Juli woke to the sensation of complete and utter peace.
Not the kind of peace where the world simply existed around him in quiet monotony, but the rare, precious kind where his body felt genuinely rested. His fourteen-year-old frame had spent the entire night in blissful unconsciousness, unmarred by the usual tossing and turning that plagued academy life. He stretched his arms overhead with a yawn that would have made a newborn baby proud, his jaw opening wide enough to swallow the morning itself. His legs followed suit, extending out until his toes pointed and his muscles sang with that delicious post-sleep tension.
The world felt good. Better than good, actually. It felt perfect.
Juli swung his legs over the side of his bunk and padded toward the bathroom, still half-wrapped in the warm cocoon of sleep. His eyes were barely open, his mind pleasantly foggy with the remnants of dreams he couldn't quite remember. He pushed open the bathroom door expecting the usual chaos, the usual symphony of adolescent dysfunction that defined every morning in the boys' facilities.
Instead, he found silence.
Beautiful, pristine, absolutely glorious silence.
Juli blinked. Then blinked again. His eyes swept across the rows of sinks, the shower stalls, the toilet cubicles. All empty. Not a single cadet in sight. No juniors elbowing each other for mirror space. No seniors throwing their weight around and cutting in line. No one bickering over who used whose soap or who left wet towels on the floor. No swearing, no fighting, no general atmosphere of testosterone-fueled chaos that usually turned this place into a war zone every single morning.
This had to be a dream. Or divine intervention. Or both.
A grin split Juli's face as realization dawned. This was his lucky day. The universe had finally decided to cut him some slack, and he was going to milk this opportunity for everything it was worth.
He took his sweet time cleaning himself up. Normally, the boys' bathroom was a battlefield where speed and efficiency meant survival. Juniors and seniors alike would pack into the space like sardines, shoving and cursing and generally making the morning routine as miserable as humanly possible. The seniors always acted like they owned the place, strutting around and picking fights with anyone who dared make eye contact. The juniors fought back when they could and scattered when they couldn't. It was exhausting, really. But this morning? This glorious, miraculous morning? Juli had the entire facility to himself.
He brushed his teeth twice. He washed his face three times. He even took an extra minute to splash cold water on his hair and actually comb it instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it good. When he finally finished freshening up, he felt like a new person. Rejuvenated. Ready to face the day.
That's when he noticed the holographic clock mounted on the bathroom wall.
Juli froze. He rubbed his eyes, convinced that sleep was still playing tricks on him. The numbers didn't change. He rubbed harder, practically grinding his knuckles into his sockets. The numbers remained stubbornly, horrifyingly consistent.
His jaw dropped.
He wasn't just late. He was catastrophically, astronomically, impossibly late.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. No wonder the bathroom had been empty. Everyone else was already in class. He was the only idiot still wandering around like he had all the time in the world.
Juli bolted out of the bathroom and sprinted to his quarters, his earlier sense of peace evaporating into pure panic. He threw open his closet and began frantically searching for his uniform. He tossed aside shirts, rummaged through drawers, even checked under his bunk in case it had somehow fallen there overnight.
Nothing. His uniform was gone.
Juli stood there for a moment, breathing hard, trying to process this new development. Then the pieces clicked together in his mind, and anger flared hot in his chest. Someone had stolen his uniform. Someone had deliberately taken it while he slept, probably as some kind of prank or petty revenge for something he couldn't even remember doing.
He grabbed a worn-out shirt from the back of his closet, one with faded fabric and a small tear near the hem, and threw it on. It would have to do. He didn't have time to worry about dress code violations right now.
Juli ran toward the storage room, his feet pounding against the metallic floors of the academy corridors. The halls stretched out before him in their usual bland, utilitarian fashion. Everything was metal. The floors, the walls, the ceiling. All of it clean but utterly devoid of personality or charm. It was the kind of architecture that screamed "budget constraints" and "minimum requirements met." This was clearly a backwater academy, the kind of place where they spent money on function rather than form.
As Juli rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a group of senior cadets. They took one look at his disheveled appearance and his obviously non-regulation shirt, and their faces split into matching sneers.
"Real funny, assholes!" Juli shouted as he ran past them.
Their laughter echoed down the hallway, following him like a pack of hyenas. He could hear them making jokes at his expense, but he didn't have time to stop and trade insults. He had bigger problems to deal with.
Juli reached the storage room and pulled out his secret weapon. A fork. A perfectly ordinary dining fork that he had "borrowed" from the mess hall earlier in the week. He'd learned long ago that sometimes the simplest tools were the most effective, and a fork happened to be excellent for jimmying cheap locks.
He inserted the fork into the lock mechanism and twisted, applying just the right amount of pressure. The lock clicked open with satisfying ease, and the door swung inward.
Juli kissed the fork before pocketing it again. "You beautiful bastard," he whispered.
The storage room was larger than he'd expected, filled with neat rows of shelves containing spare uniforms and various other supplies. Cleaning equipment, maintenance tools, extra bedding. All the mundane necessities of academy life, organized with military precision.
Juli moved quickly through the racks of uniforms, checking size tags until he found one that matched his measurements. He pulled it off the hanger with a triumphant grin.
"Thanks for the donation, ARMADA!" he called out to the empty room. "You'll never regret it!"
That's when he heard the footsteps.
Juli's heart leaped into his throat. He yanked up his trousers with record speed, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings as he changed into the proper uniform. He barely managed to get everything in place before diving behind the door, pressing himself flat against the wall. His hand clamped over his mouth to stifle any sound that might give away his position.
