"Oi! Rust Scrubber!"

Jack struggled to open his eyes once more. He was still dizzy, but his thoughts were clearer, and his vision less blurry. He lazily took a look around. He was in a rather spartan, probably improvised, hospital room. Bare metal walls, an assortment of devices and monitors spread around his bed, a small nightstand clearly meant for an entirely different decor, and a potted plant barely clinging to life in a corner. The only other piece of furniture was an office chair, currently occupied by Eve. She didn't look much worse for the wear—just a few scrapes and bruises—but something in her eyes had changed.

"All done with your beauty sleep?" Eve asked in her characteristic nonchalant tone.

"How long was I out?" The words struggled to escape Jack's mouth, barely above a whisper.

"Three days since I fished you out of the wall. A little more than two since we brought you here."

"So, what did I miss?" Jack once again tried to speak, with little success.

"They came on the Harrison and the Himerios. No one knows how they managed to take them, or when. They had knowledge, things they shouldn't have known: station layout, shift rotations, override codes. None of this damn thing makes any sense." Eve slammed her fist into the wall, in a display that Jack found somewhat startling. "They took most of the station in a matter of hours. A few minutes after you made it back, a small party managed to break through our barricade. We fought off the initial group, but more and more came. Just as we were about to be overrun, the Bismarck showed up with two assault corps platoons and saved everyone's asses. That's about all I know."

"Your friends, are they...?" Jack struggled to finish the sentence.

"Anil is gone." The reply came in a robotic, detached voice, though Jack could see the pain on her face.

"Alfred is a few rooms over, still out cold. Rollk is in the brig, but that's a formality. The Fleet knows what he did for them, for us. Louise and I got off lightly." As she was speaking, Eve's eyes seemed to drift off somewhere in the distance.

"I'm sorry, about your friend. He seemed like a nice guy."

Still staring intently at some unseen object of interest, Eve seemed to ignore Jack's remark.

"She's taken a real liking to you, you know? Louise." She somewhat clumsily tried to change the subject. "Thinks you're some big hero who saved all of us. Well, I suppose you are, really. But still. She almost hasn't left your side since you got here. Even tried to talk the doctor into making her your nurse. She's gonna be so mad that I convinced her to get some sleep right before you woke up."

"Right before you woke me, you mean?" Jack tried to lighten the mood.

"Trust me, a marching band wouldn't have been able to wake you. I'd been talking for 15 minutes before you opened your eyes. Oh, by the way, how's the hand?"

For the first time since he woke up, Jack pulled his left hand out from under the covers and took a good look at it. It was covered in bandages, and he couldn't feel anything, but from what he could tell, it was in relative working condition. He bent all his fingers down one by one, before he settled on a thumbs-up gesture, which he proudly displayed to Eve, alongside a toothy smile.

"Next time put on a glove, yeah?" Eve said as she tried to reply with a smile of her own.

The two of them stood together in silence for a while. They had only known each other for a few days, and Jack had been asleep for most of that time, but they felt like comrades. Jack had heard stories about the bond people share after they fight together, but seeing it for himself so soon was unexpected. He had risked his life for Eve and her friends, and they in turn had risked their lives to defend him. Next to that, any other act of trust or loyalty seemed insignificant.

"Mr. Nereus?" A stern-sounding voice came from outside the room.

"Yes?"

"I'm Doctor Wallis. How are you feeling?" The door opened and gave a face to the voice, a middle-aged man with a gaunt face and disheveled appearance.

"Fine, I suppose. I'm not in pain or anything. Just a bit disoriented." Jack tried to look up at the doctor, but Wallis skillfully averted his gaze with the help of a datapad. Something told him that the doctor wasn't all that interested in his answer.

"Can you walk?" Wallis asked without lifting his eyes. "Captain Stirling wants to see you."

"Right now?" Jack responded incredulously.

"He's set up in an office just outside the hospital wing, third door to the left," the doctor replied, still buried in his datapad.

With surprising ease, Jack sprang up from his bed and started slowly making his way towards the door. The first few steps felt easy, as if he'd never been healthier. The next few were increasingly difficult.

"Is that what you're meeting the captain in?" Eve mocked him.

He glanced down at his clothing. He was barefoot, and barely clinging to his body was a hospital robe, lightly stained and about two sizes too large. Jack's cheeks became slightly flushed with embarrassment.

