The gym on Deck Three was big enough to make Kaden feel small.

  Racks, benches, cable machines, a row of battered sleds lined up on rubberized lanes, and a scattering of marines in undersuits pushing through their own misery. The air smelled like disinfectant fighting a losing war against old sweat.

  Theta-3 came in still in armor, boots thudding. Jax was already there near a cleared lane, helmet clipped to her belt, water bottle hanging from a carabiner. Two human-sized dummies lay on the floor beside her, limp with harness handles stitched into their backs. A pair of training shields leaned against the bulkhead—uglier cousins to Tanaka’s Bulwark.

  She watched them approach, expression unreadable.

  “Good news,” she said. “Nobody shot you this time.”

  Navarro’s shoulders eased a millimeter.

  Jax let the pause drag just long enough.

  “Bad news,” she added. “I’m about to make you wish they had.”

  Navarro’s head dropped forward with a groan. Vos didn’t bother hiding his sigh.

  “Armor stays on,” Jax said. “You’re not here to get beach muscles. You’re here to carry metal and people in unhelpful gravity. That means we train how we fight.”

  She hooked a thumb toward the lane.

  “Circuit work,” she said. “Four stations, three rounds, thirty seconds rest between. No Aurora. No skills. Just your legs and whatever good choices you made in the mess hall.”

  She toed one of the dummies with her boot.

  “Station one: drag,” she said. “These are about the weight of a marine in armor. You’ll drag from this line to the far line and back, using the harness. Think about your hostage, or Tanaka when he gets himself shot again.”

  Tanaka gave a small, unbothered shrug. His frame looked like it had been built to pick those dummies up and throw them.

  Jax moved on.

  “Station two: shield,” she said, nodding at the training plates. “Tanaka, you stay with the Bulwark. The rest of you will rotate through one of these. You hold a line while everyone else moves around you. I want you learning how it feels when people use you as mobile cover.”

  Navarro grimaced at that, but she didn’t argue.

  “Station three: sleds,” Jax said. “Drive it down and back. Low stance, steady push. This is your ‘breach pod rammed into something that doesn’t want to open’ drill.”

  “And if it doesn’t move?” Vos asked.

  “Then you move harder,” Jax said. “Or you explain to the Captain why you’re stuck in someone else’s hull.”

  She pointed to the empty space beside the lane.

  “Station four: bodyweight,” she said. “Squats, lunges, planks. That’s your core work. Mercer, this is where I make sure the next time you haul someone, your spine doesn’t file a complaint.”

  Kaden didn’t bother protesting this time. His back still remembered the hostage dummy from the sim.

  “Tanaka starts on shields,” Jax said. “Navarro, drag. Mercer, sled. Vos, bodyweight. We rotate clockwise each time. Helmets off. If you’re going to pass out, I want to see it coming.”

  They unclipped helmets and set them aside. Armor suddenly felt heavier without the HUD glow.

  Jax stepped back, glancing at the chrono on her wrist.

  “On my mark,” she said. “Three, two, one. Go.”

  They moved.

  Navarro grabbed a dummy’s harness in one hand, set her feet, and hauled. It slid across the lane with more cooperation than Kaden expected. She wasn’t huge, but she moved like everything on her was wired right—shoulders low, legs driving, boots catching and releasing in a steady rhythm. By halfway she was breathing hard, but she hit the far line without breaking stride, turned, and dragged it back.

  Tanaka slid his arm into the Bulwark’s mount and locked it into place. The big shield looked like it belonged there. He set his feet behind the taped line, raised it, and just…settled. Kaden could see the weight in the way his shoulders tightened, but nothing shook. Anchor without Aurora.

  “Good,” Jax said. “Don’t over-brace. You’re not a pillar. You’re a door they can’t get through.”

  Tanaka grunted acknowledgment.

  Vos dropped into a squat, armor complaining. His movements were careful, precise but the strain showed quickly. PHY wasn’t his friend, but he had enough discipline to keep the reps honest. By the time he hit planks, his arms were trembling, but his form stayed weirdly textbook correct.

  Kaden set his hands on the sled’s uprights and pushed.

  For a second nothing happened. Then it lurched forward with a scrape, and once it was moving, his legs could keep it going. He drove down the lane, each step a little too heavy. At the turn, the sled fought him; he wrestled it around and shoved it back, thighs burning.

  “Lower, Mercer,” Jax called. “You’re not trying to intimidate it. Hips down. Let your legs do the work.”

  He dropped his center of gravity and felt the push get a hair smoother. Not easy, but less like his knees were trying to escape his body.

