No One Can Hear You Fly

By Cassandra Morphy

Dor and Kenya are finally back together, once and for all. There are no more secrets coming between them. Dor has come to terms with her feelings for Kenya, and Kenya's feelings for her. Everything should be right with the worlds.

But war has finally come to the galactic neighborhood. The Delnadians have started taking out their age-old grievances against the humans on them. The two sides are only starting the fighting, but it was only a matter of time until it came to blows. Until people started dying on both sides.

The one thing that both sides need to fight the war is mages. They had powered the fleets for centuries, ever since the Delnadians first brought their FTL drives out of their factories and hooked them up to the mana reactors. But with the demense affecting more and more of them, there are fewer of them out there to take on the role of powering the reactors. How soon will it start impacting the war effort? Which side will feel the impact first? Will Dor's mother be the first one to go? While Dor hopes thats not the case, she already knows that, in space, no one can hear you fly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Morphy
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005080723

Cassandra Morphy

Cassandra Morphy is a Business Data Analyst, working with numbers by day, but words by night. She grew up escaping the world, into the other realities of books, TV shows, and movies, and now she writes about those same worlds. Her only hope in life is to reach one person with her work, the way so many others had reached her. As a TV addict and avid movie goer, her entire life is just one big research project, focused on generating innovative ideas for worlds that don’t exist anywhere other than in her sick, twisted mind.

Book preview

Chapter One

Surgery

Ow, I said. I hissed as the pain sliced up my arm. It felt like someone was stabbing me in the spine with my own arm, while it was still attached. Ow, ow, ow.

Oh, relax, Lieutenant Yantz said. It was exactly the wrong thing for the surgeon to say at that moment. I just glared over at him from my seat, wondering if the man was some kind of sadist. If he got off on causing other people pain. If he was a dentist in another life, or perhaps even this one. The glare only lasted until the next spasm of pain lanced up my arm.

You can squeeze my hand if it'll help, Kenya said, in her familiar twang. She was sitting next to me, her left hand holding my right. On the back of her wrist was her own implant, something new that she had gotten during the week that we were apart. Unlike my old implant, this one was flush against her skin, making it seem almost like it was a part of her arm, rather than surgically implanted in it. Seeing it there made me wish that I had stayed behind on Earth. That I had been with her when she had gotten it so that I could have held her hand, much like she was holding mine.

But that would have meant not going home. Not seeing my mother for what might be the last time. Not visiting her in the hospital, where she was stuck getting treatment for the demense. And, perhaps more importantly, not realizing my feelings for Kenya. For my wife.

Ow, I shouted. My voice echoed around the small, metal room. My hand clenched of its own volition, squeezing onto Kenya's at her invitation. I tried not to look over at my left arm, at where the surgeon was twisting my old implant back and forth, slowly wiggling it out of the socket. But as the pain lanced up my arm again, I had to look, if for no other reason than to check that my hand was still there.

My old implant had been there since before I could remember. It's been a part of me, quite literally, for well over a decade. But after the run in with the demon at the academy, it hadn't been working. It was either get it fixed for the umpteenth time or replace it with the newer model. And Kenya had gotten the newer model while on Earth, as the rest of the cadets at the academy were waiting on their orders.

Almost got it, the surgeon said. He was holding the implant with a strange device that looked like it was designed to do exactly what it was doing, clamp down on old implants and remove them from where they were implanted. Still, it didn't seem to be doing it all that well. The metal tongs wrapped around the edge of the implant, holding it tightly, as the surgeon twisted it back and forth. Twisted me back and forth. And it was that twisting that was causing the pain to hit every nerve that I had in my arm, and several that I felt it created in order to cause me more pain.

Hurry up already, I said, through clenched teeth. As the man gave another hard twist, I looked back over to the door behind me. Looking for my exit. Looking for my escape. The fact that the door was behind me didn't even flash through my head the entire time, as my enemy was right in front of me.

There, the surgeon said. I looked back at the implant, but it still looked attached to my arm. He kept twisting it back and forth, but I no longer felt the pain slicing through me. My eyes went wide as all the possibilities of what that could mean ran through my head. Did he damage me so much that I could no longer feel the pain? Would I be able to use my arm again? I wanted to try to move it, but the clamps holding it in place were still attached. As was my arm, thankfully.

