return to the fight as well as the average ground trooper. The rate at which he improved was nowhere as great as the air combat, of course. But it was significant considering it was something he'd never done before.

The weekend exercises involved a programme worked out to suit everyone. Jogging, long-distance running, sprinting obstacle courses and weight training were all part of the routine, and it was all hard work. Ryuga often was the most exhausted by the end of it, having rarely needed to exert himself before. But the encouragement of his fellows, along with the bellows of the Air Marshall, kept him going. He just wished Laura would stop making jokes about this "Kenny Loggins" person. He didn't even know who that was.

The food thing was not as bad as he'd imagined. Instead of emptying his fridge as he'd feared, Laura simply handed him a list of healthier alternatives. Obvious culprits like chicken wings were soon replaced with things like turkey ham, for instance and his milk was swapped out for a dairy-free brand. There were some hiccups, of course - he'd almost wailed when she demanded he drop the honey on his toast for margerine. But there was at least one substitute for everything Ryuga found he liked, and he ate wisely but not too well.

As for the pizza situation, it was surprisingly painless. Laura found a recipie for low-fat pizza flatbread on a website dedicated to Earth cuisine, and Ryuga would bake one for lunch on odd days. It felt strange to him to be making his own food after relying for so long on the microwave, of course. But there was always a sense of pride in biting into something he'd made himself. And, as Laura was quick to point out, it didn't taste of damp plastic.

Cheat days didn't come around enough for his liking. A day in which he could indulge all his vices was a good time. When he was stuffing his face with greasy bacon or a sugar-loaded pop tart, he looked very much like a man in the desert swimming in the oasis. Laura found no end of amusement in the comparison.

-------

It was during this time that Ryuga met the Wyvern Flying Aces.

It happened when he was in the cafeteria. There wasn't any regulation about bringing in one's own food, and he'd never liked the stuff they served anyway, so he'd brought one of his pizza flatbreads. The crowds were, as usual, horrendous, but he'd managed to push his way to a lone, unoccupied table and was preparing for a quiet meal by himself.

The next thing he knew, somebody had sat next to him.

"Hey!" they trilled. "Can we sit here?"

Ryuga looked up, and almost did a double-take. The girl who had taken the seat was a riot of neon colours - her skin was bright pink, for a start. Her hair, meanwhile, alternated between electric blue and sun yellow, and her eyes were that same shade of green one finds in an apple sour. The grin on her face could have terrified a leucrotta, if one had been around.

"Um, sure," he began.

"Thanks!"

And before he knew it, three others had taken up residence around him. A man in a duster hat casually slouched down to his right, putting his tray down with a clatter. In front of him came the bulky, bull-headed figure of a Minosian, who sat down gingerly as though afraid he would catch something off his seat. And to the right of him was another man, with slicked-back black hair and a dark leather jacket. The air of self-confidence he radiated made Ryuga feel like he'd just walked up to a statue of somebody important.

There was a long silence as the gathering ate. Nobody spoke, too focused on getting food inside themselves. Ryuga found himself reluctant to make eye contact with any of them.

Then duster-hat man spoke, his voice a lazy Southern drawl.

"You hear 'bout what happened to Croshaw?"

Ryuga looked up in surprise, recollection of the name flashing through him. But it was the Minosian who spoke first.

"No," he replied, his voice surprisingly soft and mellow for a creature his size. "What happened?"

"Court martial."

"No way!" The neon girl had dropped her fork and was staring intently.

"Yep." The speaker jabbed vaguely at his food, as if not caring if he picked up anything. "Crazy bastard started a brawl in the officer's mess. Tried to hit on a lady admiral, didn't take kindly when her husband showed up. Don't think he's gonna get to fly again if McCreery has his way."

The Minosian shook his head, mouth agape. "I don't believe it! Of all the stunts... I knew he was full of himself, but an admiral's wife?!"

