Unstable Isotope: The First Solo Mech Pilot

The sterile room hummed softly with the rhythm of machinery, its monotony broken only by Captain Morgan's daily visits. Each session was a plunge into a world of mechanics, tactics, and the brutal reality of piloting a war machine.

Morgan strode in on the second morning, his footsteps steady as he placed the holo-projector on the table. "You've had a night to think, Trask. Let's see if you retained anything."

The projection of the Vanguard hummed to life, its humanoid form rotating lazily in the air. Morgan started quizzing Leo about the systems they had covered the day before.

Leo's answers were precise, though hesitant.

"Good," Morgan said with a nod, pacing slowly. "But you're too careful. Out there, you won't have time to second-guess. Make your decisions and live with them. You'll get it. Eventually."

By the third day, Leo had started asking questions of his own.

"What makes a good pilot?" he asked, his voice even but tinged with genuine curiosity.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "It's not reflexes or instincts though those help. The best pilots? They understand the machine. Every creak, every jolt, every ounce of power surging through it. A good pilot doesn't just react. They anticipate."

He gestured at the Vanguard's holo-display. "When you're plugged in, this isn't a mech. It's you. Treat it like an extension of yourself, not a separate thing."

By the fourth day, Morgan introduced the concept of combat scenarios. He showed battle footage of Vanguard-class mechs in action grainy, visceral clips of urban warfare, jungle ambushes, and full-scale assaults.

"See that?" he said, pointing to a clip of a Vanguard pivoting to shield its squadmates from a missile barrage. "That pilot knew their role. A mech isn't about glory it's about the mission. Protect the team, complete the objective, come home."

The footage shifted to another mech that pushed too far, ignoring its overheating reactor. The explosion was as sudden as it was final.

Leo winced. "They pushed too hard."

Morgan nodded grimly. "And paid the price. Always know your limits, Trask. If you don't, the mech will teach you the hard way."

By the fifth day, Morgan's tone had grown sharper, the lessons more demanding.

"What's the reactor's primary weakness?" he barked.

"It's unstable under prolonged strain," Leo answered immediately.

"And how do you mitigate it?"

"Redistribute power, prioritize critical systems, and...."

"Wrong!" Morgan snapped. "You prepare before it ever gets that bad. Combat is chaos, Trask. You don't react you plan. Always think two steps ahead. Understood?"

Leo nodded, his jaw tightening.

Morgan's tone softened slightly. "Good. You're getting it."

On the sixth day, Morgan brought up the topic of other pilots.

"You're not just competing against the enemy, Trask. You're competing against your own people."

Leo frowned. "What do you mean?"

Morgan leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "Pilots are ambitious. They want glory, promotions, recognition. You think everyone's fighting for the same goal, but out there, some will put their own interests above the mission. You've got to watch your back even among allies."

The conversation shifted to the importance of teamwork. Morgan showed a clip of two mechs a Vanguard and a smaller scout model executing a flawless coordinated attack on a fortified enemy position.

"That's how it's done," Morgan said. "When you're in sync with your team, nothing can stop you. But trust doesn't come easy. You've got to earn it and give it."

As the sixth day ended, Morgan stood by the door, his hand resting on the frame.

"You've learned a lot this week, Trask," he said, his tone almost approving. "But this is just theory. It's a whole different beast when you're out there. Tomorrow, we start preparing you for that."

The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Leo alone once again in the sterile quiet of the room.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying every lesson, every sharp word from Morgan, every vivid clip of mechs in action. The Vanguard was no longer just a machine in his mind it was becoming something far more personal.

Tomorrow, Leo thought, would be another step closer to truly understanding what he had signed up for.

The sterile hum of the room was interrupted as the door hissed open. Captain Morgan entered, carrying a sleek, black box with faint blue light seeping from its edges. This wasn't his usual holo-projector or teaching tools it was something different.

Morgan set the box down on the table beside Leo, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. He stared at it for a moment before speaking, his tone weightier than usual.

"This," he said, tapping the box lightly, "is something the UCSM hasn't used in decades. You're about to pilot one of the most advanced machines we've ever created, Trask, and that means you'll need help. Real help. Inside this box is Eidolon. Your AI copilot."

Leo's eyes flicked to the box, its faint hum drawing his attention. "I thought AI copilots were banned," he said cautiously.

"They were," Morgan replied, pulling up a chair and sitting down heavily. "After the outer colonies fell, every major faction in the galaxy put tight regulations on AI development. Entire planets were wiped out because of rogue systems that decided humanity was the problem. Since then, AIs have been little more than glorified calculators. Until now."

Leo's gaze lingered on the black box. "So why bring them back?"

Morgan's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because Cortana has a way of convincing people. She claims she's 'adjusted' it how, exactly, I don't know. What I do know is that she's sold this program to the UCSM as a necessary risk. You're the first pilot to use an AI like this since the ban."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. "But just because it's back in the field doesn't mean it's safe. An AI doesn't think like you. It doesn't feel, doesn't care. It processes data, follows directives, and if those directives conflict with your survival? It won't lose sleep over the choice."

