Brinus was sitting on the countertop in his usual morning pose. Simmie was not there, but his friend Godfrick was present.
Godfrick was replicating coffee. “I had fun.”
Brinus rolled his eyes.. “The way you killed that boss, but screaming into the mic…while I was trying to sleep, really?” Brinus put his medical vape in the charger and laughed. “You need to be more considerate of those around you.”
“Did you get any sleep?”
Brinus got down in Godfrick’s face and jabbed his finger into his chest with each word, and said, “You don’t need to scream into that damn mic at two in the morning. When the cop gave me the ticket for the noise complaint, I wanted to throw you under the tram.”
His friend looked down at his feet and mumbled, “What cop?”
Remember, you're on thin ice with the Navy. Brinus moved so close in Godrick's face the spit from his mouth flew into his nose and eyes. He began screaming, “What the fuck is your problem?! Do you fucking think these were your quarters?!”
“Bro, chill.”
I want to slap him! Remember, assault will land you in prison. Brinus took a deep, calming breath and said, “Don’t ever get the cops called to my quarters again. Get the fuck out.”
Godric left without a word.
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Brinus was in line for the mess. The Mess Hall had a buffet in the center, with hundreds of dishes from the cities that survived the crisis on Earth. Mainly in the United States, Africa, and Southeast Asia.
The war brought upgrades. The drab brown tiles were replaced with black-and-white marble. Baroque style wood paneling graced the walls and inside the panels were glass mirrors. The lights were balls of natural hologram projections on gold-plated chandeliers. The mess hall was loud with the clinking of forks and the chatter of hundreds of cadets and midshipmen and midshipwomen. There was also the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and vapor. The smell of Earth food drifted from the buffet with over forty dishes with various spices mixed with the smell of smoke and vapes.
His eyes were set on the General Tso’s chicken, steamed rice, and pork egg rolls. Lunchtime began ten minutes ago. The Victory was above Earth while the admiral met with the military governor to discuss the raid on their planet. Brinus put a bunch of chicken on his plate and mixed the steamed rice with the meal.
He sat down and began watching the news. “...Meanwhile, The Federation has begun raiding isolated worlds and space stations. The most recent raid was Luna Base where the entire spaceport was destroyed. An estimated 10,000 Terrans lost their lives during the attack, and the garrison of 1,200 navy troopers and naval personnel sacrificed their lives for the cause. In other news, The recent invasion by The Federation also failed after the Battle of Casillor. Half of the 1st task force was lost, along with two Titan-Class Battleships and five Shannon Class IV Star Destoryers. The entire 23rd squadron is MIA after a skirmish at Koloba 10. However, enemy losses are estimated to be at 32 cruisers and battlecruisers. The lost squadron had 2 missile corvettes. 5 Riker class frigates. and one Kelvin class cruiser is considered minimal.”
Brinus wondered why they didn’t dock on the moon but orbited Earth instead. He began eating the chicken and rice. It was almost too sweet but so addictive. He began twirling his medical vape in between his fingers as he ate. He sat next to some friends and began talking about the war games. Two days off were scheduled from robotics before the next game so the other teams could play.
Simmie came into the mess hall and hugged Brinus. “Hey, love.” Brinus and Simmie began making out for thirty seconds and then sat down. Everyone started at them with heads shaking in dissaproval.
“Are you on break?” Brinus slapped Simmie on the ass as he sat in Brinus’s right thigh.
Simmie took a bite of Brinus’s dish and made a disgusted face. He said, washing it down with soda, “I am on lunch break. When you get home tonight, I made you a surprise. It was in a cookbook made by someone called Harper. It was a note that it was your favorite dish.”
Brinus coughed and choked on his food. “What?”
Simmie leaned forward, “Did I do something wrong?”
Brinus took a sip of his soda. “I haven’t had one of his recipes since he was murdered.”
“He was murdered?”
Brinus pushed the plate away, “I’m gonna hot-box in our bedroom. See ya later.”
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Brinus got out of the mess hall while breathing heavily; he leaned against the wall, hyperventilating. His vision blurred, and he sat on the floor. The next thing he knew, he was on a hospital bed in the medical ward.
The ER ward was spotless; there was fresh paint on the baroque-style cabinets, and the door to the room was oak wood with four panels and a window for the staff to look in. The equipment looked new and clean. Everything smelled sterile, almost like alcohol but more like carbolic acid. Brinus came up from the bed and saw that the medicine cabinet was well stocked with gauze, honey bandages, disinfectants, and a fully charged dermal regenerator. There was a suture kit with various antibiotic creams. There was also a burn treatment kit with silver cream.
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He turned to the nurse. “What happened?”
A nurse looked at him as she injected something into an I.V. bag. “You had a panic attack and passed out. I just put DMT in your I.V. It is a medication we introduced to Earth in the 1970s. It is a psychedelic we use for emergency assessments. You need to get back in bed because It will hit in a few minutes. That’s an order.”
“I need my vape.”
The nurse smiled; she said in an overly sweet voice, like a mother denying a kid candy, “Technically, your medical vape is not for smoking cessation, and you just had a massive panic attack. So I can’t let you use it in the emergency room, but I can give you some nicotine pouches.”
Brinus said, “Sure!”
