Hover Training at Fort Independence

Day 1: Arrival at Fort Independence

Americana stretches to the horizon, a sea of red sand and heat that clings to your skin like a second layer. They say you have not seen grit until you have trained here, and they are right. Fort Independence, the base for this cycle, is a sprawling maze of concrete bunkers and long lines of hover tanks, each one a monument to American engineering and endurance. My tank, Hellhound, waited among them, its armor polished and gleaming in the harsh light. Seeing it there felt like meeting an old friend.

We began immediately. The air carried a sharp, electric tension that only comes at the start of a new assignment. My crew consisted of Davis, the gunner; Ortiz, the technician; and Price, the navigator. We had worked together for years, yet each cycle felt like the first. The stakes were high, and Americana’s terrain has a way of reminding you that complacency can kill.

Day 2: The Sand Trials

The Sand Trials began before sunrise, a brutal test of endurance for both crew and machine. Hellhound roared to life as we crossed the dunes, a shifting landscape that tried to swallow us whole. The sand here is unlike Earth’s, fine as powder, and it moves beneath the weight of the tank, making every turn a battle of balance and control.

Davis focused on the cannon, striking virtual targets that appeared without warning. Ortiz managed the engines and coolant flow, calling out when temperatures spiked. A sudden sandstorm rolled in, cutting visibility to nothing. Price’s calm voice guided us through the chaos, reading terrain data and warning of hidden drops. When the storm finally passed, Hellhound was buried under red dust but still running strong. We finished the exercise exhausted but unbroken.

Day 4: Urban Combat Simulation

Our next challenge was an urban combat scenario in a simulated town near the base. The training zone was a labyrinth of narrow streets and ruined buildings, perfect for ambushes. Our task was to clear the area of hostile drones programmed to mimic unpredictable enemy tactics.

Hellhound glided forward on its hover system, moving with eerie precision through the concrete corridors. Davis handled the gun controls, eyes locked on the targeting feed. The first drone appeared from behind a barricade, and the cannon’s roar shook the ground. More followed from rooftops and alleys, attacking in swarms. Price navigated with steady confidence, calling each turn, while Ortiz shifted power between shields and thrusters. When the final drone fell, the mock city was littered with smoking debris. We were drained but proud. The teamwork was seamless.

Day 6: Live Fire Exercise

Today’s exercise reminded us what Hellhound was built to do. We rolled out to the firing range, where steel targets waited across open ground. Some moved slowly while others darted at unpredictable angles. The moment the signal came, the range erupted in sound and motion.

Davis was flawless, his shots striking with pinpoint accuracy. “Target left,” I called, and he adjusted without hesitation. The cannon thundered, sending a shell that tore through the target and sent fragments scattering across the range. Ortiz worked the systems, balancing energy between weapons and shields with effortless control. Price tracked distances and angles, keeping our positioning perfect. When the smoke cleared, the field was silent, every target destroyed. Hellhound performed perfectly, but we all knew that next time, the targets would fire back.

Day 8: Night Operations

The desert at night is an entirely different battlefield. Without the sun, the temperature dropped sharply and the sand hardened beneath us, changing how the tank handled. We relied on thermal imaging and night vision to navigate. The darkness pressed close, broken only by the faint glow of control panels.

Price guided us through the dunes, her voice calm and measured. Then the ambush began. Drones equipped with night optics appeared from the shadows, firing bright arcs of energy that cut across the dark. Hellhound moved instinctively, weaving between dunes, returning fire with precision. The sound of thrusters filled the air, blending with the rhythm of gunfire. By the time the last drone fell, we were drenched in sweat and running on adrenaline. The night belonged to us.

Day 10: Graduation

Today marked the end of the cycle. Command gathered us for a final briefing, reviewing every maneuver, every shot, every choice. Hellhound and her crew passed with high marks. The report was clean, the results precise, and the sense of pride was unmistakable.

I looked at Davis, Ortiz, and Price and felt the quiet bond that only shared struggle can create. Americana tested us, but it also shaped us. The red sands burn away hesitation and leave only what is strong. For tank crews, this world is more than a training ground. It is a crucible. Tomorrow, we deploy to whatever comes next, and I know one thing with absolute certainty. Hellhound is ready, and so are we.

Journal of Captain Noah Reeves, Hover Tank Training on Americana