Brinus was in uniform with the head training officer after he failed to appear promptly at the ship’s naval academy. He was flicking a cigarette lighter while waiting for the commander. He looked around. On the commander’s desk was an ashtray with twenty butts, which were of a different brand from what Brinus smoked. Next to the computer terminal, there was a naval gun for a non-earth battleship. The desk was a solid oak wood desk with bass gilding. The office had a Persian rug from Earth on a hardwood floor.
The room smelled of unflavored tarken tea heart attack sticks, which smelled like burnt tea, burning paper, and charcoal. Even to Brinus, the smell was unpleasant because most people smoked flavored cigarettes, so it was normally like a smokey perfume smell when walking into a smoker’s room. The main lamp was damaged in both battles, so it flickered due to faulty electrical wiring.
The commander entered the room. He was an elderly man, almost at the age of retirement. The truth was that this post was probably his last. Brinus stood and salted.
“At ease, Midshipman Stinkball. Sit back down.” Brinus sat, and the commander began speaking. “So you expressed interest in the command track?”
“Yes, sir.”
The commander looked at Brinus’s information and said, “You certainly have the grades for it. You made a ninety-six on your Warp Bubble Calculus One final last week. For the screen ship’s systems and schematics, you made a ninety-nine. I believe you made a spelling error on your essay question about escort frigates. You made a ninety-eight on your gravity physics theory exam. On your sublight geometry with proofs test last week, you made a 95. It looks like one of your proofs was riddled with spelling errors. There is just one problem.”
Brinus blinked and crossed his arms.
“You were recruited out of a jail. You also had three run-ins with discipline issues in the last seven months you have been here. You’re also on restricted movement, no shore leave, and half-pay. It looks like you were running an unlicensed business as well, which is a Class-D misdemeanor. I am afraid you don’t have the moral fiber for command-level training at the current time.”
“Sir, with respect...”
“See! You’re trying to interrupt me right now! In the name of the spirits, Midshipman Stinkball! If you wish to advance in your fucking career, you must control your antisocial personality traits.”
“Sir, how do I get into command tack?”
The training officer looked at Brinus’s file. They smiled. “You must get certified.”
Brinus had a confused look on his face.
“Your commanding officer recommended you for mentorship. If you’re serious about being accepted into the command track of your officer training, you need to find a mentor. Your mentor will decide if you’re ready for the personality test.”
“What does that entail, sir?”
“You have to overcome your antisocial tendencies. It wouldn’t be much of a test if I told you beforehand, would it?” He winked. “Questions, Midshipman Stinkball?”
“No, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
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A group of 21 cadets and midshipmen were experiencing workout fatigue in the medic lab. They surrounded Brinus, who was with the medic doing hands-only CPR on a dummy as he did CPR; the smell of one hundred percent ethanol, alcohol, and carbolic acid filled the room. It was dark with low lighting, and the ship’s warp bubble lighting was coming in through the window.
Brinus struggled with CPR because he had already taken it with his syndicate training, so he had to unlearn what he had learned.
“Midshipman Stinkball, you’re doing it wrong. You don’t breathe into their mouths. That is the old way of doing it. You use hands-free CPR like this.”
The instructor began pushing on the dummy’s chest at the breastbone. “You need to do a hundred compressions a minute at a rhythm like this.”
Brinus copied the instructor, who began playing his favorite heavy metal song. It was a band from Saffron.
“This should set the tone. You seem to play them a lot in your playlist. You need to do CPR for ten minutes to the rhythm of your playlist. Go.”
Brinus was exhausted at the end of the CPR session. The heavy smoking caused him to become fatigued a lot quicker than most of the other cadets and midshipmen. Even the other cadets and midshipmen who smoked less than him didn’t get as fatigued.
The medic then looked at Brinus. “Now, do you think you can do that without music?”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good for five minutes.”
Brinus lost his rhythm for a couple of seconds, three minutes in, as he became lightheaded from shortness of breath. However, he managed to regain control of his breathing. His arms burned with fatigue as his muscles were tired. Five minutes in, the medical instructor called time.
“You get a seventy-two on your CPR final. To pass, you need to make an eighty. You are a failure. My recommendation is that you cut the smoking if you want a higher grade. I can tell you smoke more than most cadets, to the point that it affects your performance.”
Brinus realized he was busted. “Sir?”
The medic sighed and rolled his eyes. He then moved the dummy to replace the sensor. As he was working, he yelled, “First of all, Midshipman Stinkball, you have a nicotine stain under your nose, and that only appears if you smoke more than two fucking packs a day! Next cadet!”
Several cadets and midshipmen laughed at Brinus as he just failed the easiest first aid test to take in the first aid course. He felt humiliated and knew, at this moment, it was his time to quit smoking.
He headed to the locker rooms to change into his regular uniform.
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The room smelled like sweaty young men, men’s deodorant, and Sonic shower soap. Although smoke was absent since it was a non-smoking section, the smell was still there. In the center of the room, there were rows of lockers and changing rooms, along with changing benches. The floor had a ceramic tile with blue and white tiles in a checkerboard pattern. The men’s showers in the back were made of white tile.
