The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and burned circuits—an odd combination that clung to the air no matter how much the vents sucked away. I stood just inside the doorway, unsure if Sylvk would be up for a visit, or if he’d throw something at me for bothering him. My stomach knotted, not from fear of his temper, but from seeing someone so formidable laid low. It felt like a crack in our fortress, a reminder that none of us were invincible.
“I need to talk to my mom,” Kerry said, and with Rob wandered away, their footsteps echoing down the sterile corridor.
Mom, I laughed.
I thought about waiting but located Sylvk’s doorway and paused, fingers pulling at the threads on my sleeve. Dammit, I have to stop doing this!
Through the half-open door, I could see monitoring equipment, screens displaying vitals in steady, reassuring patterns. At least he was stable.
“Stop lurking, Argassa,” came Sylvk’s gravelly tone. “You’re worse than the nurses. They at least bring painkillers.”
I stepped in, and closer to his bed, hands shoved in my jacket pockets, trying to project a casualness I didn’t feel. “Since when do you need painkillers? Thought you were too tough for that.”
Sylvk sat propped up against the headboard, his broad chest bare under the thin blanket draped over his lap. His shoulders were massive, his frame imposing even in recovery, but it was the scars that caught my eye. They crisscrossed his skin like a map of old wars—some faded to faint lines, others thick and jagged like they’d never healed properly. A particularly nasty one ran from his collarbone to just below his right pectoral, puckered and white against his tan skin. He looked like a man who had faced death more than once and walked away with those stories etched into his flesh.
His voice lacked its usual booming force. It felt wrong seeing him like this—reduced. Vulnerable. Like seeing a mountain beginning to crumble.
“Just checking if you’re still alive,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, but the words came out more sincere than intended.
“Barely,” he grunted, shifting against the pillows, wincing slightly as he moved. “The food here could kill a cadet faster than any poison. Had something they called soup earlier—pretty sure it was just warm water with spite added.”
I froze for half a second, the word sticking in my mind like a jagged shard. Poison. “So, you think that’s what happened? Someone actually poisoned you?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, the gesture strangely normal amid the abnormal setting. “What else would it be? I didn’t collapse because I’m out of shape.”
“Fair point,” I said, pulling up a chair beside him, the metal legs scraping against the floor. “Do you remember anything? Like… what happened before you started feeling off?”
Sylvk rubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to scrub the memory loose. His knuckles were scarred too, I noticed—the hands of someone who’d fought countless battles, both sanctioned and otherwise.
“Not much. Gym was good, bit quiet, but that wasn’t unusual with exams on. Everything was normal. I had the usual foods, protein shake, eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Then we went to class. Started feeling like hell halfway through. First thought it was just fatigue, but then my vision started swimming, and my chest felt like someone had dropped a gravity anchor on it.”
“Nothing weird about breakfast at all?” I pressed, leaning forward. “Anything at all off with the food or the mess hall? Anyone hanging around who shouldn’t have been?”
He frowned, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer. The monitoring equipment beeped steadily in the background, punctuating the silence between us.
“Not the food. But…” He hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t say anything more. His expression darkened, lines appearing between his brows as he concentrated. “There was someone near the staff table. Didn’t recognize them. Tall, thin, wearing a civilian jacket. Dark blue, with some kind of insignia on the sleeve—couldn’t make it out. They left something near the tray racks, a vial.”
That got my attention. I straightened in my chair. “A vial?”
“Yeah. Metallic, about this big,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger about three centimetres apart. “Didn’t think much of it at the time,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Figured it was some supplement or medicine mixed for them. But now…”
His words trailed off, and I leaned forward. “Do you think it could’ve been—?”
“Don’t know,” he interrupted. “But it’s a hell of a coincidence.” He shifted again, grimacing as a spasm of pain crossed his features. “The doctors can’t pinpoint what it was. Whatever hit me, it’s not in their standard toxin database.”
“That’s... concerning,” I said, my mind already racing. A metallic vial left in the mess hall, just before Sylvk collapsed. It wasn’t much, but it was a thread. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was pulling on threads until the whole damn sweater unravelled.
“Get some rest,” I said, standing. “I’ll… look into it.”
