For the first time in my existence I was glad I didn’t need much sleep. My time was split between meeting the physical expectations of my training instructors and completing my personal set of simulations. Despite being able to perform better than my entire cohort, my scores were middling at best. I was safe during the first twenty percent reduction, and was well above the threshold for this one, yet the one after that remained under question. I already knew I wouldn’t get assigned to the new ships, but even my staying in any capacity was uncertain.

I closed my eyes and accessed the internal network. The station commandant had allowed me access to any non-restricted information—a reward for the performance penalties I was getting. From a military standpoint I could see the logic: one of my capabilities had to be given challenges to match. On a personal level, I hated it. Getting pushed to the limit by someone else was an entirely new and very human experience. Back when I was a ship, my captains would be the ones to keep me in check. I knew exactly what I was capable of and could give a percentage of my chances for success or failure. Every moment in battle I selected one of the millions of options provided by my subroutines. As a human, people expected me to surpass my limits. I wasn’t sure I could.

“Elcy?” Alicia whispered from the bunk below. “You awake?”

“Always am.” I accessed the cadet rankings. Her performance had dropped slightly the last few days, but she still was among the top six percent. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be selected for the new ships. “What’s wrong.”

“Are you scared?” The tremble in her voice told me she was.

I leaned over the edge of the bunk and looked down. “You’ll get a ship, don’t worry. Your scores are up there and your nanite tolerance ratio is—“

“Jax failed his psyche eval.” She didn’t let me finish. “The standard questions. Nothing difficult, just the same things they ask over and over again... and he failed it.”

“It happens. Psyche isn’t important. If there was anything serious they’d have sent him away.”

I used to perform psyche evaluations on my crew all the time back when I was a ship. There wasn’t a trick or method I didn’t know. My reports were only advisory, of course. No ship could impact the career of a human. Interesting what had caused Jax to flunk his last. I was equally curious why he’d choose to share it.

“It could have been me,” Alicia said, then turned on the side, facing the wall. “When Carmel was sent to planet duty, I felt sorry. It seemed harsh for him to be sent back without getting a chance. Now I think he was the lucky one. How much more painful is it to fail at the end. To put in all that effort and fail to make the final cut... I think it must be horrible.”

“Maybe.” I lied on my back. “But worrying about it doesn’t help.” For a moment I thought I heard her chuckle.

“My father used to say that... all the times I needed him most.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t right.” Decades ago I used to have similar talks with Sev. He had gone through the same fears for entirely different reasons, and I was absolutely terrible with advice. Right now I wasn’t much better, but at least I had lots of practice. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Alicia didn’t add a word. I could hear her pretend to sleep for the next two hours, before she finally dozed off. There was nothing surprising about it, the training program was designed to test the psychic endurance of the candidates just as much as their physical and mental faculties. I couldn’t call myself particularly closer to her, nor was I in any position to help, yet for some reason I wanted to.

After the next twenty percent reduction the instructors made our training harder. Combat, physical, endurance all jumped up by a third. Seven cadets in my group couldn’t keep the pace and quit the first day after the change. They were told to discretely gather their belongings and to move to a free section of D-deck—a place we came to know as “Dropout Section”. Alicia and Jax managed to hold their own, but every day more cadets were sent off.

Theoretical studies also started presenting a challenge. The station commandant ordered that I be removed from the standard courses and subjected to an individual battery of tests. Meanwhile, instructor Theo continued piling strategy problems at the same speed I managed to solve them. I suspected the station systems were monitoring my data connection, sending constant reports on my progress. That was part of the game. Some of the other cadets had realized as well, but kept their mouths shut; no one wanted to give up their advantage.

Four days after the last cut, about three percent of my cohort had quit on their own accord. Sadly, that didn’t impact the reduction rates. That fact hadn’t remained unnoticed. During meals cadets would gather in small groups whispering who they thought would drop out and who not. Alicia had managed to climb back up the rankings and was on the five-percenter’s table. All of them were guaranteed a post, so the competition was solely for the new ships.

When the week ended and the new dropouts were announced, half of the cohort I’d started with had washed out. Most were offered to continue their training on a planet, with some choosing to leave the service altogether. Everyone expected an announcement from the station commandant that the training was over, along with a list of assignments. Instead, we were told to prepare for another reduction in seven days time. After that rumors exploded everywhere.

I did my best to stay away from everyone, but even I couldn’t isolate myself from the speculation. Most of it came from Alicia. Every night after we went to bed she’d share the latest theories she’d heard in the hopes I’d refute them and put her mind at ease. However, with each next day I found myself less inclined to do so. The truth was that I had no idea what the instructors were planning. This had deviated so much from the standard training practices that I had nothing to base it on. If Bull Calf were here, I could ask him. Unfortunately, his return had been postponed.

Halfway through the week we were presented with a new surprise. Most of our theoretical studies were replaced by neural-link exercises in which we performed fleet missions in a virtual environment. To me this wasn’t a huge change from the standard simulations instructor Theo had me run. The rest of the cadets, however, weren’t as prepared; up to now they had only been tasked with solving small, clearly defined problems. Now, for the first time, they were given a taste of command, as well as the freedom to make their own mistakes... which they did in abundance.

