Brinus sat on the kitchen countertop wearing a white T-shirt and military boxers. He had a mint-flavored nicopop in his mouth designed by Dr. Calnori and a cup of steaming hot coffee in both hands. He was looking in a mirror panel and noticed his stomach’s thinness. He could see his abs and muscular form.
He flexed his arms and chest. His bulging and more pronounced muscles were large and well-sculpted. His muscles were a lot bigger, and his body was T-shaped. Unlike before, the kitchen smelled like tarken tea smoke, burning paper, and charcoal. The walls had a slight yellow stain on the mirror and wood paneling.
Simmie came into the kitchen. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit the other end. He was shirtless and barefoot as he replicated the coffee.
“How was your first week not smoking?” Simmie took a drag and blew out.
Brinus smiled with a large, toothy grin. He crossed his ankles and shifted his position. He stared at Simmie’s mouth with a hungry expression. He wanted it so bad he licked his lips, “You have no idea how bad I wonna smoke.’”
Simmie put it out on the counter and disposed of the butt in the replicator. “My bad, I forgot.”
Brinus jumped off of the countertop and walked up to Simmie, smiling. “It’s okay, I love you just the same.”
Brinus kissed Simmie for a couple of seconds, then opened his eyes and stepped back. “Did you brush your teeth?”
“That was my third. I was going to smoke it with my morning coffee. Why?” Simmie’s eyes narrowed.
“Your breath tasted like a coffin nail.” Brinus made a disgusted face. He said, “I have to get ready. Love you!”
Brinus gave Simmie a light peck on the cheek and dressed in his uniform. He replicated his medication in the food and drink replicator, put it in the fridge, and left the kitchen.
Two hours later:
Brinus talked to his military tactics professor. He was antsy and jumpy, like an addict needing a fix.
The room was carpeted with blue carpet and had plain wood walls with eight-block paneling. A podium was in front of a hologram projector.
The professor said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “So, that is your opinion of the recent battle?” Everyone left the room after class, so it was just Brinus and his professor.
“Yes, sir.”
The professor shifted electronic paper sheets and put them in a briefcase. He said, “That is an interesting take on using Captain’s Order 66 in a fleet battle you gave in class today. You would risk contaminating the entire solar system if you set off antimatter detonation.”
Brinus put a lollipop in his mouth and flicked a lighter absentmindedly while swinging side to side. “In my opinion, sir, you risk contaminating a planet entering orbit in transwarp. In theory, when entering a star system, the captain floods the system with X-rays, beta-rays, and gamma rays from the warp bubble. It is a simple trade.”
The professor pulled out a pack of cigs from the briefcase and offered one to Brinus, who shook his head. “No, thank you, sir. Are you too blind to see that I am quitting?” Brinus realized he messed up.”
“Is there something wrong with you?” The professor looked at Brinus with a cock eyed look.
Brinus rolled his eyes, sighed, and then said in a voice that a serial killer could only replicate, “I would rather die of a thousand blaster bolt wounds than smoke again. Have a wonderful day, sir.”
Brinus turned on his heels and left.
He was in Commander Tom’s office an hour later. Commander Tom looked very unhappy.
“Why did you insult your military tactics, professor?”
“Sir, with respect...”
The weapons officer slammed his palm onto the desk and screamed. “I did not ask for your opinion, Midshipman Smokestack! You will apologize to him. You will then serve three days detention with him after school.”
Brinus saw an opportunity for Malicious compliance. Sir, I’m on restricted movement for another two and a half months. I cannot...”
“Shut the fuck up, Smokestack! I knew taking you on would be difficult, but really? Come on, man. Malicious compliance is the oldest trick in the book. I guess next, your triquarter will run out of power, and your workstation intercom will fail at the same time. I’ll be damned if you pull that fucking bull shit on me!”
Brinus’s face hardened, and the corners of his eyes narrowed. He began shaking his leg and tapping a lighter on his leg.
Laughing and leaning back into his office chair, Commander Tom put his hands behind his head and leaned back into the chair. “I love the balls on you, kid, but sometimes it is best to follow orders. There is the correct way of insubordination, and then there is the wrong way to do it. Do you hear what I am saying, midshipman? Do exactly what the professor says exactly how he says it to the letter. Do you understand Smokestack?”
Brinus nodded.
“Dismissed!”
Captain Plato entered the weapon’s officer’s office as he left.
“Is your plan going to work?” Captain Plato asked, sitting in the chair across from Commander Tom.
The Commander rocked in his chair and said, “I think so. I hope to turn this into a teaching moment for him. His military tactics instructor doesn’t even smoke. Never has. The way he told me, tarken tea leaves make him nauseous and have a headache like an allergy or some shit.”
