Celisar Kael
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Chapter 30 | The Elite Track
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 12:03:01 +0000 UTCThe Warcenturion and his guards re-entered the passenger cabin through the same lift the crew member had taken moments earlier. Without needing to be told, Leon and the other recruits rose to attention as they approached.
"Come," the Warcenturion said, then turned and led the way toward the cargo hold with his guards falling in behind him.
Leon and the recruits followed, descending the ramp and stepping out into the enormous hanger bay of the cruiser. The artificial gravity felt different than Eden's. Lighter, as though his body weighed a fraction less.
Before them stretched a vast hangar, humming with controlled chaos. More than ten Orbital Carriers were parked in neat rows, their hulls gleaming under the bay's artificial lighting.
Military personnel bustled about; some in grease-stained mechanic coveralls, others in the crisp blue and gold of the Imperial Space crew and a few in gray and gold. Scattered among them were the striking white and gold armor that seemed to draw the eye regardless of how many other things demanded attention.
At the center of the bay stood a large formation of individuals wearing plain gray uniforms identical to the one Leon had been issued.
That must be the rest of the group, he thought, scanning the crowd. There must be at least a thousand of them.
He kept pace behind the Warcenturion until they reached the base of the ramp. A group of five technicians in coveralls passed them, eyes fixed on their datapads. Two headed up into the Orbital Carrier while the other three began a visual inspection of the ship's exterior. As they worked, the familiar hum of the mana thrusters faded into silence and the once-glowing circuits across the hull dimmed.
Three officers approached from across the bay. Blade Captains in ceremonial white and gold. They saluted the Warcenturion in unison and he returned the gesture with a curt nod, prompting them to fall at ease.
"Stand by with the rest of the recruits at the center of the bay," the Warcenturion said, turning to address Leon and the others. "You will receive your assignments and further instruction there."
With that, he turned and strode away, the Blade Captains flanking him as they spoke in low, urgent tones. The guards who had accompanied him dispersed, vanishing into the flow of workers and soldiers.
The two other recruits with Leon and Nyra broke off, heading toward the mass of gray-uniformed recruits.
"Come on, we have to get going," Nyra said, giving Leon a nudge with her elbow before walking off.
Leon hesitated for a second, taking in the scale of the operation and what he was now part of.
The sensation of his CRI activating still felt alien. A whisper of energy across his brain, like fingers brushing the inside of his skull. The nanites in his bloodstream buzzed with subtle energy as constant reminder of how quickly his life had changed.
He followed Nyra into the crowd, noticing immediately how different these recruits moved compared to those he'd seen during the assessment. Their postures held none of the desperate hope or fearful deference of Lower Level volunteers. They carried themselves with assurance, some with outright arrogance.
The group had already formed their cliques. From what Leon could tell by their behavior, they were either already Fulgari or had been high-ranking Ordari before joining the Imperial Army. None of them showed the usual signs of deference typical of Lower Level recruits or low-ranking augmented individuals.
"Well well, I didn't imagine you would survive the incident," a male voice came from within the crowd.
Leon couldn't see who it was yet since he was directly behind Nyra and the space was too crowded as they moved their way deeper.
Wonder who that guy is talking to, Leon thought.
"HEY! Are you ignoring me?" the same voice came a bit louder.
Why does he sound familiar?
"I'm talking to you, girl," the voice continued.
"What do you want?" Nyra said, stopping. Her voice was casual, but Leon noticed her shoulders tighten.
Does Nyra know him?
Leon squeezed to the side to see who was talking to Nyra.
Jake? On second thought…it's not surprising he is here.
Jake Sinclair stood before them, surrounded by a small group of recruits. Blue mana circulating beneath his skin pulsed stronger than most; either naturally or because he was deliberately channeling more energy to make them visible.
Jake looked upset, with a frown and taking deep breaths to calm himself. He glanced toward Leon and his expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief.
"Aren't you the Nullari from the recruitment center?" Jake said loudly, drawing attention.
The crowd around Leon hushed and stepped back, creating a small space with Leon and Nyra in the middle. Leon felt their gazes; some curious, others dismissive, and a few openly hostile.
"What are you doing here? Did you get lost and get on the wrong ship?" Jake asked, his tone dripping with mock concern.
"I don't think I am," Leon answered, keeping his voice steady despite the sudden spotlight.
I wish I had a choice, Leon thought bitterly.
"This is for the Elite Track," Jake said. "The ship will be going to one of the frontier training camps. It's probably best you run along to one of the staff and let them know you got on the wrong ship before it's too late."
If I didn't know any better, I would think he is a good guy helping me out.
Leon glanced at Nyra, who seemed to just be surveying the area, most likely analyzing the situation and environment like she did at the holding room. Her eyes flicked from face to face, gauging reactions and watching for threats.
"Hellllooo? Can–YOU–understand–ME?" Jake said with exaggerated hand gestures, then turned to his group. "This is why it's hard to talk to Lower Levels."
