There was a certain skill in conducting basic military training. Before I started, I thought my greatest challenge would be how to escape the boredom. Sergeant Theo, my group instructor, came up with a simple solution: presented with a ship-cadet five times stronger than the average human, he increased the difficulty of my tasks tenfold. On the very first day he had asked me to step out in front of the entire platoon, calmly introduced me as a battleship, and told me to add a zero to his general instructions. Each time my fellow cadets were sweating to do fifty push ups on command, I was pushing the limits of my body to achieve five hundred.

After the first series of exercises, long after everyone had finished their sets and left, he had waited another forty-three minutes for me to be done, then calmly approached me with a simple incentive: keep the same time as everyone else and receive permission to remain barefoot during training. I’d not been late ever since.

Solo again? I heard Bull Calf’s voice in my head as I was sitting in the cadet canteen.

“Simulation period,” I replied, finishing my food portion. It was green and gelatinous, tasting of liquid quartz and bubblegum. “They let me do those here.”

Good thing you still have that data channel open, eh? I heard him laugh. What sims did you get this time?

“The Veego-Accordia version of the Scorpion Attack.” I shoved the empty food container in the table’s recycling unit.

Wow. That’s ancient. Why do they have you doing ship sims anyway? You’re human now, right?

“They say it’s part of the program.” Personally, I had my doubts. I had seen first hand what wonders the marvel of bureaucracy was capable of. When I was a ship, I had been required to spend all my docking time reading fleet reports and running combat simulations linked to the station’s strategic AIs. At present, however, I was neither docked nor had the processing power for the job. My military strategy instructor, however, with his typical sense of humour, had given me a few hundred combat exercises dating back to a century before I was constructed and asked me to complete as many as I could by the end of my training program. So far, I had gone through twenty-two.

I got a message from Sev. Bull’s words caught me unprepared, bringing an itch to the soles of my feet. From what I heard, he went straight to the recruitment center and ordered that they send it to you. Created a huge commotion. People will be talking about it for weeks.

“That sounds like Sev.” I pictured him waving a cane or flask, shouting about something that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. Probably he’d add a few stories of his youth—transformed beyond recognition—then get to the point, though not before grumbling how everyone was wasting his time. I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s always been memorable.”

I can see that. The message will take a few weeks to reach you through the normal channels, but no harm in letting you know.

“Thanks.” I shuffled my feet. The itch in my feet grew stronger.

The message goes “Quit wasting my time and get flying!” Bull Calf modified his voice to have the same sounding as Sev. A nice gesture, even if unnecessary.

“Short and sweet,” I sighed. At least I knew he had received my messages. “Nothing like his mother.”

Want me to send a reply?

“Better not.” I stood up and walked to the food dispenser. “Knowing him he’ll just get annoyed and block my letters just for the sake of it.” I bought a gulp of water with my military allowance and sipped it down.

If you change your mind, tell me in the next two hours.

“What happens then?” I tilted my head.

I’m flying off on my next gathering tour. It usually lasts about a month, but with the decrease of candidates, it might be longer. It’s not like three decades ago.

I dragged my foot along the floor, trying to get rid of the itch. Bull Calf had no idea how right he was. During my day, a ship his size would barely be enough to gather the weekly candidates from a single planet. During the days of the triple war, billions volunteered to join the fleet. Billions more applied to the ground forces. Three sides, each more determined to carve out as large a piece of universe as they could get away with. The Cassandrians had the numbers, the Scuu had their communication web, Humanity had us, and we relied on people leading us onto the battlefield. After the ceasefire, the need for massive armies was gone, and public interest all but vanished. Battleships didn’t have that option. Even decommissioned, part of us yearned for space and battle. I just happened to be lucky to have Sev to look after.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’ll try not to get kicked out till then.” I recycled my water wrapper. “You try not to have too much fun.”

A difficult task, but I’ll try. I heard Bull Calf laugh. Ping me if you need anything. I’ll be dealing with the panic attacks of my captain until I set off.

I could imagine the stress the man was going through. As a ship, I used to joke that cadets were “fragile cargo” and had to be “handled with care.” Now that I was on the other side of the barricade, I didn’t find it as funny.

“Fly safely, B.” I walked out of the canteen.

You too.

By the time I reached the dorm, the itch had become unbearable. I took off my shoes and socks and leaned against the wall. With what was going on between me and Alicia, I didn’t want to sit on her bed. Relations between us had improved to the point where we were cordial to each other, though nowhere near to what they were in the recruitment center. A pity, because she was turning out more capable than I expected. Her physical performance put her in the top five percent. Jax was slightly better, while Carmel and Kin were lagging behind.

