Chapter 2: Hephaestus Academy for Technical Elites

The high population density on Olympus kept me on edge. Even after a month of residence, I still had issues acclimating to so many people everywhere I went, so I spent the majority of my time indoors, studying my upcoming classwork. That and dreading school.

Walking up the gated path to the main building with a single carryall, I looked over the other students. Hephaestus Academy for Technical Elites, or Hate Academy, as the students called it, invited one thousand of the most promising elite Federation students under the age of sixteen to attend every year. 999 plus me.

The hundred thousand square kilometer facility housed the hope for the Officers of the Federation Mech Corps. After graduation, each cadet would be required to serve for an additional ten years before being released, if that was their choice. Of the ones that made it that far, most former students went to the Mercenary group that sponsored them, some retired and the rest remained employed by the Federation, making a career of it. Those that lived.

The well-manicured grounds were guarded by three first generation Mechs in memorial: The Knight, The Catapult and The Hunter. Each Mech was a 40t killing machine that saw thousands of hours of use in the early wars against the Hive, –insect like aliens that we pushed out of of our section of the galaxy over seven-hundred years ago.

The twelve white reinforced stone buildings were to be our home, workplace, and school for the next three years. The solid blue roofs were to remind us that we were in Federation territory and of our allegiance. The single flagpole before the office, carrying the red and blue starry flag, was another a reminder that we belonged to the Federation. So too were our pilot suits with the prominent badges and coloration.

Feeling a threat from my right side, I dove to the left, looking to see if I should fight or flee, only to receive laughter at my behavior as a group of kids mocked me at my excessive reaction. They apparently didn’t approve of me standing there, taking in the sights as they headed to register for their dorm assignments.

Larson...

“At least he knew to get out of my way.” The tallest boy in front chuckled superiorly as the group of seven continued on. A shorter redheaded girl in back, mouthed ‘sorry’ to me as she ran to catch up with the rest.

After brushing myself off, I waited in line for room assignments.

“What do you mean I am in 3-G? Check again! I am supposed to be in 2-G!” Larson bitched to the registrar, holding up the men’s side of the line and not winning any friends from either the faculty or the students.

“Cadet, are you questioning me?” The older woman behind the desk asked in a threatening tone.

“Sorry, Ma’am.” The loud cadet backed off instantly at the implicit reprimand.

“That is your only warning, Cadet Larson. The next offense will result in a deduction in Merits. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He paled before hurrying off with the eyes of everyone nearby watching the encounter.

“Next.”

“Cadet Young reporting,” I announced in a crisp manner when it was my turn. Colonel Lee had spent weeks instructing me in all of the ways of ‘Cadet Life’.

“Cadet, why is there a grass stain on your shoulder?”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Excuses and reasons behind wayward behavior or actions were outlawed in the academy for some dumb reason.

“We have an image to maintain here, young man. See that you work on yours. 1-G.” She handed me a keycard.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I accepted the reprimand and the keycard before heading off to my new housing for the next ten months.

Dorms A and B were for senior boys and senior girls respectively, same with C and D for the junior class and E and F for the sophomore class. Rooms were assigned by merit, the lower the number the better the room. The only way to move to a better room was to spend five Merits and still have more than the person you were replacing. Supposedly, not an easy feat.

Dorms G and H were for the incoming newbies, freshmen like me.

Curious eyes followed me as I climbed the stairs ever higher in the ten-story dorm. There were even a few that followed me past the eighth and ninth floor. Opening the stairway door on the tenth floor, there were six kids in the halls arguing loudly as I walk by them in search of 1-G. The group quieted, including Larson who made a fuss earlier and the group of nine following me up the stairs.

As I inserted the keycard into the reader and it confirmed my thumbprint, one of the other cadets called out to me.

“Who are you?”

“Cadet Young.” I replied before entering, immediately closing and locking the door behind me to rid myself of the noisy distractions. The single room accommodation had a private bathroom, a desk with a computer linked to the school’s system, a mini fridge, and a closet with a dresser. Nothing fancy, just a safe, quiet spot to relax in.

After changing shirts and putting away my gear, I washed my face and started familiarizing myself with the school’s computer network until a polite knock resounded on my door.

