Day 37
I left the medical building in a daze, with no clear destination in mind. Somehow, I ended up at the small lake on the academy grounds, sinking onto a bench as the afternoon sun warmed my face. The peaceful setting seemed to mock the turmoil inside me.
My HUD pinged repeatedly, messages flooding in from my friends:
Kerry – Let me know soon as you’re out.
Rob – We waited but got chased away.
Ashley – I’ll fix this, I promise. I’ll come find you.
Sylvk – If you’re not at gym practice in the morning, I’ll come hunting.
Kerry - Tara said you left the ward. Where are you? We’re all worried.
Sylvk - You don’t need to hide whatever’s going on. We’re a team.
Rob - Kerry’s beside herself. Please comm one of us.
Ashley – They know. Trust them, trust me. Please.
Sylvk – Kuba’s briefed us. No man left behind. We got you. Understand?
Rob - Piotr, I’ll see the damned LTC and get your location on the map I swear it.
That last one forced me to respond:
Me - I just need…
I couldn’t say anything else, and I fumbled the delete, sending it by mistake, my eyes full of tears.
Rob - What do you need? Anything… its yours.
Me - Let’s have one last normal day… I’ll meet you in the bar in a few hours.
Rob – We can’t leave the Academy.
Me – Just the campus bar, please.
Rob – Okay, I’ll clear it with Ashley. We’re safe here. A normal day. Done. We’ll be waiting for you.
A minute passed as I watched the water rippling in front of me.
Then ten minutes.
Then an hour.
It was beautiful here. Truly beautiful.
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Rob – We’re at the bar… I just wanted—we’re here for you, no matter what. You’re our friend. remember that.
Friend.
The word caught in my chest. These past months at the academy, I’d gone from being completely alone to having people who genuinely cared about me. People who were clearly as devastated as me.
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<> I replied.
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Silence.
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It was too much. All of it. The diagnosis, the thought of letting them all down.
Eventually, the cold got to me, and I got up to find my friends.
It wasn’t exactly a glamorous bar, but it was ours. The dim lighting and mismatched furniture gave it a cozy, lived-in feel, and someone had managed to sneak in a makeshift bar stocked with very questionable looking alcohol.
No one glanced my way as I stepped inside; Rob stood in front of the bar and waved a bright green bottle at me. I made my way over to him and leaned on it.
“Normal?” he asked. “You’re sure?”
“Just tonight,” I said. “Please.”
The waiter gave him a tray with glasses and a water jug with ice and he paid for it all. We then made our way over to Sylvk and Kerry who were sitting quietly in the corner. They noticed me and froze.
I went to sit down and said, “Hey.”
“You good?” Sylvk asked.
Kerry almost opened her mouth, but waited for me to answer and sat on her hands.
“I’m okay; medicine is working.”
Kerry went to open her mouth again, but Sylvk put a hand on her leg, stopping her.
“Let’s just enjoy each other,” Rob said. “Tomorrow, will be tomorrow, either way, right?”
I poured myself some water, and sat drinking a good slurp of it, at least it tasted like water. The medicine really was working.
“Tonight’s special,” Rob said. “Whatever this is. I’m calling it ‘Space Juice.’”
“Space Juice?” Kerry said, raising an eyebrow as she leaned forwards to eye it up. “Sounds like you’re trying to kill us.”
“It’s perfectly safe!” Rob said, pouring the glowing liquid into three glasses. “Probably.”
Sylvk crossed his arms, “I’ll pass.”
“Come on, Sylvk,” Rob said, holding out a glass. “Live a little.”
Sylvk didn’t budge, his expression unamused. “I’m not drinking anything that glows.”
Kerry took a sip, her face scrunching up as she swallowed. “Yeah, he might have a point. This tastes like rocket fuel.”
“That’s because it’s meant to give you a boost,” Rob said, clinking his glass against hers. “Cheers!”
The team’s banter was like a balm to my weary soul, easing the tension I was carrying, though it did little for the pounding in my head.
“Here’s to not dying in a debris field,” Rob said, raising his glass, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“To not dying,” Kerry echoed, her tone more solemn than joking while her gaze was fixed on mine.
“To docking clamps that actually hold,” Sylvk muttered, earning a round of subdued laughter from the rest of us.