“Quit wasting your time and get flying,” I said, eyes closed. “You always had a way of motivating others, Sev.” The floor felt cold under my feet. “Just like when you forced me to learn cooking. ‘Passively persistent,’ as your mother would say. You made her bring you on that last flight, didn’t you?”

“Talking to yourself again?” Alicia’s voice anchored me back to reality. “Psych evals can still sink you.” It was difficult to tell if this was a subtle insult or a really bad joke.

“I was just thinking out loud.” I pushed myself off the wall.

Alicia passed by me and sat on her bed. Her hair was slightly wet. Of all the people I’d gotten to know on the station, she was the only one that took an additional shower before going to bed. Usually, she’d throw off her uniform and go directly to sleep. When she remained sitting quietly for over a minute, I could tell something had happened.

“Carmel quit.” Alicia avoided my glance. “His body couldn’t handle the nanites. They say the chance is one in a million. All that talk how he’d keep his ship on a short leash and he couldn’t even handle space.” She let out a dry laugh. “They’ll announce it tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.” I started taking off my uniform. It would be a lie to say I was going to miss Carmel, after everything he’d done, but I understood the notion. “Did they offer him ground service?”

“No idea. Jax told me during dinner. We didn’t have time to talk.” She looked away. “I guess.”

“He’ll probably reapply in a few years. Nanite development is much more advanced than it used to be. They’re probably already testing a more adaptable set of prototypes.” I glanced over my shoulder. Alicia hardly reacted. “What’s going on? You two never were close.”

“We were,” she whispered. “But it’s not that. When he learned he was being sunk, Carmel tried to get into his medical files.”

Why was I learning about this just now? Obviously there was a price for isolating myself from everyone. We’d been living in the same dorm and yet I had no idea she and Carmel had gotten into a relationship. The fact that Alicia was still here suggested that the instructors hadn’t learned either.

“They’ve increased the fail margins,” she went on. “By the end of the week, Carmel and the bottom twenty percent will be shipped off station. Another twenty will go by the end of next week. And the one after.”

Reduction by twenty. It was one of the well known methods for weeding out the unready. When half of the original group was gone, the rest would be given temporary assignments. Most often it was reserved for recruits, but ships and career officers had been through the experience as well. The criteria and explanations varied, but there always was one constant: it was only used in times of war.

“Did you talk to Jax about it?” I finished folding my uniform.

“It’s not something I can discuss. Besides, the only thing on his mind is to reach the top ten percent.”

“No arguments there.”

“What’s going on, Elcy?” Her voice was heavy with doubt. “I have family who’ve gone through training. None of them have seen this, even those serving in the fleet. I tried to send a message—“

“But all communications are forbidden until after we pass our training,” I finished the phrase. Interesting how Bull Calf hadn’t mentioned anything. He was just a ship, not in any way linked to the station, but he should have heard something... unless this went above his security clearance. “It’s probably restructuring,” I lied. “Cost reduction, most likely.”

She didn’t respond. Her heartbeat was elevated.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. Even if they cut the—“

“You’re lying,” she cut me short. There were a hundred acceptable explanations I could use to back up my reasoning, but judging by the look she gave me, none would work. She was frightened and had every reason to be.

“You’ve nothing to worry about.” I sat next to her. “Even if you’re sent back you’ll be okay.” It was the answer she wanted to hear even if it wasn’t true.

Alicia looked at me, nodded slightly, then took out her datapad. I remained sitting next to her for a few more minutes.

Reduction by twenty. If a new war was on the horizon, the veterans would be the first to be recalled. Instead, the focus was on fresh recruits with no experience. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. I tried to ask Bull Calf about it, but he didn’t reply. Quite possibly his captain had decided that they leave the station early.

“It’ll be fine,” I told Alicia and climbed up into my bed. “Don’t think about it too much. Just focus on the training.”

She didn’t answer. For a while I thought the stress had gotten to her, making her see connections where there were none. It wouldn’t be the first time cadets broke under pressure. Two days later the announcement was made, just as she had predicted. The reason given was perfectly logical: a new class of ships had been developed, requiring nothing but the best of the best humanity had to offer. Only the top five percent of all station cadets would be allowed to start their service on one of them. The rest—assuming they weren’t sent away—would be assigned to whatever fleet openings remained.

I threw a glance at Alicia. She seemed relieved. The secret she had been keeping for the last few days was now out in the open. I envied her. By this evening she would be back to her usual competitive behaviour, striving to get a place on one of the new ships. Unlike her, I could see what was really going on. Humanity wasn’t preparing to return to an old conflict, they were preparing for entering a new one.