Chapter 3 The Naval Academy

We dropped off the Marines first on a high G world in the same system as the Naval Academy.  It was going to be hard for my brother. Persia VI was a lower G world, meaning we were not strong but taller than most normal humans.  The engineering academy was on a massive space station next to a naval repair and refit space yard.  My group was shuffled to the Academy when we docked.  Our engineering class had almost 50,000 students entering.  So, I was not surprised that over 5,000 also had already achieved Grade 1 in at least one specialization.  Just a few hundred cadets had two or more completed certs.

We were moved into bunk rooms that were actually pretty nice—four to a spacious room with two bathrooms.  There were three other young men in my room.  I didn’t like any of them after spending a day in the room.  I think the feeling was mutual as they talked amongst themselves after that first day.  Courses would start in four days, so I left my room to explore on my own.

I would have classes four days in a row, then two days of practical training, then a half day off, and half a day of physical training.  The practical training would be in the refit yard, so I checked that out first.  Currently, 24 naval capital ships were docked, waiting on overhauls and refits.  The battle damage repair yard was on another station, probably so trainees didn’t see all the battle damage.  I talked with a yard supervisor and learned that our practical training would earn us some credits once we got enough certifications and a Grade.  I already had Grade 1, so I should start earning credits in week 1.  The rate for a Grade 1 cadet was 15 credits an hour.  Two six-hour practicals meant I would earn 180 credits a week, or 108 credits after taxes.

I walked to ship slips and stared at the docked ships through the observation ports.  The ships were massive.  Automated bots crawled along the hulls.  Humanoid bots were extremely expensive, and I had seen only a few on the station.  I would be working alongside them inside the Union Navy starships.  I decided I should try to get some certs for working on bots even though it was outside my naval engineering education.  The basic diagnostic and repair certs shouldn’t be too difficult for bots.  Checking—it required four different certs for Grade 1, so I added it to my to-do list.

I wandered back to the academy zone and had a meal.  Gwen found me eating and introduced me to her three roommates, Sheila, Vanessa, and Nila.  Sheila was a tiny, freckled, red-haired girl.  Vanessa was moderate in height with dark skin and Indian features.  Nila was also Indian but had a light skin tone with the same golden brown eyes that Gwen had.  She was also tall and well-muscled.  The girls surrounded me at the table and started eating and gossiping.  My eyes kept wandering to Nila, and her smile melted my soul.  Shit, my mom warned me of this type of infatuation at first sight.  I tried to steel myself, but it just made it worse as I fidgeted in my seat.  I wanted to burn her image into my mind, and that required staring, but staring was rude.  

Of course, the girls noticed, and soon, I was peppered with teasing comments that made me and Nila both blush.  Was she also staring at me?  Eventually, the social onslaught left, but Gwen paused and whispered that Nila was a very nice girl and would do what she could for me.  I was stunned and thought my effort to befriend Gwen on the trip here was well worth the investment.

While everyone else was in their social utopia before classes started, I finished one of my robot diagnostics certifications.  It was easy as it was mostly everything I already knew, just on a smaller scale.  I ate meals at the same time every day, and during lunch, Gwen and her posse made to sit with me every time.  They tried to rope me into going to the entertainment deck every time, but I declined.  I had a plan and was focused on sticking with it.  Get enough engineering grades to get out of debt and be assigned to a quality starship—hopefully not a warship.

The night before classes were to start, everyone’s comms beeped, and we all checked our PerComs.  As I had found earlier, it was our class assignment: four days of classes, two days of practicals, half a day off, and half a day of conditioning.  

The classes took most of the day, 9 hours.  Each day, we had three classes.  I had naval procedures first and then two electives I could choose.  Everyone else in my room had no electives and were assigned classes related to certs I already had obtained.  I highlighted each and selected a basic class in propulsion and one in robot repair.  The device turned yellow after my selections, then turned green shortly after accepting my selections.  Apparently, an AI or a person needed to approve my choices.

Well, classes were boring, exactly 16 of us in each class.  Seating was four by four in every classroom, sometimes with a humanoid robot teaching and sometimes a human.  The speed was so slow, like we were idiots.  I was used to going through a course at a much faster pace.  I tried to use my PerCom during class, but it was locked during class except for course materials.  I couldn’t skip classes either or risk getting black marks on my records.  When I talked to one of the teachers, she said I could take the final exams early, and then I would be able to get self-study time.

