Our schedule was this.

  History, Theory, Practicals, Physical fitness, and a few others besides. There were a few classes of which were specialized. Such as the aptly named 'Command' class for those who were going into the Command specialization. There were classes for each role in a ship. I, however, was in the command track

  I had chosen the specialization weeks ago, because if I was forced to join the navy, I might as well get a ship to boot. Would I get a ship in the end? No idea. But I hade hope!

  Days passed, then weeks. The academy lasted 4 months, and I was determined to do my best. Then again, a always tried my best. No reason not to, and quite a few reasons to do so. Was I odd I that? Hmmm. Perhaps a smidgen.

  A month and a half in I was confronted by my peers. The kids, both male and female had congregated, and nominated 4 people to come and talk to me.

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  "Hey, Nivka, right?" A male cadet asked. With him were another guy and two girls.

  "Yep, that'd be me. What do you need?" I ask politely.

  "Uh, OK. I don't know how to broach this... uh-" He began.

  "Just ask." I state. "Best to just spit it out. No one bites, they kick though. Heh" I joke.

  "Uh... Alright then... Were you in the military before joining the navy?" The guy asked.

  "How old are you?" A girl asked.

  "What's wrong with your voice? And, uh... Your face?" Another interjected.

  "What happened to your arms and legs?"

  The lead guy flinched with each interjection. I looked between the group, and snorted. Kids. Might be legally adults, but they're kids none the less, just like fresh greenies.

  "Well. That was rude, on multiple fronts. But at least you got it out. So, in order. I am, or was, maybe still am, Lieutenant Nivka Feirbon, joined the unsc army 36. Spent a large amount of time in cryo for reasons I will not, and care not to explain. So, I am 25. Feel fuckin 45 though." I asy.

  "Now, voice and face have the same answer. Got shot in the head. From my still breathing, you can guess I lived. Now, my limbs got removed in various ways. From getting blown up, hit with a giant fuckoff hammer, and just plain getting shot. Thus, no limbs. Anything else?" I ask.

  From the stunned look, either from my answering or the answers themselves, I don't know. "Anyhow, if that's it, I'm off. You know where to find me." I say.

  As I walk off, I hear the greenies begin to mutter. There goes the rumor mill a'churning. Not like it wasn't before. I am a mysterious and confusing person afterall. Snort