2630-2632
Fathers aren’t supposed to be bad, right? Mine is. People think I should be grateful that my father is a noble, from the British Empire. An exiled Duke, Duke of the Duchy of Caledonia, home to 4 planets. I should be grateful that the douchebag of a man used his money to make a successful company. Grateful he’s my father, and that I am rich.
I’m not grateful. He’s a horrible father. After mother died, he just hired someone who I didn’t even like to raise me. We’re stuck on the backwater of a planet. Because my father had to over-reach his powers as a Duke. I am grateful he was just exiled, I wouldn’t have been born if not. The life of an exiled noble family is a peaceful one usually. We live on a backwater estate, protected by hired guards and ruling the planet as de-facto nobles, anyway. I’m sure that’s why my father settled here- he could use his funds to make his own in-exile kingdom.
It was peaceful until about 5 minutes ago, when soldiers from the Republic arrived. They simply blasted the meager space defenses, and right now, are battering their way into the estate. I suppose prison won’t be that bad, right?
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“You have two choices, Ms. Fermont.” He wore a Republic Uniform, calling himself the Captain of the RNS Battle Hawk. Which he was, and I won’t forget the man, or ship, who killed my Father. “Be executed with your Ducal Father,” He said Ducal in such an idiotic tone. “Or join us, here in the Republic. You get to attend the Academy, become an Officer. It’ll be better than whatever you can live with after we take your Father’s accounts. If we choose to let you live.” He was wrong- I have an account disconnected from my fathers.
I was left alone in a cell for a week, only brought out when we were back in Sol. Home to Earth. Mother Planet of Humanity. Capital of the Republic. The Republic isn’t a republic, of course. It’s an oligarchy, yet they think themselves better of the British Star Empire, calling themselves nobility- when they are the aristocracy of the Republic. I am a Noble, in the British Star Empire. A Duchess, even if the Empire doesn’t recognize it, yet. I became one when my father died. Or not, if you count Duke Kornia as the true Duke of Caledonia. I don’t, it is my birth-right, after all. My Great-Grandfather founded Caledonia, not Kornia’s.
I choose to join the Republic Navy. It’s better than death, I thought. And of course, I was wrong. Basic Training was a bitch. 4 months of pure pain, constantly being bullied as the little duchess. The spoiled rich girl. Which, I was. I suppose.
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A couple months into basic training, I was cornered in the barracks. It was one of the moments,when the clamor of cadets in the barracks was winding down, leaving only distant echoes of footsteps and hushed conversations. This silence was shattered by the pounding of my heart. I was cornered by a fellow cadet- one from an aristocratic family in the Republic. The man’s features were contorted in a mocking grin, as he stepped forward,his demeanor oozing in arrogance. “Well, well, well, if it isn't the little duchess," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Thought you could just waltz into the Republic Navy and expect special treatment, didn't you?"
I squared my shoulders, refusing to cower under his gaze. Despite the fear coursing through my veins, I met his eyes with a defiant glare. "I didn't come here for special treatment," I retorted, my voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. "I came here to prove myself, just like everyone else." That was a lie. I was forced to come here.
The man's laughter echoed off the walls, grating on her nerves like sandpaper. "Prove yourself?" he scoffed, taking another step closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "You? A spoiled little noble girl who's never had to lift a finger in her life?"
Anger surged within me , fueled by his condescension and the memories of my father's neglect. Without a second thought, I lunged forward, her fist connecting with his jaw in a satisfying crack. The cadet stumbled backward, caught off guard by her sudden retaliation.
But he quickly regained his composure, his own fists clenched as he advanced menacingly. "You'll regret that, princess," he growled, his eyes flashing with fury.
The fight lasted a couple of minutes. I was ducking and weaving to dodge his strikes- with a surprising agility. I suppose, basic training does teach you something. I could feel fists hit me multiple times, and my own fist hitting him. I heard shouting, and then one of the instructors was between us, keeping us apart, screaming at both of us. I didn’t hear what he said.
