Commander Theodore made notes on a datapad and then pressed buttons on a computer terminal. “You owe me and your commissioned lieutenant twenty-two hundred credits each. That is your fine. I'm also confining you to quarters. You will go home after going to work unless summoned by a superior officer or attending one of your classes for officer candidate school. You will not leave your quarters unless you go to battle stations or your duty station while on duty. We will monitor your microchip for compliance. Will you pay the fine in cash or digital currency?”
Brinus furrowed his eyebrows in disgust for a second and shifted in his seat. He snapped. “I gotta coin box in my bedroom, sir. I can have the cash by this afternoon.”
Commander Theodore made a few notes. “Great, I’ll have your boyfriend send me your credits. You still dating? Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
Commander Theodore removed his glasses, wiped them with his shirt, and put them on. He then yelled in a military voice, “For future business ventures, you must get a license from me and split the prize money with your crewmates! If you’re caught doing this again, you will be disciplined further! Running an unauthorized business without a license as a second offense is a fifty thousand credit fine and a year in the brig! I punished you for the first offense. Dismissed, and don't fucking do this again!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Brinus saluted and left.
He adjusted his shirt and pinched the bridge of his nose outside. He then walked down the hall, doing some deep breathing Calnori showed him.
He started a text conversation with Simmie.
Brinus stood in the middle of the corridor with an open mouth for a moment breathing like a fish out of water. If Simmie knew about his business, then everyone knew which meant someone snitched on him.
The conversation ended. Brinus took a series of deep breaths when he felt the temptation to punch the wall. He thought. He knew greed was his undoing because of that full armor set on the game pass. It would cost 500 credits along with the limited-time sword. However, he just wanted money because he was used to a certain lifestyle, and that was cut off from his trust fund. Now, he would have nothing and be worse off than before.
In the robotics lab, after the meeting with Commander Theodore, Brinus welded off the armor plate of a mech leg while blared through the radio. For this particular repair job, he needed to access the main computer chip in the autonomous walker's left leg.
This specific droid experienced a malfunction in its personality subroutines and froze in battle. It ended up being destroyed by the enemy, but the Confederacy managed to recover it.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Alex, cut music!” Shouted Brinus.
Brinus removed his welding gear as his therapist stood at the door.
He smiled when he saw his therapist. His body relaxed, and he grinned from ear to ear seeing her. “Is it that time already?”
She nodded. “Do you want to tell me about what happened today?”
Brinus scowled and threw his leather glove onto the ground, kicking it, “Not really.”
Dr. Calnori looked at Brinus and leaned against the wall. “You’re usually very talkative.”
Brinus shrugged his shoulders and commented, “What’s there to say? You break the rules, you pay.”
Brinus reached for a piece of nicotine gum on the table and put it in his mouth as the therapy session made him crave a cigarette.
Three pieces were missing out of ten from the gum container.
Dr. Calnori laughed before she could stop herself.
“What?” Brinus looked confused.
She walked to Brinus and picked up the nicotine gum. She examined it, noticing the four missing pieces, and stated with a smile. “You just had your first real breakthrough. Like a genuine breakthrough. I assume you looked at the material on excessive smoking I sent you?”
Brinus shrugged as he put the welding torch back on the shelf. “I ain’t convinced by it, but I do think I could perform better in Kobchi. They still haven’t put me in a match cuz of the injury risk due to smoking. I really wonna fight in a tournament. The recommendation was that I should gradually reduce how much I smoke until I get down to ten cigarettes a day to keep from having major side effects, so I am startin’ off by cuttin’ down to seventy a day as a start. I want to get down to twenty a day, though. That’s what my boyfriend smokes.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Calnori stared at Brinus with a puzzled look and crossed her arms. “We have fifty minutes to discuss whatever you want. Remember, no judgments. Something is bothering you. Are you really going to force me to ask about it?”
