27. By the Time the Leaves Hit the Ground

Academy Hill, Vidako

Imperium Stellarum
September 29, 2847

When Arc woke up on Sunday morning, without the need for an alarm, he began to understand how it might be possible to survive four years at the academy even without genetic modifications. For the entire first six weeks, he’d had every moment of every day so tightly scheduled for him that, when he realized that he didn’t actually have to rush to the showers to get to a class, or to present himself at attention for a morning run under the tender care of Lieutenant Kekoa, he just let himself lay back against the pillow for a moment.

It was, despite the fact he was sharing a dormitory room with two other cadets, an almost inconceivable luxury. Arc actually closed his eyes again and just lay there for a long moment.

Maybe I should get something other than a Hyper Efficient Brain Flush after all, he thought to himself. If I can make up sleep on the weekends… Still, it would have been nice not to feel exhausted every morning when the alarms went off. Not to collapse onto his mattress each evening.

Arc rolled to one side, opened his eyes, and scanned the room. Delvan Beck’s bunk was, of course, empty, just as it had been since he’d washed out. Being stuffed with every genetic modification possible hadn’t, in the end, helped him get through Hard Burn. Arc wasn’t surprised to see that Cal Madine had already left for the morning, and that his bed was made perfectly. When he leaned over the side of his bunk to check on Pika, he saw that, while the Alu’kan’s sheets were still tousled, he himself was gone, along with his shower kit. For the moment, Arc was alone in the room.

“Iceni,” he said, “Give me a list of every genetic modification the academy offers, sorted from most popular to least.”

He had the sensation that the AI was almost humming to herself in thought. If I simply sort by the most-requested modifications, there is going to be a bias introduced, she explained. You are aware that many students come to the academy already possessing modifications of their own. It would be more accurate to include publicly available data on the prevalence of certain modifications in actively serving pilots, as a whole, and weigh that based on factors such as career longevity and performance evaluations. Of course, much of this information is subject to medical privacy laws or otherwise not available, but promotions are a matter of record, as is ‘ace’ status, and…

“I think you know what I’m going for, Iceni,” Arc said, cutting her off before she dug even further into the details. “Give me the best list you can.”

Very well. With the understanding that there are numerous factors I am estimating due to incomplete information…

“Yes.” Arc nodded.

Then the clearly most common genetic modification is a retrovirus which alters the DNA such that interneurons and motor neurons more efficiently register and respond to threats as part of the withdrawal reflex, Iceni explained. There are some adjustments to the brain, as well. Enhanced Reflexes are one of the overwhelmingly common elements among ace pilots, and the presence of this modification is statistically correlated with surviving combat during active service. Some of the DNA modifications are modelled on a terran species known as the star-nosed mole, which is absolutely fascinating. Would you like to see an image?

Arc chewed on that for a moment. “Maybe later,” he said. “When I first got here I was just so desperate not to be exhausted all the time that cutting down on the amount of sleep I needed seemed like the absolute first priority,” he admitted. “I’m never going to have as many modifications as someone like Delvan—or Cassie,” he admitted.

At the cost of a thousand merits, most students don’t get more than two from the academy during their time here, Iceni confirmed. A Hyper Efficient Brain flush might still not be the worst idea, Arc. It is common among serving pilots, as best I can tell from the data I have access to.

“I can see how it would be good in combat situations,” Arc admitted. “Anything that helps you to roll out of your bunk when your carrier sounds battle stations would help. Anything else on your list that stands out?”

Enhanced NMDA Receptors are positively correlated with the proportion of cadets who successfully graduate the academy, Iceni explained, but less so with the measures of success I am tracking against pilots once they are actually serving in fleet.

“Meaning, it helps you to pass your classes, but it’s not actually very useful in combat,” Arc said. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk before climbing down and grabbing his own shower kit. “If I’m only going to get two, they need to be the right two. Can you put a star or a note or something next to enhanced reflexes, on your list?”

Consider it done.

Arc opened the door and headed out into the hallway, and from there into the bathroom. He could hear several showers running, and he nodded to Jimmy Tierney, who was busily engaged in digging between his molars with a length of floss at one of the sinks. Arc didn’t say anything else out loud until he was standing under a hot showerhead, amidst a cloud of steam.

“What’s your other top pick?” he asked, as he set to soaping his body. It was still a bit odd to see actual muscles on his own frame—odd in a way that made him feel slightly proud.

My own personal recommendation would be an enhanced adrenal gland, Iceni told him. If you weren’t already scoring in the 99th percentile on cognitive processing speed, before the neural lace surgery, I might have considered a retrovirus designed to enhance your brain. But in all honesty, Arc, you are already operating at the peak of unmodified human potential due to the cybernetics, and there’s a practical limit to how many different ways we should try to modify different parts of your brain.

Arc paused, bar of soap in his hand. “Can we measure that? Where I am now, since the surgery?” he asked.

Recipients of neural lace see an average improvement of five percentile points, Iceni explained, developing over the course of six months post operation, once patients have a chance to adapt to the hardware. Of course, the lower someone scored in the first place, the more of an effect. We would need to measure you against other highly intelligent humans with the same modification—which is a vanishingly small portion of the population. We might be better off comparing you to the LeShaii, once the Imperium has better records on their capabilities.

“Put it aside for now, then,” Arc said. “Adrenal Gland.”

Yes. I am capable of manually activating your adrenal gland already, causing your body to flood with epinephrine. To maximize the effectiveness of this capability, it would be optimal to enhance your body’s natural ability to produce and store that hormone. There is, however, a downside which might speak against such a recommendation on the basis of pure efficiency.

“What’s that?” Arc asked. He wanted to run his hands through his hair—it was almost second nature. Instead, he continued to hold his head, and the bandages covering his scalp, out of the spray.

Adrenaline surges affect the body’s memory-forming functions. Specifically, it contributes to the development of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

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Once he was dressed, Arc headed downstairs to get himself breakfast. He knew that Cassie, Rain, and Pika had beat him down there, because he’d checked the group chat while he was getting dressed. Vee, apparently, was still snoring away in the girls’ dorm.

He was hurrying through the wide corridor, which served the dual purpose of lounge and passage between the foyer and the dining hall, when he spotted C’rise Bian, sitting absolutely alone in the middle of a loveseat meant for two. On the coffee table at her knee, a plate heaped with breakfast food sat utterly untouched, while a tablet rested, forgotten, on the cushion at her side.

At first glance, the LeShaii cadet’s face appeared still and motionless, as if she’d been carved from some pink, glistening shell—like the nacreous deposits which rose from her skull. To Arc’s surprise, she wasn’t wearing bandages, and there was no sign of recent, still healing incisions anywhere on her skin. Flopsy, RA Lynstan-Hanigata’s shadow-rabbit, was nosing at the girl’s leg from his place on the floor, though she didn’t seem to notice it.

What was even more striking was that he was almost certain her lips were trembling, and her eyes were wet.

Arc almost walked right past her and continued on into the dining hall. His friends were waiting for him, after all, and he really didn’t know C’rise. While she theoretically roomed with Cassie, Rain, and Vee, the LeShaii never went anywhere with the other girls. In fact, Arc couldn’t recall ever seeing her sit with anyone in the dining hall, or spend time with any of the small friend-groups which had grown among the class of 2851.

I’ll be along in a few minutes, Arc sent to the group chat. With the same sort of feeling one got just before ripping off a bandage, he sat down on a cushioned armchair across the table from C’Rise Bian.