Top and Bunny sat with a dozen other new recruits and watched something straight out of a science fiction movie. It was no comfort at all that the two of them had seen earlier prototypes of the exoskeleton tech. Rather the reverse, because most of what they’d known coming into this was the pervasive belief that this level of sophistication was five to ten years down the road.

Not right now.

And not rolling out with a major nation’s flag stenciled on the hood. This was true radical combat science. Top wished he could actually have a conversation with Bunny, and another with Wilson and Church. Doc, too. And the content of that conversation would likely include calling in an air strike.

One end of the hall was clear of all spectators and was set up as a target range. Though it was an odd one. There were targets of various sizes, each done as a cutout of people—singly and in groups, and vehicles ranging from police cars to armored personnel carriers and even a tank. All fashioned from metal and wood, but with stacks of lumber and cinder blocks behind them to give the targets resistance. There were also a few dozen pepper-poppers—metal silhouettes lying on the floor but attached to high-tension springs that would cause them to stand up very quickly. From where he was sitting, Top couldn’t quite make out what the pepper-poppers were intended to represent. As for the standing targets, most were stationary, but several were on wheeled platforms that were in turn attached to a complex pulley system rigged at floor level. A small group of technicians with laptops sat off to one side, close to the targets but behind thick bulletproof polymer shields.

In all, Top counted 18 vehicles and 110 simulated human targets.

Very pretty young women, all wearing abbreviated versions of Pavilion uniforms that showed off long legs, deep cleavage, and muscular rumps, walked around the room handing out gun-range ear defenders. Top accepted one from a woman young enough to be his daughter. Her smile was bright, but there was a glazed, drugged look in her eyes. She also had a lot of makeup caked on her cheek beneath one eye, and Top thought it might be hiding a bruise.

HK walked out onto the training floor. She wore a wire mic headset and beamed a great smile, clearly as happy about all this as was Eve. For her part, the younger woman sat on a nicely padded chair—one of a pair—someone had brought in for her. The other chair was empty.