With two more twists, the surgeon pulled the implant away from its place on my arm. From where it had been for almost my whole life. As it came away, I could hear a sick, slick sound. Weird tendrils clung to it, stretching down into where it had once been attached. The surgeon pulled the implant away, placing it on a metal tray that had been hanging there next to my arm the entire time. The tendrils only broke off once the lip of the tray cut them away.

These old implants, the surgeon said, shaking his head. Sometimes I wonder how they didn't cause more arms to fall off. Don't worry about that puss, though. The new implant will clean it up for you.

I looked down at my old implant, just sitting there on the tray. It was my oldest friend, even older than Kenya sitting next to me. I had known it as well as I had known myself, and often felt like it had known me just as well. But it just stared up at me with that blank face, the blank display that it had had for over a week. More than that, it was no longer attached to me, and I was no longer attached to it.

Now, the new one? the surgeon said. He held out his hand towards Kenya. She fumbled around in the pockets of her uniform, looking for the new implant. Her left hand stayed in mine, stayed connected to me even though the pain had receded. I wasn't sure if that was for my benefit or for hers. So that I wouldn't feel alone or so that she could have that solid confirmation that I was still there with her. Still beside her.

Here it is, Kenya said. She pulled it out of her pocket. As she did, a bundle of tissues came out with it, tumbling onto the floor next to her. They were clearly used, balled up and bunched up into linty balls of fluff. Kenya had a habit of keeping a tissue long after it was destroyed. But they were reminders of how she may have been passing the time while I was away. I just hoped that she didn't spend too many nights crying herself to sleep.

Ah, good, still in the sleeve, the surgeon said. He took the implant carefully in both hands, though Kenya had clearly not been careful with it. Nor have I in the past. It was hard to manage when the implant was attached to you. But I could see where the sensitive connections on the base of it were still exposed, waiting to be slid into the cavity where the old one had been. The surgeon carefully placed the new implant on the tray, right next to the old one, as he started to slide it out of the protective sleeve.

As he worked to prepare the new implant, I couldn't help but look down at my arm. Down where the old implant had been. There was a gaping hole there, a large emptiness that the new one would need to fill. I could just make out the edges of the bones on either side of the cavity. Along the base of the hole, I could see the arteries and veins that would flow past it, providing the implant with the biological energy it ran off of. The nerves and tendons wrapped around the area, surgically adjusted when the cavity was first drilled into my arm, back when I had first gotten the implant. As my finger twitched in the restraints, I could see it all flowing, sliding to and fro, flicking back and forth.

Oh, god, I think I'm going to be sick, I said. I turned away from the sight, my hand going to my mouth.

Not in the cavity, Lieutenant Yantz yelled. He reached his hand over the hole, though he didn't touch it. Didn't touch me.

I got her, Kenya said. You just get that thing in place so we can go. Kenya placed her right hand to my forehead, pulling my head into her shoulder. Her hand felt cold against my skin, cooling me and calming my stomach. Her smell was suddenly everywhere, flooding my senses and stirring up other reactions that couldn't be further from the nausea. I couldn't help but smile at that thought, though neither of them would have noticed.

Here we go, the surgeon said. I had to resist the urge to look back towards my arm, but Kenya's hand kept me against her chest. Her breast brushed against my cheek, reminding me of the disaster of a movie date the other week, back at the academy. While I've come to terms with my feelings for Kenya, for my best friend turned wife, I still wasn't sure what they meant. What we were going to be doing about them. What I was going to be doing about them. It was all too new to me, too weird to me, for me to just rush into things with her.

I could feel the smooth surface of the new implant slide against my skin as it slipped into the old cavity. Another sharp slash of pain lanced up my arm as it attached itself to me. But unlike with the removal of the old implant, the pain didn't linger. It didn't shoot all the way up my spine. It was more like the feeling of getting my ears pierced back in eighth grade, a swift pop and it was done.

Kenya let go of my head, though her hand still clung to mine. I looked over at my arm, at the new implant that was there. The surgeon was taking a sterile cloth to it, cleaning up the gunk that still stayed around the edges. Leftovers of the puss from the old implant. I had never had a problem of puss escaping from the implant cavity before, and I couldn't help but wonder just what would have happened had I not replaced the thing when I had.