Brinus realized he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He cussed and slammed his hands on the table. “You say the navy is here to help, and then they turn around and take all of my profits from my business and confine me to quarters, and I go to jail fer a month at 8 a.m. tomorrow. What the fuck?!”
Calnori came up to Brinus and sat next to him. “You sure you did nothing wrong? Why don’t we take a moment to reflect? What do you think the Navy sees as inappropriate conduct?”
Brinus popped his nicotine gum and tilted his head. “I guess sellin’ Navy property without permission was wrong, ” He reflected, tapping his fingers on the workstation. “Cuttin’ my fellow officers and crewmates out of their share was wrong, too. I know the Navy code says everyone should benefit from prize money.” Pulling out a cigarette lighter from one of the drawers, he began clicking it. “I guess not paying taxes is a crime. But it’s my money. I earned it… even if it’s through crime.”
Dr. Calnori wanted to facepalm at that last statement. How the hell does a 20-year-old ex-syndicate member not know tax evasion is a crime? Whatever, he was a criminal and needed patience. She was trained not to judge people.
Dr. Calnori crossed her arms and then said, “Yes, since confessing these things, can you see why you were punished?”
Brinus nodded.
“Now, how do you feel?”
Brinus shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I had it comin’. Crime don’t pay.”
“You think your commander’s anger is justified? Do you think you should get a month in the brig?”
Brinus nodded.
“Maybe we should turn down the music? I know you’re the only one on duty tonight, but loud music violates protocols.”
“Yes, ma’am. Did my lieutenant send you?”
Calnori shook her head. “Your commander did. He wanted me to do a wellness check on you. Anyway, I will send you some more material on heavy smoking tomorrow.”
Brinus saluted his therapist. “Yes, ma’am.”
Calnori made some notes on her datapad and sighed, “Remember, if you act like a criminal, you will be treated like a criminal. Do you want to go back to prison forever?”
Brinus shook his head. “I never want to go back to that life.”
“If you don't turn the music down, I will send Simmie to tell you to do so, and then it will become a discipline matter. Understand?”
Brinus nodded.
After the therapy session ended, Dr. Calnori left. Brinus blasted the music again.
Brinus headbanged to the music as the thrashing beat vibrated the walls.
A little while later, Brinus was at the computer terminal in the workstation; he attached wires to the droid’s processing chip to access the memory and reset it. After the session, he could see what he had done was wrong and was going to be the only outcome of what he did. Brinus wasn’t worried about going back to jail. It was like going home, and he would only be in there for a month. It would be free food, free cigarettes, and free water.
The processing chip of the droid was connected to wires attached to the computer chip and a computer terminal on his workstation. As he reviewed the code, he played some more loud gangster rap from Otis Datis and sang to it.
It looked like the droid had developed PTSD from being in combat continuously. The only way to fix it was a memory wipe, but the AI Bill of Rights stated that sentient AIs were to be treated as living creatures. A memory wipe would be equivalent to murder because, according to the code, the AI was at a human level of awareness.
He hit an ethical dilemma. Should he submit the droid for AI counseling or purge the memory?
“Computer, run playlist fifty-four, command code stinkball four-five-four-six.”
“Command accepted.”
Brinus needed some spicy music to put him in the mood for the work he was about to do.
The computer switched over to death metal from the Delta Region as Brinus began the process of removing the most offending parts of memory, which was most likely the cause of PTSD in the droid. He felt it was a good compromise between droid therapy and a complete memory wipe.
Brinus ran a .exe program, and he spent twenty minutes writing. It purged the offending memory from the backup drives and the primary memory chip.
He spent an hour erasing the memory and wrote up a report. Recommending the droid be retired and used as a police droid in a factory, he sighed heavily, thinking they pushed this poor droid too hard. He had more sympathy for this droid than he would have for any human.
After finishing the work, Brinus was smoking outside of the lab when Simmie approached him. He took the cigarette out of Brinus’s mouth and took a drag. They began sharing it.
