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""...the Coast Guard? They're not a normal service-they're more like...a cult, and that cult has infected the Lyran Commonwealth Navy as a whole, right along with the rampant disregard for family wealth and personal status. I have seen it myself, whoever you were before you went in, you're not that person by the next time the people who knew The REAL you, see you again.""
-Lady Breanna Hogarth (Hogarth family) referencing her (estranged) younger brother, Lieutenant Michael Hogarth (LCS Hyacinth, Sampan IV class cutter, assigned to the 3rd Squadron, second cutter division), 3154
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Chapter 25 - The Advisor[]
The Wreck
New Syrtis Star System
Federated Suns
Forty six days in pressure suits working with the yard personnel to strip the hulk and Robert was beginning to wonder if he'd been sentenced to hard labor for some offense.
The wreck, was the wreck of a Star Lord class Jumpship that had died during the First Succession War. When they weren't being taught academic subjects ranging from advanced calculus to astronomy to physiology, they were working with the salvage crews, tearing apart a centuries old wreck and being quizzed on each component, how each system was designed, and not just 'fit part a into slot b' but why it was designed that way. and when the work was done, and it was time to do the homework, well...
Then you get together with your bubble-buddy, and set up the pressure tent, right on the hull. Fitted between all of this, was rank recognition, military ceremonial in null-gee, and bizarre assignments like star-gazing and ship-spotting.
The intent he had to admit was clear. Learning not just the piles of component; What they do, How they work, and why they work. As the trainees, they helped the yard people junk out the wreck of a First Succession War casualty.
"Bobby, it's time." Ninaeve Surcouf, his shelter-buddy, mumbled from her anchor-sack.
"Ahh ****** me...you're right." he groaned, and pulled himself out of the burrito-bag of his anchor-sack, "I must smell like a damn gym."
"That better not be a comment on me!" she snapped.
"It's not. You smell like roses."
"Dick." she shook her head. She resealed her suit's fasteners and pulled on her gauntlets before reaching for her helmet.
Robert did the same. "So what do you think they'll have us doing today between classes?" she asked.
"I don't know, we've got the hull pretty well stripped out. When we ran the micrograph over the core, it was intact..." he rotated the lock-ring and checked helmet pressure, life support and batteries. "You know what I dreamed about last night?"
"Um...home?"
"Solid food." he said, "Instead of recycled paste, and something to drink besides refiltered urine."
She sealed her own helmet and they crawled out of the bubble onto the hull, in the darkness of New Syrtis' Oort cloud.
There was a Mammoth class cargo dropship floating nearby and it was unloading.
Over the common channel, a cheerful voice announced, "Good morning campers! You've spent the last forty five days helping to take this wreck apart. It's time to celebrate! Because today, you're going to be helping to put it back together and back into service0 Then, we will begin with the hands-on practical training in ship operation, including navigating this bucket to the New Syrtis docks, where there will be a feast." Ninaeve bumped helmets with Robert, "The cake is a lie." she said.
"It's a lie I'm willing to get behind." he answered, and plugged a fresh replenipak into his suit's cycler. Adding back in the vitamins and minerals being stripped from his body by the ordeal thus far.