Once the surgeon was done cleaning up my arm, he pressed a button on the side of the clamp and my arm was suddenly free. I lifted it slowly, rotating it back and forth as I tested it out, making sure that I could still use the hand. Could still move it. Could still feel it. One by one, I flexed my fingers, feigning typing, though I rarely did that with that hand. Once I was sure that there was no damage from the swap of implants, I reached over to the new implant. It was now attached to my arm where it would be for the next decade, much like the last implant had been there for the last one.

With a long, hard press on the implant, I watched with bated breath as it booted up. I could see a progress bar glowing against my fingers as the display started to work. It didn't boot as quickly as my last implant did, but that might have just been the first boot. The implant would be pulling my old saved data off the server, from the last saved backup off of my last implant that had gone out through the ansible. I wasn't sure what, if anything, I would have lost off the old implant, though anything that I wouldn't have saved to the cloud would be no real loss.

The implant gave off a small chime as the time displayed across its surface. It first showed New Kansas Standard Metric Time before switching over to Terran Alliance Fleet Standard Time, the time we would need to keep on all Fleet ships, including the Navinda. My fingers lingered there for a moment before sliding down along the surface of the implant, pulling open the display on my arm. The familiar sound of my email notification chime sounded out as the thirty emails that I had gotten in the little over a week were all downloaded off the server. That was one benefit to being on a ship with an ansible. More than that, the three searches that I had been running on the day that we were attacked came up, showing me the results that I had missed out on due to the attack. Showing me that nothing had been lost by the destruction of my old implant.

Once all of that had come up, I flipped over to my family tracker app, just to make sure that it was compatible with the new implant. The display came up faster than on my old implant, showing the now four green circles, along with the names corresponding with the members of my family. Kenya's circle had been added to that of me and my parents. It surprised me a little that Mom's circle was green as well, not registering that she had the demense. But I guessed that her implant wasn't sophisticated enough to detect that. Even as stale as those statuses could be, coming through the same bandwidth limitations as all other ansible traffic, Mom had had the demense for far too long for the app to have missed it.

Better? the surgeon asked, motioning to my new implant.

I don't know, I said. I miss the little bump of the old one. It feels weird sliding off of this directly onto my arm like that.

You get used to it, Kenya said, giving me a smirk and a shrug. Kenya had almost as much familiarity with my old implant as I did, having used it often back when we were in high school. Back before she had her own implant. That loss seemed the harder one to swallow, knowing that Kenya wouldn't need to use my implant anymore.

Anyway, I'll dispose of this old one, the surgeon said. He pointed down at my old implant, sneering down at it like it was something that he had stepped in.

I almost want to give it a proper burial, I said, looking over at it like the lost appendage that it was. Is that weird?

No, Kenya said.

Yes, Lieutenant Yantz said. I'll be jettisoning it with the rest of the biohazard waste, so it's something of a burial. If that makes you feel any better.

Can I keep it? I asked. Stick it in the sleeve from the new one? When we get back to New Kansas, I can bury it out in the badlands, let the terraformers decompose it and inject it into the air.

Okay, no, that is weird, Kenya said. Let's not get attached to it, shall we?

Now that it's no longer attached to me? I asked, smiling over at her. She just shook her head at my bad play on words.

So... Can I just jettison it then? the surgeon asked. He pointed behind himself, towards a shoot that was labeled Biohazard Waste. With the med bay at the far end of the side corridor, space really was just on the other side of that bulkhead. I shrugged, then nodded, figuring we'd at least be there for the only funeral that my implant was going to get.

Chapter Two

New Home

I kept twisting and flexing my wrist, trying to get used to the new implant, as Kenya led me through the corridors of the ship. Her left hand never left my right, pulling me forward tethered to her. My official tour of the ship had been interrupted when I saw her down a side corridor, so I still didn't know my way around the place. But now that I had my implant, a new, functioning implant, I'd be able to map the place out and get a real feel of the ship that would be our home for the next few months.

Longer, if the war lagged on.