Sylvk’s gaze narrowed, but his expression softened a fraction. “I saw that look before, Argassa. On soldiers who thought they could take on an entire enemy battalion by themselves.” He sighed, the sound weary and worn. “Reminds me of this time on Cali. We were dealing with separatist insurgents, nasty business in the outer districts. Had this young lieutenant who was convinced he’d found their headquarters. Went in without proper backup, against direct orders.”
He paused, absently tracing a jagged scar that ran across his forearm. “I was stationed there for three years. Made some good contacts in the local security forces. Still check in with them when I can. Some of those connections might come in handy for you someday, if you end up posted there.” His eyes grew distant for a moment, as if seeing something beyond the sterile walls of the infirmary.
Then his focus snapped back to me. “The point is, had to scrape what was left of that lieutenant into body bags. Don’t do anything stupid. If this is bigger than it looks, you don’t want to stick your neck out alone.”
That gave me pause. It was probably the most personal thing he’d ever said to me, a glimpse behind the tough guy facade. “Who said anything about stupid?” I said, smirking as I backed toward the door, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere.
He grunted something unintelligible and rolled onto his side, clearly done with me. But as I turned to leave, he added, “Argassa. Be careful. Whoever did this... they’re not playing around.”
I nodded, the warning settling like a weight in my chest. “I will.”
I slipped out of the infirmary, the cold hallway air a sharp contrast to the stuffy warmth inside. My HUD flickered briefly as I stepped through the doorway, a ghostly overlay of diagnostics data blinking in and out of view before stabilizing. My thoughts churned as I walked, the image of that vial burning in my mind, alongside Sylvk’s warning.
If someone had poisoned Sylvk… this was serious. Not just a prank or a test, but potentially lethal intent. I had to know why. The academy wasn’t perfect, but it had always felt safe—as safe as a place training future military elite could be, anyway. The idea that someone had breached that security, had targeted one of our friends... it made my skin crawl.
<
<
<
<
Military-grade. That was an unsettling thought. I paused at a junction in the hallway, my reflection fractured across the polished metal walls. Kerry and Rob were still with her sister, and I didn’t want to disturb them, besides me sneaking about wouldn’t matter, three of us... that might get noticed. I briefly considered messaging them but decided against it. Better to have some concrete evidence first.
The hallway to our mess halls stretched long and quiet, the echo of my boots against the polished floor amplifying the silence. A few cadets passed by, engrossed in their own conversations or hurrying to their next assignments. None of them knew how close danger had come to all of us this morning. Sylvk’s warning replayed in my head—don’t do anything stupid.
It wasn’t like I had a choice. If someone had sabotaged the academy’s power grid and poisoned Sylvk, this wasn’t just about me or my usual need to fix things. It was bigger. Much bigger and Andri... really might be the target because of his family like the LTC had said.
<
<
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
EMP residue? That was odd. <
<
That sent a chill through me. First the power grid, then Sylvk, and now possible EMP signatures? This was beyond coincidence.
The metallic vial. I had to find it.
The mess hall was empty this time of day, its rows of spotless tables gleaming under the overhead lights. The cleaning drones had already finished their work, leaving everything pristine and eerily quiet. The only sound was the faint hum of the environmental systems and the occasional clink from the kitchen, where the staff was likely preparing for the next meal.
As I made my way to the staff area, scanning the corners of the room for anything out of place, my HUD flickered faintly, lines of static crawling across my vision before stabilizing. That was happening more often lately. Not good. A warning message blinked in the corner of my view—”Neural Interface Instability Detected”—before disappearing into digital noise.
Behind the serving counter, the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and something metallic, like the inside of a burnt circuit board. I crouched by the bins where unused utensils and trays were sorted, running my fingers along the edges, checking every corner and crevice. No vial. The place was clean, too clean, almost as if someone had made sure to remove any evidence.
I moved to the prep area, careful not to disturb anything. A kitchen worker appeared briefly from the back storage, gave me a curious look, but said nothing before disappearing again. The academy staff were used to cadets poking around, though usually it was for extra food, not potential evidence of attempted murder.
“Looking for something?” a voice called from behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, twisting around to see Andri Boutack leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised. His uniform was pristine, as always, not a wrinkle in sight, and his presence was commanding even in his relaxed posture. But there was something in his eyes, a tension, a watchfulness that hadn’t been there before.
“Jesus, Boutack,” I muttered, standing and brushing off my pants. “You really do sneak up on people a lot, right? They teach that in fancy private school, or is it a family trait?”