The courses were supposed to take ten weeks, but I finished the materials and exams for all three in less than two weeks.  I started a new routine.  I started running and lifting weights in the morning since the gyms were empty during the first class period.  I was tall, coming from a low gravity world, just shy of 1.91 meters, and extremely skinny, and I wanted to impress Nila, who was also very shy but had taken to sitting next to me at breakfast and dinner.  Her closeness aroused me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her.

Well, after my 3-hour workout, I worked on getting the courses for my certs in robot diagnostics and repair.  I usually skipped lunch as Gwen and her crew ate with other classmates in another cafeteria on the far side of the station by the classrooms.  It took too much time to walk there, so I usually took a quick trip to vending machines, and then I was off to the robotics center during the third class period.  Although I wasn’t getting paid, the practical work on the bots was fascinating, and the lead supervisor, Camila, was friendly and very helpful.  She had two sons who were FTL engineers in their third year at the Academy.

She also looked great for having birthed seven children and gave me the motherly aura I was missing so far at the Academy.  And I think she was trying to set me up with her youngest daughter as she kept showing me videos of her.  She was 15 and entering the Academy in two years, hopefully as a capital ship pilot.  I still had my sights set on Nila but indulged Camila.

The great thing about the robotics center was the junk bin.  It was a large electronics and mechanical pit set for breakdown and recycling.  It also gave me something to spend my meager funds on.  Camila sold me the junk at a scrap rate, but I think a lot of things were not scrap.  I salvaged and repaired a SLUMBER unit.  

A SLUMBER unit was a helmet that covered your head completely and put you into REM sleep immediately for five hours of restful recovery sleep.  I even adapted an oxygen feed to the unit like the more expensive models that aided in muscle recovery.  I locked the device in my sleeping cubical in my room so my roommates wouldn’t tamper with it.  Besides that, I took to repairing old VR headsets in the junk pile and selling them on the station AUCTION pages.  The station housed nearly two hundred thousand people; half were poor cadets, but the other half had discretionary income.  I started to make a dent in my debt.

On my two days a week in the shipyard, it was quickly learned by the yard supervisors that I was very fast and very good.  I soon oversaw three labor bots and did teardowns of capital ship hydro, electrolysis, and filtration systems.  I would have to alter my goals upward as I should have enough hours and practical experience to reach Grade 2 as a life support engineer…maybe after four terms if things went well.  

There were a total of 15 terms, each ten weeks long.  Between each term, we also had eight days off.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t graduate early as I hoped as you needed to spend 15 terms at the Academy.  There was good news, though, as I was on track to earn multiple grades in multiple specializations and pay off my debt long before graduation.

At dinner, I had meals with Gwen and her growing posse, well, they had meals with me as I was always already seated and alone, and they just sat down around me.  I didn’t make it hard for them to find me, and I liked listening to them talk about their days, well, Nila’s day, anyway.

While everyone else was socializing, studying, or taking exams in the evenings, I started studying FTL equations, mechanical theory, and FTL power systems.  I am not going to lie; it was hard as some of the reasons and physics on how ships got into and out of sub-space were still unknown and mostly theory…at least the equations never seemed to quite work out.  Basically, sub-space worked on a completely different realm of physics that was marginally understood even after three millennia.  It was hard for my mind to shift gears, but I made some progress.

During the first 10-week term, I reduced my debt to just 22,194 credits.  I also accumulated 2,940 credits into my account as ‘discretionary funds.’  I would have done better if I had just managed to break my lunch vending machine habit.  The cafeteria was free, but to save time, I spent 8-10 credits every day at the vending machines for lunch.  The food in the vending machines was actually good, in my opinion.  The machine heated a quality frozen meal, then dispensed it.

Well, our first 8-day break was approaching, and everyone was excited.  Parties were planned, and the students who had money planned to travel down to the planet for a break.  Even though I could afford the 220-credit round trip, I wasn’t keen on it.  I had not planned to attend any parties until Nila invited me to one on the fourth day of the break.

We also met with an advisor during the break to assess our progress.  My appointment was on the first day of break.  I learned why, during the meeting.  The meetings were scheduled based on class rank; I was 7th of 49,390 engineering students.  Seventh, wow.  The meeting lasted an hour.  I was close to getting my certification for a Grade 1 in robotics diagnostics and repair and was already certified as a Grade 1 life support engineer.  The advisor wanted me to move into heavy weapons systems as my second specialty.  I wasn’t sure I could decline, but I did anyway.