"He's always had an ego." That was black-hair speaking, idly cutting at something sweet-looking. "If I remember right, he got in because his mom was a colonel in the air force. Went to his head, of course - thought he could do whatever he liked, and giving him a Wyvern didn't help. I figured something like this was gonna happen sooner or later."

The neon girl snorted. "And to think I used to date that creep! Now we're down one wing because he can't keep it in his pants!"

"Um," said Ryuga. Then he wished he hadn't, as four pairs of eyes quickly fixed on him. He felt very much like a zoo exhibit, or a criminal on the stad.

"Oh, sorry!" chimed Neon Girl, smiling again. "You're Ryuga, right? The new guy?"

The brown-haired boy blinked. "Sure, let's go with that."

"Sweet!" And then he squawked as the girl pulled him into a hug that shoved the air from his lungs "I'm Piper! Great to meet you! I do mechanics!"

"Charmed," croaked Ryuga, gasping for breath.

"Easy on him, Piper," chuckled Duster Hat. "Kid ain't made of Adamantium. Name's Clint, by the way," he added as Piper released her victim with a sheepish grin. Ryuga took a few moments to gasp some air into his lungs, eyes bulging like a distressed frog.

"I'm Deimos," the Minosian added. "And please don't hyperventilate all over my dinner, I might catch something." Clint rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but carried on eating.

"Magnus." That was Black-Hair. And that was the extent of it, for a brief moment, as he concentrated on chewing. Ryuga took the opportunity to take a swig from his bottle of apple juice and count how many ribs Piper might have bent. It was only after he'd replaced the cap that the other man spoke again.

"You flyin' that fancy Wyvern?"

Ryuga nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of a long story-"

"McCreery briefed us already," Magnus interrupted. "I don't care how you got it, myself. Just that you fly her well. Hope you do as good in real life as you do in that footage. Croshaw could tell you what happens to people who don't."

The former mechanic felt his face going pale.

"Magnus, you're scaring him!" Piper hissed. Magnus continued to eat, uncaring of the reaction he'd elicited.

"Don't pay no mind to ol' Mags," drawled Clint. "He's always puttin' pressure on the Rooks - newbies, I mean. But McCreery says yer good, and that's good enough fer us. And don't worry too much 'bout fittin' in - we got a Lumian an' a Minosian an' nobody bats an eye. We'll show ya how we run things in the Flying Aces, no sweat."

"...so I'll be flying with you guys, then?" Ryuga asked, cutting a slice off his flatbread.

Clint shrugged nonchalantly. "Sometimes, yeah, we go as a group. But not always. Sometimes McCreery sends one out solo, or pairs two of us up. Depends on what he thinks is best fer a mission. I remember once I had to escort a cargo freighter through a gravrock field all on my ownsome. Character-buildin' weren't the word for it," he chuckled.

"That was better than my case," grumbled Deimos. "Imagine having to fly through a snowstorm, basically blind, to pick up some stranded hikers on a mountain. I got a cold in my head and was bedded down for two weeks because some people don't know how to use a distress beacon!"

Ryuga suddenly realized he was in the presence of people who'd been at this a lot longer than him. People who not only did this for a living, but had it worked out to the point where it was second nature to them. People whom were far better at it than he ever could be, as he had told Laura before. And suddenly, her idea to improve and become "the best at it" didn't seem tenable anymore. He felt himself physically deflating.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Piper, smiling yet again.

"Don't worry," she chirped. "I saw you doing those exercises with the Air Marshall. You're getting on great, for someone who's only flown Hornets before! And trust me, what we do is way more fun than what those guys are stuck with! Just keep a level head and do what the General asks of you, and you'll get along fine with-"

"Oh, no!"

Clint looked up. "'Sup, beef-features?"

Deimos had lifted something out of his tray. It was green and leafy, and covered in splodges of something pale yellow. The Minosian was looking at it as though it would explode at any moment, and his expression made Ryuga cover his mouth to stifle a laugh.

"They put mayo on this!" he wailed.

-------

As the days went by, noticable changes went on with Ryuga.