The door creaked open wider. A balding head poked through the entrance, its owner scanning the room with suspicious eyes.
Mr. Richards. The janitor. Of all the people to almost catch him.
"Who's there?" Richards called out, his voice sharp with irritation. "I heard a sound."
Juli held his breath. His heart hammered so loud he was certain Richards would hear it. The janitor took another step into the room, his head swiveling as he searched for the intruder.
But Juli was already moving. He slithered along the wall like a shadow, using the shelves as cover as he made his way to the exit. Richards was still facing the interior of the storage room, completely oblivious to the figure creeping past him.
Juli reached the doorway and freedom beckoned. But he couldn't resist. He turned back and made a ridiculous face at Richards, sticking out his tongue and wiggling his fingers by his ears in the most juvenile taunt imaginable.
Then he ran.
Juli kicked open the door to his classroom with enough force to make it bang against the wall. Every head turned to look at him. He sighed, already feeling the weight of Chief Instructor Vela's disapproval, and executed a quick bow.
"Sorry I'm late," he mumbled before jogging to his seat at the very back of the classroom.
The reactions from his fellow cadets were mixed. Some looked annoyed at the interruption. Others seemed amused by his dramatic entrance. A few appeared completely indifferent, already turning their attention back to whatever Vela had been teaching before his arrival.
Chief Instructor Vela herself stood at the front of the room, and Juli had to admit she cut an impressive figure. She was a chelonian, her features distinctly turtle-like with a broad face and a shell that formed the natural contours of her back. She wore the green and white military uniform that marked her as an instructor, a stark contrast to the plain white uniforms the cadets wore. Her eyes tracked Juli's movement to his seat with the intensity of a predator watching prey.
"Cadet Weiper," she began, her voice carrying the sharp edge of barely controlled anger. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Do you possess even the slightest concept of punctuality or respect for this institution and your fellow students who managed to arrive on time?"
Juli wasn't really listening. He'd already pulled out his collection of action figures from his desk, tiny plastic warriors that he'd been slowly accumulating over his time at the academy. He began moving them around his desk surface, creating elaborate scenarios in his head. The blue one was clearly the hero, fighting against impossible odds. The red one was the villain, monologuing about his evil plans. The yellow one was the comic relief sidekick who would probably die heroically in act three.
Vela's shell twitched. It was a subtle movement, but Juli had spent enough time in her class to recognize it as a sign of mounting fury. Her teeth ground together audibly.
Then she picked up a marker from her desk and threw it.
The marker flew through the air like a bullet, spinning end over end with deadly precision. It cut through the space between them faster than most people could blink.
But Juli's instincts were sharper than most people gave him credit for. He saw the projectile coming in his peripheral vision and reacted without thinking. He launched himself out of his chair, his body twisting mid-air as his leg came up in a jumping kick. His foot connected with the marker and sent it flying back toward Vela with equal force.
Vela dodged with minimal effort, tilting her head slightly to let the marker whistle past her ear.
The entire exchange happened in a blur. Most of the other cadets barely registered what had occurred. One moment Juli had been sitting at his desk, and the next he was standing with one leg extended, grinning like an idiot.
"You're fast, Chief Instructor!" Juli called out, giving her a thumbs up with genuine enthusiasm.
Vela's expression could have curdled milk. "Detention for Captain Weiper."
"Boooo!" Juli shouted, dropping back into his seat with exaggerated disappointment.
By the time dinner rolled around, Juli had worked up a serious appetite. The events of the day had left him ravenous, and the smell of food emanating from the cafeteria was pure torture. He stood in line, practically frothing at the mouth as he watched other cadets get their meals. But the queue was enormous, stretching halfway across the room, and it was moving at a glacial pace.
Then someone grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him out of line.
Juli found himself face to face with Rikan and his two buddies. All three were seniors, taller and broader than Juli's junior frame. Rikan wore a smirk that made Juli want to punch his teeth in.
"Hey, Juli," Rikan said with mock sympathy. "I heard you lost your uniform this morning. That must have been really rough for you."
"Shut up, rat-face!" Juli snapped back. "I know it's you and your two cocksuckers that's behind it!"
Rikan's smirk vanished, replaced by genuine anger. "What the fuck did you just call me, Weiper?"
Juli met his glare without flinching. "Me? Oh, I'm sorry. I was gonna say a dick-eating rat-face. My bad."
Rikan's face turned red. He gestured to his cronies, who immediately moved to surround Juli. "Maybe a good beating will help you learn some manners about respecting your upperclassmen."
"You can shove your respect down your crackhole, shitty rat-face," Juli replied with a casual shrug.
The other cadets in the cafeteria had started to notice the confrontation. They cleared out quickly, forming a wide circle around the brewing fight. The atmosphere shifted from mundane dinner routine to electric anticipation in seconds. Someone started chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" and others quickly joined in. Juli even spotted some seniors setting up an impromptu betting ring near the serving line.
The cafeteria lady, an older woman with permanently tired eyes, sighed deeply and muttered something about needing a vacation.
Juli grinned at the bullies surrounding him. His bright red eyes sparkled with cockiness and barely suppressed excitement. This was going to be fun.
From across the cafeteria, a girl watched the scene unfold with neutral disinterest. She had silver eyes that reflected the harsh overhead lighting, black hair pulled back in a practical style, and skin so pale it seemed almost luminescent. She appeared to be a senior based on her bearing and the way other cadets gave her a wide berth. Her expression suggested she was far from amused by the testosterone-fueled display before her.