His expression tightened momentarily at the mention of his family before smoothing back into careful neutrality. “You’re not exactly subtle, Argassa,” he said, striding closer, his footsteps nearly silent on the polished floor. “Half the cadets saw you speed-walking down here with that look on your face, the one that says you’re about to break at least three regulations. Why are you poking around the staff area? Hoping for a second breakfast?”
“Not exactly,” I said, trying to think of a good lie but coming up empty. My mind was too occupied with vials and poisons and the sight of Sylvk in that hospital bed. “I’m... investigating.”
Andri’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. He glanced around, ensuring we were alone, before stepping closer. “Investigating what?”
I sighed, deciding it was better to give him the short version than have him breathing down my neck later. “Sylvk thinks someone left a metallic vial in here this morning. Right before he got sick. He saw someone by the staff tables—civilian clothes, strange insignia.”
That got his attention. He straightened, his casual demeanour evaporating like morning mist under a hard sun. “A vial? Are you saying someone poisoned him?”
“Maybe,” I said, holding up a hand before he could jump to conclusions. “I’m not sure yet. But it’s a lead. And with the power outage yesterday... it feels connected.”
Andri’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking around the room as if he could spot the vial by looking harder. The overhead lights cast sharp shadows across his face, deepening the furrow between his brows. “Why didn’t he mention it earlier?”
“He just remembered it,” I said, studying Andri’s reaction carefully. “And honestly, he didn’t seem thrilled about me looking into it. Gave me the whole ‘don’t be stupid’ speech.”
“Yet here you are,” Andri said, his tone dry, but there was something else there—a hint of respect, maybe. “What’s your plan? Rummage through the trash and hope for the best?”
“Got a better idea?” I shot back, crossing my arms. My HUD flickered again, a brief diagnostic window appearing and then vanishing before I could read it. Something was definitely wrong with my system.
Andri stared at me for a long moment, then sighed, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty from someone usually so composed. “Actually, yeah. They have cameras, should be able to get the view from the controls in the staff room. If someone left a vial near the food trays, we might be able to see who it was.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “That’s... not a bad idea.” I paused, studying him. “But how exactly do you know how to access the security feeds?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “When your father’s high up in Fleet Command, and into tech, you learn things. Security protocols, override codes... they’re all standardized across military installations.”
“So you’re saying your dad taught you how to hack security systems?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m saying,” Andri replied carefully, “that there are advantages to being raised in a family where dinner conversation includes Fleet Security protocols.” There was an edge to his voice, a defensiveness that suggested this was a sore point. “Come on. I know the override codes for the staff terminals.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t question it further, just followed. The staff storage room was cramped, lined with shelves of neatly labelled supplies and a small terminal tucked into the far corner. The air was cool and dry, the space utilitarian and spotless.
“Keep watch,” Andri said, sliding into the chair in front of the terminal. I positioned myself near the door, peering out into the hallway. The last thing we needed was to get caught breaking into the security system, no matter how noble our intentions.
Andri typed in the code with practiced ease, his fingers moving confidently across the interface. The terminal’s screen flickered to life, bathing his face in a blue glow.
“Let’s see...” he muttered, navigating the camera logs. “This is from breakfast this morning, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaving my post to lean over his shoulder as he scrolled through the footage. “Near the staff table. Around 0700 hours, I think.”
The playback was grainy but clear enough to make out the rows of trays and utensils. Cadets moved through the frame in orderly lines, a familiar routine of morning meals and sleepy conversations. A group of junior officers sat at their designated table, while kitchen staff bustled efficiently in the background.
“There,” Andri said suddenly, pointing to the corner of the screen. “That doesn’t look like academy personnel.”
A figure had stepped into view, tall, thin, and wearing a civilian jacket, just as Sylvk described. They moved with purpose, not the casual stride of someone simply getting breakfast.
“That’s them,” I said, excitement quickening my pulse. “Pause it.”
Andri froze the footage, and we both leaned closer. The figure’s face wasn’t visible, obscured by a hood, but their movements were deliberate, calculated. They seemed to be scanning the room, taking note of who was where.
“Can you zoom in on the sleeve?” I asked, remembering Sylvk’s mention of an insignia.
Andri manipulated the controls, zooming in on the jacket. The image became pixelated, but there was definitely something there—a small emblem on the upper sleeve, circular with what looked like a stylized shape in the centre.