We're right up here, Kenya said, leading me over to a compartment on the left. However, as I had no idea where I was in comparison to where I had gotten on the ship, that wasn't saying much. On the front of the door, it read Burch-Scott Horowitz. I wasn't sure where the Horowitz came from. We hot-swap the place with another couple, so we're limited to when we can be in the compartment.

What? I asked. This surprised me to no end. I didn't remember anything like that happening back when I was on the Hord growing up.

We're only fleetmen, Kenya said. We're lucky to be getting a cabin at all. If we had made it through the training at the academy before this whole thing started, we might have gotten our own cabin. And... Well... It's not exactly that big.

Big enough for two couples? I asked.

She pressed a button next to the door, causing it to slide open and reveal the tiny compartment inside. The bed was tucked against the wall on the right, barely large enough for the two of us to lie next to each other. I could see four lockers built into the wall behind it. Four more lockers were built into the wall on the left, though each was only half a meter wide. My duffle was peeking out of the one on the far left, where Kenya had hastily stashed it before we headed down to the surgeon's office. Compared to the closet space that we had at the academy, it was nothing. I wasn't sure how Kenya was making do. The only other thing in the entire room was a mirror against the far wall. I was just grateful that it wasn't on the ceiling.

This is it? I asked, looking around at the place. For four people?

Well, two at a time, she said. We're on third watch and they're on second, so we can sleep during second watch, and they sleep during first. Just be thankful we're not hot-swapping with a third couple. She nodded over to the door next to ours, which had three pairs of names on it. Three couples where no one had taken their spouse's names.

Wait, what watch is it now? I asked. Should we be sleeping or working right now if no one is in here?

Kenya looked at her implant, which I was still getting used to. It was another reminder of how much had changed since we first left New Kansas just a few months earlier. Second watch is still half an hour away, so we have some time. The Horowitz's are probably grabbing breakfast before their shift starts. They were sleeping when I stashed your duffle. It's not that we can't come in here when it's not our turn, but it's a bit weird and awkward.

And a little rude, I said. I shuddered at the thought of the Horowitz's coming into the room while we were sleeping.

Trust me, it's better than the common compartment, Kenya said. You're lucky to get a curtain for privacy in there. And some of those racks are still hot-swap. These old ships don't have the space of the new juggernauts, that's for sure.

I'll say, I said. I literally had a storage closet bigger than this place on the Hillary. Where are we supposed to be hanging out during off hours if not here?

Hanging out? Kenya asked. Dor, we're in the middle of a war.

I know that, Kenya. I just meant...

There are common areas. The mess isn't too tiny, and many people hang out there. There's also a classroom for people to get certifications. Even though we both earned our ratings, we still need to get certified in a bunch of stuff. Downstairs, there's a sitting room and rec room, but both are small and tend to fill up quickly. Then there's our actual watches. Do you know where you're supposed to be going in the morning?

Is that a trick question? I asked. The morning would be first watch, so we'd be just getting off duty, wouldn't we? I smiled over at her, but she just rolled her eyes.

You know what I mean. When you go on watch. Third watch, so the middle of the night, smarty pants.

Yea, Ensign Hamilton told me after I broke off from his tour. I was a little distracted at the moment, but I still remember what he said. I'm supposed to meet with him on the bridge an hour before my watch starts. Huh, I guess I should probably go to sleep then, given how early I'd be expected to get up... or late, or whatever. This is going to be hell, isn't it.

Eh, you get used to it, Kenya said, shrugging. But, yea, we should probably hit the mess then hit the hay. I was actually heading over there when... Kenya blushed as she broke off. She too seemed to remember what had happened before my surgery. When I had first spotted her in that side corridor. As I looked around the hallway that we were in, I suddenly realized that we were standing right where she had been. Where I had spotted her coming out of the room. Where I had grabbed her close and...

Ah, right, I said, smiling at the memory.

It was still new to me. All new. While Kenya and I had technically been married for months, it was mostly just a friendship. An extension on what we had back on New Kansas. Nothing more. At least, not for me. Not until recently. It was different for Kenya, perhaps even from the start. We haven't really discussed that much. If it wasn't for her blurting the whole thing out as I was packing for my leave at the academy, I'd probably still be in the dark about everything. About her feelings. About mine.

