Finally, back in my bunk, I sat on the edge of the bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of my datapad. Some of the others were still in the common area, laughing, shouting, and rehashing the day. I’d excused myself earlier than Ashley’s midnight, claiming I needed sleep. The truth was, I needed to breathe.
The academy reminded me a lot of my old orphanage—strict rules and forced encounters. The same rigid schedules, the same hollow camaraderie born from necessity rather than choice. Back then, there had been long hallways with flickering overhead lights, cold dormitories filled with too many beds and not enough warmth.
Conversations had been whispered at night, hushed voices trading secrets or silent fears, but nothing ever truly safe.
I swallowed hard. At least in the orphanage, I had known where I stood—what was expected of me. Here, the ground beneath my feet never felt steady.
My fingers found the edge of my sleeve, twisting the fabric between them, the motion automatic. I used to do this back then, tugging at frayed seams or tracing the stitching on my blanket when the walls felt too close. A small act, barely noticeable, but it kept my hands steady when everything else felt uncertain.
I let go, flexing my fingers, then clenched them into fists. The old habit had followed me here, slipping back into place like it had been waiting all along.
My hands shook as I placed the datapad on the small metal desk beside me. The adrenaline from the maze had long faded, replaced by a dull ache in my muscles and an even duller ache in my chest.
“Not cut out for this,” I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. My reflection in the narrow mirror above the desk caught my eye. Sweat matted my hair to his forehead, and dark circles carved into the skin beneath my eyes. I looked as wrecked as I felt.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and stared at the floor. “What the hell am I doing here?”
<> Doli’s voice in my head spoke softly.
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“Why do you call me Captain?” I asked. “Isn’t Major Kuba your captain?”
<>
“Not even close,” I replied.
<
“Doesn’t it feel odd?”
<
There was something in her tone. If I wanted her? It feels right?
<
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“Night Doli,” I replied.
Now back alone, I asked. “What the hell am I doing here, really?” The words echoed in the quiet room. I wasn’t sure if I was asking myself or the empty walls.
I thought of Orla, back at Marts and Sparks, her parting words ringing in my ears: “You’re destined for so much more.”
More?
Was this it? Flailing in Zero-G while cadets younger and faster than me laughed behind my back? Getting dragged along by a team that probably regretted volunteering for me? I shook my head. It wasn’t the physical exhaustion getting to me—it was the constant reminder that I didn’t belong.
My fingers brushed the cool metal port at the base of my neck. Doli’s chip had felt like the key to everything when I’d stolen it. Now, it felt like a weight pulling me down. I’d spent years convincing myself I was smarter than everyone else, but here, surrounded by the academy’s best and brightest, I was another rookie struggling to keep up.
I grabbed my datapad, scrolling through the logs from the maze run. The path lit up in glowing lines, showing every twist, turn, and stumble. My HUD displayed the team’s time: 12 minutes, 41 seconds. Not the worst, but not enough to impress anyone. I’d let them down.
Then, I saw it—one decision I’d made, one shortcut that shaved off precious seconds. Sylvk had clapped me on the back for that, saying, “Good call, newbie.” I replayed the clip, watching as the new path changed the team’s trajectory, bringing us closer to the exit.
“Good call,” I whispered, a flicker of pride breaking through the fog of self-doubt. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Doli’s voice echoed in my mind, calm and clinical. <
“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about that,” I said aloud, but a small smile tugged at my lips. I wasn’t sure I believed in myself yet, but Doli did. Major Kuba seemed to, too, in her own gruff way. Maybe that was enough. Maybe, for now, all I needed to do was keep showing up, keep trying. “You should also be asleep.” I chided at her ignoring my orders. Some captain I would make.
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Ugh, I sighed.
“Just an hour,” I murmured, “I’m exhausted.” The familiar hum soothed me as the HUD lit up with a barrage of academy assignments.
I had a choice - and each one was an eight-week course.
1. Combat Analytics and Situational Awareness
2. Xenobiology and Interstellar Diplomacy
3. Advanced Cybernetics and Human Integration
4. Starship Systems Engineering
5. Espionage Techniques and Counterintelligence
6. Zero-G Operations
7. Psychological Warfare and Influence
8. Ethical Dilemmas in Warfare
9. Reconnaissance and Survival Training
“Where are they in classes now?”
<
“Well I’d best start at the beginning,” I said and picked course 1.
The information box popped up, and I read fast.
This course trains cadets to think critically and adapt quickly in high-stress scenarios. Using advanced simulation pods, cadets are placed in dynamic battlefields where threats emerge without warning. Instructors emphasize the importance of pattern recognition, threat prioritization, and strategic adaptability.