I found myself in an empty room, the silence suffocating, as it was only broken by the steady rhythm of my breathing. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, my muscles throbbing from the fight. Across from me, a figure was in the shadows, features obscured by darkness.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. "For your insolence and defiance," it intoned, sending a chill down my spine. "You will face a punishment befitting your crimes." The figure stepped forward, revealing themselves to be a stern-faced officer, their eyes narrowed in disapproval. "You will be confined to solitary quarters for a period of one week," they declared, their voice brooking no argument. "During this time, you will reflect on your actions and contemplate the importance of discipline and obedience."
My stomach churned with dread, as the punishment sank in. Solitary confinement meant isolation, cut off from the camaraderie of her fellow cadets and the comforting routine of daily life. But even as fear threatened to consume me, I refused to let it overpower her. I straightened my shoulders, meeting the officer's gaze with a defiant glare. "I accept my punishment," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "And I will emerge from it stronger than before." The officer's expression softened slightly, a hint of approval flickering in their eyes. "Very well," they said, their voice softer now but no less authoritative. "Your resilience is commendable, cadet. Use this time wisely, and perhaps you will learn the true meaning of discipline."
With that, the officer turned and left the room, leaving Alice alone once more with her thoughts. As the door closed behind them, plunging the room back into darkness, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge ahead. Solitary confinement may be daunting, but she refused to let it break her. She would endure, she would persevere, and she would emerge from this trial stronger than ever before.
Basic Training passed in a blur, the days blending together in a whirlwind of grueling drills and relentless challenges. Before I knew it, four months had slipped by, and I found myself standing on the threshold of a new chapter in my life. Unlike those destined for the infantry or marines, my journey was set to take a different course. I was bound for the Naval Academy, a path that promised its own trials and tribulations. But I welcomed the challenge with open arms, eager to prove myself in a new arena. Adam, the boy with whom I had clashed during Basic Training, was also among those destined for the Academy. It came as no surprise – his pedigree as a scion of an aristocratic family practically ensured his enrollment in such esteemed ranks within this so-called 'Republic'.
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As we prepared to embark on this next phase of our journey, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The Naval Academy loomed on the horizon like a distant beacon, promising adventure, camaraderie, and perhaps even redemption. And with Adam by my side, I knew that together, we would navigate the challenges that awaited us, forging our own destinies in the vast expanse of the galaxy.
The Naval Academy was in orbit, aboard a space-station, stepping off the transport there was one thing I knew- the next eight months would be a test of endurance, determination, and skill. The path ahead was clear: graduate as an Ensign, or strive for the coveted rank of Lieutenant through exemplary performance. With each passing day, I threw myself into the rigorous training regimen, pushing my limits and honing my abilities to their fullest extent. From intensive coursework to hands-on simulations, every moment was an opportunity to prove myself worthy of the rank I aspired to achieve.
Alongside my fellow cadets, including Adam, I immersed myself in the intricacies of naval strategy, trying to master the art of command and navigation. We faced countless challenges together, each one designed to push us to our limits and test our resolve. As the months flew by, I poured my heart and soul into every aspect of my training, determined to leave no room for doubt in the minds of my superiors. I sought out mentorship from seasoned officers, absorbed every lesson with unwavering focus, and embraced the camaraderie of my fellow cadets.
In the sixth month of my tenure at the Naval Academy, I found myself at the helm of a Republic-Class Destroyer, an older vessel that had seen its share of battles over the years. It was a pivotal moment—a simulation that could determine my future path within the Navy, a chance to prove my mettle as a leader. Before me, the simulated expanse of space stretched out, punctuated by the presence of two pirate vessels fleeing from a failed attempt to board a freighter.
With a steady hand, I issued commands to my crew, my voice firm and authoritative as I prepared to confront the fleeing pirates. There was no room for hesitation or doubt—we were on the brink of battle, and I was determined to emerge victorious.
"Hail the fleeing pirates," I ordered, my gaze fixed on the communications station. "Order them to power down their engines and surrender. They have one minute to comply, or they will face the consequences." The bridge was silent, as it should be the only sounds being the hum of the ship’s systems.
As the enemy ships unleashed a barrage of firepower, the bridge of the destroyer shook violently, causing me to lurch in my seat as alarms blared and lights flickered briefly. The urgency of the situation crackled in the air, each impact driving home the gravity of our predicament.
"Return fire," I commanded, my voice cutting through the chaos. "I need a damage report, and target their engines. Disable those ships, but do not destroy them. I want those pirates brought to justice." With practiced precision, the cadets sprang into action, executing my orders with the efficiency of, well, cadets.
