Of Hearts And Stars (Classic Editon) (The Cadet Starship Chronicles) (8 page)

Zach looked over at Frankie, sitting alone and looking quite depressed “That's one hell of a friend you've got there.”

“
I'm gonna go talk to him.” Swift said.

“
Sure thing.”

Swift walked over to Frankie, who had a Bible in his hands. Although he never read one before, he thought one day he might sit down and do some reading.

Swift stood next to him and said “Hey.”

Frankie saw that it was Swift and looked away “Hey...”

“
I heard what you did. All of it. Thank you so much.”

A tear rolled down Frankie's cheek, followed by another.

“
No...I messed up.”

Swift placed a hand on Frankie's shoulder.

“
It's not your fault. We both tried, and we both couldn't
stop it. Ollie forgave you, and so have I.” Swift said from the bottom of his heart, and when Frankie looked at him again he saw
a rarity. A genuine smile on the face of Leoric Swift. Frankie smiled back, and they shook hands before parting ways.

On the way out Zach shot Swift a playful punch to the arm.

“
Hey!” Swift hollered.

“
That was very cool of you, and I'm proud of you, as usual. Swag plus one million.”

Swift loosened his tie and put his hands behind his head “I am The Based God.” he said and they walked off laughing.

PART TWO

Gin Gets In

-
23
-

Mr. Method cursed under his breath and wiped his forehead. This could be it. The end. After all of his struggles throughout life, he faced the very real possibility of losing it all to an enemy that he had known for so long, but had yet to find a way to defeat. He looked at the date on his monitor and recoiled as if struck a fierce blow. Indeed, Monday had come for him yet again.

With some reluctance he opened his inbox and went to the new mail tab. The subject lines looked something like this:

Mission #12-0857 ESC-1 LaCroix – Violation of procedures

Mission #12-0912 ESC-1 LaCroix – Unauthorized equipment

Alex DeFau tagged you on Facebook

Verify your Trion Worlds account

Instructor's Meeting – Attendance is Mandatory

“
Ohhhhaaaaaauggh.” Zach groaned when he read the last one. He could deal with Swift flying around out there being a little madman. The geeks from techsec, or technical security, bugging him about using his work email for personal things wasn't an issue, but mandatory Instructor's meetings? He muttered under his breath “Smoke that noise, those things are cruel torture devices, crafted in the deepest pits of hell.” If he was going to get out of this, he needed to be fast. He needed to be strong.

“
What if...” he said to himself as he took out his smartphone and switched the mirror on. Come to think of it, he did looked a little sick this morning when he was shaving. Mr. Method inspected his eyes, mouth, nose and then coughed a little. Fail. No one would buy him being sick on the day of a mandatory meeting, even if he included a free television with the deal.

He pulled at the hair on top of his head and said “I...I can't lose here.”

Whenever there is a mandatory Instructor's meeting, the first thing that comes to Zach's mind is that windbag Tamsen, one of the Political Philosophy Instructors, grinding on and on about the sanitation of the staff bathrooms. Then comes the lectures on how cleanliness reflects one's character. Then came Burgato, the Life Studies Instructor, who follows up with his thinly veiled disapproval of his fellow staff. Apparently that jerk thought he could be as nasty and insulting as possible if he smeared the phrase “constructive criticism” over it. Then the other instructors would chime in for some good old Swift bashing. This was just the tip of the iceberg.

“
No way...this sucks.” Zach said, wiping his face.

He stared blankly at his schedule and sure enough there were no afternoon classes. Zach was sure that if he were a cadet, he would much rather prefer Combat Theory in the afternoon, during mandatory meetings, than in the morning. Either way using a class as an excuse was out of the picture. He went through a stack of memos and his heart jumped.

“
That's it! How could I have forgotten?” he asked.

Student Crew Try-outs were starting right after lunch, and he was the chairman of the Student Crew program here at the academy.

“
Swag.” he said with a grin.

-
24
-

Every hero needs a sidekick. Whoever thinks that this might be true probably did not have Corrigin O'Hare in mind. Far from perfect, Corrigin is just trying not to be worthless. He always has good enough grades to be average, and in Physical Education he's moderate at best. He never gets picked first for dodge ball, but somehow doesn't get picked last. It's not that he lacks the potential for greatness or that he doesn't care enough to apply himself, he just excels at being ordinary. Which is actually quite normal, and that was the problem.

Desiring a bright and successful future for their son, Corrigin's parents enrolled him in Arbalest Military Academy, a learning institute with a major emphasis on ship to ship combat and technology. Corrigin felt his parents never gave him enough attention. He is the middle child between his little sister, who is a musical prodigy, and his big brother Alan. Alan, the genius inventor. So Corrigin guessed that his parents shipped him off here to keep him out of sight, not like that was entirely hard to do anyway.

Like any other kid going to a new school, Corrigin was curious and did a search on Arbalest Solar Academy. The posts on the cadet forums were startling to say the least. Rampant bullying, snobby cliques, impossibly hard classes, and mean teachers awaited him. He thought to himself “I'm screwed.”

When he went to plead his case to his parents they simply stated this was normal for a school like Arbalest Solar Academy. When he insisted that this school was a particularly bad case, his parents told him that he was being irrational, which was perfectly normal behavior for a boy his age. Corrigin came to the conclusion that normality sucks.

