A federation grand admiral sat in Admiral Nelson’s ready room. The Admiral wore a dirty jacket and pants with patches, while Admiral Nelson’s attire was crisp and fresh. The enemy’s dress uniform smelled of sweat and body odor. He wore no socks, and his boots were dull and worn, while Nelson’s shoes were shiny and his socks were clean. Nelson's shampoo smelled like coconut, whereas the enemy admiral smelled dank and musty.

  Admiral Nelson pushed forward the data pad and handed him a stylus. “Do you have questions about the surrender conditions, sir?”

  The admiral sighed and signed without looking. The terms were irrelevant. “We were once the most powerful empire in the galaxy. How did you win?”

  Nelson flicked his tail side to side and twitched his whiskers, “Your power was an illusion. You lost it thirty years ago. Like all empires, you self-destructed, degenerated, and walked away from what made you great. We just poured gas on the bonfire.” Admiral Nelson gave a wry smile.

  The surrendering admiral growled and crossed his arms and legs. “You won. Now what?”

  Admiral Nelson flicked his paw, and two Navy Troopers came into the office. They forced the enemy admiral out of the room.

  Brinus stepped forward from behind Nelson. “That guy smelled like a homeless man.”

  Nelson flexed his claws and pulled up the signature lines. “Yeah, well, the fed navy is not a combat-ready force anymore.”

  Brinus laughed, “You can say that again.”

  Nelson handed Brinus the data pad. “I want you to witness this as a government official and then use your family’s seal to sign it. You do have a seal, correct? If you don’t, we can make one.”

  Brinus pinched the bridge of his nose and sneered, “Yes, sir. I got one made after Marci defected. They said she was my mother and I needed to get a seal made.”

  Nelson nodded and stood pointing at the data pad. “Good, sign at the line that says witness.”

  Brinus made his signature.

  Nelson nodded and then scrolled up, “Now, put your seal on the stamp.”

  Brinus put his thumbprint on the seal line. A logo of an ‘A’ made by a protractor and a drafting compass appeared.

  “Now, sign here saying you are a duke and ratify this surrender agreement.”

  Brinus made his signature. He felt his stomach turn, and his heart rate quickened, but it quickly passed.

  Brinus sighed and then signed another line, “Sir, why are we gonna press the soldiers into manual labor? Most of them are children or elderly.”

  Nelson had him sign another document and then snapped, “Because we are pressing soldiers into the rebuilding effort… not the elderly or children. Most of the kids lost their families. Also, people over the age of sixty couldn’t do the type of manual labor we need them to. The Federation would have done much worse to you and Simmie if they had captured you. Why are you so squeamish?”

  Brinus frowned. “Children are innocent, sir. The elderly are fragile.”

  Nelson laughed, “When did you get sentimental? Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  Brinus stood at attention, saluted Nelson, and left his office.

  Akmal was in the game room playing one of Brinus’s games when Brinus came home and stripped down into gym shorts. He put his feet up on the coffee table and began watching the news. The podcasters discussed the surrender of the 1st Grand Fleet to the 3rd Task Force. They sat at a desk with a microphone and two men.

  One of the podcasters began speaking, “We’re back from our commercial messages here with my partner Butch for people just now tuning in.”

  “Hey, Sundance. Yeah, we have a lot to discuss. The first official surrender of the Federation military happened today. Apparently, it was officiated by the Duke of District 12. You know, the Kobchi fighter who beat Ben Jackson two weeks ago in the regional semi-finals?”

  Sundance laughed and then slapped the table, “He gave his winnings to the local alternative school for their drug treatment and detox program.”

  Butch crossed his legs and tilted his head back. “Didn’t he give his last round of winnings to a trade school that prepares prisoners for a career in the Navy?”

  Sundance tilted his cowboy hat and shifted in his chair. “It was over half a million credits if I recall.”

  Butch whistled, “I thought it was 300,000 creds. Half a million, damn. That’s enough for a new hospital wing!”