As the battle raged on, our destroyer emerged battered but triumphant, with one pirate vessel lying in ruins and the other disabled, its engines sputtering to a halt. With a determined nod, I issued orders to my communications officer, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Send a transmission to the remaining pirate vessel," I commanded. "Instruct them to surrender to our boarding party immediately. Any resistance will be met with lethal force."
When graduation day finally arrived, I stood tall and proud among my peers, knowing that I had earned my place among the elite ranks of the Republic Navy. As the ceremonial sash of a Lieutenant was bestowed upon me, I felt a surge of pride and accomplishment, knowing that my journey was only just beginning. Armed with the knowledge, skills, and determination forged during my time at the Naval Academy, I embarked on my next adventure with confidence and purpose. The galaxy lay spread out before me, brimming with challenges and opportunities waiting to be seized. And as a newly minted Lieutenant, I was ready to face whatever lay ahead, guided by the principles of duty, honor, and unwavering resolve.
RNS BATTERED EAGLE, 2632.
The RNS Battered Eagle was an old ship. As I approached it on that first day, I thought it was ugly. The exterior bore scars decades old, from wars equally as old. The ship had celebrated its 100th anniversary a few months before my graduation, and is the oldest vessel in the Republic Navy. The interior of the vessel surprised me, as I had assumed it would be chaos and disarray, with wires dangling precariously and exposed panels. Yet, I found it was remarkably well-maintained, even with its aged technology.
I was assigned as the Executive Officer to Lieutenant Commander Mark Anderson, the ship’s commanding officer, and 10 years my senior. I quickly learned to appreciate the quirks and idiosyncrasies of the Battered Eagle. Though its design may have been outdated compared to the sleek vessels that filled the rest of the fleet, it was clear that the crew took pride in their ship, maintaining it to the best of their abilities despite the challenges they faced.
The Battered Eagles mission was the same as it had been for decades, ever since the end of the wars that marked the end of the Republic’s initial expansion phase outward, it patrols the trade lanes to protect against piracy. Despite it’s age, it was somewhat modern, having gone through a refit 5 years earlier to modernize its weapon systems. They had wanted to upgrade the shielding, but the reactor couldn’t handle it, and they couldn’t change the reactor without tearing the entire vessel apart.
In my initial weeks aboard the RNS Battered Eagle, I made a conscious effort to keep to myself, preferring the solitude of my duties over the company of the crew. Aside from occasional interactions with the captain and the chief engineer, Lieutenant Jefferson, I largely remained isolated from the rest of the crew.
However, my attempts to distance myself from my shipmates did not go unnoticed, as I soon discovered during a candid conversation with Captain Anderson in his office. As he addressed me, I couldn't help but wince inwardly at the use of my title, a reminder of the noble lineage I had tried so hard to conceal.
"Alice," he began, his tone a mixture of disappointment and concern. "Or Duchess, if you prefer. Your academic performance at the Academy was commendable, I'll give you that. But being a good officer requires more than just book smarts.” His words cut through the air like a knife, piercing the carefully constructed facade I had erected around myself. "You've been neglecting your duties as first officer," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "Isolating yourself from the crew is not acceptable behavior. You can't lead effectively if you're not willing to connect with those under your command.”
After leaving his office, I figured, hell, I need to change something. Even if I really don’t care about this ship or its crew. This is just a post- in my intent to rise up in the ranks for my true goal- not serving in the Navy, but reclaiming my birth right, my duchy. So, I made a conscious effort to break down the barriers that had separated me from the crew. I sought out opportunities for interaction, engaging in casual conversations during meal times and taking the time to learn the names and stories of those who served alongside me.
As the weeks turned into months, I found myself drawn into the fabric of ship life in ways I had never imagined. I laughed with my fellow crew members, shared in their triumphs and struggles.
Whilst on duty on the bridge, a distress call came in.
“Ma’am,” the communications officer began, “We’re receiving a distress signal from a freighter. They are being attacked by pirates.” My heart quickened with a surge of adrenaline, the familiar rush of urgency propelling me into action. "Plot a course to intercept," I commanded, "Alert the captain and order battle stations. We're going to lend a hand."