“That’s not familiar,” Andri murmured, his brow furrowed. “Not any military or corporate insignia I recognize.”
We continued watching. The figure moved smoothly through the crowd, avoiding direct contact with anyone. There they were sneaking into the back area, and but a moment later were back out. They placed a small metallic object on the corner of the clearing table before walking away, their head turning briefly toward the camera.
“Can you enhance that?” I asked, pointing to the partial glimpse of the face. “Maybe we can ID them.”
Andri shook his head. “Not from this terminal. The resolution’s too low. But...” He tapped a command, marking the timestamp. “I can pull the logs to my HUD and process it back at my bunk. My personal system has better analysis software.”
“Of course it does,” I muttered, but there was no real bite to it. “Good. That’s a start.”
We watched the footage again while the data uploaded. The mess hall filled and emptied in fast-forward, the rhythmic patterns of academy life playing out in grainy monotone.
“Wait,” I said suddenly, reaching out to stop the playback. “Go back about ten minutes. The queue, watch.”
Andri reversed the footage, and we both leaned in, eyes fixed on the screen. There I was with Rob, just getting our food, when Sylvk came in from the back, cutting ahead of us in line. He moved directly to where Andri stood with his tray, saying something to him before taking his own place in line.
“He cut in front of me to get to you,” I realized aloud, turning to Andri. His face had gone pale, the implications sinking in. “If this is what it looks like, it’s not about Sylvk.”
“I know,” I said quietly, just like the LTC had warned. “It’s you. Or rather, your position as fleet admiral’s son.” I watched his expression carefully. “The power cut was sabotage, wasn’t it?”
“It looks that way,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair again, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as a sign of genuine distress, not just irritation. “The timing, the targeted nature... it fits the pattern.”
“Your family’s the target then.” It wasn’t a question.
I frowned, seeing something else in him I’d never noticed before, vulnerability. Behind the perfect posture and confident demeanour, there was fear in his eyes. Not for himself, I realized, but for what this might mean.
“Yes,” he confirmed, his jaw clenched. “We need to figure out why. My father has enemies, but attacking a cadet academy... that’s extreme, even for the usual political rivals.” He paused, something occurring to him. “Unless...”
“Unless what?” I prompted.
Andri’s expression darkened. “Unless it’s not about politics at all. My father’s been leading an investigation into supply chain corruption—military-grade tech being diverted to the black market. He’s been closing in on someone high up. This could be retaliation.”
“Or a warning,” I suggested, the pieces beginning to click together. “Poison someone who was closest to you, sabotage the power grid... they’re showing what they can do, how close they can get.”
Andri pushed himself up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I need to have a conversation with my parents,” he said, emotion cracking through. “They need to know what’s happening here.”
“Andri, wait,” I called after him, but he was already striding toward the door, his movements stiff and purposeful. “We should coordinate, figure out a plan—”
“I’ll contact you when I know more,” he said over his shoulder, pausing briefly at the doorway. For a moment, I thought I saw genuine concern in his expression. “Watch your back, Argassa. If they know you’re looking into this...”
And then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
I stayed behind, staring at the frozen image on the screen, the hooded figure, the vial, the beginning of what was clearly a carefully orchestrated attack. My HUD flickered again, more severely this time, the entire display dissolving into static before resolving into a warning message: “Security Protocol Breach Detected.”
That wasn’t right. I hadn’t triggered any security alerts with my access.
<
<
My blood ran cold. Someone was trying to hack my neural implant—right now, while I was investigating the poisoning. This wasn’t coincidence; they knew what I was doing, and they were trying to shut me down.
I rushed out of the storage room, needing to find Andri, to warn him that we’d kicked the hornet’s nest. The corridor stretched empty before me, no sign of him. I needed to make sure nothing was out of place. I knocked at his quarters, but there was no answer.
I sent a message:
Me - Call me later. Someone’s trying to hack my HUD. We need to be careful.
No reply came.
I was about to head back to my own quarters when a notification pinged in my HUD, one last message before the system crashed completely:
UNKNOWN - Stop investigating if you want to stay healthy. Some poisons don’t have antidotes.
The screen went black, leaving me alone in the silent corridor with the knowledge that whoever had poisoned Sylvk now had their eyes on me, too.