We settled on my second specialty—sensors.  Then, we went over my three classes for the next term.  The first was starship emergency procedures, the second was deep space scanning arrays, and the third was tracking software.  It was good to have this info early.  I figured I could get a big head start during the break.

Well, the next three days I spent on the emergency procedures, and I got scared.  I never realized all the frigging things that could go wrong in space.  I became infatuated with preparedness.  I ordered a top-of-the-line skin suit.  It was dark gray, fit over me like a spandex unisuit, had quick-release gloves in the sleeve, it also had a silklike lining with rip-stop tech, two quick-release repair patches, a clear pullover hood, and a battery/oxygen cartridge that could heat the suit for 45 minutes and give 30 minutes of oxygen.  The cartridge embedded in the suit at the base of the neck was the size of a deck of cards.  The new suit had a 30,000-hour warranty, which sounded good.  I planned to replace it every three years.  The only issue I had was the difficulty changing the cartridge while wearing it.

I took to wearing the suit all the time under my cadet uniform except for showering.  Also, I took to carrying a spare oxygen cartridge in my coverall uniform.  Besides the slight bulge at the neck, the skin suit was unnoticeable under my student uniform coveralls.  The suit also emptied my savings and added a fair amount to my debt.  The suit was much better than the one I would be issued in the Navy.  

That skin suit just reflected body heat and had a clear hood and gloves.  You could survive about 3 minutes in it…hopefully long enough to get to emergency oxygen on the ship.  That version of the skinsuit would have cost me 2,500.  If I had to estimate, the Corp that supplied the suits to the Navy spent less than 500 manufacturing each one.

Running emergency scenarios became a hobby.  It was a sick hobby as I cranked up the difficulty and died about 90% of the time, was maimed 9% of the time, and won every once in a long while.

The party arrived on the fourth day, and I went with Gwen, Nila, and their friends.  It was fun after I got some alcohol in me and I danced with Gwen, Nila and three other girls I didn’t know.  After some time, Nila pulled me into the hallway and into an alcove with a maintenance terminal.  We kissed and pressed our bodies together.  I wasn’t following the time, but we spent over an hour locked together.  Then Nila broke apart and said tomorrow night, and we could get a room at a hotel on the station.

I swore internally, I had less than 50 credits after putting down almost all of my funds as a deposit on my new skin suit.  A luxury hotel room was about 70 credits, and I wanted this to be special.  I postponed the date for another day so I could make some credits for a fancy dinner and luxury hotel room on the AUCTION.

I was on cloud 9, walking back to my room.  If I had been better at social cues, I would have noticed the death stares I had received while dancing.  And the small group that tracked us into the hallway and alcove.  I was caught completely off guard when the group of five male students struck.  I was bagged and pulled into a custodial bot room.  The beating lasted so long that I passed out with repeated threats to leave Nila alone, ringing in my ear.

When I woke, I found myself in pain.  I wandered to an automated medical station.  I had two broken ribs, 29 contusions on my torso, a bleeding kidney that had clotted, and some other organ damage.  The station alerted a human doctor, and soon, I was under their care.

Getting back on my feet took 12 hours of treatment, and I use ‘on my feet’ loosely.  I wandered into a security station to report the assault.  The Marine lieutenant took my statement, and then we reviewed the video.  The hallway video was empty…it showed no one during the time I was assaulted.  He reviewed the video of the party’s room and found the time I left with Nila and five young men following us.  He quickly brought up their identification and sighed.

He told me the guy leading the group was Asher Dyson.  His family was well embedded in the station hierarchy.  His grandfather was in charge of post-academy assignments and was a Rear Admiral.  His parents were also in station administration.  His two older brothers were on the station serving in security.  So basically, I was fucked.  

The lieutenant gave me a pitying look.  I could report the incident, but it would get suppressed if not completely altered or just erased.  He said I should drop my involvement with the girl Nila.  He also suggested I start training with the Marines for self-defense.  A group of drill sergeants on the station trained the marines in rotation to the station from the planet.  He was good friends with three of them, Abby Surgorov, Adam Jonas, and Buckie ‘Dent.’  So the next day, I went with the lieutenant and was introduced.  The sergeants were more than willing to help me out after dinner every night, and they said that meant every night.

I regretfully canceled my appointment with Nila and decided to end all my meals in the cafeteria.  Vending machines would get expensive, but my health was important.  Hopefully, these actions would appease Asher while I developed my personal defense.

