Brinus smiled, and his muscles relaxed as the commander guided him to the Shark Attack area which was a concrete hallway with brown and white laminate flooring, brutalist architecture, and fluorescent lighting. The walls were a plain, lifeless beige and sparsely decorated with military posters. The one that caught Brinus’s eye was a poster about chronic smoking and how the navy tolerates a maximum of one pack a day. He raised an eyebrow and snorted. He hadn’t smoked a single pack a day since he was 10.

  The instructors lined him up against the wall with ten other people. They got into each cadet’s face and screamed.

  “Fresh meat!”

  “What'd we got here?”

  “Lookin’ sexy young man!”

  A lieutenant and two petty officers went into Brinus’s face screaming and shouting after Brinus clenched his fists, “What the fuck is your problem cadet? Terra cat got your tongue, boy?”

  He looked straight ahead with a deadpan look. He hadn't had a cigarette in 20 minutes and wasn't in the mood for this bullshit.

  The lieutenant screamed, "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR GODMAN MALFUCTION! DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME 20!"

  Brinus dropped onto the ground and began doing 20 push-ups as all three instructors shouted encouragement at him.

  "Come on, cadet, ten more push-ups! You can do it!"

  “You just got three more! Yo daddy believes in you! Yo Momma will send you extra sweets if you do it!"

  "What the fuck is this? Just one more and you got it, sexy boy!"

  Brinus struggled near the end because of a lack of physical fitness and heavy smoking. He almost couldn't complete the exercise.

  He collapsed onto the ground.

  "Get yo ass up! take a smoke break and get to the library in three minutes!"

  After Brinusb took a smoke break, they ran them to the commissary with their bags. He got his Tarken Tea cigarette rations. He was then scheduled for a full dental overhaul due to tooth decay and the injuries from his arrest. He reported to the Ship’s Librarian, where his microchip was scanned, and information was entered. However, an error message appeared on the librarian’s TriQuarter.

  Brinus looked a little surprised as the librarian scanned again. “That’s odd. Do you know who your family is?”

  Brinus shrugged. “I never met my family. ”

  “There’s a weird error message.”

  “What error message?”

  The librarian snapped, waving her hand dismissively. “We’ll let the Magi sort it out.”

  Brinus realized there was no point in trying to get answers.

  After spending an hour entering the information, Brinus came out of the library. He was very much surprised and wondered if his childhood fantasies were not fantasy at all. Maybe... No, it is just foolish talk.

  Brinus donned his freshly issued uniform. It consisted of a light blue shirt and navy blue pants adorned with black beading that ascended along the sides. A navy patch on his right arm bore the ship’s name and a lightning bolt. It had a gold name tag with Cadet Helios on it over his left shoulder.

  Amidst the excited atmosphere of the crowded mess hall, Brinus sat alone, surrounded by fellow midshipmen and cadets. The mess hall was a large space, accommodating up to eight hundred people. It featured a large buffet of ten different dishes unique to Otis Datis.

  The mess hall’s design was functional and traditional. Rows of tables and chairs were meticulously arranged to seat the diners. The decor was simple with milk chocolate brown porcelain tiles contrasting with light brown tile walls and pristine white tile ceilings. There was a smoking section with tables that sat eight people. Two cashier droids were at the end of the buffet, and people paid in credit chips. The trays and uneaten food were disposed of in replicators which were next to the vending and drink machines.

  The other cadets, midshipmen, and acting lieutenants sat in groups. Brinus was tapped on the shoulder from behind, and he immediately jumped up and rolled off the side and took a fighting stance until he realized it was just a midshipman who wanted to speak. For a few moments, the entire mess hall went silent.

  The midshipman scoffed, stepping back, “Dude, chill.”

  Brinus put his fists down and relaxed. He put his hand on his chest.

  “You scared me.”

  The midshipman looked at Brinus with squinted eyes. “That was obvious. Man, what you gotta be scared of?”

  He shrugged, “I guess nothin’ now.”

  The midshipman asked, “Do you wanna sit with us?”

  “I guess.” Uncertain of what to do, he decided to go with the flow.