  “Time,” Jax called. “Thirty seconds. Walk, don’t lean on anything.”

  They peeled off their stations in a slow shuffle. Navarro shook her arms out, chest heaving, but her steps were still light. Tanaka rolled his neck once and stayed planted, like he could do a whole hour behind the shield without thinking about it. Vos pushed to his feet from the plank, lips pressed tight.

  Kaden’s lungs burned, but he wasn’t dying. That felt like a win.

  “Rotate,” Jax said.

  Kaden hit the drag next.

  The dummy felt heavier in his hands than it had looked behind Navarro. He wrapped both fists in the harness, set his heels, and walked backward. The first few steps were clumsy—too upright, arms taking too much of the load. He adjusted, leaning back more, letting his legs take control. It got better, if not exactly comfortable.

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  Halfway down, his forearms started to scream.

  “Use your frame, Mercer,” Jax said. “You’ve got more muscle than you think. Stop letting your hands do all the work.”

  He grit his teeth and made the turn.

  At the sled, Navarro braced and shoved. The thing jumped off the line far faster than it had for Kaden. Her extra strength showed here—once she got it moving, she could keep it moving, boots biting the deck in quick, sure steps.

  “Look at that,” Vos said, half to himself as he dropped into lunges. “We found what all your complaining has been hiding.”

  Navarro snorted between breaths and pushed harder.

  Tanaka moved into bodyweight work like someone who’d made a truce with it rather than liking it. Squats were fine, the weight was nothing to him but as soon as Jax called for planks, his shoulders and lower back protested. He held it anyway, jaw clenched, big frame hovering just barely off the mat.

  “Planks hate tall people,” Navarro said.

  “Planks hate everyone,” Tanaka replied, voice tight.

  Vos took the shield station on that round. The training plate looked oversized on his leaner frame. He got his arm through the mount, brought it up, and immediately overcorrected, muscles straining to keep it steady. It wasn’t natural to him, but his brain was clearly trying to solve it like a problem.

  “Don’t fight it like it’s going somewhere,” Jax said. “Relax your shoulders, brace from your core. You’re not wrestling it, you’re marrying it.”

  “Divorce sounds more appealing,” Vos muttered, but the shield stopped shaking as much.

  By the end of the first circuit, Kaden’s undersuit was sticking to his skin. Sweat ran along his spine. Navarro had a flush across her cheeks and that wild-eyed edge she got when she hit a physical groove. Tanaka looked like someone had asked him to carry groceries, not a shield and a bunch of miserable marines. Vos was pale and breathing hard, but he hadn’t skipped a rep.

  “That’s one,” Jax said. “Nobody fell over. I’m shocked.”

  She checked her chrono.

  “Round two,” she said. “Same order. Go.”

  Things got quieter the second time through. Jokes dropped off. Breathing got louder.

  Tanaka hit the drag station and turned it into something that almost looked casual. He didn’t sprint—the weight was real, even for him—but he leaned into it and ate distance in big, steady steps. The dummy bounced over the rubber. On the way back, he hooked one hand off the harness for a second and shook out his fingers, then grabbed it again without losing pace.

  “You’re allowed to look like you’re trying, Tanaka,” Jax said.

  “Saving that for round three,” he said, dragging the dummy across the line.

  Kaden watched that out of the corner of his eye as he fought the shield. The thing felt heavier than it had in the rack. His arms complained, his core trembled, and every time his balance shifted, the plate wanted to drag him forward.

  “Dig your feet in,” Jax said, stopping near him. “You’re built closer to Tanaka than to Vos. Use that. You don’t need to be clever; you need to be stubborn.”

  “I can do stubborn,” Kaden panted.

  “Good,” Jax said. “Prove it.”

  Navarro was back on bodyweight. For all her extra strength and speed, the squats and lunges seemed to hit her differently than the sled. She still moved well, but her legs had lost a little smoothness. By the time she dropped into planks, she was squeezing her eyes shut to keep focus.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Vos said, passing by on his way to the sled. “You’ll fall on your face.”

  “Shut up,” Navarro said through her teeth, and exhaled.

  Vos and the sled were a comedy at first. He shoved; it didn’t budge.

  He adjusted—hands a little lower, hips back, feet driving. The sled grudged forward. He didn’t get it as far or as fast as anyone else, but he kept it moving. The strain showed in the cords of his neck, in the way his boots slipped a little on the return.

  “Better, Vos,” Jax said. “Congratulations, you’ve discovered leg drive.”

