Season 1, Episode 3: "The Iron Coffin"

The Orbital Drop Simulator was a row of vertical metal tubes that looked suspiciously like oversized trash cans. To the Star-Vanguards, they were officially called "Rapid Deployment Envelopes." To the recruits, they were "Iron Coffins."

"The drop is the most dangerous part of your career," Vane announced, his voice echoing in the cramped hangar. "You are being shot out of a railgun from the upper atmosphere. You will experience enough G-force to flatten your internal organs into a pancake. If you vomit in your helmet, you will drown before you hit the dirt. Do not drown. It’s bad for the upholstery."

John climbed into Pod 04. The interior was barely wide enough for his shoulders, and the seat was padded with something that felt like recycled tire rubber. A harness snapped across his chest, pinning him so tightly he could barely draw a full breath.

Directly in front of his face was a small, flickering screen and his Link-Pad dock.

"Today’s simulation: The High-Altitude Steerage Test," Vane’s voice crackled in John’s ear. "You will launch, maintain a vertical descent, and use your thrusters to land on the designated 'Green Zone.' If you hit the 'Red Zone,' you’re dead. If you hit the 'Yellow Zone,' you’re a civilian again. Prepare for launch."

John’s heart began to drum against his ribs. Up, Up, Down, Down. He locked his Link-Pad into the dash. The sequence for "Stabilize Thrusters" flashed in his mind.

"3... 2... 1... LIBERTY COMMENCING!"

The floor dropped out.

The sensation wasn't like falling; it was like being punched in the spine by a giant. John’s vision blurred as 8 Gs of force slammed him into the seat. Outside the tiny reinforced viewport, the fake sky turned from black to a screaming, friction-heated orange.

"Steer, Recruit! Steer!" Vane yelled over the comms.

John reached for the controls, but his arms felt like they weighed five hundred pounds each. He looked at the screen. He was drifting. The "Green Zone"—a small tropical island in the simulation—was sliding away to the left. He was headed straight for the "Red Zone," which in this case was a very sharp, very digital mountain range.

"Left! Hit Left!" John hissed to himself, his fingers straining toward the Link-Pad.

He managed to punch the Left arrow, but as the pod tilted, a loose bolt—a leftover from his "Gravity Well" incident in Episode 1 that had somehow hitched a ride in his jumpsuit—fell out of his pocket and wedged itself behind the Down button.

The pod didn't just tilt; it dived.

"EMERGENCY DESCENT INITIATED," the pod’s computer sang. "ESTIMATED TIME TO IMPACT: 4 SECONDS. OPTIMISM LEVELS: LOW."

"John, pull up!" Kael’s voice came through the radio. "You’re going to crater!"

John panicked. He couldn't clear the bolt from the button. The pod was screaming, the metal groaning under the simulated heat. Thinking fast, he looked at his Link-Pad's secondary options. If he couldn't steer the pod, he would have to change the pod's shape.

He punched in: Right, Right, Left, Up.

"DEPLOYING AUXILIARY CARGO CHUTE," the computer announced.

A massive, heavy-duty parachute, designed for dropping tanks, ripped out of the top of the pod. The jerk was so violent John’s helmet slammed against the padded wall. The pod didn't land on the island. It didn't even hit the mountains.

The massive parachute caught a simulated thermal wind, and John’s "Iron Coffin" began to drift upward and away from the combat zone entirely.

"Recruit John," Vane’s voice was flat. "Where exactly are you going?"

John looked out the window. He was currently floating over a simulated ocean, drifting toward the edge of the map where the textures started to look blurry and unfinished.

"I am... flanking the enemy, sir?" John offered weakly.

"You are drifting toward the simulated Restricted Airspace of a simulated Neutral Power," Vane sighed. "You’re going to cause a simulated diplomatic incident."

Suddenly, the simulation glitched. Because John had reached the "edge of the world," the computer didn't know how to handle his physics. The pod began to bounce off the invisible boundary wall like a pinball. Boing. Boing. Boing.

With every bounce, the pod picked up speed. John was being tossed around like a salad. In a final, desperate move, he mashed the Up button—the only one not stuck.

"ORBITAL RETRACTION ENGAGED."

The pod didn't land. The simulation interpreted the command as a "Failed Drop Recovery." The winch system in the ceiling of the real-world hangar activated, yanking John’s pod back up at three times the speed of the fall.

The pod flew back through the bay doors and slammed into the docking cradle with a bone-jarring CRUNCH.

The door hissed open. John tumbled out onto the floor, his legs as steady as jelly. He looked up to find the entire squad staring at him. He had traveled three miles, hit an invisible wall, and returned to the exact spot he started from without ever touching the ground.

Vane walked over, looking at the totaled pod and then at the loose bolt on the floor.

"Recruit," Vane said, poking the flattened pod with his metal leg. "You are the only person in the history of this academy to fail a gravity-based exercise by falling upward."

John wiped a bit of simulated sea-foam from his visor. "Does that mean I have to redo it, sir?"

Vane looked at the clock. "No. We’re out of pods. And quite frankly, if you can trigger a physics glitch in a real war, the Iron-Legion won't know what hit them. Pack your bags, recruits. Tomorrow, we move to 'Tactical Diplomacy'—also known as 'How to shoot things without hitting your friends.'"

John smiled. He was still alive. And according to his Link-Pad, he had just been awarded a "Secret Achievement" for "Longest Airtime without a Valid Flight Plan."