-
25
-

On his first day of school at Arbalest Solar Academy Corrigin walked in ready to be chewed up and spit back out. Here comes the new guy, Mr. Fresh Meat. He had been standing at a water fountain, waiting for his next class to start, when it happened.

An upperclassman approached him with a sneer on his face and asked “Sup dork?”

Corrigin got the impression that this guy really didn't want to know what was up, but still replied “Oh, you know man. Just waiting for my next class to start.”

The upperclassman cracked his knuckles and asked “What's the matter loser? Cat got your tongue?”

“
I er wait... What?” Corrigin asked confoundedly.

The upperclassman moved passed him and grabbed a student that had been standing behind him.

“
This'll be a slaughter!” said the upperclassman as he began to wail on the unfortunate student.

“
Holy cow dude!” shouted Corrigin, and he ran off to find an instructor. The one he did find appeared mildly interested to the news of a cadet being pummeled, and indolently said he would write a report.

Class wasn't any better. When he had the answer to a question Gin would raise his hand, and each time the instructor would call on another cadet. He tried standing up and raising his hand, only to have the cadet behind him called upon. Finally he tried walking to the front of the class and putting both hands up, and yet again he was not called on to answer the question. He wasn't even told to go back to his seat. Such is the fate of the hopelessly plain and normal.

After a week of many similar situations Corrigin felt as if he were a ghost. He came and went as he pleased, often taking unannounced bathroom breaks during class. He had to bring his finished assignments to the teacher's desk, and since his papers were not returned with the others he had to collect them himself. Oddly enough his papers were graded despite his overwhelming obscurity, and for his efforts he received B’s as usual. During lunch he would fix his own tray, taking whatever he whatever he wanted to eat. Extra fries? Word. Endless salad bowls? Just like it says on tv. Seating was never a problem, as he would sit wherever he pleased without so much as a passing glance. Today with the cool kids, tomorrow with the outcasts. Hold on, he's got lunch with the jocks on Wednesday. Ghosts were like the depressing VIPs of the lunchroom.

One day Corrigin found himself in the library when he should have been in algebra. In his defense, he had already taken all of the notes and turned in the assignment of the day before wandering aimlessly into the hallway. The selection of books in the library impressed him. Wall to wall bookshelves, with material ranging from classic literature to present date technical publications on all sorts of military equipment, surrounded rows of many more packed shelves. He walked the aisles, browsing the shelves, until he came to the study area and stopped. On a table in the middle he found a series of complex hand written notes.

“
Whoa...” he murmured.

A lot of the concepts and theories presented in these notes were over his head, but from what he could understand it seemed unreal. Could these have actually have been written by a fellow cadet? Corrigin began to get an unsettling feeling all of a sudden, like someone was watching him. He turned slowly and looked down to see a pair of alert vibrant green eyes peering out at him from behind red bangs. The owner of these eyes was a short and slim girl that appeared to be his age. Her dress made her look like a life sized Victorian doll, the ones which some people like to collect.

“
Hello there.” she said in a soft tone.

Corrigin jumped back, and his hand almost slipped as it landed on some papers scattered across the table top. He did not expect her to acknowledge him at all.

“
I was- I- I mean I was...” he stammered.

She looked past him at the table and said “By the looks of it, you seem to be interested in phase-shifting laser modules.”

Corrigin leaned back, squinted his eyes and asked “You can...
see
me?”

She giggled and said “Yes. Yes I can... and you're being just a tad creepy.”

Corrigin looked down and blushed furiously “I'm sorry!”

She moved past him and set some more books on the table “It's okay, you're forgiven.” she said “My name is Reveille James. I'm a researcher and member of LaCroix.”

“
LaCroix?” Corrigin asked.

“
An Elite Student Crew.” she explained and asked “What made you ask if I could see you?”

Corrigin took a chair from the table and sat down “Since my first day here no one has spoken to me, or much less interacted with me in any way.” he replied and added “It's been like I don't even exist.”

Reveille sat down as well, laced her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her “It's been said that perception is reality...what was your name?” she asked.

“
Oh! I'm sorry! My name is Corrigin O'Hare.”

She smiled and said “It's nice to meet you Corrigin. It's been said that perception is reality, so you need to make an impact. That way others will be able to perceive you- thus establishing your existence. Break into this world.”

Corrigin clasped his hands and looked to the side “That's good advice,” he said “but how can I make an impact? I'm just too... normal.”

She shrugged and said “Your curiosity in my notes has left an impact on me.”

Corrigin looked up with a smile and said “They're really cool!”

Reveille smiled back “Thank you! You should talk to my Captain.” she said “He has a... knack for leaving an impact on people. Plus he is very talented when it comes to technology as well. I think you'd have fun talking to him.”

Corrigin was starting to feel better about school since having met Reveille, and the idea of more people like her filled him with excitement. He didn't want to jinx it, but he had the suspicion that he'd make some awesome friends with cadets like these.

“
Where can I find him?” Corrigin asked.

Reveille took out her smartphone and looked at the time and an irritated smirk spread across her lips. Despite not yet knowing why, Corrigin found himself afraid.

“
Well. Seeing as he has calculus right now, he is probably in the arcade. Playing Time Crisis Thirteen.” she said as a vein bulged on her forehead.