  Brinus carried his tray to a group of midshipmen, feeling the weight of their collective scrutiny. Some cast curious glances his way, while others remained tense as Brinus took his seat. Brinus was silent as he absorbed the conversations all around him.

  Before long, one of the midshipmen asked Brinus a question, breaking the ice.

  One of the men turned to Brinus, “What’s your opinion on the new reforms?”

  “I ain’t got no opinion. I just got drafted.”

  “Why the fuck should I care?” Asked the midshipman who invited him.

  Brinus gave a rude and condescending laugh. He sneered, “I certainly give zero fucks about you.” He came up from his seat and left his tray on the table. He thought, his pupils dilated in pure rage.

  “Who cares about you? You’re just cheap labor!”

  Brinus ignored him. he thought to himself. Armed with his room number, he left the mess hall and approached his quarters. With a swipe of his key card, the door opened, unveiling his new living space.

  The room featured essential amenities: an HVAC unit with a humidifier for climate control, functional furniture for comfort, and a subspace communicator for connectivity. The room provided a private refuge on the starship.

  An adjoining bathroom held vital facilities: a toilet, a sink with a mirror, a grooming vanity, and a sonic shower for personal hygiene. A sonic shower uses sound waves instead of water for bathing.

  As Brinus settled onto the bed to gauge its comfort, he quickly realized it was far too soft for his accustomed tastes. He sank into the mattress, and it offered no support.

  With a sigh, he adjusted the room’s HVAC unit and humidifier, striving to create an atmosphere more conducive to his rest. Just as he settled in, the subspace communicator rang out, interrupting his quest for a peaceful night’s sleep. Brinus promptly answered the communication, ever ready to attend to the demands of his new role within the starship’s crew.

  The person who called was Brinus’s new training officer.

  The officer looked annoyed and then yelled, “Cadet. I heard there was an incident in the mess hall. Tomorrow, we will perform a general knowledge assessment when you arrive at 0500 sharp. I also want to start basic training as well. I don’t want any bull shittery. The midshipman you were interacting with will be chastised accordingly. I want you to remember that you are a cadet, not a syndicate member. Over and out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Brinus was in the midshipman’s smoking lounge after sleeping for a few hours. Next to him sat a white marble ashtray with five butts mashed into its sand. His eyes drooped in exhaustion; his back spasmed occasionally as he groaned in pain. He rubbed his neck occasionally and stretched in his chair as he played the card game solitaire.

  The smoking lounge had a bar with over 1000 brands of flavored and unflavored Tarken Tea and Tarken Coffee cigarettes and an alcohol bar with 40 beer taps in front of the cigarette bar. Two humans and two droid bartenders manned their post. The droids looked human, except they spoke in a robotic voices and came with preprogrammed responses.

  Brinus had been playing solitaire with playing cards for over an hour before an eighteen-year-old midshipman sat across from him. He was in pajamas, house shoes, and a navy shirt. He had brown skin, brown eyes, and thick, curly black hair. A Tarken Tea cigarette hung behind his ear. He was one head shorter than Brinus but with a build similar to his.

  The midshipman gave a sly smile. “Know any games?”

  Brinus smirked and tilted his head to the right. “How ’bout three card monte? I deal, you play.” He laughed.

  The kid scoffed, “How ’bout not? Do you play Firing Squad?”

  Brinus leaned back into his chair. “Did ya’ grow up on the streets?”

  “My name is Simmie, by the way,” stated the 18-year-old in pajamas.

  Brinus began dealing a hand to the young man. “I don’t think we agreed on a game?” Brinus asked as he leaned over the table to shake his hand once he finished dealing out the cards.

  He asked, “Did we? What’s the bet?”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “The name’s Brinus,” he grinned and let out a large sigh as his shoulders and chest visibly relaxed.

  They both began playing cards. Brinus put down a commerce raider, and Simmie put down a missile corvette.

  Simmie asked after putting down a missile corvette, “What’s your family name?”

  Brinus’s heart fluttered as he stared into Simmie’s eyes. “I don’t belong to no family.”