  Sundance relaxed his shoulders and crossed his legs. “Back to the point. Do you think the other fleets will surrender? What do you think about the term that combatants between the ages of 18 and 60 will be drafted for construction work? Or that the leadership staff of the fleet will be held and tried for war crimes?”

  Butch lowered his head and sighed into his mic. “I think the admiralty of the federation did a lot of terrible things during the war. Like the genocide of the Lapori, the Elves, and the Larkoa; the suppression of dissent; and the execution of POWs who smoked to cut incarceration costs. Someone needs to take the fall.”

  “Where is Pattaban? Did they ever recover his body?”

  “Come to think of it, I don’t think we ever found his body. If he went into the lower levels of Federation City, we may never find him. That planet has 80 billion citizens and is one giant city.”

  Butch laughed cynically and then adjusted his cowboy hat. “Good riddance, in my opinion. Hopefully, someone turns him in for the reward money.”

  Sundance shook his head and crossed his ankles. “I don’t know. The underworld outside of the syndicates is small. If he can use his skills for them, turning him in may be seen as a betrayal of the organization.”

  Simmie came into the room and turned off the news after stripping down to his gym shorts. “You know you shouldn’t be watching that newscast shit.” Simmie sat in Brinus’s lap and kissed his bare chest.

  Brinus returned the affection, smiled, and kissed him passionately for a moment. “Hey, hon. Wonna see a magic trick?”

  Simmie groaned and crossed his arms while leaning back into Brinus. “No, sweet pea. We don’t need to blow up the refrigerator.”

  Brinus conjured a fireball and threw it at the coffee maker. Simmie sighed as Brinus snapped his fingers and the coffee maker was unharmed.

  “Ta-da!” Brinus laughed maniacally.

  Simmie rolled his eyes and rose from the couch. “I need to cook supper. Don’t destroy anything else, love.”

  Akmal came into the living room. “Why can’t I taste food that well?”

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  “Because you smoke a pack and a half a day?” Brinus shrugged his shoulders and started watching his favorite game streamer. It was for the game an MMORPG live service game.

  Akmal tilted his head and put his bare feet next to Brinus’s. “You used to smoke. Why did you quit?”

  “Because Tangent and Simmie gave me a reason to live, and it interfered with my Navy career.”

  “Oh. Why did you join the Navy?”

  Brinus rose from his seat and replicated some corn chips and volcano soda pop. He sat down and offered the bag to Akmal. “I hated the syndicate, and the military was the best option at the time.”

  “Do you regret joining the Navy?”

  Brinus rolled his eyes and popped open the soda. “No. I would do it again in a nanosecond. Including the suicide attempt.”

  “Why?”

  Brinus sighed. He crossed his ankles and his arms and snapped, “It got me out of prison and into the military. I don’t regret the robbery or my suicide attempt. I just wish it didn’t come to that, but I don’t regret it or feel no remorse.”

  “What about–”

  Brinus held up his hand and made a shushing sound. “I think we’re done here.”

  Akmal rose from the couch with droopy eyes, slouched shoulders, and a frown. Brinus knew he should feel sorry and didn’t want to hurt Akmal’s feelings, so he would apologize later. Brinus wasn’t exactly sure if revisiting memory lane was a good thing. He just wanted to relax and watch his streamer, not think about how bad things were, or could have gone. Akmal was curious, sure, but some information was simply too hard to deliver.

  At a small table in the back of a cafe sat Captain Plato, Commander Norrington, and Dr. Calnori. It was filled with the loud chatter of people drinking coffee and eating desserts. The lunch crowd occupied the seats, and cigarette smoke swirled with the restaurant's lighting. Waiters and waitresses rushed about between tables and made casual conversation for a moment or two with the restaurant’s patrons.

  “What is your opinion on cashing out Brinus’s contract and giving him a full pardon?” Asked Captain Plato, looking at a data pad. A large stack of them rested on the table.