Kenya smiled back at me as she started leading the way down the hall. I hit the button next to the door as we passed it, closing it behind us. My hand automatically found its way into Kenya's. However, the corridor wasn't wide enough for us to walk next to each other while traffic was coming the opposite way.

Unlike most ships in the Alliance, the Navinda wasn't delnadian friendly. The overheads were only two and a half meters up, with the corridors just wide enough to fit two humans across. There would be areas in the ship more fitted to the delnadians that would have been assigned to the ship, assigned to keeping the FTL drives running. But the delnadians would have been stuck in those areas, working, eating, sleeping, and hanging out there. And with the new FTL drives, human made and human maintained, there would be no delnadians on the ship. They were all on the other side of the war anyway.

As we turned the corner into the main corridor, I flipped open the display on my implant, making sure that my usual mapping application was running as Kenya led me through the place. I had used it back on the Delnadian space station to map it, though the layout had changed on a daily basis. I doubted that would be a problem on the Navinda, but I needed something to help out as I got used to the new environment. While Kenya had been on the ship for a week already, I shouldn't rely on her to lead me around all the time.

There were wide open doorways on both sides of the hall just a few meters past our corridor. On the left, there was what looked like a classroom, complete with the usual chairs and a smart board across from the door. There were about twenty desks inside, half of which were taken by fleetmen in coveralls, huddled over as they focused on the displays in front of them. On the right, there was the mess hall, with several tables all in rows stretching out through a similar space to the classroom. The conversation was muted inside, perhaps so that their voices didn't carry over across the hall.

Kenya headed inside the mess. As she led the way down the main aisle between the tables, she waved at several people all over the space. I looked over to where she was waving, noticing several different people in several other cliques waving back. Kenya seemed popular on the Navinda, something that neither of us was back on New Kansas. It once again reminded me of how Kenya was always in her element while in the Fleet.

If anything, I had been the popular one of our group in high school, the one that had unified Kenya, Fom, and Eric into the amazing quartet that we were. I was the one that had run for student body vice president. Kenya had always been the one with her head down, her nose in a book. But with the reminder of her confession to me fresh on my mind, I had realized why that was. Why she had withered back on New Kansas and thrived in the Fleet. It wasn't that it was the Fleet so much as that it wasn't New Kansas. Kenya could be herself there, her usual, happy self, without worrying about her secret getting out. About people railing on her for being gay. About losing me by confessing her feelings for me, because I felt the same back.

Or, at least, I felt enough of the same back. I cared about her, loved her even. But it was still too new to me for me to be sure. There was still enough of the stigma that New Kansas had imposed on the idea with me. It was like I had two left feet, too unsure about myself to get out of my own way. As I looked over at her, I had an unsettling feeling like it wasn't enough. That I wouldn't be enough for her.

On the far side of the mess, there were several serving stations embedded into the wall. No one was serving the food, but there was a small door off to the side that led back to the kitchen. I figured that the trays were occasionally refreshed from in there. A sign next to the pile of trays read Take all you want, but eat all you take. It seemed like a fine rule to have on a starship.

Wait, what meal is this? I asked, as I looked across the trays. A wide range of foods was there, with eggs, bacon, and sausage on the left, bread and cold cuts in the middle, and lasagna on the right. It looked like all three meals in one, something of a blinner or something.

Whatever meal you want it to be, Kenya said, shrugging, as she moved over to the lasagna. Since we're about to head to bed, I'd suggest we try dinner, shall we?

Okay, but I'm going to be having pancakes whenever they're put out, no matter what time of day it is. You know they're my one weakness.

Oh, I can think of a few other weaknesses, she teased, smiling over at me to take the bite out of the words. But fair warning, they're not magic pancakes. They do have the full calories and everything. I'm not sure I can stay married to you if you gain a hundred kilos.

Wait, I thought that was part of the benefit of being married, I said. Being able to let yourself go.

Yea, don't let your CO hear you say that. We still have a PT requirement, even on the ship. The gym is up a level from here. Maybe you should hit there before heading to bed.

She smiled up at me as she poked me in my belly. Granted, I hadn't been getting much exercise while on leave, largely because of the close quarters of the ship that I was on while heading to New Kansas. It might be a good idea to get back into shape before too long. It was hard enough getting there the first time around, with the petty officers at basic yelling at me and forcing me to go to PT multiple times a day.