The nurse rolled her eyes and began checking Brinus’s vitals and making notes of his EKG readings on her tirquarter. Great! Another rude chronic smoker. Fuck. my. life.
Brinus started floating on a cloud as he smiled and relaxed on the bed. Brinus's vision became blurry and he started seeing colors contrasting. Light colors were lighter; dark colors were darker. Brinus felt more free and loose. He began hearing everything the hospital.
“The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Calnori came into the hospital and sat across from Brinus thirty minutes after getting the medicine. “Mind telling me what happened?”
Brinus explained how Harper was murdered in front of him, the relationship with Harper and how deep it was, and how Simmie made a dish he hadn’t had since he was 17. How Simmie brought back all those feelings. He didn’t know if it was the drugs or if it was the fact he humiliated himself in public, or maybe both. He spent over an hour opening up to Calnori about his time in the syndicate. She listened and just let Brinus talk. This session was the first time Brinus had opened up about Harper or his time in the syndicate.
After over an hour and a half of talking, Calnori was shocked by everything the syndicate had put him through, yet she kept her composure. She put a hand on Brinus’s shoulder and said, “I don’t think you’re at risk of hurting yourself, but I will pull you out of the war games.”
Brinus was basically four sheets to the wind at this point, so he just nodded.
“You have combat stress. The meal Simmie made merely triggered an old memory association, and you had a panic attack.”
“It’s simulated combat, and it ain’t the real thing.”
Calnori sighed and then sat close to Brinus. “It doesn’t matter. I am going to write a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine. I am also going to add nanites to your medical vape. About 100 nanites per 50 milligrams.”
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Captain Plato sat in a neo-imperial armchair across from Commander Tom. Commander Tom’s Office walls were paneled in baroque style with rose carvings on the paneling. He had an epoxy desk with silver poured in between the earth’s walnut table pieces. Earth Walnut was a priceless wood as it was only found on Earth and could only grow in certain climates on Earth. He had an Earth Walnut ashtray with 5 cigarette butts on his desk next to his computer terminal, along with a lighter. There was a bronze mini black powder cannon on his desk.
“Did you hear what happened in the mess hall today?” asked Captain Plato.
Commander Tom was in his office as Captain Plato had come to pay him a visit to discuss recalibrating the proton torpedoes. He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms.
Commander Tom shifted in his seat. “Apparently, Brinus had a panic attack.”
Captain Plato rolled his eyes. “We knew bringing him into the navy would take longer than most recruits. Did you also hear what happened this morning?”
Commander Tom leaned back into his chair. “I think you need to cut him some slack. We haven’t had any discipline problems in almost three months. Sure he had his issues with Arua but she started it. Sure he got into a loud argument with Godfrick but that is what Calnori is for.”
Captain Plato made a cat hiss, “Don’t mention that bitch Aura. She was more of a headache than Brinus ever was. At least Brinus contributes to the ship.” Plato’s fur became puffy.
Commander Tom sat at attention, noticing the change in Mood. “Sir, Brinus has improved. We knew Bringing a convict into the military would take more effort. That was why the Convict integration program failed. We just don’t have the experience or the knowledge to integrate criminals.”
“It did not fail. 800 Criminals were successfully integrated. That is the official narrative.”
“Right, sir. Is there anything else you wish to discuss? When do you want the torpedoes done?”
“No, commander. I want the job done by 000 hours tomorrow. I need the proton torpedoes ready for combat. We head out for patrol in the morning. I also want Brinus on duty with Simmie after he rests. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
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2 Days Later, Brinus poured molten metal into a ceramic mold. Simmie spent a week 3D printing. It was held in place by Simmie. It sparked and flashed in all directions as it poured into the cast. Brinus took off his silver heat suit and took it out of Simmie’s tongs and broke apart the cast after it cooled. It was an armor plate. He then welded the plate onto an atsromech droid. Doing it with magic was too hard at this point in his magical education.
The atsromech was cylindrical with a rounded head. It had legs like a walker and arms like a key meant to fit into a computer of a bomber craft or a shuttle. It was about three feet or one meter tall. Simmie and Brinus looked at their work and high-fived each other.
“You wonna do lunch later?”
Simmie sat at the table and began drawing up the report. “Love, it is the quarter morning bell. I am not thinking about lunch.”
“Right.”
Brinus’s triquarter pinged. It was the pharmacy, and they had his new vape formula ready to pick up. The nicotine was still at 50mg, but the nanites would help heal his lung and heart damage.
Brinus wanted to listen to music with Simmie as he began programming the new droid. Simmie wanted to listen to pre-invasion earth rock, and Brinus wanted to listen to death metal. They compromised and settled on a comedy podcast by a retired naval officer who served in the second and third pirate wars.
As they laughed and joked, Brinus knocked out four different projects in the span of an hour. He didn’t notice Calnori at the door.
Brinus looked up. “Hey, doc! What’s up?”
“The captain is going to make an offer to you in an hour based on your performance in the War games.”
“And?”
“He told me to tell you that he wants you to get your gym bag and report to his office. You’re heading to Earth for a green belt tournament.”
“Tor Sor Norra said I was still compromised from years of heavy smoking?”
“Well me and your doctor think you can handle a green belt tournament. So pack up, see the captain for your sponsors and head out to landing pad four .” Brinus saluted his psychiatrist and left the robotics lab.