  Commander Norrington and Dr. Calnori shook their heads to disapprove.

  “Agreed,” stated Plato after a moment of silence. “He’ll just spiral while in civilian life. So, where do we place him in a peacetime Military?”

  Dr. Calnori looked at Commander Norrington and Captain Plato. “There are planets that lost 90 to 98% of their population, correct?”

  Plato nodded. “So we put him on one of those planets after grad school?”

  “Yes, sir. He needs to be somewhere he can be independent and a rebel and not be in trouble, so he can flourish.”

  Captain Plato made a note on his data pad. “I am being promoted to commodore, but will maintain my position here until a command position on one of the planets opens up. I’ll take Brinus, Tangent, and Simmie with me there. I want Simmie to be my secretary.”

  Commander Norrington said, “I heard Brinus was involved with some criminals a few weeks ago. Something about taking ten thousand creds from a card dealer.”

  Calnori sighed and put her sandwich down. “We talked about that. Punishing him will have no effect because he would do it again if it meant protecting Akmal.”

  Plato growled and then put Brinus's datapad aside. “What about Harper Magnus?” He wanted to move the meeting forward and avoid speaking of Akmal and his teenage behavior.

  Commander Norrington took a sip of his coffee and then looked Plato in the eyes. “He’s a servo motor robotics tech if I remember, right?”

  Plato nodded, narrowed his eyes, and asked, “Cash out or extend?”

  Calnori tilted her head and shifted in her seat. “That name sounds familiar. Where is he from?”

  Plato skimmed the synopsis on his file. “He is an orphan from Otis Datis and moved to Caltarius Prime at 16. His foster family adopted him four months after arriving. It was after his first semester of being homeschooled at an agency. The rest of it is classified under Magi Order 28. Even I can’t access his personnel file.”

  Norrington cracked his knuckles as Plato handed him the datapad. “How long has he been in the Navy?”

  “About seven years as of today? He served five years during the war and joined at 17 as a crewman 1st class.”

  Calnori sighed and crossed her legs, “That’s weird. Brinus talks about Harper Magnus sometimes. His photo looks nothing like the photos Brinus showed me. Are you sure you don’t have access to his file?”

  Plato shook his head. “A magi order 28 can’t be accessed by military or civilian personnel. Even the supreme commander of the Navy can’t access it. Only the lords and ladies at the admiralty and any magi officer.”

  They looked at each other with heavy eyes and put the datapad in the “extended contract” pile. They didn’t want to deal with the magi.

  Brinus came home and stripped down to his gym shorts after submitting his report on Akmal to his senior thesis professor three days later. The end of his undergrad had come at last. He grabbed four credits from the petty cash fund and walked out. Nerves filled him as he put the coins into the vending machine. His heart beat fast as he put the cigarette to his lips and snapped his fingers. Grades would arrive in four hours, and he was nervous. The flame touched the tip of the cigarette, and it lit on fire.

  However, the smoke only irritated his throat and lungs after the first couple of drags. He coughed halfway through and felt lightheaded. He was less tense and more at ease, but his heart raced. It wasn’t at all what he remembered. Brinus disposed of the half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray and went to his quarters to see Tangent waiting for him.

  She held out her hand, and without a word, Brinus handed her the pack he had hidden in his pocket. She put the cigarettes in a replicator and disposed of them.

  “I take it you didn’t enjoy it?” asked Tangent, spotting the green look on Brinus’s face.

  “No. It ain’t at all what I remember it bein’ like. I have to go.” Brinus ran into the master bathroom and began vomiting.

  Tangent smiled and logged into Brinus’s coursework. He’d gotten his grades early since he was the salutatorian. He received a 100 on his capstone project, a 98 on his robotics and AI practicum, a 96 on his warp core engineering practicum, a 98 on his software engineering practicum, and a 99 on his warp core physics practicum.