“And to whatever the hell is next,” I added, raising my water glass. “Though maybe with fewer near-death experiences.”
“Hear, hear,” Kerry clinked her glass against mine. “I’ve hit my quota of ‘almost died’ moments for the year, thank you very much.”
The conversation flowed, though an undercurrent of tension remained. Rob was mid-story, gesturing wildly as he recounted one of his more dramatic Zero-G mishaps. We’d all heard it before, but I didn’t care. I needed this.
“So, there I was,” he said, his arms flailing. “Spinning uncontrollably, my thrusters on the fritz, and all I could think was, ‘This is it. This is how I go out—like a human spinning top.’”
“You’re impossible,” Kerry said, shaking her head but laughing anyway.
“You’re still spinning.” Sylvk said. “Just on the ground now.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The table erupted even more, and even Sylvk allowed a faint smirk to cross his face.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to ease the building pressure. The pounding had intensified, making the room swim slightly.
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“So,” Kerry said, leaning forward and changing the subject, “now that we’ve survived certain death, what’s next for everyone? I mean, beyond whatever crazy missions they throw at us. After the Academy.”
“You first,” Rob said, refilling his glass with the questionable glowing liquid. “Let me guess, heading straight to some cutting-edge lab to revolutionize science as we know it?”
Kerry smiled a genuine one that reached her eyes. “Not far off. My parents’ company has been developing adaptive neural interfaces for civilian use. Medical applications, mostly.” She twirled her glass between her fingers. “They’ve offered me the R&D division once I finish here.”
“Seriously?” I asked, genuinely impressed. “That’s major, Kerry.”
She shrugged, though the pride in her voice was unmistakable. “It’s been the plan since I was a kid. My grandfather started the company with nothing but an idea and some salvaged parts. Now we’re on the verge of tech that could help millions of people with neural injuries.”
Sylvk watched her, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’d be good at that,” he said quietly. “Helping people.”
“That space station with my name on it really is mine and the goal,” she replied, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away. “What about you, Rob? Following in your parents’ footsteps?”
Rob laughed, leaning back in his chair. “God, I hope not. Can you imagine me captaining a High Line carrier? Those things are the size of small cities.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, surprised. “Your parents run High Line ships? The luxury passenger carriers?”
“The very same,” Rob said with an exaggerated bow. “Captain and First Officer of the Celestial Empress, pride of the Interstellar Transit Authority. Three kilometers of floating opulence for the obscenely wealthy.”
“How did I not know this?” Kerry asked, looking genuinely shocked.
Rob’s smile turned slightly rueful. “Not something I advertise. People hear ‘Lynx’ and expect me to be some spoiled rich kid who bought his way in. I’d rather be judged on my own merits, you know?”
“Fair enough,” I said, understanding that sentiment all too well. “So, if not following the family business, what then?”
“Rescue operations,” he said, his usual joking tone fading into something more serious. That SAR E118. That’s exactly what I want, well newer, of course. The outer colonies, the places the big ships don’t reach. There are people out there who need help, and the Coalition is too focused on profitable routes to care.”
“That’s... unexpectedly noble of you, Rob,” Kerry said, regarding him with new respect.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he replied with a grin, though I could see the sincerity behind it.
“What about you, Piotr?” Kerry asked, turning her attention to me. “Any grand plans for after the academy?”
Even though I’d just heard all of their plans, the question caught me off guard. The future had always been a nebulous concept. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I admitted. “One mission, one day at a time.”
“Come on,” Rob pressed. “Not even a little daydream? Some far-flung aspiration?”
I considered the question, trying to imagine a future beyond my current predicament. “Maybe... continuing my work with AI integration. There’s so much potential there, especially for deep space exploration.”
“With Doli, you mean,” Kerry said, her voice softening.
“Yeah,” I said simply, not trusting myself to elaborate further.
The conversation lulled briefly, and Sylvk, finally spoke up. “Military service for me. Career track. It’s what I’ve trained for my whole life and the front lines need men like me.”
“Just following orders for the rest of your days?” Kerry asked her tone gently teasing. “Somehow, I don’t see that for you, Sylvk. You’ve got too much... something.”