  Simmie’s pupils dilated as they locked eyes. “A missile corvette has more firepower than a commerce raider, but the commerce raider has more maneuverability.” He pulled out a pair of dice from his pocket and rolled. “Snake eyes! Snake eyes always win.” Simmie took the two cards and set them off to the side and smiled again as he looked at Brinus With a teasing look. “Let’s make things interesting; whoever wins, the loser has to do their laundry.”

  Brinus laughed a few moments longer, then asked, “You’re willin’ to do the laundry of a peasant even though you’re a billionaire’s kid? Ain’t ya a bold one.” Brinus crossed his arms and opened his legs, as he leaned back into the armchair.

  “How did you know who I was?”

  He grinned in amusement after slapping down a battle cruiser. “Everyone knows who ya’ are! Your family owns all the Tarken Tea plantations this here side of the Otis River Delta, eight cig factories outta sector 10, and a great house in Summerford!”

  He Simmie in the eyes and Brinus’s heart beat rapidly, his palms were sweaty, and he flet a sense of well being over come him. “Why don’t you tell me how a billionair’s kid ended up in the Navy?”

  “Basically, my dad was an abusive cunt and I said fuck it. So I joined at 17. My dad cut me off after that.”

  “What ya’ majorin’ in at the Naval academy?”

  “Robotics and AI engineering. After intake, what do you plan on doing?”

  Brinus shrugged. “I ain’t got no plan. I guess I’ll go as high as I can in the ranks. I just wanted out of the syndicate and would do anything to get out. I fuckin’ hated them and then they Killed Harper.”

  Simmie put down a frigate, Brinus put down a destroyer, and then Simmie took the cards off to the side. “Forgive me for asking, but do you feel guilty about it? Like at all?”

  “I’ve been sentenced to 50 years in the Navy or be sent to a labor camp if I commit another felony. What I feel is irrelevant. The consequences’r real. The property damage I did to people is real. You’re prolly lookin’ at the only criminal who knows what he did was wrong. What’s your plan?” Brinus wanted to change the subject.

  “I want to be captain of a ship by the age of 50. I don’t want to be an admiral.”

  Brinus smiled at Simmie having a hungry look in his eyes. Simmie licked his lips. Truthfully, he knew what he did was wrong, he just didn’t care because he got what he wanted. So what if a couple of footmen needed to be beaten up to earn his freedom? He was free from the syndicate.

  Simmie put his last card down, a starfighter carrier, and Brinus put down a class one command ship.

  As he rose from his seat, Simmie stated in a bewildered tone. “You win. You’re a card shark, you know that? You can give me your laundry tomorrow. I enjoyed talking with you.” he thought.

  Brinus shook Simmie’s hand. “Me too.”

  “Oh, one more thing what were you were stealing classified tech for the syndicate. What was it?”

  “It was a Navi chip fer a new type of torpedo. I was stealin’ it fer a defense contractor so they could reverse engineer it.”

  Just as Brinus resumed solitaire, a news report came onto the holonet:

  A reporter stood in a square with people screaming, throwing rocks, Molotov cocktails, and destroying vehicles. There were burning buildings and people chanting “Shame on you!” at the police as they tried to push the crowd back. The federation police were engaged in a battle with the crowd, which they were losing.

  The reporter spoke into the camera. “We are here, live, from the Federation Capital with the latest. For the past two days, mass protests and riots have broken out all over the Federation. They are protesting the budget passed by Congress that requires people to pay more in taxes for the military and police despite increasing police brutality and targeted harassment.”

  The reporter dodged a Molotov cocktail, narrowly avoiding its flaming shatter on the ground. She gasped and fled. After running for a second or two, she continued talking as the crowd burned down a post office behind her. “It looks like we’re safe for now. Benefits are cut for veterans, the disabled, and the elderly under the Maschiv Act. These sweeping cuts will shut down two Veterans Affairs hospitals on every member planet while expanding Federation-wide shipyards and ground forces bases. They will be manned with droids and AI. More and more cuts to civil liberties, such as the Data Privacy and AI Surveillance Protection Act. It was criticized as highly invasive and restrictive of freedoms. It was done under the guise of national security and hate speech.”