Honestly, might not be a bad idea, I said. It's still early for me. I kept the same schedule during leave as we had back at the academy. Which means it's barely dinner time right now, let alone bed time.

Oh, no, Kenya said, as she led the way to a clear section of the first table over. Adjusting to the new schedule starts with going to bed early, not late. I know how hard it is to wake you up when you actually had a good night's sleep. It's not going to fall on me to get you out of bed in time for you to be early for your watch tomorrow. I fully intend to sleep till forty-five millies before third watch. It's the perfect timing to get a quick shower, grab breakfast, and get to the bridge. With you needing to be there early, you'll be lucky to get six hours in as it is. Trust me, more is more when it comes to sleep. Once we eat, you're coming home with me.

Yes, ma'am, I said, smiling over at her. But I couldn't help but hear another connotation to her words. One that I wasn't quite ready for, no matter what my feelings for her were.

Chapter Three

First Third Watch

My implant vibrated heavily, jarring me out of what was the best dream I've had in a while. There was something about dozens of men carrying me through an old city from one of those old movies Fom used to make me watch. Thing is, all of the men had Kenya's face, which only seemed to make them more attractive for some reason. However, Kenya would never have muscles like those men had, no matter how much stronger than me she was.

I looked down at her beside me, huddled into the corner of the bed next to the wall. It wasn't often that I got to watch Kenya sleep, as she was very much a morning person and I... wasn't. I wanted to just lie there, watching her sleep in the low light of the room. But I knew that, if I didn't get up right away, I'd be late for my watch.

Well... late for being on time for being early to my watch. I glanced over at my implant to check the time. Sure enough, it was sixty-three millies, ninety minutes, before third watch. As I lay there, giving my mind time to wake up, I gave myself just three millies to stare down at Kenya. At my wife. At the woman that I loved. I still was struggling to get over the fact that I loved a woman.

When those three millies became eight, I started to kick myself as I pulled myself out of bed. That used to be Kenya's job, but as she continued sleeping next to me I had to do it myself. Skipping the shower for the morning, I quickly threw on my work uniform, the uniform of the day for all bridge watches. It took me longer than it should have, just poking around the closets in the room until I found my stuff, hastily hung before heading to bed the night before. Well, the few diddies before. Could it really be called night if the time was barely in the evening? It wasn't even midnight yet by the ship's clock.

By the time I was ready and slipping quietly out of the room, I was extremely glad that I skipped the shower. There was barely enough time to grab something from the mess on my way to the bridge. Fortunately, they didn't tempt me with pancakes, so I just threw together something of an egg sandwich from the scrambled eggs, bacon, and bread. By the time I made it to the bridge, at the far end of the main corridor, it was gone, and I was ready to stand my first watch.

Whatever that entailed.

I paused at the entrance to the bridge. The place was bigger than I was expecting, bigger than any bridge I had seen before. Even bigger than the one in the simulator back at basic. There was a large viewscreen on the far wall, sloped out a little as if it were a window out into space beyond. But as the display was showing our FTL path through the galaxy rather than the stars whizzing past us, I figured it was a proper display. The captain's chair in front of the entrance was turned towards the screen. Someone who was very much not the captain of the ship was sitting in it, watching our progress as the ship headed through space.

In front of him were two more stations, with navigation on the left and engineering on the right. These were more familiar. The stations that the Last Resort had, the little ship we took to escape the Delnadian space station. Tactical would be in there somewhere as well, but the station I'd be most concerned with, the communications station, was against the far wall on the right. I could just see it over in the corner, around everyone else. However, my CO, Ensign Hamilton, was not the person sitting there.

Second watch still had another hour or so to go, and none of them in there were expecting someone to relieve them. I didn't feel comfortable just walking onto the bridge like that, without really knowing what I was supposed to be doing. Where I was supposed to go to wait out the time. I glanced down at my implant again, wondering if I was really that early.

Well, at least you're on time, Ensign Hamilton said, as he came up behind me. With some of these new recruits, it's been a bit of a crapshoot. Of course, I'd be stuck on a ship full of recruits, rather than one with a more experienced crew.

