Humanity's Greatest Mecha Warrior System

The next few weeks passed in peace, while everyone in the Terminus Trading Company practiced their close combat skills, even going so far as to hold daily competitions outside the simulations so that they could train their bodies more thoroughly and keep improving their System bonuses.

That was one of the major reasons that so few made the upper ranks during their careers, they were simply too busy with everything else they had to do that they didn't spend the time to train their bodies for more than basic maintenance.

Gaining or losing a bunch of weight would make your Mecha seat uncomfortable until you had time and permission to have a tech alter the seat shape after all.

[All Units, please report to 1900 tomorrow. Dress Code Casual Party.] Max saw the Regiment-wide announcement and realized that it came from Nico, so the first thing that he did was check the calendar.

It wasn't one of the high holidays, so that couldn't be the reason for the celebration. Maybe the last of the Line Mecha Pilots had completed the entire close combat exam to her standards? No, it was too early for that as well. Getting everyone to pass would take at least another month.

"What are we celebrating?" Max asked Nico when she came into his office with a data tablet for him to examine.

"Your birthday of course. Don't tell me that memories of past birthdays have made you block out all thoughts of the previous ones and the inevitability of this one?" Nico asked.

That might actually be accurate, even looking at the calendar, it hadn't occurred to Max that this was his birthday. Of course, the year he was born was hidden by the military, so everyone would think this was his seventeenth if they could access his military records, but those were under strict lockdown after the Inquisition had ordered their mission to go radio silent and wait for orders.

General Ming still gave Max daily updates on anything that he heard, but that wasn't much. The Rebellion in the sector closest to them was under control, and the main fleet was pulling back, leaving a newly raised sector security fleet from the other side of the Empire to keep things in check now that the local Nobles were almost all gone.

That meant that refugees were returning home in large numbers, though very few on Rae 5 had been looking for transport back to their homeworlds. Things were good here in Reaver territory, especially for those at the bottom when they compared it to the lives they were living before.

Max realized that his mind had wandered to work again, and Nico was laughing at his instinctive denial of all thoughts about his birthday.

"Fine, how about we tell them that it is my birthday? Will that make you feel better?" Nico asked.

"Much better. I know some of the crew already know that we share a birthday, but we can celebrate yours without me having to field any awkward questions about my own. Plus, your mom will love it." Max pointed out.

"Oh, you have no idea. She is preparing a birthday cake for five thousand, plus decorations for the ship. We will have some visitors from the Tarith Family, but they will be coming through the Station, so there won't be a need for docking security protocols.

What else? Birthdays are usually a big celebration with no clear goal other than to celebrate the fact you lived another year, but this one might cause you some mental trauma." Nico added.

"Mental Trauma? From YOUR birthday?" Max asked.

"Yes. Since our birthdays fall during the summer break at the Academy, Mother Mary Tarith had planned to celebrate them all until I left home on deployment, which would still be at least one year away if things were normal.

This one is Princess themed and she refuses to budge on that part."

​ Max shuddered at the memory and gave a moment of thanks for the fact he had never had to face his parents from this lifetime again.

"You be the Princess, I will be Prince Charming. It will be fine, I am sure of it. But I'm afraid that since I forgot, I won't have a proper gift for you." Max sighed.

"Who do you think I am? It's not like I need much, but I have prepared for this situation in advance. Uncle Lu will bring you a wrapped gift box to add to the pile of presents. Reavers don't usually exchange them within the whole company, it would be utter chaos and destroy any hope of having enough space for storing them all. Only immediate family and any visiting leaders will give them. So you, my parents since my siblings are too young, and a half dozen more." Nico shrugged.

"You really did think of everything. I take it the troops will have the day off of training to prepare, so they're not too exhausted to celebrate?"

Nico shrugged. "That's your call, not mine. I'm sure they would appreciate it though. Days off at random always help morale, especially when there is cake."

Mary Tarith was devoutly refusing to insert her Cake recipe into the food replicators, insisting that it was a family secret that must remain secret and not become a standard menu item for an entire ship, so she would be bringing the Cakes by later, cooked by her own staff and not here aboard Terminus.

That left Max with only a bit of organization to do today.

[All Units, training schedules are canceled for tomorrow, in preparation for the Second in Command's birthday party and the arrival of guests. Security rotations, be sure to have your teams swap out in the middle so that everyone gets a chance to partake. I am told that the birthday cake made by Mary Tarith is an event you do not want to miss.] Max sent a Regiment-wide order, and the Battalion Commanders began to reorganize their crew rotations.

Max was headed for the Mess Hall when he heard the First Battalion asking the one question that they dare not say to Nico's face. "Which birthday do you think it is? I've heard rumors that she's actually really young, like the Commander, but in a full conversion body, she could actually be centuries old and just cosplaying as the cute little girl."

That made the man's companions laugh. Tarith Nico and "Cute Little Girl" weren't often used in the same sentence. Especially not after evening training.

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