  The reporter on the TV dodged a flash-bang grenade thrown by a rebel. A cop came up to her and ordered her to move or face arrest. She became scared and ran to a safer distance and resumed. She had an edge in her voice and was covered in nervous sweat. “The situation has been spiraling out of control for over a decade, with debt and money printing fueling the government spending. Today, the president announced that he planned to purge the education and military sectors of what he called, Divide and Conquer Politics. Furthermore, he plans to break up the monopolies, causing problems within the federation. He failed to give a clear plan and a timetable of when it would be done. Many people are taking to the streets today as they call the president’s words empty and hollow. Hold, we just received breaking news. GET OUT OF THE WAY! NOW!” Screamed the reporter.

  The reporter and her cameraman ran into an abandoned building as a line of Federation walkers came through the crowd and fired on the cops. About two dozen squads of army troopers broke through and charged the police as they ran off. The army troopers executed the injured cops as the police dispersed, and the crowd cheered, “No Quarter! No Quarter! No Quarter!”

  Brinus turned the holoprojector off, this was upsetting news that had nothing to do with him. He realized he should try to get a few hours of sleep before basic training. Therefore, he went back to his quarters.

  Brinus lay down in his bed as he thought about the news reporter. Everyone was indifferent. However, he knew a war was coming. The Federation had unpayable debt, most of its population was mentally or physically ill, and decades of political radicalism had left the feds terminally weakened.

  He turned over in his bed, “Computer, cut lights.”

  The room went pitch black.

  The next day, Brinus reported to his post at 0500 hours sharp to the academy basic training area. He was directed to the intake section of the naval academy. After entering, he was lined up with the other recruits in uniform in the cadet mustering hall. The previous day was shark attack, which was a hazing ritual where people were herded from station to station. The weaker cadets were swarmed by training officers like hungry sharks swarming fish.

  A lieutenant commander and three petty officers first class came into the basic training area. “My name is Lieutenant Commander Vog! I am your head drill instructor! You will address me as Commander Vog, Commander Sir, or Commander Vog, Sir! Understand, cadets!”

  All nine remaining cadets, including Brinus, yelled in unison, “Sir, yes. Sir!”

  “Today, you will undergo aptitude tests on the holodeck to see if you go into the enlisted ranks or to the commissioned officer ranks!” yelled one of the petty officers.

  Commander Vog and two petty officers’ first-class spotted Brinus. He looked disheveled and had a mild body odor. All three of them went into his face and screamed in his ears one after the other. “You must be the criminal! Only a goddamn convict would show up looking homeless! Did you brush your goddamn teeth, cadet?”

  The instructors now had their favorite recruit after he didn't respond with a dead look on his face. It was game on, and they swarmed Brinus.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are to show up looking like a hobo!”

  “God dammit, I met homeless people who are better groomed than you!”

  “The difference between you and a homeless man is that the homeless have reason to be a ragamuffin! YOU FUCKING DON’T.”

  “You’re in the Navy now bitch! Clean the fuck up you man hoe!”

  His anger grew as the insults came, and he shut down with a thousand-yard stare.

  “What is your malfunction, cadet?! Do we look like we are at a fucking comedy show?!” Yelled Commander Vog.

  Brinus was still unresponsive.

  The commander jammed his face to Brinus’s right ear. He screamed as loud as he could, causing him to jump, “Did! You! Brush! Your! Goddan Teeth? Why does your breath smell like a mouth full of assholes! You need to cut your hair to fucking regulation! You look like a fucking mad scientist stuck his finger in a goddamn electrical socket! How the fuck did you get past shark attack with hair like that! Why is your uniform not fresh and pressed, god dammit? Get the fuck out, and never report to my post again in a state of such undress like a two-credit man hoe at a Stanoli Brothel on Tolizia!”

