By the time we were showered and headed for breakfast, I was starving, and every muscle ached. Rob leaned in as we walked. “LTC said they’re looking into the power grid incident. Apparently, there were other signs of tampering they found after we left.”
“Seriously?” I kept my voice low. “Any suspects?”
“Not yet,” Rob replied. “But don’t worry—your name’s been kept out of it.”
As we entered the mess hall, I pushed thoughts of sabotage aside. Right now, I needed food and a lot of it.
This mess hall was much larger than the first I’d seen, open space filled with round tables and sleek chairs. Cadets gathered in groups, chatting animatedly over trays of steaming food. The atmosphere was lively, with bursts of laughter and the clatter of utensils.
Holographic menus float above the food stations, displaying nutritional stats and meal options and I watched the server flit from one station to another gathering everything I was supposed to eat.
The server put my details in for me, “I’ll sort this for you now, Cadet Argassa.”
A minute later I had a plate piled high of food, more than I’d ever thought possible.
“Damn,” Sylvk said, coming in behind me and noting my tray full. “You’re eating more than me?”
“There’s a vast difference in our genetics,” I tried to defend myself. “Though I don’t know where I’m going to put it.”
“See if you can find us a seat, would you?” Rob asked.
I moved off and glanced around. There wasn’t many places for us to sit.
I scanned the room again, my tray growing heavy in my arms. Spotting a group of cadets I recognized, Andri and Alpha271, but didn’t want to sit near. I made to pass them and hit up an empty table. As I approached, Andri caught sight of me and subtly shifted his chair outward, blocking the natural opening at the table. The other cadets followed suit, leaving no space for me to join.
“Looks like we’re full up,” Andri remarked with a feigned look of regret. The group chuckled, not bothering to lower their voices.
I stood frozen for a moment, my tray trembling slightly. A familiar heat rose in my chest—that mixture of anger and humiliation I’d felt too many times before. I wanted to call Andri out, to make him move, to force my way in just to prove I could. But this wasn’t the time or place for that battle.
“No problem,” I muttered instead, forcing a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. As I turned away, I cataloged the moment in my mind—another debt to be repaid someday, when I had the leverage to do so.
As I walked toward a different table at the edge of the mess, the group’s laughter grew louder. “You see how much food he’s got, must have been eating nothing but rubbish all his life.”
“Going to be hell on his system for quite a while till they get him nutritionally up to date.”
“And mentally, he’s the whole year to catch up with.”
“You see how Kuba’s little pet keeps sneaking around the power stations?” he said, loud enough for me to hear. “Makes you wonder what he’s really doing here.”
One of his teammates laughed. “Maybe she needs someone to fix her personal equipment.”
“Or maybe,” Andri continued, his tone dropping to something more calculating, “it’s convenient having a civilian without security clearance poking around restricted areas. No records, no accountability.”
I nearly stopped in my tracks. This wasn’t just the usual bullying— he was implying something specific, something dangerous. I glanced back to see him watching me, his expression cool and assessing. This wasn’t just about academy rivalry; he was marking me as a security threat.
“Ignore them,” Rob muttered, suddenly beside me. “Andri’s family makes him paranoid about everything. Academy security’s his pet obsession.”
“His family?” I asked quietly.
Rob shook his head slightly. “Another time.”
Ahead of me, a young woman moved from her table. “We’re leaving now, you can sit here.”
I tried to speak my thanks, all I could muster was a croak.
Sitting in front of Rob, I poked at my food, my appetite replaced by a mix of frustration and sadness. I clenched my fists under the table, the knuckles whitening.
Where the hell was Sylvk.
Eventually a tray slid next to me. “Sorry I got talking to one of the others. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said.
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The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
While Sylvk talked about my training and food regime, I told Doli the difference between a white lie and a real one.
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Another tray slid in next to me. Kerry reached over and pinched a slice of bacon off my plate.
“Hey!” I growled.
“You’re never going to eat all of that,” she said.
I had tried, I was still trying. Sylvk’s plate was already empty. “I was waiting to see what he left,” the big man said.
“Better get in quicker next time.” I laughed.
“We’re in ship simulations next,” Rob informed me. “You done any flying at all?”
“Not real flying.” I looked at him as he sipped his coffee. “You know I haven’t, just games.”
“Those classes are going to be as fun as the maze for you then.” Sylvk said.
“Shit,” I looked away, and mumbled. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t say that,” Kerry said and kicked me under the table. “I’ve only a few hundred hours in the sim, Sylvk has even less than that.”
“What about you?” I asked Rob.
“I was born flying.” He said.
“Just a few thousand.” Kerry whistled. “He’s hoping for…”
“Captain?” I asked.