He was putting on his uniform after changing out of gym clothes when his friend from first aid class came into the male locker room and slapped him on the butt. Brinus turned and yelled, “Only Simmie slaps me on the ass!”
“Relax, dude. I’m just playin’.” They made a nervous laugh and then looked at Brinus worriedly. “I heard you failed the CPR test. Another cadet failed because of smoking. The other cadet was apparently an ex-con.”
An officer came into the trainee’s locker room. He was at the rank of lieutenant commander and was the ship’s weapons officer. He saw Brinus and announced himself.
“Officer on Deck!” He yelled in a military voice in the locker room after no one acknowledged him.
Everyone in the locker room stood at attention and saluted the weapons officer. He approached Brinus, dressed in his steel-toed boots and pants but shirtless.
“So you’re Midshipman Stinkball. Your commander was telling me about you.”
Brinus looked straight ahead and then yelled. “Sir, yes, sir!”
The commander went into Brinus’s face and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Sir, yes, sir... Drop down and give me twenty push-ups!”
Brinus dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups. People around him laughed.
The weapons officer laughed. “Tell me, Midshipman Stinkball, why should I take you on as a mentee?”
“I don’t know, sir!”
The commander sat on top of Brinus. He then looked and saw the no-smoking sign. “Do you see that no smoking sign?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
The commander yelled in a military voice in Brinus’s ear. “I heard you have a taste for smokes! Light a cigarette and smoke! That’s an order!”
“No, sir.”
The commander yelled even louder. “You must follow all orders, no matter what! Obey me now!!”
“No, sir! That is an illegal order, sir!”
“Do forty push-ups now or smoke.”
Brinus was becoming breathless. “No, sir. I will not smoke, sir.”
The commander was impressed. They sat on top of Brinus, screaming at him how much of a failure he was.
As Brinus did all forty push-ups with the commander on top of him. Most cadets would follow the order or would give out after fifteen push-ups. The weapons officer didn’t like cadets who mindlessly followed orders. The other cadets and midshipmen cheered Brinus on as he got closer to forty completed push-ups.
At the fortieth, Brinus collapsed onto the ground, completely out of breath by the fortieth push-up. The commander came up from the ground with Brinus. “I want you to report to my quarters at 0600 hours tomorrow for your first lesson. That’s an order.”
After catching his breath, he came up and looked at the commander. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Commander Thomo. You can call me Commander Tom.” The commander smiled and patted Brinus on the back.
Brinus saluted the commander. “Yes, sir. I will be there at 0600 hours tomorrow.”
“Be there or be a failure! Dismissed!”
The other cadets and midshipmen began slapping Brinus on the back and shoulders. They congratulated him and told him how impressive he was.
Simmie was in bed with Brinus. Simmie was on top of him, and they were both in black military boxers on top of the sheets. Brinus smiled with his hands behind his head. Simmie was on top of him, eating chocolates and feeding them to Brinus one at a time. He put one in Brinus’s mouth and started chewing with his hands behind his head.
The bedroom had paneled walls and blue carpet. The bed was a simple metal frame with a box spring and a mattress. In his room was a closet with Simmie’s and Brinus’s clothes. They really only had a few outfits, each meant for comfort, and three sets of uniforms. The dresser was a simple oak wood dresser with eight drawers. It had a mirror, and on top were clothes strewn on it.
The room was smoky and smelled like burning coffee and chocolate tea incense. A low-night light projected a soft yellow glow throughout the room, which mixed with the smoke and created the ambiance of a tea house in a bedroom.
“I heard what happened in first aid today.”
“Why are people gossiping about it?”
Simmie put another chocolate into Brinus’s mouth. He started chewing. Simmie said, “You’re the ship’s badass. No wonder why people are shocked. Do you know how many people came to me wondering if it was true you failed CPR?”
“Whatever.”
Simmie decided to change the subject. He twirled the tip of his finger on Brinus’s chest as he said, “I had the same problem last year and failed first aid and physical tryouts. I was an infant smoker, so I came into the Navy with a sixty-cig-a-day habit and got it down to a twenty-cig-a-day habit by the time you met me.”
Simmie put a third piece of chocolate into Brinus’s mouth, and he swallowed. Brinus smiled. “I am not an infant smoker, so I am sure it won’t take as long.”
Simmie put a fourth chocolate in Brinus’s mouth. “You know, if I can do it, so can you. It won’t be easy, and I can help.”
“I wonna do it on my own.”
Simmie ran a finger down Brinus’s chest. “You don’t have to. How can I help?”
Brinus put his hands on Simmie’s waist. “Just be there. It won’t be easy to cut back, so I need someone to help me through the withdrawals.”
Simmie ran his finger down his chest and kissed him. “You are my priority.”
“I am going to bed. It has been a long day, and I need to be at Commander Thomo’s quarters by 0545 hours.”
Brinus kissed Simmie and then said, “Computer-cut lights.”
The room went pitch black. Brinus and Simmie went under the covers, and then silence.