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Lastimosa cursed, as once again, he found the shooting range occupied. He’d been hoping for a quiet room today, seeing as it had only been a few days since a large skirmish. The last thing most men wanted to see after battle was another gun.
Not this one apparently. For the third time this week, the range was occupied. And by the same bloody man.
It wasn’t a rule that they couldn’t share. There was enough cubicles to even put 3 or 4 spaces between them. They wouldn’t have to exchange more than a cursory nod, if that. Still, Lastimosa had been looking forward to a relaxing target practice session, and a chance to talk to BT outloud without anyone hearing. Lastimosa sighed heavily, leaning on the glass, and watched the man fire. Average aim. Quick, and non-wasteful. Enough to probably be the victor in any shoot out. Of course, battle wasn’t just one man firing at you, and not everything fired at you was just a standard rifle.
Lastimosa ran his tongue over a canine thoughtfully, watching the man fire again. There was consistency in his shots, always landing a few centimeters from the bullseye. A quick adjustment to those shoulders would bring those bullets in a lot tighter. Fuzz crackled in his ear, and BT’s voice came in through his earpiece. “You have not entered the range Captain”
“It’s occupied, and you know I don’t like us talking where people can hear”
There was another burst of fuzz, deep and low. BT’s version of an acknowledging ‘hum’.
Lastimosa tapped on the glass, tilting his head. Though he could only see the back of the rifleman’s head, Lastimosa felt like he could recognise that dark mop of hair across a battlefield at this point.
“What are you thinking about Captain?”
“If this is the same guy who has been here all week”
“Affirmative. 3rd Class Rifleman Jack Cooper often uses the facilities rifle range at this time of day”
“Yea?”
“Yes. Rifleman Jack Cooper has logged in; 60 hours in the last two weeks.”
Lastimosa laughed, leaning to rest more comfortably. “Didn’t take you for a stalker BT”
There was pause that had Lastimosa a little curious. BT hardly ever took time with his replies, unless…...
“Rifleman Jack Cooper has registered for the Militia Pilot Candidacy program”
Lastimosa huffed, smiling slightly to himself. Of course. If there’s one thing Titan AIs were nosey about, it’s future pilot hopefuls.
“And what is your verdict BT?”
A buzzing filled his head, letting him know that BT was working through data on their rifleman. “Rifleman Jack Cooper’s training results say he performs averagely in all areas. Instructors noted he picked up on basic skills swiftly, has good instincts, quick reaction times, and that he is a selfless team member. He has been admitted to the infirmary for 27 minor injuries, and 4 major injuries, most notably; minor amnesia obtained from Operation: Fracture. Estimated Pilot Candidacy Acceptance: 76%”
“God damn it BT” laughed Lastimosa more freely, “I asked for your opinion on the kid, not his militia life story”.
The pause this time came with no buzzing, and took longer than usual. Those techs in R&D might know the bolts and screws of Titans, but Lastimosa knew (and many Pilots would agree with him) that the AIs of Titans were a lot more than numbers and programs. Something ticked in their ‘brain’ that science and maths couldn’t explain, not matter how often they spewed out protocols and percentages at their Pilots.
“Rifleman Jack Cooper has potential to be great Pilot” BT finally said, causing a grin to break out across Lastimosa’s face, “however, I fear it will be lost under the Militia’s urgency to get as many Pilots as possible into the field”.
“Agreed” replied Lastimosa, eyes taking in the kid again, and thumbing the edge of his prickly jaw. He was starting to look like a caveman, it’d been so long since his last decent shave. In the range, Cooper had stepped back. His hair was even messier when he removed his ear muffs, strands sitting at all angles. He caught sight of Lastimosa when he turned to begin stripping down his gun.
Wide nose, thick brows, and soft eyes that sloped downwards. He gave a little lop sided smile at Lastimosa, hand coming up in a casual salute that was all too endearing for a man that was probably in his late 20’s. “You always were a sucker for a pretty face BT” muttered Lastimosa.
He finally stepped into the range, grinning wildly at the wide eyed look on Cooper’s face, and the static-y squawk BT let loose in his ear.
“Cooper, right? Got a couple of minutes to spare kid?”