The group nodded and laughed at Jake's comment, their amusement rippling through the surrounding onlookers.
Nyra stepped forward, positioning herself in front of Leon. Not protective, but interruptive of the sight line between him and Jake.
"He's part of the Elite Track," she said, her voice carrying despite its casual tone. "Selected by Warcenturion Vauhn personally."
The laughter stopped. Jake and his group exchanged glances, reassessing Leon with new wariness. Warcenturions didn't personally select recruits without good reason.
Their eyes widened as they noticed the signs of the CRI. Transparent, barely noticeable mana circuits pulsing underneath Leon's temple with a very dim blue glow around his irises. Unlike Jake’s flashy display, Leon’s augmentation was subtle.
Leon resisted the urge to touch his temple where the circuits ran beneath his skin. Since he remembered what the medical technician said post-op, he hadn't tried absorbing, manipulating, or doing anything mana-related aside from when he was in the bathroom and interacting with the seat in the Orbital Carrier.
The last thing he wanted was to cause irreplaceable damage to his body. He wasn't even given any detailed explanation of how anything worked except not to do anything until he got to basic training.
He was afraid of mana sickness similar to what the Foundation Level workers got, and he had just escaped potentially being sent there. He also remembered the mana and interface rejections he saw during the assessments. He was just not sure if any of that could happen with his augmentation.
Jake’s eyes narrowed, as if he were sizing Leon up or working something out in his head.
"You got lucky with timing," he said, "they must have been desperate to fill the quota."
Nyra laughed a short and sharp sound with no humor in it.
"Right. The Imperial Army is known for lowering their standards to meet quotas," she said, rolling her eyes. "You should try a different insult. That one's too obvious."
Jake's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his cheek as he prepared a retort.
"LISTEN UP, RECRUITS!" Before their confrontation could escalate, a man in gray with gold-trimmed uniform yelled at the group from the other side of where Leon and Nyra had come from.
The group quieted down immediately, all facing toward the voice.
"The ship is heading toward the planet Ferros," the man continued after getting everyone's attention.
He described Ferros as a planet near the frontier and one of the planets used for the Imperial Army's training. While this particular facility had the standard training track, it was the only planet that was used for basic training for those in Elite Track and some of the advanced training they would do after graduating basic training.
"The Elite Track is not just another training program," the man emphasized. "It is the forge that will transform your potential into Imperial perfection. You will train differently, fight differently, and when you emerge, you will be the Covenant's most lethal assets. Destined for specialized roles within our most elite units."
Leon felt a chill at those words. This wasn't just a fast-track to standard military service, it was something far more intensive and specialized.
"It will take five days through the warp until we arrive," the man finished. "Sync to the hologram display when I have it up to find your group assignment and your lodging in the cruiser."
The officer fiddled with his datapad, and a large holographic projection appeared in the air above him displaying a complex matrix of names, designations, and locations. Leon focused on the display and attempted to sync to it as he had done with the seat in the Orbital Carrier.
The connection felt different this time, more like trying to focus his eyes underwater. His CRI struggled to interface smoothly with the system, his inexperience making the process clumsy where others around him were already scanning and finding their information.
A list of names and information flooded his view, overwhelming in its complexity.
How do I filter and search for my name?
As he had the thought, the CRI understood what he was asking and filtered the data, displaying the information in his vision:
L. Ezra–Alpha Training Dravora–Group A, Bay 7
Leon blinked in surprise. Not at the assignment, but at how the interface had responded to his thoughts. It felt like having a conversation with a part of his own brain, an extension of himself that was still unfamiliar.
Beside him, Nyra was already accessing her information with ease.
"Alpha Dravora, Group A, Bay 6," she said. "We're in the same training group." She didn't sound surprised.
Jake had been scanning the hologram as well. His expression darkened as he found what he was looking for.
"Group B," he muttered. "At least I'm not stuck with the Lower Level reject."
Nyra smirked having heard Jake’s muttering.
"Looks like they separated the troublemakers," she said. "Too bad. I was looking forward to watching you fail up close."
Jake's face flushed, but before he could respond, the officer at the front clapped his hands.
"Report to your assigned sections for orientation. Training briefs begin at 0600 ship time tomorrow. Dismissed!"
As the crowd began to disperse, Leon felt a moment of uncertainty. Five days until they reached Ferros. Five days in this massive ship, surrounded by people who had been preparing for this moment their entire lives. People whose bodies had been enhanced since childhood, who had trained and studied for the Elite Track while he'd been scavenging to survive.
"Stop thinking so loud," Nyra said as they moved with the flow of recruits toward their assigned section. "You belong here as much as anyone."
"Do I?" Leon asked quietly.
"The Warcenturion thinks so," she replied.
“What about you? Why'd you have to pick a fight with Jake?” Leon retorted.
“Is it surprising?” She blinked. “I just don’t like him. It’s why I did it at the holding bay too.”
I really can’t understand this girl.