Simmie handed it back to Brinus. After standing beside him, he looked at Brinus and said, “So...the lieutenant sent me. She said you had been playing loud music and was worried about you.”
Brinus shrugged, taking a drag from the cigarette and handing it to Simmie. He said, “I like loud music. It helps me think.”
Simmie smirked. “Is it really necessary to serenade the entire robotics workshop?”
He leaned against the wall. “I was upset; tell the lieutenant her message was received.”
Simmie patted Brinus on the shoulder. “Good man.” Simmie took a final drag and crushed the butt in an ashtray outside of the workstation.
He looked at Simmie and then stood in front of him. “I love you. See ya’ tonight.” Then they kissed.
As Simmie turned and left, Brinus slapped him on the butt, and Simmie rolled his eyes and threw him a half grin.
Brinus walked into his workshop, “Computer lower music volume by 60 percent.”
The volume was lowered, and the vibrating music stopped with a dull thud. He looked around and realized he needed to clean his space. Metal shavings were everywhere, some of the equipment was disheveled, and his machine parts were out of order. He got to work and kept at it by himself for several hours. It was at least calm.
Several hours later, Brinus looked upon the fruits of his labor. The ashtray outside was emptied and had the sand changed out; the Metal shavings were separated and resmelted; the supplies were reorganized into their proper categories; and finally, he removed the carbon scoring from the industrial replicator. Overall, the workshop was neat and organized, just how he liked it.
Lieutenant Aura came up to Brinus and cleared her throat, “Stinkball! For a merchant, I need you to smelt 800 pounds of tungsten ore into pure tungsten cubes. You will get a midshipman’s share of the prize money.”
Brinus cocked an eyebrow. “Ma’am, I was just punished for doing an illegal business.”
Lieutenant Aura pinched the bridge of her nose and snapped, “No, Stinkball, you were punished for selling Navy property without permission and cutting out your crewmates and commanding officer out of their fair share. Now, will you accept this request, or do I need to give it to Allen?”
Allen was a sentient droid who took care of tasks no one wanted to do.
Brinus tilted his head. “How much money are we talkin’?”
She grinned and smacked her hands together. “Do you know how much tungsten is worth right now?”
Brinus crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Can I see your license?”
She gave Brinus an unreadable look and then shouted, “I order you to accept this job! Do as you’re told!”
“I have work to do, ma’am. Bless your heart, and may the temple spirits grant you love and peace.” Brinus flashed his screw you smile.
Lieutenant Aura had a blank look on her face and then walked out of his workshop. She came back to her office to find Commander Theodore sitting in a chair across from her solid oak desk. Above her desk were holographic photographs of her as a first officer and a lieutenant commander.
Lieutenant Aura’s office had white walls with holographic photographs of all five ships she had served on. Underneath the photos were her service patches of each ship. On the wall behind her desk was a no-smoking sign, and her desk did not have an ashtray. Some painted miniature soldiers sat next to her computer terminal.
Commander Theodore uncrossed his legs as Lieutenant Aura entered the room. “Did he take the bait?”
She cussed and sat at her desk, shuffling datapads. “He told me to go fuck myself and get lost. He then gave me the most infuriating smile.”
Commander Theodore snickered and then said, “I guess that’s progress. I will have to talk to him about how to decline illegal orders respectfully.”
“I hate that little brat!” She spat, throwing a blank datapad across the room.
Commander Theodore crossed his arms and frowned. “And that is why you’re not a first officer anymore. Do I have your word you will not try any funny business?”
Lieutenant Aura mumbled something incoherent.
Commander Theodore yelled, “DO I HAVE YOUR FUCKING WORD LIEUTENAT YOU WILL NOT TRY ANY FUNNY BUSINESS?!”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Theodore rose from his chair and put his hand on the doorknob. “Good. I have to go write up reports and deal with business. I will talk to him later today so good luck.”
Commander Theodore sighed and left her office.