  Someone knocked on the door. Tangent opened it, and it was Tigs. He had a gift-wrapped box. Tangent greeted him kindly. “Hello, why don’t you come in?”

  Tigs stepped into the room. He immediately crinkled his nose. “Who smoked in here?”

  Tangent hopped onto the table and brewed a pot of coffee. “That would be Akmal. He’s Brinus’s capstone project.”

  Tigs crinkled his nose again and snapped, “Whatever, I came to see my son’s husband. Does he have food poisoning?”

  “I wouldn’t count cigarettes as food. But hey! This is the confederacy!” She laughed.

  Tigs smiled and then set the gift down. “I guess the medicine is working. Nice to see it still works even a year after he finished it.”

  Tangent grabbed a cup of coffee and then put some whisky into it. She then jumped down from the counter. “What’s wrong with Brinus?”

  Tigs smiled and then laughed. “The medicine I gave him a year ago rewired his brain to reject cigarettes. I expect he’ll be sick for a while. Do you want me to fix some otter’s milk?”

  “What’s otter’s milk?”

  Tigs sat at the barstool and turned on some music to tune out the sounds of Brinus’s vomiting. “It’s an old family recipe for smoked meat alcohol.”

  Tangent’s face scrunched up in a look of revulsion. “I think I’ll stick to my whisky and coffee. Why does Simmie hate you so much?”

  Tigs coughed and then went to grab a cup of coffee. “Ever heard of Pray The Gay Away?”

  Tangent shook her head.

  Tigs sighed and began speaking with a tired look, “It’s an organization run by the Church of the Creator’s Witnesses. They preach homosexuality as a sin. They also believe it can be beaten and shamed out of them. I found him kissing another boy one afternoon. As soon as he completed the course, he joined the Navy, and I cut contact with him. He blocked me across all social media. A couple of years later, they said my wife could've prayed away her nicotine addiction and bashed me for marrying someone outside the faith a year or two later. Then they disfellowshipped me because of my marriage, and I realized Simmie was right about them.”

  Tangent took a sip of her coffee and put a hand on his arm. “That sounds horrible.”

  Tig’s face crinkled in anger, and he slammed his hands on the counter. “I wish I never got into that horrible church. I lost a lot of lifelong friends and starting over with a new friend group at 55 has been hard.”

  Brinus came into the kitchen and sat down. “What’s this?” He asked excitedly as he opened the present. It was a pill bottle that said Ritalin. It had all of the prescription information on it and had a 180-day supply. “Uhh, what?”

  Tigs sat across from Brinus. “It is a drug called Ritalin. It increases blood flow to the frontal lobe and raises dopamine levels in the brain. Tarken Tea cigarettes leach dopamine from the brain and can simulate ADHD symptoms in people who may not normally have it. You take one pill twice daily. Calnori told me you have had some difficulty with your regular work, and she has gotten some complaints from your professors lately about inattention and minor errors.”

  “Thanks, I guess?” Brinus popped open the bottle and washed down the pill with a beer. “I think Simmie needs some space. He just texted me that he is taking a few days at the hotel.”

  A loud bang like metal hitting metal rang across the intercom. Then there was a loud woman cackling over the speaker, and the woman yelled, “Greetings Confeddies! I am Rear Admiral Marchella von Blankenship, a fighter for the common man, a hero of the cause, and a proud supporter of the traditional Federation family. The war may be over, but your invasion of our homeland, the pillaging of our planets, stealing of our hard-earned resources, and destroying our homes will no longer be tolerated! We, the Rebel Alliance, formally declare war on you, the Confederacy, you’re allies, and your colonists. Long live the Federation!” The New Rebellion anthem played over the loudspeakers.

  Brinus blinked and, after a moment of stunned silence, asked, “Did that woman just declare war on us?”

  Tangent poured more whisky into her coffee. “She has gone crazy. I swear she’s mentally ill.”