I felt like I got beat up just as badly in my first combat lesson.  The three drill instructors worked out for three hours every night after dinner.  They explained that they trained so hard because they needed to be better than every marine who came up for marine space training.  Well, we started with the basics, the painful basics.

Classes started again after the eight-day break finished.  I quickly passed the emergency procedures certifications.  So, I had my third period free a few days into the second term.  I applied this free time to pass deep space scanning arrays quickly.  It took 11 days to complete that course.

My only social interaction was with the three drill sergeants.  I don’t think I said a single word to any of my roommates in weeks.  I had started getting meals in Marine country on the station.  It wasn’t odd as many personnel dinned at the nearest cafeteria.  The food did seem more bland and heavier in protein, though.

The sergeants were encouraging and extremely tough on me.  I learned my new skin suit was assault marine grade.  They wore battle armor over the skinsuit, and their skinsuits had nanobot capsules to self-seal leaks, but otherwise, it was the same.  Nanobots would have cost me another 4000 credits, so it was not necessary yet.  I would add that option when I got a new suit in three years and was assigned to a ship.

One bizarre thing is the sergeants learned of my propensity to run emergency scenarios in VR.  Soon, we were running them together for ‘fun.’  I learned a lot of out-of-the-box thinking from the Marines.  My technical skills shocked them, so they said I must be cheating.  Together, we could beat the no-win scenarios about a third of the time, which was ridiculous in their opinion.  So we trained in hand-to-hand combat for three hours and then did two emergency scenarios.  We rotated who got to program or chose the scenario each night.  I took pleasure in designing the hardest programs.

I finally finished my Grade 1 Robot Diagnostics and Repair certifications 16 days into the term.  My tracking software course was progressing.  I only worked on the material in class as it was a lot of programming and diagnostics and was just time-consuming.  I also found sitting in class relaxing.  I was able to tune out the android instructor, and the other 13 students were quiet for the most part.

Twenty days into the term, Buckie started me on knife training.  They also set up a complete strength and conditioning program for me in the morning and a dietary tracker to ensure I was getting enough calories.  My body felt like a dog’s chew toy every day, and now I had to restart my conditioning, which I had dropped, as I figured the combat training was enough.  Wasn’t getting the crap beat out of me for three hours enough?

I extended my sleep time from five hours to six hours as my body needed more recovery time.  I also started going back to the robot depot and working for Carissa.  Now that I was a Grade 1 in robot diagnostics and repair, I could earn a little income.  Carissa had an order from station administration that the scrap could not be sold to students, probably another move by Asher to make my life miserable.  So reaching Grade 1 allowed me to buy scrap again, which was a nice fuck you to whoever instituted the new rule.

Halfway through the term, I completed the programming course.  I decided to continue with my study of FTL.  Adam and Abby gave me a compliment as well.  They said they wouldn’t mind getting into a bar fight with me.  At least, I assumed that was a compliment.  Buckie also said I could carry a knife on me and not be in danger of cutting myself.  My body was filling out, and I think I was done growing.  I was 1.91 meters tall.  One of the taller engineer students on the station was I easily picked out in a crowd.

Gwen managed to corner me one night, returning to my room from training with the sergeants.  I told her I couldn’t associate with her anymore.  She wouldn’t let me leave, and eventually, she got me to crack, and I told her about Asher and his family.  If she tried to do anything, it would just make things worse, so I insisted she drop it.  She thought for a bit and said at least she could make sure that asshole wouldn’t stain any of her friends, including Nila.  That made me happy, and I thanked her but said we couldn’t meet on the station again.  I think she looked a little sad when I added that.

The semester ended, and I had finally passed my first certification for FTL drives.  I was frankly shocked and extremely proud of myself as it required a 98% accuracy to pass.  I had gained muscle and was 102 kilograms.  My training plan from the Marines had my target at 112 kilograms at 8% body fat, basically a marine’s body.

I still had my advisor meeting on the first day of break, but I had slipped in my class rank.  I was now 17^th of 48,882.  I was fine with that as I spent 7 hours a day doing conditioning, combat, and emergency drill training.  My three courses for my third term were Union Law and Fleet Law, Sensor Calibration, and Life Support Adaptation.  The law course was required, unfortunately.  Sensor calibration was going to be easy, and I could finish the exams and practicum in 20 hours as it was just using devices I was familiar with to tune and check sensors.  The life support adaption was tuning life support for individuals from slightly different worlds.  Another easy course, but it was required to make Grade 2.