"I can have one of the nurses bring you a uniform," the doctor spoke up, looking him in the eyes for the first time.

A short time, and an embarrassing amount of effort later, Jack was strutting down the hospital's corridors, wearing his Interstellar Fleet uniform for the first time. He briefly stopped to admire his reflection in a mirror. Apart from his hand and a small bruise on his right cheek, he didn't look much worse for the wear. He dragged his right hand through his curly chestnut hair in a somewhat futile attempt to tame it, before immediately changing his mind and reverting it to its previous disheveled state. It suited him better this way, he thought. Like an action hero who's too cool to care about how he looks. He took one last glimpse at his heroic visage before he continued down the hall at a slow but steady pace.

The door to Captain Stirling's office was inconspicuous and unremarkable. Just another random room, buried in the guts of what was now a one-size-fits-all hospital, barracks, and bureaucratic annex. Jack straightened his uniform and adjusted his posture before he knocked.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Come," came a deep, raspy voice from behind the door.

Upon entering the room, the young recruit was greeted by one of the most spectacularly ugly humans he had ever laid eyes upon. Captain Stirling was a short, fat, and unkempt middle-aged man. He had a patchy beard, equal parts gray and dirty blond, and whatever hair he had left on his head was sloppily dyed brown. His small, bloodshot eyes followed Jack across the room as he gestured for him to take a seat.

"Nereus, yes?" The Captain cut him off before he could open his mouth.

"Yes, sir!" Jack tried to sound as soldier-like as he could.

"That was quite a thing you did during the attack. They say you took out an entire Kharlath squad by yourself to secure those weapons.” Stirling’s words seemed encouraging, but his tone was indecipherable. “You certainly gave your friends a fighting chance. Some are even calling you a hero, in fact. Are you one?" The Captain stared intently at Jack the whole time he was speaking.

"I don't think so." Jack chose his words with a great deal of attention. "I was brave when it counted, I suppose. But mostly, it was luck. I'm not a great fighter, not really; I'm certainly not better than those Kharlath I killed. They just happened to miss, and I just happened to hit them."

Stirling let out a dry, hoarse laugh. "Son, that's exactly what a hero is. Some kid who got lucky. Nothing more, nothing less. Every once in a while, there comes a special type of hero, the real kind. You know, the kind who gets lucky more than once. But that's rare. There’s a hell of a thin line between heroism and idiocy, and only a few are able to walk that tightrope. Most of us only get one shot at doing something incredibly stupid and reckless. You've just had yours, and made it out alive, mostly by chance. It's good that you recognize that. It means the Fleet's newest hero is not an idiot."

Getting up from his desk with a laborious motion, the Captain slowly dragged his body towards a filing cabinet near the back of his desk. After a few moments of digging his hands into the seemingly bottomless cabinet, he dug out a small metal insignia and threw it to Jack.

“You know what this is?” Captain Stirling asked.

“It’s a… medal?” Jack answered, somewhat puzzled.

“It’s a commendation for valor beyond the line of duty. Type C. That’s the useless kind that doesn’t come with a pay raise or a discharge.” Stirling let out another unpleasant guffaw. “But it means that the Fleet recognizes your talents and dedication, for what it’s worth. Don’t let it get to your head.”

With a single movement, Captain Stirling sat back in his chair and pointed Jack towards the door. Just as Jack was walking out, the captain let out an unexpected harrumph, momentarily stopping the recruit in his tracks.

“Auxiliary Technician, huh?” The Captain addressed him in a more jovial tone than before. “It’s hardly a heroic job. You’re happy with it?”

Jack pondered his answer carefully. He felt as if he had just walked into a minefield. It could have been an honest question, with no ulterior motives, but Captain Stirling didn’t strike him as the type. It was much more likely that he was being tested. Finally, he decided to give his reply:

“We’ve all got to start somewhere.”

The Captain seemed pleased with his answer but insisted, “You could start higher. Get a leg up. You’ve proven yourself capable enough.”

“I leave the decision to you, sir.” After a few moments of hesitation, Jack continued, “But if it’s possible, I’d like to be in the same department as Miss Nakayama.”

“Engine operations, I mean,” he added, blushing.

