Chapter 4

Training Log: Cadet Matthew T. Warren,
September 15, 2528, 0100 hours

Holly and I went into town for a romantic dinner after training finished for the day. It’s going well between us, better than any of my high school relationships. Looks like I’ll have a date for Christmas and New Years.

We returned to the campus at 10, where Holly chose to go to bed, but I decided to have a drink with Liam in the bar. We’d only just started when a fight broke out between Jack Della Bosca and Marc Casey, one of the second year-cadets, who was on bar duty this week. The bar was cleared out quickly, and Liam and I went back to our rooms.

I got back to the room at 11:00 pm to find Val sitting at the table, which was covered in leaflets, the ones we got at a seminar on the elective courses next year a few days ago.

Before I could say anything he asked me about my date with Holly. “It was at a seafood restaurant by the bay. Meals around $30 each. Good background music, pleasant conversation. We split the tab.”

Val nodded, approving. “And she’s not here because…”

“Waiting for the third date. So anyway, what’s with the brochures?” He explained that he was trying to choose an elective, and that he'd set himself a deadline for it – the end of September. I rolled my eyes. “There's already a deadline, and it's seven months away. What's the hurry?”

“I can't fly for shit, I need to spend the next seven months practicing for wherever I end up, because, right now, I can't see myself on a carrier.”

Alarm bells started ringing in my head. This is not the guy I met the day we moved in. I sat down. “Val, you are ten times the pilot I am. I'm doing mechanics because it's the only path I have to a carrier. My flight rating in the entrance exam was 56, I'm never going to be a frontline fighter. What was yours?”

Val looked up. “95. But that was on a glorified arcade game. It didn't have kamikaze pilots and friggin' simulated wind. It also didn't have the capacity to wipe out your entire squadron in the process.”

So that’s what this was about. Not surprising, the rest of the class hadn’t exactly been supportive. “Dude, that was not your fault. It probably would have happened no matter who was leading, none of would have been any more prepared for the wind than you were. Anyway, no one knows why the entire network crashed, it must have been badly connected or the wrong program was chosen or something. I don't know, I’m not an expert. But, again, not your fault.”

“Doesn't change the fact that no one is talking to me. Except you and Selina and Holly.”

“Well, Holly isn't, but that's not…” I paused, kicking myself. True, Holly hadn't been talking to him, but she'd been kind of fixated on me since we met. “No one blames you anymore except Della Bosca and if you’d seen him in the bar downstairs, you wouldn’t be listening to him either. You just need to put yourself out there. Help Marcus with the simulators and prove you're good at something. To the squadron and yourself.”

Val reluctantly agreed, but I don't think I've had that much of an effect. The guy is in serious need of a confidence booster or he'll end his career before it starts.