The two men laughed. Captain Plato crossed his paws and swished his tail side to side. “You are so bad, aren’t you? How did you know you would get a response like that from him?”
“Brinus is predictable. He is irritable from not smoking for seven days. Even if the medicine helps with physical cravings, he still has psychological cravings to deal with. They will get worse next week.”
The two men chuckled, and Captain Plato said, twitching his whiskers and flexing his claws, “Hey, if he wasn’t sassy, he wouldn’t be serving detention.”
“The kid needs to channel his rebellious spirit into things that won’t get him in trouble. If he can figure out how to be rebellious with minimal backlash and without the mouth, I think he will have a long career and make vice admiral.”
After Class:
Brinus came home and entered the kitchen. He removed his dress shoes, socks, and shirt and put on some gym shorts from the dirty clothes by the laundry room. He walked into the fridge and pulled out the medical pen. The withdrawal and physical cravings for death sticks were settling in, so it was good timing that he got out of class early. Putting the pen into his hand, he warmed the auto pen up to room temperature with magic.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He rubbed his leg with an alcohol swab and injected the outer thigh. Disposing of the needle in the replicator, he saw a pack of Simmie’s smokes sitting on the countertop along with a lighter.
One wouldn’t hurt, right? Right? He walked over to the pack and then grabbed one. He put it in his mouth and lit the other end. He inhaled deeply, and then he smoked. It was Almost like an orgasm as he smoked. As the shot kicked in, he realized how much he wanted and almost needed it.
Brinus crushed it in an ashtray after enjoying it. He thought to himself it was just one. Nobody will know. However, he looked up and saw Simmie watching him at the kitchen door.
“What the fuck!” Simmie’s eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth hardened. He crossed his arms and said with an edge in his voice, "What's wrong, Brinus?"
“Simmie, I...” Brinus felt deep shame. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. He had nothing to say, so he turned and faced away from his boyfriend to conceal a tear.
Simmie laughed. He then approached Brinus, wrapped his hands around his stomach and back, and kissed him on his chest. “Look, I get it. I had the same problem when I was quitting. I ended up just going down to a pack a day because of withdrawal symptoms. But I think you can do it. Don’t be like me, be better. All of your friends think you can do it.”
Brinus kissed Simmie and then wiped his eyes. “Thanks.”
The following day at 0600 hours:
Brinus stood at the classroom door. “Brinus Helios is reporting for duty, sir!”
Suddenly, a burst of flames engulfed him as soon as he walked through the door. Brinus felt the fire lick his clothes and shoes. It made him laugh and felt warm, like sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold winter night. The fire stopped after a couple of seconds. It looked like he walked right into a fire trap. The floor and doorframe were unharmed.
Brinus laughed. “That was fun! Let’s do it again!”
The teacher exited his office and spoke to the four upperclassmen who had pranked Brinus. He said, “You had your fun. Now leave.”
One of the pranksters slapped him on the back. Another slapped him on the shoulder. A third prankster ruffled his hair.
The three upperclassmen left after exchanging fist bumps.
“Sorry about that. It is a common prank they play on popular freshmen. They heard you were being detained today and wanted to pull the fire prank on you.”
Brinus laughed and slapped his teacher on the shoulder. “Hey, it was fun. Nothing, and no one was hurt, haha!”
“So, are you going to apologize to me for insulting me yesterday?”
Brinus remembered the malicious compliance lesson from earlier. After sighing, looking down, and then up, he said, “I am so sorry for my actions. I wish to apologize to those affected by my bad behavior. I know I violated social norms and will, from now on, be more respectful to those around me.” He made a fake, sad look that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The instructor sighed, crossed his arms, and snapped, “You need to work on your sarcasm, Smokestack. Make it less fucking obvious. If this were a real situation where you faced discipline, you could be in a lot of trouble for that little mouth-off. Now. Try again and make your sarcasm less obvious.”
“Yes, sir.” Brinus cleared his throat and said, “I wish to apologize for my actions when I said I would rather die from a thousand blaster bolts than smoke. I realize I caused you distress and wish to extend my hand.” Brinus gave his hand and shook the professor with a classic dead fish handshake.
“I almost believed you. What gave you away was the handshake. Remember, keep your thoughts in your head. Use incomplete sentences while filling in the blanks in your mind. Try again.”
Brinus spent the next hour practicing his sarcastic apologies. After the last apology, the Professor smiled. “Good, I like it. Remember to practice it in the mirror for ten minutes a day. I will give you some facial exercises over your class email to help you mimic facial expressions better. The key with sarcasm is incomplete sentences. The key to malicious compliance is to get everything in writing or on raw video. You must get everything on record. Did I ever tell you what I did before I retired from the military?”
“No, sir.”
“I worked in naval intelligence.”