“Too much what?” he asked, his expression guarded.
“Heart, maybe.” Kerry shrugged. “You care more than you let on.”
Sylvk looked away, clearly uncomfortable with her assessment. “The military needs people who care. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”
The simple sincerity of his statement hung in the air, a reminder of his great depth.
The music in the lounge shifted to something with a stronger beat, and a few of the other cadets began clearing space for an impromptu dance floor. Kerry’s eyes lit up, and she drained the last of her drink.
“That’s my song,” she announced, standing up. “Anyone care to join me?”
Rob shook his head. “I’ll stick to bartending, thanks. My dancing has been described as a medical emergency.”
Kerry looked to Sylvk, raising her eyebrows and shaking her hips. “What about you, big guy? Want to show us your moves?”
Sylvk’s expression tightened, his discomfort evident. “I don’t dance.”
“Your loss,” she said with a shrug, sauntering toward the makeshift dance floor, her hips swaying in time.
Sylvk watched her go, his eyes following her movements as she joined the other cadets. I noticed his jaw clench slightly when a tall cadet from another team approached her, leaned in and made her laugh.
“You know, for someone who ‘doesn’t dance,’ you’re certainly interested in the dance floor,” I observed.
Sylvk shot me a warning look. “Don’t start.”
Rob, never one to let an opportunity pass, leaned across the table. “He’s right, though. If you’re going to stare that intensely, you might as well be out there.”
“I’m not staring,” Sylvk growled, though his eyes drifted back to Kerry and the tall cadet, who was now dancing closer to her than strictly necessary.
“Of course not,” Rob agreed solemnly. “You’re just intensely monitoring tactical movements in a recreational setting.”
Despite my headache, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Rob’s gentle needling. Sylvk’s usual composure was cracking by the second as the other cadet placed a hand on Kerry’s waist.
“Tactical assessment,” I added, unable to resist joining in. “Tall guy is advancing his position.”
Sylvk’s knuckles whitened around his glass. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Rob countered. “Almost as funny as watching you pretend you’re not interested in Kerry.”
“I’m not—” Sylvk began, then stopped abruptly as the tall cadet leaned down to whisper something in her ear.
Without another word, Sylvk stood up, his chair scraping against the floor.
Rob whistled low. “Ten credits says he throws that guy through a wall.”
“Twenty says he doesn’t,” I replied, watching as Sylvk reached the edge of the dance floor. “Kerry wouldn’t appreciate the caveman routine.”
Sylvk approached them with measured calm, tapping the tall cadet on the shoulder. Words were clearly exchanged, I couldn’t hear what though over the music, but the other cadet backed away with raised hands and a knowing look.
Kerry looked surprised, then pleased as Sylvk awkwardly took her hands. His movements were stiff at first, but Kerry guided him, and gradually, his rigid posture eased. He wasn’t graceful by any means, but there was something genuine in the way they moved together, finding a rhythm that worked for them.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rob said, a note of genuine warmth. “Our boy’s growing up.”
“You owe me twenty credits,” I reminded him and tapped the table.
Rob held his wrist out and the credits were deposited in my account in a second. “Worth every credit to see that. Though I’m still holding out hope he throws someone through a wall someday. Preferably Andri.”
I couldn’t agree more there.
“How did you get them to agree to this?” I asked him. “To be normal?”
“Told them I’d kick their asses if Kerry even mentioned anything about your health.”
She kept giving me slight glances even from the dance floor though.
“I believe you would too,” I replied.
“Doli also warned us after our briefing. She would also kick our asses if we didn’t help you through this anyway you needed it.”
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As the night wore on, the mood shifted slightly, becoming more reflective. Kerry and Sylvk eventually returned to the table, both slightly flushed from dancing. Neither mentioned what had happened, but something had shifted between them, a new understanding, perhaps.
Kerry leaned back in her chair, her drink swirling lazily in her hand. “You know,” she said, “we’re actually good at this. Like, really good.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Sylvk said, though there was no bite to his words, and his shoulder remained lightly pressed against hers.
“She’s right,” I said, looking around at the team, blinking to clear my vision. “We’ve been through a lot, and we’ve come out stronger for it. Whatever’s next, we’ll handle it. Together.”
