Milla struggled to keep up with the group but found that the peculiar qualities of the armor suit were considerably different when gravity was present. Practically every second step, she found herself stumbling over an upturned root or stepping into a shallow depression and nearly falling into the man ahead of her. Only the presence of Major Brinks and Corporal Curtis kept her on her feet and moving forward with any reasonable degree of progress. In between falls, she noticed, with a certain level of chagrin, that the others moved easily and fluidly in their suits, apparently using the properties to maintain a steady pace that quickly ate away at the distance between them and their destination. By the time they arrived in the small clearing, Milla was sweating heavily and exhausted from the pace, yet none of the others were breathing more than normal or had even broken a sweat.

Jaime leaned over her as she doubled up in the clearing, helping support her balance as Milla drew deep, ragged breaths. “The first march in these things is always tough. I’ve seen men used to eight-hour, quick-time marches get worn out in ten minutes of trying to walk in one of these.”

Milla looked up at her in between breaths. “How long does it take to get used to this armor?”

Brinks grinned as he glanced at them over his shoulder. Milla couldn’t see his smile, though, as it was hidden behind the shimmer of his armor’s faceplate. His words, however, came through loud and clear. “Oh, usually a soldier figures it out after a three-day forced hike through rough terrain. I think we’ll try to spare you that ordeal, though.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, along with a word that the translator software screwed up. “I do not believe I could take one day of this torture, let alone three.”

Brinks shook his head, his knowing expression wasted on those who couldn’t see it. “You’d figure it out. Once they get the hang of it, most soldiers can maintain a full run for about six hours without rest. The suit makes movement a lot easier, once you learn to stop fighting it.”

Milla glared at him, her body language, even in the suit, so obvious that a lieutenant burst out laughing, while Brinks turned his attention to where Savoy and his men were examining the structure in the center of the clearing.

“I’ve never seen material like this before, Major,” Savoy told him. “It seems to have many of the same properties as the escape pod we found, but it seems to be designed to block signals rather than to be sensor transparent. We can’t read what’s inside.”

By this time, Milla had regained her breath enough to interject a comment. “It’s a survival bunker. The basic design has been in our archives for centuries.” She shook her head. “I did not realize that any were left…Then again,” she considered after a moment, “when the Drasin threat was broadcast, someone on this planet may have copied the schematics out of the database and built this in a rush.”