His pudginess gradually faded, replaced by a kind of strong wiriness. His piloting skills developed rapidly, and when he once pulled off a perfect barrel roll whilst peppering the targets on the inside, the air marshall's jaw dropped to his chest. He could run faster and for longer, even with the armour padding that he wore as part of the ground combat training. He knew his way around the workings of an ArcRifle, which was more than most pilots did.

Once, when he took off his shirt in the communal lockers, appreciative whistles were thrown at his new muscle definition. He'd gone red all over, but inside he was beaming with pride.

It was a definite improvement.

And not a moment too soon.

-------

"I hope you're paying attention, gentlemen."

McCreery always opened up with that. No matter the mission, every briefing started with those six exact words. It was, of course, directed at the Hornet pilots, most of whom tended to doze off due to the heat or the droning tone the General took on as he spoke. But McCreery could always count on the commanders, mechanics and others to pay significant attention and then update their pilots with the details later.

The Wyvern Flying Aces, however, were a different matter.

Ryuga briefly glanced at the others next to him. Out of all five present, only he Magnus were paying much attention. The others obviously weren't. Piper was fidgeting impatiently, clearly wanting to leave already. Deimos, looking rather absurd in the form-fitting pilot's suit, kept chewing his lip in uncharacteristic nervousness. And Clint appeared to have fallen asleep, his duster hat covering his eyes.

It had been several days since the'd first met. Ryuga hadn't spent much time with them since then - he sat with them at the cafeteria sometimes, or passed one of them by as he went around the base. He got taken for drinks by Clint and Piper one Saturday, during which he learned the Lumian girl was also a former mechanic who'd practically jumped when a spot had opened for her. And then Clint had promptly abandoned them because he recognized somebody he owed money to.

Apart from that, he didn't really know everyone that well. But these were the people he was working with now. He was one of them.

Not yet, at least.

He turned back to the briefing screen.

"-intercepted a convoy of Benthian ships heading for the Southern coast. We believe they were heading for the borders of Todenwald, where ARM presence is less pronounced. Our ships are currently engaging the frigates and are locked in a stalemate above Todenmeer, in the-"

McCreery was pacing around the circular display globe, which was lighting up with various images. Images of the location of the battle, of the ships they were engaging. The crew themselves had been loaded onto McCreery's personal flagship, which was making a beeline for the battle site along with three capital ships. It wasn't the best way to do it, but with the need to get there quickly, these were the best reinforcements they could manage.

"-identified as five frigate-class warships escorting three carriers. Supply or troop, we're not sure. Hornets, your job is to keep the fighters way from our corvettes, as they're the most vulnerable. The Wyverns will try to take down the frigates, with what help our captial ships can provide. Once the frigates are downed, our capital ships will be able to-"

Ryuga tuned out the droning at this point. This was it. His first real battle. Not one that he was being flung into by chance, but one he was willingly go into. His stomach was turning somersaults and his heart was pounding in his ears. Was all that training he did enough? Would he be able to make it? And would the others see he was good enough?

It didn't help when he realised the General was looking right at him.

"Am I understood, Wyverns?" he asked.

"Y-yes, sir!" Ryuga squeaked. His voice minged with the easy reply of Magnus, Piper's bored one and the muttering that Deimos gave. Then the Minosian elbowed Clint, and the other man snorted awake to much amusement from the Hornet pilots, before giving a kind of crooked salute in acknowledgement. Ryuga was just happy it wasn't him being singled out

It seemed to be good enough for McCreery, who nodded and turned back to the room at large.

"You have your orders, troops. Those ships are counting on you to provide reinforcements, and that's what you're going to do! And whatever's on those carriers, it'll do us a lot of good if we have it instead of the Benthians! Now, go out there and give those fish-eating blighters what for! Dismissed"

The room gave an automatic reply of "OOH-RAH!" at that. And then the next thing Ryuga knew, he was running down the corridor just behind the other Wyverns, headed straight for the flagship's hangar with the other pilots.

This was his life now.

He hoped he didn't make a complete hash of it.

TO BE CONTINUED...