Bio-Habitat 00117

  Observation Post 36211

  CR’EON

  “Wait, that’s it?” I asked.

  “Yes, that is it.” My instructor sighed, her red eyes narrowing.

  My on-the-job training consisted of roughly half an hour of half-hearted instructions. My instructor had apparently been at this post a long time and was eager to get her replacement trained so she could return to her unit. Luckily, the training program I’d absorbed this morning covered most of what I needed to know.

  “Is there any way to turn down the sounds?” I asked, peering at the vast array of screens on the various consoles before me. Each one seemed to emit its own symphony of sounds, which, individually, wouldn’t be that bad. Putting them all together resulted in a chaotic mass of distraction.

  “What sounds?” my instructor asked, looking up from her wrist comm.

  I indicated all the monitoring screens before me.

  Sighing, the instructor reached out and tapped several screens, causing the noise to lessen slightly. “Cr’eon, each of these screens continuously monitors multiple factors within the Bio-Habitat below. Each has its own distinct sound to help you recognize when there is a problem. You will not learn to distinguish them if you keep them turned off!”

  I looked from my instructor’s tail, snapping side-to-side in agitation, to the screen and back. Her red skin continued to darken with anger the longer I looked at her. While the noise was still overwhelming, I dared not open my mouth for fear of another reprisal.

  My wing commander had selected me for this duty after I’d been injured during a training exercise for the fourth time. Most Daemon Corps considered observation duty to be a punishment as it was about as far from combat as you could get. I was excited, though; I’d never held the post before.

  I’d grown a reputation for clumsiness in my wing, but it wasn’t my fault. Every time something bad happened when I was around, somehow, it was my fault. Battle suit canopy slams shut on a wingman’s hand from across the room? My fault. The primary missile rack of your battle suit is full of signal smoke instead of anti-matter? My fault. The arrival gate for my wing is off by 100 kilometers? My fault! Well, to be honest, that last one was my fault as I’d entered the coordinates incorrectly, but still!

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  A new sound came from the console, louder than the rest. “Alright, that chime means it's time for the daily report. Show me how you’d do one of those,” my instructor demanded.

  I turned back to the console and quickly found the report interface. This was my first (and only) day of training. While I was almost as eager to be rid of my instructor as she was to leave, I was still nervous.

  Monitoring a Bio-Habitat was a big deal. Behemoth maintained each as it oversaw the evolution of the species contained within.

  My primary duty as a member of the Daemon Corps was to protect Behemoth from all enemies, primarily the Angel Guard. The AG were terrorists whose sole purpose was to destroy Behemoth and everything associated with it. Once an AG encroached on a Bio-Habitat, we had very little time to mount a response to eliminate the threat. All the while keeping the Bio-Habitat’s occupants unaware of the war, or the fact their world was not their own.

  It took but a moment for me to remember the correct sequence of commands to initiate my report.

  This is Cr’eon, Bio-Habitat 00117, with my Daily report. No detectable Angel Guard activity. Inhabitants remain unaware of their Bio-Hab containment. End of report.

  I glanced up at my instructor, who looked like she wanted to say something but held it back.

  “Fine,” my instructor said. “Ensure you encode it before you send it off.”

  After a moment of fumbling with the protocol, I encoded the report and sent it to the observation post supervisor. When I looked up, my instructor was gone.

  “My training is over…I guess?” I said, getting up and walking over to the direct observation platform. The compartment that housed the platform was completely transparent. The floor, ceiling, and walls all provided an unobstructed view of the slowly rotating Bio-Habitat below.

  Tapping on the wall, the image zoomed past the clouds, revealing the brown and green landmasses below. Tapping again the image zoomed in on one of the larger cities.

  I watched as the creatures below went about their daily lives. Vehicles ferried them here and there, across land and sea, completely unaware of my presence above.

  Of its own accord, my tongue dug mercilessly at the fang I’d broken during my training accident. I knew I shouldn’t mess with it, but I couldn’t help it. I was scheduled to have a cyber replacement installed this afternoon and still hadn’t decided on what I should pick. I could just go with a natural-looking replacement, or I could pick something with a bit more utility. My wingmate Wren had both of hers replaced with independent neural-controlled probes. I didn’t think I’d be getting something that exotic. I’d just have to wait and see.

  I gave the Bio-Habitat’s inhabitants one last look before returning the view to normal and walking back to my console. I sighed and hoped nothing bad happened on my first day.