“Hello?” I opened it with a slightly forced smile. A tall athletic kid my age stood next to a shorter wiry teen with green dyed hair.

“I’m Marshal, that’s Josh, you can call him Squat. We’re your neighbors in 2-G.”

“I’m Leon. Come on in.”

“Dude, you got robbed, your room is even smaller than ours,” the verbose ‘Squat’ burst out.

“This is fine.” I didn’t want a larger room and requested that to the Major when he pulled his strings to get me enrolled in his former alma matter.

“Welcome to the hated club. Everyone will be out to get you, you know,” Josh spoke out.

“Josh, give him a break, will you,” Marshal interrupted. “Young? Just letting you know that I won’t be after your room. I’m used to this dickhead and would hate to have anyone else be subjected to his stupidity.”

“Fucker.”

“Thanks, I’m kinda used to being alone. So, this is perfect for me. I don’t need that much room.”

“Hell, you don’t even have a third chair at the table for visitors. Dude, your room is tiny. Did you piss off the admins?”

“Ignore him. Where are you from?” asked Marshal.

“Vista.”

“Fuck me! Wasn’t that planet overrun by the Grays for a couple years?”

“Must you?” Marshal chastised his cousin who stretched out on my bed with his arms behind my pillow, staring at the ceiling, yet watched me.

“Yeah, my home was one of the last planets retaken.”

“Shit, you must have been young.” Squat sat up, abruptly interested in hearing my tale. “Did you steal a Mech or something?”

“Or something. I was ordered not to speak of it until after orientation,” I replied.

“Well, that sucks.” Squat didn’t like my orders and was hoping to get an early scoop.

The three of us got to know each other for the next hour. Marshal Pentecost had nine Merits, and Squat, I didn’t like that nickname, Josh Pentecost, had eight Merits. They were scions of the Blue Angel Clan, one of the top five largest mercenary groups in Federation space. I also was informed that each confirmed kill equaled one Merit, which was the only method for earning merits before entering Hate Academy.

I was so dead when others found out...

That rule I wasn’t told or stated on the orientation page. I’d kill Colonel Lee next time I saw him. If I had known that before arriving on this overpopulated planet ... I grimaced; I still would have come since he insisted. I owed him too much.

“Dude, you don’t look so good. How many Kills do you have?”

“Sorry, Josh, I can’t say. Orders ... Tomorrow I can.” With Marshal shutting his cousin up, I earned a day’s reprieve.

“Well, what do you think?” Marshal asked his cousin once safely inside their shared room.

“He’s got that survivor look.” Josh Pentecost replied seriously. “He’ll be a serious threat in the Mech portion. How he will do in the rest of the classes I’m not sure, but if he was out of contact for years, probably not very well.”

“I don’t get why the admin cut his room in half,” Marshal questioned.

“Don’t ask me. That made no sense to me either. Who is his backer? It’s not like just anyone can enter Hate.”

“Josh, ask your father to do some digging for us.”

“Shit, on the first day? He’s going to ream my ass.”

“I think we need to know.”

“How’s our new golden boy?” General White asked his aide.

“Twitchy, sir. He won’t last two weeks before putting someone in the hospital.”

“Good. Keep the pressure on him and the Pentecosts.”

“Yes, sir.”

Monday morning 06:00 local time, first day of class in Hate Academy. I sat in the last row since we were assigned alphabetical seating during freshman orientation.

Thirty Officer teachers stood at attention in a crescent formation on either side of and behind, General White, the commandant of the school. “Good morning and welcome to Hephaestus Academy for Technical Elites. Cadets, you may refer to my beloved institution by its common nickname amongst yourselves, but not to the faculty. Is that understood?”

A chorus of ‘Yes, sir’s’, echoed through the hall.

“We here at Hephaestus Academy for Technical Elites follow the honesty system. If that is too much for you, feel free to leave at any time. If, at the end of any trimester, your grade in any subject is below 80% you will be asked to leave. Same with Merits, if they fall below zero at the end of the trimester you will be asked to leave. No appeal, no second chances, no asking your mommies for help. Is that clear, cadets?”