It was late in the afternoon when I got back to the room I was sharing with Airah Zost, another Cadet, only that she was on the naval track, to become a bridge officer. As expected, she wasn’t in, most likely still in class, as it often happened. The schedules at Starfleet Academy were nothing if not punishing, designed to train cadets to be able to stand a twelve standard hour watch or fly a similarly long patrol without losing attention or ability. I suspected that the reason why the last simulation in a series was more often than not the most difficult one sprung from a similar idea. Exhaust the cadets mentally and physically before throwing them into the deep end, sometimes with complex tactical problems, sometimes by simply forcing them to fail.

Letting out a yawn, I plopped myself down on my bunk, pulling out a tablet-computer and pulled up a textbook on hyperspace navigation. In a way, hyperspace navigation was my nemesis, not because I was bad at it, I was actually in the upper third of the class, but because I wanted to fully understand it. And that was where physics went from ‘complicated but somewhat manageable’ to ‘they will drive you to substance-abuse’. Part of the problem was that observing hyperspace and the different currents, for lack of a better word, was still a topic of intense study and exploration, with new theories and hypothesis getting published on a regular basis. Another problem was that, quite frankly, my education in both complex mathematics and physics was lacking.

My focus growing up had been the classes that were required to get into Starfleet Academy, or failing that to join the fleet as an enlisted spacer, which focused on engineering and applied mathematics, not the highly theoretical subjects needed to understand hyperspace physics. But I was attending Starfleet Academy, so it had been worth it and I could learn the required subjects during my copious freetime.

As I was trying to wrap my head around another screen-spanning equation, the door opened and Airah walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted and in dire need of a shower. For me, that meant I was treated to the pleasant show of her stripping out of her uniform, including the form-fitting standard-issue ship-suit before staggering into the small bathroom we shared. It was a show I’d seen hundreds of times in the almost four years we had been sharing a room but it was a show I’d never grow tired off, at least once I had gotten over the crush I had developed on my roommate.

Before that, it had been a little embarrassing, at least for me, knowing that I wanted to look and watch, while not being brave enough to approach her in a personal, romantic manner, mostly due to our brutal schedule. Then, before I ever got to ask her, I coincidentally heard her shooting another cadet down, telling her that she just wasn’t interested in girls that way. I had been a little disappointed about that revelation but somehow, it allowed me to calm and strangely separate the gorgeous body, which I still drooled after, and the person who was quickly becoming a good friend.

“Good afternoon, Airah.” I greeted her after putting my reader down.

“Hi Leo, don’t mind me, need a shower.” she greeted, before the show started. Our uniform consisted of multiple layers, the outer layer consisted of a blazer and dress-slacks, their colour depending on the service you were in. For Airah, as part of the naval track, that meant a dark blue for her while the Starfighter Command was wearing a dark purple. The difference between Naval Command and Starfighter Command was rather small, likely on purpose as both branches were working closely together. In contrast to that were the Federation Marines who wore Dark Green and finally, Psicom with their intimidating black uniform.

It only took Airah moments to strip off that outer layer, quickly placing them on a hanger, before she started to peel off the layer beneath it, the ship-suit we were required to wear, even if the chance of a pressure-emergency in the Academy, built in one of the larger cities on Celraph 4, was simply non-existent. Still, we had to wear it, mostly so we got used to it, as it would be the one piece of clothing we’d wear constantly for the entirety of our service.

The ship-suit was, quite simply, the piece of equipment that would keep us alive, if there ever was a pressure-emergency on board a Starship. You just had to slap on the helmet and the suit would create a sealed environment, carrying enough air to keep you alive for about two hours. It also contained heating-elements that would prevent freezing to death in that time, which was appreciated. Last but not least, it had another function with which the Starfighter Command Cadets had been forcibly accustomed to during our first year, it was able to deal with, let’s say, plumbing emergencies, for those long missions and ready-to-launch watches we had to spend in our starfighters, ready to be shot into the void at a moment's notice. There was just no way to get through such a watch without basic, human biology getting into the way and to make sure we all were hardened against the instinctual feeling of shame coming from wetting one’s clothes as an adult, we had been forbidden from using the facilities for predetermined stretches of time during our first year. It had been awkward, to say the least, but you either got used to it, or you quit. I had gotten used to it. It hadn’t been fun.