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  The petty officer yelled at Brinus in a drill sergeant’s voice, “You need to salute your goddamn superior officers with your fucking wanking hand! It is done like this when you are dismissed or enter the room of a superior officer!” The commander showed Brinus how to salute. “I want teeth brushed, hair cut, and uniform pressed now

  The third petty officer put his hand on Commander Vog’s shoulder once Brinus was out of earshot. “Sir, I thought you lost your sense of smell after the gas attack at the Battle of Klondo.”

  The commander smiled. “He’s a pirate.”

  The other cadets smirked and laughed.

  The Battle of Klondo was an infantry assault on a pirate port during the Third Pirate War. When it became unwinnable for the pirates in the third week, they released chlorine gas into the air from the sewers and blew up the starport.

  The Pirate Wars were a series of border conflicts in the outer rim of the Confederacy fought by the Navy to secure trade routes. Five Syndicates were formed as a result of the defection of these guilds.

  Brinus returned to his quarters to tackle the task of steam-pressing his uniform. He had no idea how to iron, and his shirt bore numerous wrinkles. He sought help from a fellow crewman at the laundromat, and after four tries, he mastered the iron. Next, Brinus searched on his computer terminal for dental hygiene with severe dental injuries. Enduring painful tooth brushing, mouthwash use, and flossing, he eventually turned to a pain pill from the medical bay for relief. His mouth felt cleaner. To his surprise, it provided an oddly gratifying sensation. Finally, he applied deodorant for the first time in a month and a half. He returned approximately two hours later to resume his duties.

  The training officers circled Brinus and smelled him. They got into his face, each one taking turns smelling his breath, hair, and armpits. Brinus remained stone-faced and just stared straight ahead with his hands by his side. However, his palms were sweaty, and his pupils were fully dilated. He felt threatened by how close they were and how much they probed him.

  The commander then sniffed Brinus’s breath. “I think an extra round of Tarken Tea rations is in order. From this day forward, I am going to call you Stinkball! Do you like the name Cadet Stinkball?!”

  “No, sir, I do not.” Brinus’s jaw clenched, and his fists balled up.

  “Good! ’Cuz I don’t give a shit! Go to the simulation room and await further instructions, Stinkball!”

  . He took a deep breath and began running for the holodeck.

  After four hours of taking multiple-choice tests on math, physics, grammar, writing, engineering, science, biology, and medicine, a training lieutenant walked him through how to do the practical part of the assessment. The lieutenant asked him questions to probe his general knowledge to see what the assessment missed. After six hours, the two officers finished. Brinus was now an engineer.

  Brinus saw Commander Vog enter the room with a lieutenant.

  Both officers stood in his face and screamed at the same time, “Stinkball! Stand at fucking attention when addressing a superior officer.”

  A third training officer went into Brinus’s face and started screaming. “It is time for your presentation, Stinkball. ”

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  “Good, you have five minutes to get your ass to the other meeting room!” Commander Vog jammed his nose into Brinus’s face and screamed into his right ear. “What is the use of a 1-eighth-inch titanium brush drill bit when removing carbon scoring on a servo motor?!”

  Brinus was breathless, so he had to control his breathing because of heavy smoking. “Sir! Y-y-you run it at...800 rpm for 30-s–s-second intervals over 5 minutes and then wash it off with mineral oil…s-s-sir!”

  Commander Vog sensed Brinus’s anger as his pupils dilated, his fists balled up, and his posture tensed. He ran up to his left ear and screamed, “Do you hate me, Cadet Stinkball?”

  Brinus was running as he said, “Sir, yes, sir!”

  Commander Vog laughed as he ran beside Brinus. “Good! I like your honesty because you will make a fine officer someday!”

  The presentation was long and boring. Brinus fell asleep twice, and the lieutenant forced him to do push-ups and jumping jacks. After the presentation, Brinus was done with his shift and was given reading homework. At the end of the day, once the test scores were added up, he was the only cadet admitted to the officer academy. Four cadets would be sent home because their test scores were too low, and the other four were put into basic training for enlisted personnel.

  Brinus was too tired to eat. After checking out the datapads from the ship’s library, he returned to his empty room. He first wanted to buy some nick-nacks and artwork. He would likely be in this room for several years. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.