I turned at the sound of his voice, snapping a salute as I was expected to do when first seeing each officer for the day. I wasn't sure just how many officers were on the ship, or how best to track which ones I had saluted already. But I figured no one would care if I saluted too much. As both of his hands were full, he just nodded towards me.

Alright, I'll be brief, he said.

He handed me a small, thin device, roughly the size of two pens next to each other. As he did so, he took a long pull off of the coffee mug in his other hand. I spent that moment of silence pulling the two sides of the device apart. The screen of the tablet expanded, filling the space between the two sides as the top and bottom supports clicked into place.

This is your issued device. Do not use your implant for your work, as it's not secure. I know you went through all the trouble of getting your upgrade yesterday, and that's fine. No work goes on the implant. No using it for personal stuff during your watch. From 0100 to 0900, 0:41 to 3:75, that implant doesn't exist. Understood?

Yes, sir, I said, nodding to him. I couldn't help but look down at my implant, though.

When your watch starts, you'll head onto the bridge and relieve the second watch. Don't get all squeamish about it. There's nothing special about the bridge. It's not some magical realm that only the officers belong on. Just walk up, tell him you're relieving him, and let him head off to grab some rack time. Much as I'll be doing for you in a few hours. Understood?

Yes, sir, I said.

Now, you're rated, he said, pointing to my sleeve, but not certified. That's not really an issue at this point. Not for third watch. Not for now. But you're expected to get certified in the next couple of days. Fortunately, our main watch standing isn't all that exciting. You can get some of the coursework done in the next few hours. If anything comes in, that's the only thing that's happening, but otherwise I want your nose in the textbook. Fleetman Cruise over there was certified in a day. Try to beat that time. Understood?

Yes, sir, I said.

Good. I'm hoping that you won't make a complete fool of yourself on the first day. If you have questions, check the textbook. I do not want to be called unless it's an emergency. If you can't figure it out and the message is flagged, or if anything goes offline, call me first. If you can't reach me, call the XO. But I'll be reachable. I'm a light sleeper. Now, I think that's everything. Any questions?

I stood there, at a loss for words. With having to be there an hour early, I had been expecting something more. Something bigger. At the very least, I expected to be sitting with him at the station for at least some time of my watch. While A-school was only a couple of weeks earlier, they never went over what was actually done while on watch. It was all just the basics, the fundamentals, much like in high school back home. To think that I'd already be ready to stand a watch alone on my first day was unthinkable. But that was what he was expecting of me.

Um... Why-why did I need to be here an hour early if the explanation can be done in five minutes? With my sleep deprived mind, that was the best question that I could come up with.

That was for my benefit, not yours, he said around a huge yawn. I sleep during third watch, so I'll be able to get to bed on time. Don't make me regret letting you figure this out on your own. The watch really isn't that hard, and I always find it easiest to teach by simply making you do it. Besides, you'll have the rest of the hour to look over your textbook.

He tapped on my new tablet, indicating that I should already be looking it over. I tapped the screen, waking up the display. The link for the textbook was on the home screen, right next to the main interface window. Instead of looking at the textbook, I brought up the interface, wanting to see just what I had gotten myself into. I could just see a smile on the ensign's face out of the corner of my eye as I looked down at what really was a very familiar interface. We had gone over it briefly back at A-school. And because of how the demons had been testing me there, I had a better understanding of the interface than most people.

Alright, I'll take that to mean you have no more questions. Good luck in there. You shouldn't need it. Feel free to relieve Cruise early if you feel comfortable enough, but don't be late for watch. As much of a cakewalk as it is, it really is an important station. We've had to have more drawn out watches while you were off on leave. You have a lot of work to make up for.

Yes, sir, I said, nodding towards him, as he headed back down the corridor. He quickly disappeared into the crowd that was mulling around by the mess hall. I wasn't sure if he headed in there or if he continued on to the compartments beyond.

For the first few millies, I just looked at the interface. It was already synced with the watch station, but most of the controls were disabled. I watched as messages slowly came in through the main buffer. Most of these were flagged personal or non-classified intel and were already routed through to the designated targets for the messages. Neither would be readable from the interface without the right clearance, though