The mood in the dorm is low the next morning. Nobody else had less than ten laps of the gigantic dorm building that holds seven years' worth of Class 1 Cadets.
After the age of eighteen, the qualified Cadets will move to the Imperial Military College. Nico was chosen for a scholarship to the Military College at birth due to her family's history and her personal talent level, a fact that Max found out last night as they got acquainted before bed. The Imperial College was essential training to become a commanding officer, so it was a place that Max had worked his hardest in hopes of attending.
If he couldn't score high enough, he would end up at one of the lesser colleges, which would lead to him starting his career as a low-ranked Line Mecha pilot and likely ending his days doing drudge work under someone else's orders. That was the last thing that Max wanted, and Nico agreed to help him with his goal in every way she could.
But first, they would have to suffer through years of basic education Nico already did on her own, from what Max had seen in her memories. Max, on the other hand, learned a great number of the things that she considered essential knowledge only today.
He's not sure how his handwriting will be, having never actually owned a pen or paper, but after multiple uses of his skill on his roommate, a very necessary invasion of privacy he felt truly bad about, he had all of the essential skills and many of the important bits of knowledge that Dave missed teaching him committed to his memory.
Dave was an Enlisted Infantry Soldier with a D minus System Compatibility score, so he was never taught anything about Mecha Piloting, and all he knew of the officer's training was that they liked to order his units to their death by the tens of thousands. While they stayed back safely in the command center, of course.
[All Recruits Assemble in the front courtyard at 0900] an announcement blared through the speakers mounted all over their floor of the dorm building.
Max and Nico both snapped their attention to the clock, seeing that they only had ten minutes to get downstairs. Cadets are not allowed to use the service elevator and the first years are on the top floor of the building. Every year they'll get one level closer to the ground with shorter runs when these announcements come in.
The majority of the other recruits are still sleeping, so the pair called out to the handful of Cadets who were already awake and in the cafeteria, "That's in ten minutes, and we need to get downstairs. Time to go, everyone."
Wise enough not to want another punishment for being late already, everyone who heard them headed for the stairs, many still carrying their morning meal. As they ran, they called out into the dorm rooms in an attempt to get the rest of their classmates up.
Dorm room doors don't lock, but every cadet gets a biometrically locked cabinet in their room. Max and Nico both knew to keep everything secured in their lockers and the bed made, but a lot of the rooms they passed by looked like a hurricane just passed through. The instructors would surely be covering cleanliness and organization later today, but for the first few weeks, Max suspected that they would cut the young Cadets some slack.
They were only allowed to bring one small bag of personal effects, and Max brought nothing at all except a few keepsakes from Dave and a single change of clothes, so his locker was almost empty.
Nico brought a bit more, but only enough to fill a third of the regulation rucksack that they will be issued soon.
As they reached the stairs, Nico tapped the data screen built into the wall and winked at Max. The lights started flashing red, and an alarm sounded, pulling even the deepest sleepers from bed.
She didn't slow her pace at all, hopping up to ride the banisters down to ground level with Max right behind her. Major Payne was standing in her command position in front of the marked ranks on the asphalt field and smiling at them while looking at her stopwatch when they arrived. With great relief, Max and Nico fell in on the painted squares in the courtyard, eager to start their first day of training.
This time a few of the smarter students were not far behind them, panting from the effort of running down the stairs. Even these few were an improvement on yesterday's performance, though there were fewer than twenty of their classmates assembled when the instructor clicked her stopwatch, and the other teachers locked the doors and waited inside for the late Cadets.
"Not bad, Cadets. The alarm was a nice touch. You will now be issued your Uniforms, Toiletries and have the chance to access the Commissary for anything you forgot. One Hundred Standard Credits have been issued to your accounts."
A Sergeant came by to hand each cadet a plastic bag with their ID number on it, containing their basic necessities.
"Fall out and assemble here in three hours, in uniform and ready for afternoon training." Major Payne informed the Cadets with a smile, causing many of them to start thinking she might secretly be a kind person and not a harsh taskmaster.
The relaxed first-day schedule was a trap, as were the credits. It's the entirety of their first Semester's allowance, and if they spend it all now on comforts, they'll have very little for the next four months. For those who overspend, an advance is available, but it comes with a caveat, from then until the end of the school year, an instructor will have to monitor and approve all your spending, teaching the Cadets financial discipline.
Allowing the Cadets who lack the financial discipline to make a basic mistake was the easiest way that the Academy had found to determine who required supplementary lessons on the subject. Ideally, many of them would make mistakes and learn to turn to their superior officers for any and all answers to issues in their lives.
That is what makes for a good soldier, not free thinking and independence.
The academic year is split into three semesters of focused education, with a break over the last week of each term. During the autumn break, they won't be allowed to leave this year, but in the early spring and beginning of summer ones, they will be if they're well-behaved.
"Let's go get socks. They only give you two pairs in the basic kit." Max told Nico once they were dismissed and then started jogging for the Commissary to get there before it got crowded.
That was among the most important bits of advice in Dave's mind when he was briefing Max on his first days at the academy. Clean socks are the key to comfort, he insisted.
One standard credit each gets them a prep pack, as the Academy calls them. A high-tech thermal base layer that holds optimal body temperature, with six pairs of socks and a boot polishing kit. They each took two.
"Let's go. My friend says they give you the parade boots unpolished," Max told Nico, who shook her head at their pettiness.
Everything on the first day was a test for the Cadets. Even the uniform kit. The underwear in it is cheap and scratchy, but the prep pack base layer is silky smooth and extremely comfortable. The parade boots aren't polished, but they have to be to pass muster. Finally, their cadet badges attach to the locking buttons, but no instructions are given as to their proper placement until a Cadet asks.
The military wants to know how fast they can adapt and how their decision-making process works while guiding them to the military-approved answer of "Ask your Commanding Officer," but it doesn't make life easy on Cadets like Max and Nico, who already understand most of what is required of them and see the learning experiences as a series of minor inconveniences.
The first-day tests are designed to be failed. Once the Cadets fail them, the instructors will reinforce the thoughts that problems are not meant to be solved as individuals. In fact, they will be slowly indoctrinated to think of themselves as part of a unit, not as an individual first. With that will come a sense of belonging and the structure that is the Chain of Command. If you don't know, ask the unit. If the unit doesn't know, ask the immediate superior officer.
That is what they want of the Cadets, not free-spirited or mischievous children.