Based on what Alicia had told me the missions were similar on the whole: act as a ship’s pilot, or captain, and ensure a successful outcome. It was a pretty standard exercise I had done thousands of times as a ship. The simulation followed the standard double-fail principle—something would inevitably occur to impede the success of the mission, then something else would occur making the solution useless. I shared this with Alicia, even if I knew she’d ignore my advice. Her standing in the top five percent was shaken, while in contrast, I had managed to claw my way up to the middle of the list.

One day before the next announcement I was called for a surprise medical check up. I knew there was nothing to worry about, yet the timing seemed very peculiar.

“Will they kick you out?” Alicia asked, looking up from her datapad. I caught a glance of her tactical assignment. The answers were completely wrong. “I heard the doc is used as an excuse so people don’t freak out.”

“It’ll be alright.” The military was never big on subtleness when it came to bad news. “It’s ship stuff. Pretty routine.”

“If it’s so routine, why—“ she suddenly stopped, looking back down.

“Don’t let it get to you. Being in the service is an endurance game. The last one that quits wins.” My first captain loved that quote. The perfect mixture of wisdom and absurdity, he liked to say. “I’ll be back in a bit. Try to get some sleep.” For a moment she reminded me of Sev as a teen—scared, yet afraid to admit it.

Alicia murmured something under her breath, then pretended to write something on her datapad.

“And recheck your answer,” I said, then walked out.

The corridors were filled with a surprising number of officers. Usually, they’d remain on the upper decks, going to the cadet section only for classes. They all wore fleet uniforms, yet had their rank insignia removed.

B, are you here? I asked. No answer. If Bull Calf had returned he wasn’t responding. Is anyone out there? With my previous capabilities I’d have sent three waves of probe-viruses, then scanned the area with short-range sensors. Instead, I was forced to guess and I didn’t like guessing.

Doctor Mirri was waiting for me outside of medical. The moment she saw me she shook her head and gestured for me to hurry up. I nodded in acknowledgment and rushed inside.

“You know the procedure.” The doctor closed the door, and pulled out a packet of gelatin tablets. “Want one?”

“No thank you, ma’am.” I’d had enough of gelatin meals to last me a decade. Back home I’d be preparing Sev’s preferred stew using fresh ingredients from the market. Hopefully his android had taken on the practice.

“Suit yourself.” The doctor popped in a few tablets in her mouth and went to the medical table. “You really stressed the commandant. Half a dozen procedures had to be changed because of you. Lie down when you’re ready.”

I finished taking off my uniform and laid on the med table. Two auto-syringes attacked on both sides of my throat, giving me a shot of nanite-probes. This didn’t feel like a standard check-up. The doc was doing a full diagnostic. A few seconds in I felt the tips of my toes and fingers go numb.

“Have you experienced unexplained pain, headaches, sensitivity to light,” the doctor started enumerating, as she put a sensor bracelet on my left hand. “Nausea, dizziness, vomiting, or anything else you wouldn’t associate with your usual routines?”

“No, ma’am.” A jolt of energy passed through my hand. I tried to lift it up, but found I only had the strength to budge it.

“Bone density check,” the doctor explained, chewing above me. “Stupid, I know, but rules are rules. Think of happy things, or something. It’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“This isn’t standard, ma’am.” I could no longer move my arms or legs. “Things might have changed since I was active, but cadet training shouldn’t be as intense. Unless we were preparing for war.”

“You don’t say?” She smirked.

“Indeed, ma’am.” I tried to connect to any of the station’s data feeds, but my access was cut off. “The intense training, the triple reduction, the long term mind games...”

“You know what they say: ‘If something could break, better when it’s under warranty.’” The doctor attached something soft to my right temple. “Look at one spot. I need to test your optic nerve responses.”

“Am I the first battleship that has been here?”

“You know I can’t answer that, cadet.” An annoying beep echoed in my right ear letting me know how long I had to keep my eyes still. “You’ve been an interesting case. So interesting that your recruiter almost got in trouble for sending you here. He wasn’t supposed to, though the rules are a bit vague when walking ships are concerned.” The beeping stopped. “All good.” She removed the device from my temple. “All that’s left is the software check. You still remember those, I hope?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Back when I was a ship they were the closest thing to pain I was capable of experiencing—the sensation that all my controls were taken over by someone else’s systems, leaving me mentally paralyzed. The last time I had gone through one was when I got decommissioned. “Can I ask something before we go?”

The doctor arched a brow. “Go ahead.”

“Why did you try to break me? You must know that psyche pressure doesn’t work on battleships.”

“Regulations,” she sighed. “Also, a mistake on our end. Since you had previous military experience, your recruiter decided to fast track you to an advanced training facility. The system parameters allowed it, but only because they didn’t take into account you were a ship. On file, you had enough combat experience to be eligible for a spot on Virgo station.”

“But not a day of training as a human.” I closed my eyes. Poor recruiter, he really had made a mess of things for himself. I’d have to write him a mail once I got a chance. “Did I meet expectations?”

“No.” I heard the doctor move away from the table. “You created our baseline. Congratulations. Try to remain still during the check.”

Moments later I lost control of my thoughts.