Stirling smiled almost imperceptibly, the first hint of a pleasant emotion he’d shown so far. Once again, he showed Jack the door, this time letting him pass all the way through. Jack stepped into the hallway, undecided on his direction. He wasn’t sure what to think of Captain Stirling and even less sure about what the immediate future held for him. Did he find his calling in the Fleet? Was this the first of many successful steps in what would become a long and illustrious career, or was it merely a fluke? With the Captain’s words about heroism still fresh in his mind, the newly minted hero wondered if he was in for a rude awakening in the near future.

“Jack!”

The recruit was stopped dead in his tracks by a loud voice. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t place it immediately. He turned around, only to be greeted by a surprising, and surprisingly strong, hug. It was Eve’s friend, Louise.

“Eve saved you a sleeping cot next to us while you were in there,” she said with a familiar tone, as if they had known each other for a lifetime, as she finally let go of him. “If you want to join us, of course,” she continued more reticently.

Jack let out a wide smile and nodded his head, trying his best to play it cool.

“So, how was our captain?” Louise asked as they walked down the station’s labyrinthine corridors.

“He was… I don’t know? Different?” Jack stopped for a moment to consider his words.

“Captain Stirling has a certain… reputation. He doesn’t care much for formality and can rub people the wrong way. But I’ve known a few people who served under him and swear he’s the best captain in the fleet.”

“So, is your friend Alfred coming with us on the Bismarck? The Harrison seemed to be under new management,” Jack joked.

“I’m not sure yet. He hasn’t even woken up yet. I guess we’ll see. Everything is in such disarray now.” As she spoke, Louise grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. “This is our barracks.”

The two walked into a large, rectangular, and surprisingly tall room filled to the brim with young recruits like themselves. The air was warm and stale, and the familiar clinical smell of the station was replaced by a less familiar, but equally unwelcome, blend of various body odors. As Louise confidently led him through a maze of dazed and distracted youth, Jack focused his attention on the room’s peculiar construction. The floor was steel, but apart from a narrow band surrounding the room, it had a coarse, sandpaper-like texture. The walls were completely matte and featureless. The only element that seemed to be missing was a narrow piece of furniture in the middle of the room, stretching from one end to the other—he could tell by the equidistant holes in the floor and walls.

“Tennis court!” Eve’s instantly recognizable, cheery voice greeted him from the crowd.

“Huh?” Jack opened his mouth, somewhat stunned.

“You were trying to figure out what this room used to be, right?” Eve continued as she pranced towards them.

“…Tennis court?” Jack replied meekly.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know what tennis is, farm boy,” Eve teased him. “All those wide open fields on Magellan and you never play?”

“Pretty hard to play anything with a ball in 1.3Gs,” Jack snapped back playfully. “But I do know what tennis is. Just wondering why such a cramped station would waste all this space on a tennis court.”

“Officer’s privilege, I suppose. But now we get to use it,” Eve smirked as she pointed to a collection of small sleeping bags in a corner. “Take your picks; the blue one’s mine.”

Jack crouched down on the furthest bag, next to the wall. He gently removed his wristpad and placed it inside his bag, then emptied his uniform’s pockets. His fleet ID and his new medal—these were the sum of his earthly possessions. He realized for the first time since waking up that he had left his backpack in the booth at the Nebula Saloon. Given the chaos of the last few days, he doubted it was still there. For a moment, he considered asking Eve and Louise to help him track it down, but it felt inconsiderate under the circumstances. They had bigger worries now. Suddenly, another thought popped into his head.

“Hey, Eve,” he spoke a bit too loudly. Eve and Louise turned their heads, somewhat startled. “You remember the bag I brought the guns in, back at the Nebula?”

Eve smiled knowingly as she reached into her bag, pulling out a copy of The Great Gatsby. “I figured that book was there for a reason,” she said, throwing it into his lap. “Good thing I thought to grab it while you were out.”

Jack smiled, relieved that he now had a fourth possession to his name. He lay down in his sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling. For a while, he tried to summon the energy to get up and start reading, but to no avail. As his eyes slowly closed, he could hear Eve and Louise chatting, but he was too tired to pay attention. The room was noisy and hot, and the sleeping bag was much too thin for the hard steel floor, but he didn’t care. Ever since he’d woken up, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. The waking world was strange and unfamiliar now. Sleep was safe and comforting. His thoughts drifted for a few more minutes, but soon enough, he fell into a deep slumber.