Commander Tom entered the classroom as Brinus stood in front of the mirror panel. The professor assigned him the task of practicing facial yoga.
After Breakfast:
The Commander entered the classroom and sat across from the professor. They sat at attention out of habit. “How is he doing, Professor Calsor?”
Professor Calsor smiled and shuffled some electronic papers on his desk. “He seems to be catching on. I have introduced him to facial yoga to help him with facial expressions. You know, working with him isn’t so bad. I thought he would back talk more. He is just sassy.”
Commander Tom shifted in his seat, closed the door, and whispered, “He is one of only fifty convicts left in the third task force and about eight hundred cadets left in the other four task forces they were recruited in. The Admiralty has a vested interest in seeing these convict recruits through the Navy get their commission. Most of the cadets were KIA, WIA, or discharged for bad conduct.”
Professor Casor turned on music in his stereo to cover up the conversation and said, “Why is the admiral so hell-bent on seeing the remaining convicts get the help they need? Wouldn’t it be easier to send all of them to a halfway house and integrate them into the labor force?”
The Commander shrugged and then shifted in his seat, “From what I understand, Central Command doesn’t want the program to be a complete failure, even though it is.”
“Wow, only fifty remain convicts remain?”
Commander Tom nodded and leaned forward in his seat. “If I were aware of the political element, I wouldn’t have never had him as a student.”
The professor frowned and crossed his arms and legs in a self-soothing posture. “What does that mean?”
“Let’s just say it is within our best interest to make Brinus Succeed in the military at all costs.” Commander Tom rose from his seat and looked back at the professor. “Remember what I said when grading one of his papers or his end-of-year war game?” He winked and walked out of the office.
The professor swallowed as Commander Tom left the office.
Lunch
Brinus was at lunch in the mess hall. It was mostly empty and filled with smokers getting lunch after Saturday’s study hall. There was a haze that smelled unpleasant to Brinus and a low chatter of about fifty people in the room.
After eating, his friend put a tarken stick in his mouth, and Brinus put some of the candy Dr. Calnori designed for him in his mouth.
He looked at his mouth with a hungry expression. He just stared at it as his friend talked.
His friend finally waved their hand in front of Brinus’s eyes, and his fantasies about smoking were broken.
“What were you thinking about?”
Brinus sighed and continued sucking his lollipop as he was knocked out of his trance. “I was thinking about how awesome it would be to smoke.”
His friend took a drag and blew the smoke off to the side, shaking the ash in the ashtray in front of him. “We’re all rooting for you. You smoked a lot. Like way too much bruh.”
Brinus began clicking a lighter and shanking his leg. He said, “I failed CPR, and my run times are too high. I can’t exercise like I used to. At some point, I have to face facts.”
The friend took another drag and said, “Well, good luck. I understand you retake it next week?”
“Yeah, they want to assess my physical health after three weeks without a coffin nail.”
Brinus came up from the seat and threw away his tray. He approached his friend. “I have to get to training. See ya later.”
“See, ya man.”
Plato and Admiral Nelson:
Admiral Nelson and Captain Plato were in the admiral’s private dining room. The room had elaborately carved furniture, gold-plated walls, crystal mirrors inside the eight-block panels, and a compass rose made of black and green marble with grey marble floors.
The table was made of epoxy wood, with gold melted into the tree trunk and cut into a table shape. There were five bagmen and a first bagman. Plato had a variety of seafood. The admiral’s steward had just served lunch to the captain and his chief of staff.
Captain Plato cracked open some crab legs, and juice flew in all directions. He began dipping them in butter sauce made by the admiral’s chef team. “What will happen to the convict recruitment program?”
Admiral Nelson Flicked his tail and flexed his claws. He said, “It will be retired after next month’s budget meeting. Most convicts left over are like Smokestack, so they will continue to get the services they need because eight hundred integrated convicts sound better than one hundred thousand failed cadets. The program has been a clusterfuck: sexual assaults, insubordination, and antisocial behavior. It won’t be resurrected again unless there is a recruiting emergency.”
Captain Plato crossed his legs and cracked more crab leg shells. The sound made a popping crack like breaking ceramic and squirted juice all over the plate. He said, “I heard about The Munch Massacre. A company of convicts fragged their commander and then murdered a village after being in the field for 200 days. In the end, the unit was deemed unsalvageable and terminated.”
Admiral Nelson nodded. He began cutting up his fish into small pieces on his gold-rimmed, porcelain plate and then said after eating it, “It was the worst war crime in a century that no one knows about. It was blamed on combat fatigue and the convicts having unstable personalities, if I remember, but it was hidden from the public.”
“Here’s a toast to the careers of eight hundred men.” Nelson and Plato tapped their glasses and laughed.