Chương 71: 29.Talk of the Base 29-1

The bell rang just as I was walking back from the administration wing, trailing behind Leo and Heinrich. The timing was terrible. Genuinely terrible. Because the United Interstellar Military Academy wasn't designed for low-profile movement. The Lower House dorms sat closest to the gate, then rows of academic buildings, then the Upper House and their residences, with faculty offices and administration at the very back.

Which meant getting from the faculty office back to where I belonged required crossing the entire campus from its least accessible point through its most visible zones. In other words, my current configuration was roughly equivalent to placing an unidentified explosive device in the center of the assembly hall with a note reading Please Do Not Stare. The moment the bell stopped, the academic buildings started disgorging people. White uniforms first.

Upper House students always walked like they'd been issued double oxygen rations. Spilling out after class, they resembled some kind of civilized, orderly, but fundamentally annoying migratory flock. The crowd was flowing outward from the buildings. Then someone, somewhere, hesitated — and every line of sight in the corridor, across the courtyard, down both stairways snapped toward us like they'd been pulled by the same wire. To be precise: not toward me. Toward the two people in front of me.

Colonel Leo Wiesland, Centaurus Sector Commander. Dr. Heinrich von Steiner, Deputy Grand Fellow, Federation Central Research Institute. I walked half a step behind them, acutely aware of one fact: I really was going to be famous today. Not the kind from topping exams, getting praised in Tactical Theory, or beating up a Disciplinary patrol.

The kind where you happen to be standing between two objects with the gravitational pull of small stars, and suddenly the entire observatory swings its instruments to focus on you. The crowd went still for a beat. Then someone drew a sharp breath.

"…Centaurus Sector Commander?" Another voice followed immediately, pitched low but uselessly so, because ten people around heard every word.

"What's he doing here?" Then a girl's voice, trembling with near-reverence:"He's so handsome… was he just looking at me?" I nearly laughed out loud. Humanities track, obviously. More precisely: the type who spends time reading political history, diplomatic strategy, and military-institutional structures until they develop involuntary romantic projections onto real power.

Show them someone with heavy enough rank insignia, hard enough presence, and age still marginally suitable for fantasy, and their internal pink filter flips on with an audible click. Leo clearly heard it too. He didn't turn his head. His stride barely stuttered — less than half a second — then his shoulders went straighter, expression darker. Not embarrassment. Standard-issue I am not prepared to be responsible for any minors today, please retract your eyeballs threat posture.

Unfortunately, to Upper House students, the higher the rank, the more someone resembles a walking specimen of living legend. And once a living legend appears in the corridor, crowds naturally begin to reproduce. The other side was considerably more spectacular. If the "was he looking at me" line was routine humanities-track pathology, what Heinrich triggered was a large-scale STEM division religious revival.

I'd barely heard the first sharp intake when the cluster of Upper House students with data pads started surging forward.

"That's Dr. Heinrich—" "Is it really him?!"

"I studied your paper on quantum battlefield information entropy reconstruction—" "Doctor, regarding your subsequent corrections to the asymmetric thermal signal deception model—" "Doctor, I've taken notes on your Federation Military Systems appendix three separate times—" Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. I stood behind them watching white uniforms vibrating with excitement while desperately maintaining Upper House decorum.

It looked exactly like educated cultists finally encountering their living oracle in a corridor. I'd assumed Heinrich would terrify the engineering track. He didn't. He inspired worship. This world was sicker than I'd thought. Heinrich was entirely unruffled. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it. That perpetual smile finally achieved its most dangerous form — not warmth, but the particular ease of someone who knew everyone thought he was divine and was graciously allowing them to say so.

He raised one hand with the unhurried grace of accepting champagne at an academic reception.

"Your enthusiasm is appreciated," he said pleasantly.

"However, this is an Academy corridor, not an open symposium or pilgrimage day. Academic inquiries may be submitted through formal channels. As for expressions of admiration—" He paused. The smile deepened slightly.

"I have received your devotion in full." After that line, at least two people in the engineering cluster actually looked saved. I kept my expression flat and thought: someone should feed these reactions into an AI and generate instructional materials for institutional psychological deviation. Leo's approach was considerably more direct. One Upper House girl seemed to gather the nerve to step forward, mouth just opening, when Leo's gaze moved across her. Just once. No anger. Nothing particularly sharp.