I watched as Airah finished peeling off the form-fitting suit, revealing her body in all her glory. She was just a bit taller than I was, maybe ten centimeters, and all that length seemed to be in her legs. They were just gorgeous, long, slender yet muscular, moving with an animal grace telling of her accomplishments as one of the best in our year when it came to unarmed combat. Atop those legs, currently turned to me, sat her behind, slim and toned, rippling a little as she bend over to pick up the ship-suit and toss it into the tumbler, to clean the inner layer. She turned and I quickly used my reader to hide my careful observation, while still getting a good look at her upper body, the definition of her abdominals and the pert breasts sitting high on her chest.

Further up, I noticed that her finely sculpted face looked even more exhausted than I had thought before and even her golden hair seemed to have lost some of its luster.

My lusty thoughts were quickly replaced with concern for my best friend and I made a show of looking over to her, my movement catching her attention.

“Are you alright?” I asked, not quite sure what I was seeing in her body-language.

“Exhausted. Give me a moment and I’ll tell you about it.” she replied, grabbing another ship-suit from her closet and making her way into the shower-stall.

I managed to get back into my reading, trying to figure out what the equations said about the universe we were in and, once again, failing. Instead, I pulled up one of the textbooks for class and tried to compare the simplified versions we were normally using to the complex one I was looking at. What parts were replaced with estimations, which parts were simplified and what did those changes mean? Maybe, if I went at it from that angle, starting with things I knew quite a lot about and working back to the source, I would be able to enhance my understanding.

A noise pulled me from my reading and I looked up to see Airah coming out of the shower, again dressed in a ship-suit. It was quite a bit less appealing than watching her naked, the ship-suit being form-fitting so that it wouldn’t cause problems if there was a pressure-drop but it was a nice picture nonetheless.

“So, what is going on? You look more exhausted than normal.” I asked, My assemement brought a grin to her face, acknowledging that exhaustion was the normal state of being for both of us.

“One of the percenters annoyed me.” she began, obviously needing to vent. “Just because his family has money, he thought that I should give up my spot for the summer cruise. There’s no way in hell I’d do that, I worked hard for the spot and if he can’t cut it, he can go home and whine at mommy and daddy until they send him around on their private yacht or whatever it is that the percenters do with their money.” she grumbled, causing me to grin.

It was one of the disadvantages of being on the naval track, you had to put up with the scions of the rich, who felt that a Starfleet officer’s commission was something they needed to round out their profile. Not that they’d ever serve on the front-lines but they wandered the Academy acting like they were owed something. Luckily, the fact that the fatality-rate for Starfighter-jockeys meant that there were few in entirety of Starfighter-Command and none in my class. The prospect of flying amongst the stars in a craft that some had described as flying coffins was not one that appealed to them, even with the many holo-dramas that featured Starfighter-jockeys as romantic heroes, rescuing the Federation, uncovering sinister plots and what-not.

“So, how many bones did you break?” I asked, only half-kidding. Airah had been trained in self-defense from childhood, it was one of the few things she had told me about growing up, and she was good at it, one of the best. So, if some idiot tried to get too pushy and into her face, she might just push back.

And a spot on the summer cruise, as the two-months long deployment to actual fleet-units was called was certainly something worth pushing back for. It was mandatory for everyone but at the same time, there was a catch. Only the top third of us would be deployed to Starships and getting the cruise-part. The rest would be stuck on orbitals, sitting around trying not to be bored out of their skulls. The cruise also brought us into direct contact with our predecessors, allowing us to network with them, before we would get commissioned about half a year later. Another catch was that the fleet-deployment counted as time-in-grade towards our promotion, so those who were able to snatch one of those spots would get promoted faster and quite possibly further.

“None, of course. I just told him that he could try to get better results and walked away. He was smart enough not to try anything but it has been the third time this month. Luckily, it’s only two more weeks, then we are gone for awhile.” she continued to vent a bit longer, before stopping.

“You got a spot, right?” she asked, blushing a little as if only now realising that she might vent at someone who had been assigned to orbital duty. I had to grin at that, letting her sweat for just a moment before clarifying that, yes, I would get a spot unless something completely unexpected happened. I was solidly in the top five of my class, making me a shoe-in for one of the spots.

We continued to talk for a few more minutes, before making our way to dinner when Airah’s stomach started to growl at me, to my great amusement.