  “Can I undiscover it?” he asked.

  “Not if you want to keep your spine,” Jax said.

  By the time Jax called the end of round two, Kaden’s world had shrunk to a series of unpleasant tasks separated by short, less unpleasant walking.

  “Last one,” Jax said. “If you were holding back, now’s your moment. Spoiler: I know you were.”

  They weren’t. Not anymore.

  Navarro attacked the dummy like it had insulted her family, boots digging furrows into the rubber lane. Tanaka hit the sled and, for once, actually looked like he had to work for it, armor creaking as he drove the metal down and back. Vos shook through his last planks, every muscle in his upper body trying to quit, mind refusing to let them. Kaden dragged his final dummy run and genuinely wasn’t sure his grip would last to the line.

  It did.

  “Time,” Jax said. “Drop your toys.”

  Kaden let the harness slip from his hands, breathing like he’d sprinted five decks. Navarro rolled onto her back on the mat, staring at the ceiling. Vos sat down hard beside a shield and didn’t get back up right away. Tanaka leaned on the Bulwark, head bowed, sweat dripping off his chin.

  Jax looked them over, one by one.

  “Nobody puked,” she said. “Nobody tore anything. Navarro didn’t even fall over. I’m marking that down as a win.”

  Navarro flipped a lazy, half-hearted bird without lifting her head.

  Jax’s mouth tugged upward.

  “On your feet,” she said. “Walk it off. If you sit too long, your legs are going to lock up and I’m not filling out the paperwork for ‘Marine became furniture.’”

  Kaden pushed himself upright. His thighs tried to argue. He ignored them and started moving in slow circles, letting his heart rate drift down.

  “You’re all going to hurt tomorrow,” Jax said. “That’s normal. Learn what your version of ‘normal’ is.” Her gaze ticked across each of them. “Tanaka, you can push heavier in a week. Navarro, your motor likes the heavy stuff—don’t get sloppy when you’re tired. Mercer, your frame can handle more than your brain thinks it can. Vos…”

  She paused.

  Vos looked up, still sitting.

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant?” he asked.

  “You’re not winning any contests for raw power,” Jax said. “But you kept your form when most people would’ve cheated. That’s worth something. We’ll build on it.”

  Vos blinked like he wasn’t sure whether to take that as praise or insult.

  “Thank you,” he said eventually.

  “Don’t mention it,” Jax said. “No, really. Don’t. I have a reputation.”

  A few nearby marines from another squad smirked at that.

  “You’ve got the rest of the evening,” Jax went on. “Eat again if you can, shower, review your sim feeds if your eyes work. Tomorrow, more sims, plus live-fire. If you show up late, I’ll add another circuit until you don’t.”

  She started to turn away, then looked back at Kaden.

  “And Mercer,” she said. “For what it’s worth—you carried that hostage and still had enough left to keep Tanaka from flatlining. Your legs aren’t there yet, but they will be. Keep doing this and you’ll regret it slightly less next time.”

  Kaden snorted, breath still ragged.

  “I’ll take ‘slightly less,’” he said.

  “That’s the spirit,” Jax said. “Try not to die before we get real orders. It’s bad for my career.”

  There was a bit of warmth under the dry tone, there and gone.

  They watched her leave. The gym felt bigger without her in it, and somehow heavier.

  Navarro blew out a breath and pushed herself upright.

  “Showers,” she said. “If I don’t rinse this off, my undersuit’s going to fuse to my spine.”

  “Seconded,” Tanaka said, rolling his shoulders until something popped.

  Vos stayed on the mat a moment longer, then hauled himself up with a quiet groan.

  “We should hit the mess again after,” he said. “Light plate or not, that circuit burned through whatever we ate earlier. I don’t want to wake up at oh-four-hundred trying to chew my pillow.”

  Navarro pointed at him.

  “For once, Vos has the right idea,” she said. “Food, then coma.”

  Kaden flexed his hands, feeling the dull throb in his forearms and the deeper ache in his legs.

  “Mess hall after showers,” he agreed. “If I lie down before I eat again, I’m not getting back up.”

  Tanaka gave a slow nod.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Refuel now. Regret everything later.”

  They gathered their helmets, drifting out of the gym in a loose cluster, armor clinking softly with each step. Behind them, a tech started dragging the training dummies back to their corner, erasing the marks Theta-3 had left on the lane.

  Kaden’s body hurt in too many places to count. But his feet kept moving, keeping pace with the others as they headed toward the barracks and the promise of hot water, clean clothes, and too-salty mess food.