“Even if ‘next’ means Rob flying us into a sun?” Kerry teased, earning a groan from Rob.
“I’ll have you know,” Rob said, sitting up straighter, “that I’m an excellent pilot. Our next mission will be flawless.”
“Flawless?” Sylvk said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll bring a fire extinguisher, just in case.”
Rob threw a napkin at him, and the laughter returned. This was so damned fucking good. <<
<> Doli returned. <>
“All jokes aside,” Kerry said, her expression turning more serious, “I’m glad it’s the four of us. I’ve been on other teams before, but this... this feels right.”
“Like pieces of a puzzle,” Rob agreed, unusually poetic. “Different shapes, but we fit together.”
“A dysfunctional puzzle,” Sylvk added.
“The best kind,” I said.
As the evening continued, my headache receded slightly, pushed back by the warmth of friendship and the simple pleasure of being a part of something that mattered.
I could almost believe in a future beyond the ticking clock of my condition.
Almost.
“You alright, Piotr?” Kerry asked, cutting through my thoughts. “You’ve been rubbing your head all night.”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just a niggle. Nothing serious.”
“Don’t think too hard,” Rob said, his smirk not quite hiding his concern. “You’ll ruin the mood.”
I chuckled, raising my glass, fighting to keep my hand steady. “To us. To the best damn team in the academy.”
“To us,” the others echoed. “To Beta271!”
I allowed myself to relax, surrounded by the people I trusted most.
The music shifted, the pounding electronic beats giving way to something slower, more melodic.
Kerry’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, I love this one too,” she said, setting down her glass. She glanced at Sylvk, a slight hesitation in her movements before she spoke. “One more dance before we call it a night?”
Sylvk looked surprised, then pleased in his understated way. Without a word, he stood and offered his hand to her. She took it with a cutesy smile now reserved just for him.
As they walked to the dance floor, Rob shifted closer to me, his expression unusually serious.
“Look at them,” he said, nodding toward Kerry and Sylvk. They moved together with surprising grace, Kerry’s head resting against Sylvk’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“They really fit well together,” I observed, watching as Sylvk whispered something that made Kerry chuckle.
“Yeah, they do.” Rob’s voice had an edge I rarely heard from him. “Which is part of what I’m about to—to ask.”
“What’s up?” I turned to face him, curious.
He fidgeted with his glass, suddenly hesitant. “I’ve been thinking... about what really happens after graduation. Once you’re—about keeping us together.”
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“I thought Kerry was heading to her parents’ company?”
“That’s the thing,” Rob said, leaning forward. “She’s been offered a research position there, yeah, but they’re expanding their operations. Deep space medical response teams, cutting-edge neural tech in the field.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
Rob’s smile was slightly sheepish. “My parents have connections with the Hinada Corporation. I’ve been doing some... networking.”
“Networking,” I repeated, amused despite myself. “Sounds serious.”
“It is.” All humor vanished from his face. “I’ve secured positions for all four of us. A deep space response vessel, my own command. Kerry heading R&D, Sylvk as security chief.”
The proposal hung in the air between us. I felt my chest tighten with unexpected emotion. “And me?”
“AI systems integration specialist,” Rob said simply. “Working directly with Doli. The ship would be ours, Piotr. No academy politics, no Brakers or Boutacks pulling strings. Just us, doing what we do best, helping people who need it.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I wanted to tell him about the C47, my plan to leave anyway. The future Rob was offering…a real future, with purpose, with family…was more than I’d dared to hope for.
“It’s... a lot to take in,” I finally choked out.
Rob watched me carefully. “It’s not what you expected.”
“No,” I admitted. “Not at all.”
“Well, start expecting,” he said, his usual lightness returning, though his eyes remained serious. “Because I won’t let this team break apart. We’re too good together.”
He held my eyes with his.
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“I’ll think about it,” I promised, genuinely moved by his proposal. “It sounds... it sounds like something worth fighting for.”
Rob smiled, raising his glass again. “To the future, then. Whatever it brings.”
I clinked my glass against Rob’s, allowing myself, just for a moment, to imagine that future, a ship of our own, a purpose that mattered, and the people I cared about most by my side. Even with the diagnosis hanging over me, that vision was intoxicating.