Just standard officer eyes — level, precise, hard — carrying the implicit lesson: you should know exactly where you are right now. The girl froze and stood straighter than parade rest. I almost applauded.

"Clear the corridor," Leo said. His voice wasn't loud, but it split the walkway down the middle.

"Class is out. This is not observation hour." More effective than any official announcement. The humanities side stepped back immediately. The engineering pilgrims still watched Heinrich with the reluctance of believers being turned away from a miracle site. Heinrich even nodded graciously to one Upper House student clutching a folder, blushing so hard he looked ready to achieve liftoff. That kid would probably write about it tonight: The Doctor Acknowledged Me: A Personal Account.

I stood behind them both, feeling like some interdimensional aberration dropped into the wrong scene. Genuinely out of place. The two in front of me: one the physical embodiment of military authority, one what the Federation's research establishment looked like after growing a face and becoming a high-grade hazard. Around them: people who wanted to approach or worship them.

And me — grey uniform, Lower House, first-year, who'd been photographing the Disciplinary Chair and General Affairs Officer in a greenhouse twenty-four hours ago and was now being escorted through the Upper House sector by this particular configuration. This wasn't just inappropriate. This was like hammering a steel nail into a crystal display case and insisting it belonged there. The three of us kept walking. The crowd parted, but the stares didn't disperse. They clung to my back like transparent, persistent film.

I knew that starting today, it wouldn't just be "Hoshino got called to the faculty office" spreading around. It would come with premium content: Lower House new intake. Special recruit. Background: unknown. Centaurus Sector Commander: personally present. Deputy Grand Fellow, Central Research Institute: left his card. Outstanding. I really had become the most interesting person in the Academy. The thought made me speak up quietly.

"Should I be thanking you two right now?" Leo didn't turn around.

"No." Heinrich angled his face toward me, smile warm and entirely punchable.

"If you mean the dramatic improvement to your campus recognizability, then yes, you're welcome."

"I'd rather thank you for putting me on a spit."

"That was necessary preheating," Heinrich said.

"That sounds uncomfortably like experimental protocol."

"Because it is." I shut my mouth. Sometimes the best resistance isn't arguing back. It's refusing to give the other person satisfaction. We passed the blindingly white Upper House corridors and threaded through the middle academic blocks. When grey uniforms started outnumbering white and the chaotic but recognizably human atmosphere of the Lower House seeped back, I finally felt like I could breathe.

The area near the gate was always noisier — mixed dorms, equipment sheds, temporary supply points all crammed together, the air thick with sweat, detergent, cheap snacks, and gear lubricant. Compared to the Upper House, it felt like someone had finally admitted that living people naturally produce impurities. At the junction near the gate, Leo stopped.

"This is as far as we go," he said. The implication was clear: escort ends here, the rest is your problem. Heinrich still looked like a researcher wrapping up productive fieldwork, raising one hand in farewell.

"Wishing you a pleasant and extensively observed remainder of your day."

"Drop dead."

"Thank you. I'll schedule it." Leo shot me a look.

"Watch your language with senior officers." I was about to say then manage the one standing next to you first, but before I could, I spotted two familiar faces. Harvey Knox was leaning against a lane marker post just inside the gate, holding a half-opened component package — God knows what he'd scavenged this time. Jess McCallow stood beside him, arms crossed, expression balanced between I knew it and this is going to be good. They'd clearly caught most of the show.

Jess looked at me first, then at the two behind me, then let out a very soft whistle.

"Wow." Harvey didn't whistle, but those usually flat eyes paused for half a second.

"Fast work," he said. Looking at them, I felt like I'd finally returned to something resembling the normal world. Even if this version of normal had serious problems of its own. But at least — in front of Harvey and Jess — I didn't have to perform anything. No valuable institutional asset, no person of interest, no strange specimen the whole Academy was discussing. Just me.

A miserable bastard who'd been hauling cherry cola yesterday and was being personally escorted back to the Lower House by two people who had no business on campus. I let out a breath and pressed my fingers to my temple.

"Don't ask yet." Jess's mouth curved immediately.

"Which means there's plenty to ask." I glanced at her, then back at Leo and Heinrich, who hadn't quite cleared visual range, and concluded that today was going to be long. And probably not quiet.