This is the Moment || Thomas and Daniel, closed
New London Military Academy was the elite of the elite for traning prospective officers of the Reformed Earth Republic. Generations of officers had passed through its doors and it was built on the credo of Honour, Strength and Courage. The halls were large in the middle of a vast green compound near the centre of the capital. Barracks spread out in two wings to either side of the main building and those were flanked by smaller buildings for various classes and physical training. It was a strange mesh of utilitarian and expensive, managing to straddle the line between stark simplicity and clean utilitarian efficiency without quite becoming harsh.
In the main hall there was a wall of honour on which were the names of all those who had passed through the school who had distinguished themselves in battle. The name Hastings appeared on the wall no less than five times. That was what Thomas Hastings, 1st year Cadet 3rd class looked at as he waited for his father to finish discussing him with one of the heads of school. He was a slender boy, a bit short for his age and full of a sort of nervous energy which in a horse would have indicated good breeding but in a boy starting military school was a sign of weakness that very few would approve of.
Hastings. A name known throughout the military circles galaxy wide. A name known for breeding warriors the like of which would rise to Valhalla on their deaths. A name that carried weight so heavy that Thomas felt as though his shoulders were pinned down. He swallowed nervously, watching out of the corner of his eyes (a skill he was exceptionally good at) while other cadets and prefects moved through the halls. It wasn’t as if he could even looked to Greg for help. His older brother was well settled into his third year, a prefect and a star in his class. He’d made it clear he didn’t want his sickly little brother tagging along after him.
No - this was it and he was on his own. Or he would be the moment Father left. There were so many rules in Military School and he’d done his best to cram them all before coming, not wanting to make a mistake on his first day - or week - or ever. The first years were the lowest of the low, lowest ranked in the school. A first year referred to everyone as ‘sir’, even other students if they were from a year above. A teacher was to be saluted and had to be obeyed at all times. Lights out was at 9pm on weekdays and 10pm on Saturdays. First bell was at 5am in the morning. Rooms were to be kept spotless. There was an inspection daily for first years, though the rules were loosened a bit for the older ones. Chores were given out on a weekly roster. Lessons were attended throughout the day in two hourly brackets with breaks for midmorning and lunch. There was a free period in the afternoon and the two hours from seven to nine at night were also free but would probably be used for homework. PE was of mandatory importance. Older boys from fourth to fifth year were allowed to take on first years as their runners. Prefects could give out detentions and the head boy could discipline. Personal tech like phones and music devices had to be checked with a prefect or a teacher before being allowed onto the school.
There was more, but even thinking about it made his head swim. More than anything in the world at that moment Thomas Hastings wished he’d been born someone else entirely. He wished that he didn’t have to become a soldier lie his father and his father before him. He wished that he didn’t have to be standing here waiting for the next five years of his life to start before his life had even really begun properly. He wished he didn’t have to remember all those who’d gone before and live up to their memories.
“Do well,” Father said, striding up to him briskly and handing him his paperwork. “I expect your grades to be brought up this semester when compared to what you were doing with your tutors. Try to participate with others. Don’t slouch. I’ve taught you better than that, boy.”
They looked at each other for a moment, he nodded and then he left and Thomas gazed at his papers in glazed-eyed confusion to see where he had been billeted to. Barrack 6, room 1A.
itwasntanillusion