“I hope so, one day.” He looked at the ceiling. “Something exploratory.”
“Or running the highline.” Kerry added.
“What’s that?”
Sylvk slapped his palm against his forehead with a sound that echoed through the mess hall. “Are you serious right now? It’s only the largest trade routes going from here to Cali.”
“I’ve heard of Cali,” I said. Fuck I was an idiot. Always putting my foot in it. “But I’ll do some study on the rest. Thanks.”
“We’re doing course projection today,” Rob said. “They’ll pit something against your ship, and you’ll have to get around it with the least damage.”
“Likely a mine field, or asteroid belt.” Kerry added.
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This next classroom was a spacious, futuristic amphitheater with holographic screens projecting a simulated space battle across the room.
I took my seat next to Kerry. Everyone else filled the whole first row. And to my surprise Andri sat next to me with a smile.
Our instructor stood before us, Sergeant Major Cotah. “Your task today is simple. On your screens you will need to plot a course for your ship, through each of the eight simulations. Hook your HUD up to the console and it will seem like you’re on that bridge. Pilot her well, you’ll be scoring as usual per academy guidelines.”
Eight? Holy crap and this was another test. I glanced at Rob, who was shaking his head. They hadn’t known that either.
“There is no time limit. Take all you need. Think.”
I looked to my screen. Then following the instructions on it hooked it up to my HUD as well.
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I laughed at that, and realized it was a little too loud when the Sergeant Major glanced my way. “Problem Cadet?”
“No, sir.” I replied and tucked my head into my space.
I watched the first simulation, and noted everything I could as it passed me by.
TAKE THE TEST
Y/N
I hit the yes, and as the first meteorite moved into our position I moved out of the way, each time I moved something else was there, making me adjust every few seconds. It wasn’t hard, but it did take concentration.
My fingers flew across the controls, muscle memory from countless hours at Dennison’s arcade kicking in. The first three simulations were straightforward enough—meteorite fields and basic obstacles that required quick reflexes and decent spatial awareness. I didn’t just navigate around them; I charted efficient paths that minimized fuel consumption while maintaining structural integrity.
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I clicked for next, and then next, and by the time the fourth one was playing, a cold sweat had broken out across my forehead. The simulations were getting exponentially harder. What started as simple meteorite fields had evolved into complex gravitational anomalies that warped predictable paths, forcing split-second recalculations.
The fifth simulation featured a debris field from what appeared to be a destroyed space station—jagged pieces of metal spinning unpredictably, some large enough to tear through the hull, others small enough to be almost invisible until it was too late.
By the sixth, my hands were cramping, and I was leaning forward so close to the screen that my nose nearly touched it. This one featured a minefield with proximity triggers—get too close, and the explosion would set off a chain reaction.
I passed it, barely, with 65% ship integrity remaining.
Then came the seventh. A neutron star with intense gravitational pull, surrounded by swirling debris caught in its orbit. I had to slingshot around it without getting pulled in—and without colliding with the debris.
When I finally cleared it, I realized I’d been holding my breath for so long that spots danced in my vision.
TAKE THE TEST
Y/N
The eighth simulation appeared on screen, and my stomach dropped. This wasn’t just difficult—it was insane. A maze of asteroids, each one moving in different patterns, with narrow gaps that would require perfect timing. Behind them, a massive energy storm brewed, the kind that would fry navigation systems and leave a ship dead in space.
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the console.
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That comment was just frustrating. I glanced around the room. Several of the others were already sitting with their arms folded, others still deep inside the simulations.
And—of course—Andri was watching me.
I focused on the simulation once again and hit re-play.
The way I wanted to take the ship, would fail. I could see it.
“Stuck?” Andri whispered, his tone somewhere between mocking and genuinely curious.
I didn’t take my eyes off the screen. “Just considering options.”
“There is no option,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “That’s the point of this one.”
I glanced at him, trying to determine if this was another mind game. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes seemed... different. Almost respectful.
“Every simulation has a solution,” I muttered.
“Maybe,” Andri replied, “but sometimes the solution isn’t what you expect.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned back to his own console, leaving me to puzzle over both the simulation and his cryptic comment.
Looking back at the asteroid field, I suddenly understood. I’d been thinking like a pilot—trying to navigate through. But if I thought like a Captain...
A Captain wouldn’t just think about navigating obstacles. A Captain would think about protecting the ship and crew at all costs—even if that meant not completing the original objective.
If I acted like a Captain, and sacrificed some of the ship’s integrity, taking a couple of hits, I could maybe... No, even that wouldn’t work. The only way to truly protect the ship was to—
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