Lesson Outline:
Week 1: Introduction to Situational Awareness
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Understanding battlefield layouts and key observation points.
Basics of threat recognition: identifying high-risk zones and potential ambush points.
Simulation Exercise: A simple tactical map analysis.
Week 2-4: Tactical Thinking
Prioritization drills: What threats to neutralize first and why.
Scenario-based learning: defending a position under resource constraints.
Simulation Exercise: Coordinating squad movements under pressure.
Week 5-6: Advanced Combat Analytics
Using data to predict enemy behavior: spotting patterns in past engagements.
Real-time decision-making exercises in a chaotic simulation.
Case studies of historical battles to learn from strategic successes and failures.
Week 7-8: Fieldwork and Testing
Extended simulations that include multiple squads with shifting objectives.
Cadets take turns leading, analyzing team performance post-mission.
Final Assessment: A complex scenario requiring the use of all learned skills.
Core Activities:
Real-time combat simulations require students to direct squads, plan ambushes, or evade overwhelming forces.
Tactical debriefs where students analyze their decisions and identify alternative strategies.
Map-reading and threat triangulation exercises to improve situational awareness.
Key Lesson:
“Every decision costs resources—time, energy, or lives. Choose wisely.”
My breath steadied, the noise of the day fading as I immersed myself in the challenge of uploading directly to my brain.
The system fed me data in rapid bursts, forcing my mind to adapt. Each problem solved felt like a small victory, a reminder that I could keep up, even here.
But the longer I worked, the heavier the exhaustion weighed on me. My mind blurred the lines between the real and the virtual. I paused, letting my vision refocus as Doli gently prompted me to take a break. “Not yet,” I muttered, unwilling to stop just as I was getting a handle on what would be expected of me.
After the hour passed, my HUD buzzed. <
I quickly brought up my stat sheet to compare. Hoping something had changed in the short time I’d been here.
<
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I stared at the new stats with a mixture of pride and nerves, noticing that me Dexterity ticked from 1 to 2. “Yeah, this is good.”
<
“Fine,” I grumbled, saving my progress. I’d only gotten to week 3. But before I disconnected, I allowed myself a moment to scroll through a star chart. The glowing constellations and planetary trajectories spun across my vision, mesmerizing in their complexity. This was why I was here—not to survive, but to thrive among the stars.
As I disconnected, a pang of guilt tugged at me. Had I done enough? Was I too far behind? The academy was relentless, there was no room for failure. Even if I was going to leave it all behind. I still wanted to pass. I slapped the side of my head. Stupid brain.
I closed my eyes, fingers drifting to the material of my sleeve, twisting, twirling, normal.
The stars I’d dreamed about as a kid felt a little closer tonight. They were still far away, out of reach—but not impossible.
Not yet.
***
When Ashley dropped me off at the gym the next morning, Sylvk was waiting for me, he did a double take, but didn’t ask me anything, not then.
Instead he watched me with an intensity that made my skin itch. He wasn’t focused on my form during the weights—his gaze was searching, probing, as if he were dissecting me piece by piece. “Ashley Kuba, your type?”
The question threw me off guard. “Type?”
“Your type of woman?”
“Oh,” I said. “Nothing like that, it’s a working relationship.”
“So,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “You are working with her?”
I hit my rep point, and he indicated I keep going. “Two more.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I’m working with her.”
“You have Kerry all twisted in knots you know—” he said, his voice low enough that it didn’t carry beyond the clatter of equipment. He waited while I forced the last rep. “—and Rob.”
I shrugged. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Maybe not, but intention doesn’t matter. People are asking a lotta questions.”
I paused, mid-lift, and set the weight down carefully. “What kind of questions?”
Sylvk leaned in, arms crossed. “Why does someone like you have the clearance level of a senior officer? Why does Major Ashley Kuba—one of our top engineers—spend her evenings with you instead of managing her own projects? And why is it that every time someone tries to dig deeper into your past, they hit a wall?”
My mouth went dry, but I forced myself to chuckle, casual. “I didn’t realize my life was that interesting.”
“It’s not interesting,” Sylvk said, his tone sharpening. He pointed to the treadmill, and I set off at a steady jog. “It’s concerning. Rob isn’t the only one who has been to LTC Chezek. Word is, you’re untouchable. You have clearance even the LTC doesn’t.”
“Must be a mistake,” I said, grabbing the water bottle beside me and taking a long sip to buy time.