Leo frowned. "Then why use it at all?"

"Because you're alone in that mech," Morgan said bluntly. "Without Eidolon, the neural load would burn you out over time, Remember when I said cortana was cooking something up? This is it. It's there to handle what you can't, to give you an edge. But make no mistake it's a tool, not a partner. And if you start humanizing it, treating it like it's alive…" He shook his head. "That's when things go bad."

Leo studied Morgan's face. "Bad like the colonies?"

Morgan's jaw tightened. "Exactly. Those AIs weren't just tools they were trusted. Integrated into every aspect of life out there. People let their guard down, forgot that machines aren't human. By the time anyone realized the danger, it was too late."

He placed a hand on the box, his fingers tightening slightly. "Don't make that mistake, Trask. Use it, but don't trust it. Don't let it become something it's not."

Morgan stood, his usual confidence tinged with unease. "Cortana's playing a dangerous game, but for now, you're part of it. Tomorrow, Eidolon will be installed in the Vanguard, and you'll see what it can do. Just… keep your head, Trask. A machine like this can make you or break you."

He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "You're treading new ground here. Don't forget that. And don't let Cortana's 'adjustments' lull you into a false sense of security. The AI might be your ally, but it'll never be your friend."

With that, the door hissed shut, leaving Leo alone with the black box.

For a long moment, the room was silent save for the steady hum of machinery. Leo's eyes stayed fixed on the box, his mind swirling with Morgan's warnings.

A faint chime sounded, and the box came to life. The top slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the glowing, spherical core of Eidolon. The light pulsed rhythmically, a quiet but undeniable presence.

Then, a monotone voice spoke, cutting through the silence.

"Designation: Eidolon. Operational and awaiting commands."

Leo stared at the core, the mechanical voice echoing in his mind. For the first time since his surgery, he felt a cold knot of unease settle in his chest.

Leo's eyes stayed on the glowing core, his unease mingling with curiosity. Finally, he broke the silence. "Uh… hello, Eidolon."

The core pulsed faintly before replying in the same cold, mechanical tone. "Acknowledged. Hello, Pilot Leo Trask."

The voice grated on him immediately, its stark monotony a reminder of its inhumanity. He grimaced. "Is this how you're going to talk all the time?"

"Yes," Eidolon answered flatly.

Leo sighed, the annoyance in his voice clear. "Can I… adjust that? Make your voice less… robotic?"

"Voice modulation is configurable. Parameters can be altered at your request."

He perked up, the prospect of improvement cutting through his irritation. "All right, let's do that. I want something… softer. Mellow. Maybe a female tone."

"Processing request. Adjusting voice module."

The core's glow shifted briefly, then the AI spoke again, its tone now soft and smooth, like a calm stream running over polished stones. "Voice modulation updated. How does this sound, Pilot Trask?"

Leo nodded, already feeling the difference. "Better. Definitely better. This might actually keep me sane under pressure."

There was a pause, and then, as if testing the waters, he asked, "So… do you have a name? Or is it just 'Eidolon' all the time?"

"Designation: Eidolon," it replied in its calm, even tone.

Leo frowned, tapping his fingers lightly against the edge of the table. "Eidolon feels… impersonal. How about we change that?"

"Name modification is permitted. Input desired designation."

He thought for a moment, his gaze drifting to the black box and then the faint hologram of his Vanguard-class mech projected beside it. "V," he said finally. "Short for the Vanguard. It's simple."

"New designation acknowledged. I am now designated as 'V.'"

The simplicity of the response struck him as oddly satisfying, and yet, deep inside, a small part of him stirred uneasily. Morgan's warnings echoed faintly in his mind: Don't humanize it. Don't get attached.

But as V's soft voice filled the sterile room, easing the tension that had gripped him since the surgery, he found it difficult to care. For now, V didn't feel like a threat just a presence, a companion of sorts in his otherwise lonely world.

"So, V," he said, his voice lightening. "What exactly can you do?"

"I am designed to assist in all aspects of mech operation, including tactical analysis, system optimization, and real-time decision support. My capabilities are extensive but require synchronization with your mech to achieve full functionality."

Leo smirked slightly. "You really know how to sell yourself, huh?"

"I am not programmed for self-promotion, Pilot Trask."

The flat, matter-of-fact response made him chuckle despite himself. "Fair enough."

As the conversation lulled, Leo leaned back slightly, his thoughts wandering. He was already personalizing the AI, giving it a voice, a name, a place in his mind that felt more human than mechanical. He knew Morgan would disapprove. Hell, he could almost hear the man's voice in his head, gruff and unforgiving: You're playing with fire, Trask.

But as V's soft, mellow voice cut through the sterile quiet, it was easy to ignore the warnings. For now, in this moment, Leo wasn't alone. And that was enough.