Rigel Rising

"Voice Mail Received..."     I looked at the communications pad that alerted me while I am busy shoving several notebooks inside my large shoulder bag that looks more like a small suitcase than a bag right now.     "Deliver," I shouted, and the A. I played the recording.     "Don't you dare be late, Caerus! I will definitely smack you silly if you are tardy today. I bet you are just about to leave your room right now! Get your ass here pronto! The Lord High Admiral will be here any minute!"     I just heaved a sigh and shook my head in disbelief.     Really? The last day of our stay here at the Royal Space Academy and Katarina wants me to be punctual? You've got to be joking.     But her sermons are no joke, to say the least. So, I rushed out of my room and into the empty hallways before dashing as fast as I can towards the entrance of the pneumatic tunnel leading to the school grounds where the investiture ceremony will happen a few minutes from now.     I guess this is the part where I have to explain who the heck am I, right?     I am Caerus Aeter, an orphaned eighteen-year-old graduate of the prestigious Royal Space Navy of the Royal Kingdom of Reginald.     Yes, the Royal Kingdom of Reginald and one of the two great superpowers of the space era and home to about four hundred million homelanders in the Regus Continent back in Gearth and another million colonists like me living in the Regina Space Colony.     That's right, I am lucky enough to have been sent here from Regus back when I was just a child.     One of the passing whims of the eccentric ruler of my nation back then was that all the orphans left in the orphanages of his kingdom during the day of his silver jubilee celebration will be sent to the Regina Space Colony and be given only the best education and support from the kingdom.     Together with eight other unadopted children, we traveled from Gearth to space, making us the youngest humans ever to be sent to the skies unknown.     Lucky for my companions, they got adopted almost immediately by several lonesome couples within a month of our arrival and I was the only one left.     That was like, what, ten years ago?     Thankfully, as the last orphan sent to space unadopted, I got all the perks of the generous king who paid for my living and educational expenses straight from his royal treasury.     The only thing I am required to do is to write him a letter every four months telling him about my life, what I am doing, and just about anything I can think of telling the closest person I have for a guardian.     Of course, being a king, I was told by the Royal Household not to expect any replies at all from His Majesty and they even told me that they are not aware if he even reads my letters at all.     However, I am still required to write four times a year as it is the only thing that the king asks in exchange for his generosity.     I was even instructed when I graduated high school two years early when I was fourteen years old to enroll in the Royal Space Naval Academy.     That is the one and only proof I have that the king read at least one of my letters to him at all.     I always tell him in my letters how much I like to be on big space battleships and to learn everything that I can regarding how they work and fight. To be perfectly honest, I believe more than half of my letters to His Majesty contains me sharing my childish dreams of seeing his personal flagship, the Luster cruising outside my window on its way back to Gearth after a port call in our colony.     After graduating two years early from high school because of my above average intelligence, the Royal Household quickly have me enrolled at the Royal Space Academy.     To avoid being bullied and gossiped about since I am technically not qualified both in background and physical fitness tests, the school administration publicly announced that the reason why I am even accepted to the academy was because of my exemplary grades back in high school because of my grade skipping and for propaganda purposes as well.   Maybe to show the citizens of the kingdom that the best and grade skippers choose the Royal Space Academy to further their studies and graduate as high-ranking officers in the military of Reginald which is facing severe shortage of officers to lead the burgeoning numbers of conscripts enlisting.     Not to mention the massive conscription drive our nation is going through right now.     My time at the school is unremarkable for better or worse.     Thanks to my unfailing stock knowledge, I managed to at least get high grades, though still not enough to match my new teammates who picked me from the bottom heap.     When I asked them why, they just said that I looked like the least of my peers who will complain about something and will just do what I am told.     Which I did.   I held up the end of our agreement and became their runner during our long thesis endeavor, not to mention their coordinator when we are in our on-the-job training and immersions in several military installations.   Whatever they need, I will provide. Whatever they will ask for something to be submitted or fetched, I’m there. Always present, never absent, I am always with them even though most of the time, they are the ones who are doing the heavy lifting.   When it’s time for me us to submit our studies and be evaluated for grades, my four teammates included my name on all their findings and works even though I contributed close to nothing to even have my name there.   That’s their end of the bargain.   Because I allowed them to work to their heart’s content and was never detrimental to their researches, they honored me with the fifth position behind them but far ahead from other students in the graduating class.   Even though I am technically allowed to skip this particular ceremony since I am not included in the awarding, I am still expected to at least witness it and be there for my group as they did for me.