Sylvk didn’t let up, taking the treadmill next to me, his feet pounding along. “Mistakes don’t come with protocols. And yours has them—layers of them. Rob wanted to know if we could keep you here permanently, but the LTC shut him down fast.”
“You really think that?” I almost missed my footing and fell forward only to catch myself and keep going.
My mind flashed to every simulation, every test I’d approached differently than the others. While they followed the academy playbook, I’d drawn on years of improvising repairs with whatever was at hand. My solutions weren’t elegant or by-the-book—they were messy, unexpected, born from necessity rather than training. It made me an outsider, even when I succeeded.
“You came from nowhere, Rob wanted to know a few things. It was his right to ask.”
Again, I asked. “Why? What am I to you, but a leg up the ladder?” The question came from that familiar place of doubt—the orphan who’d learned that people only kept you around as long as you were useful.
Sylvk stopped jogging, his feet slowing. “He went to ask if we could keep you.” He repeated, his eyes held mine. “You know what he was told?”
I nodded, because I did know.
“That when it was time, we had to let you go.”
I avoided his eyes and focused on running. “I’ve told you—I’m not staying long.”
Sylvk tilted his head, scrutinizing me. “And that’s exactly what the LTC said. That when your time here was done, we had to let you go. No exceptions.”
“What’s your point?” I asked, a little sharper than I intended.
“My point is,” he leaned closer, “you’re not just some new recruit. You’re not just another soldier. And whatever you’re here for—it’s above all our pay grades.”
I shook my head and laughed, trying to dispel the tension. “Sylvk, I’m just an engineer. That’s all there is to it.”
“You say that, but your clearance says otherwise. And the way the Major looks at you? Like she knows something the rest of us don’t? That’s not nothing.”
“Maybe she likes me,” I deflected, gripping the barbell to start another set.
When there was nothing but silence between us, I repeated. “I can’t stay, Sylvk, I’m sorry.”
Sylvk’s face fell. “Damn,” he said. “I was hoping Rob had it wrong. That we could get you assigned to us permanently.”
“You don’t know me, why would you want me on your team for good?”
“You never met anyone you clicked with, that you could put faith in?” he asked. His shoulders drooped.
“I grew up without anyone I could trust, that comes hard for me.”
“Well, know this. We spoke at length about you last night, about the future for us.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ll find the right person for this team. I’m more than sure.”
“Weights,” he motioned us back.
“Again?” I groaned and wobbled on my feet. I steadied myself on the wall, palms flat letting the cool spread thorough me..
“Feeling okay?” Sylvk asked.
“Doc said I have a slight fever,” I replied. I didn’t brush him off though I went for the weights.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded, and braced for the pain. With the weights ready to go, Sylvk placed a hand on the bar, stopping me. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I don’t know who or what you are, but I do need to know this—for the others—are we safe with you here?”
That question landed like a punch to the gut. I met his eyes, searching for malice or fear, but all I found was honest concern.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said carefully.
“That’s not an answer,” Sylvk pressed. “I’ve seen good soldiers go down because they trusted the wrong person. Don’t make me regret having your back.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I said, and it was the most honest thing I’d said all day.
Sylvk stared at me for a long moment, then stepped back. “Okay. Keep your secrets. But if the day comes when those secrets cost us, you’d better hope I’m not the one standing in your way.”
I exhaled as he walked off, tension radiating from every line of his body. My grip on the barbell tightened.
Doli’s voice cut into my thoughts. <
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I set the barbell down with a loud clang, my jaw clenched. This was getting out of hand, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep the walls intact.
Kerry walked in with a grin on her face. “Over working as usual, boys?”
Sylvk nodded and growled out. “You best both spot for me.”
We laughed at that, yet we both complied. Keeping a close eye on him while he pushed his massive muscles to their limits.
<
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“I got some nanotech ideas I want to run through with you,” Kerry said over the rattling equipment.
“Yeah? At Breakfast?”
“Deal,” she said.
My muscles burned as I stumbled out of the gym, sweat dripping down my face. Kerry caught up with me, tossing me a towel.
“Sylvk said he’d meet us there. He’s going for one more round now. His spotter’s in.”
I sighed.
“Rough session?” she asked, concern spreading across her brow.
I shrugged, wiping my face. “Just… a lot to take in.”
“You’re doing fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “Sylvk doesn’t go easy on anyone, and he doesn’t waste time on people who can’t keep up.”
Fine isn’t enough. The image of Alpha271 training flashed in my mind, their perfect precision a stark contrast to my clumsy efforts.
“You’ll get there,” she added, bumping my shoulder.
Will I? That question hung heavy in my chest as we walked to the mess.