"Samantha Darling, you've got everything packed, right? The Academy bus will be here soon to get you." His mother called from the living room. About time too, he couldn't wait to get out of this house and never come back.

Twelve long years he's waited, studying what he can with virtually zero resources and even less parental support. Yet still, his mother declared last night during his birthday dinner that she wants him to drop out of the academy at age eighteen when the government funding for parents ends to become a beauty queen and support the family, refusing to this day to admit that she has a son.

While Max waited for the Academy Transport and watched a spider slowly pull a piece of chipped paint from the wall, his mind wandered to his first memories of mighty Ion Cannons and Mecha that didn't match anything in the Kepler Kingdom's Army. Those memories still stuck with him, driving him every day to learn a little more about Mecha piloting.

Mostly he learned from Dave the hacker who lived a few doors down, but he did do some official research to look good for the government monitors. After making sure he's connected to his home wireless and using a default spec generic device of course.

His parents rarely noticed if he was missing, so the two have spent a great deal of time together, weeks on end in fact, and Max had used the old veteran's VR set to practice on the black market Mecha simulators every chance he could, preparing for this day when the academy would come to collect him.

There was only so much he could improve himself without having the system active, but many of the lowest ranked Pilots had Delta Rank System Compatibility, which was basically the same thing. For them only pure talent separated the top from the bottom. The very best could even surpass higher ranked slackers who relied on the system for all their improvements.

Dave for his part made sure Max was learning everything necessary to become the sort of military officer that enlisted men like him looked up to.

If you ignored the propensity for illegal online activities that is.

"Are you all ready sweetie?" Carla Max asks her oldest son, holding her twin daughters on her hips.

"For dinner or for school? Yes to both mother. I've been studying hard to be the very best student at the academy."

"That's good news darling. When I was your age, I was still learning to read. You study robotics for fun and have a daily workout routine. Those kids have nothing on you."

Despite his intense dislike for the woman, Max was too kind to mention that high level system compatibility enhances cognitive abilities, so an F ranked child really doesn't stand a chance against one with high ranked compatibility at the same age. Even without his unique advantages.

Plus, he's twelve already, even the most dimwitted of F Rank children should have long since learned to read by now. But that's better kept to himself.

But she was right, he had indeed been studying robotics, far more than his parents knew. From the moment he met Dave, he devoted himself to Mecha repair, design, development and piloting techniques. At least as much as he could Pirate from the civilian net or hack from the online government servers.

It became clear to him by age two that those government servers were meant to be hacked, there was nothing confidential on them, but an inquiring mind with a thirst for knowledge could find a great deal there. Like the essentials of manual robot control, academy dexterity training and how to build an antique Ion cannon.

They were powerful weapons, with the advantage of being driven off the machine's power core and not running out of ammunition, but with the downside of a slow rate of fire, since the ionized plasma took a bit of time to charge.

Many Line Mecha Pilots used them. They are the Kepler Kingdom's entry level Mecha and their newer or lower ranked pilots are often lacking the skills to accurately deploy a faster firing weapon. The propaganda on the net portrayed every Mecha pilot as heroes of the Kepler Kingdom, but Max had a sneaking suspicion that many were there to be nothing more than fodder for the war machine.

Dave depised war, calling it a waste of lives and resources, but made it clear to Max that the right leader could be the difference between life and death. So he insisted Max should be that leader, both for himself and those under him.

In the larger but faster Corvette class Mecha the Ion Cannons were rare, but in the true heart of the Imperial Mecha Squadrons, The Crusader and Phalanx Class giant robots, they were a time honored favorite. Outdone in many situations by more specialized weapons, like the Gatling Cannon Max preferred in combat simulations, they could still eliminate enemy Mecha and buildings with great efficiency in the right hands.

Coming into the kitchen dressed in a black uniform shirt he got from the old veteran two days ago and a clean pair of white pants, Max almost managed to look like the academy cadet he was about to become. All he needed was academy emblems to complete the look.

Just one last meal with his family and he was free.

"I'm ready for dinner, where's mother gone?" Max asked, ducking his head through the kitchen doorway and finding everyone but her was already present. No matter how much he despises his parents, it's not worth the beating to disrespect them to their faces, even on his last day here. He's still in a rather small preteen body after all.

"She said something about losing her little girl and hid in the bedroom to look at photo albums and cry again. Can you pretty please bring her to dinner?" Peter, his father asks.

"No problem." Max sighs and walks over towards the bedroom door, which hangs slightly crooked and has a large hole in the middle from a previous argument between his parents.

"Mama, the food is getting cold, did you want to miss your last dinner before I head to the academy?" he called through the closed bedroom door, making his father facepalm at his lack of tact and sensitivity.

Peter knew Carla had mental issues, and that her treatment of the boy was beyond strange, but he simply couldn't be bothered to wreck a good thing by making a fuss about it. The boy's stipend from the government paid for everything he had and he wasn't about to give it up by alerting child services.

Peter decided that since Max was leaving, he should start encouraging Carla to make more female friends and talk about things other than her dreams for her daughters, in the hopes that maybe it would help balance his little wife's personality. At least that's what he wished for, not knowing it was a lost cause from the start. She was set on a delusional life of glamor, even if it was by proxy through her children.

Carla came running through the living room, wiping her red and puffy eyes, swollen belly cradled in her other hand.

"Slow down, you don't want to trip and risk the babies." Max teased. His mother was pregnant again, another set of twins. Boys this time, and the other twins weren't even two yet. Hopefully now that she had her girls these boys might fare better than him.

"I'm sorry honey, I don't know what got into me." Carla cried, hugging the son she had never actually cared enough about to even realize he despised her.

"Don't worry mother, it's only a few months until spring break and I'll be back again" Max says rubbing her back, with no intention of ever actually returning.

"But you don't get to come home for the winter pageants, they get you all to themselves and I will be here surrounded by boys." Carla pouts, heading to the table as Peter brings out the birthday dinner. Shepherds Pie with Cesar salad, and pumpkin pie for dessert, all Max's favorites.

"With three little boys to take care of your days will fly by faster than you know it, mom." Max teases.

"Hey you little rascal I heard that." Peter laughs, glad they're actually getting along for a moment.

Due to a number of reluctant parents not showing up on time, the Military Academy sends a bus for students the night before their first classes, in time to get them to the school residences before sundown, so they can get settled before lights out.

Dinner finishes just in time for the bus to arrive, and Peter heads back into the kitchen to do dishes, well out of range of his wife's impending mental breakdown.

"Greetings Colonel, I wasn't expecting someone so illustrious to come pick up students for school." he heard Max say. That must be Colonel James Black, head of the academy's Mecha repair program, and according to the news, the highest ranking officer on campus.

"And greetings to the man of the hour." the Colonel says, seeing Max come out in his new almost uniform outfit.

The only difference in uniforms between genders is the color of the shirts. Gray for girls, black for boys. The uniform itself is white in the summer, black in the winter.

"Yes Colonel, this is our beloved oldest child." Peter confirms, coming out of the kitchen when his wife doesn't respond, carefully choosing his words to not set Carla off.

"I just love Mecha, Colonel." Max says standing up as tall as his twelve year old body can manage. "I've been practicing on the publicly available simulators and I'm certain I have what it takes."

"Well spoken child you've raised." Colonel Black nods politely to the parents, ignoring the ramshackle state of the apartment. "Now if you'll excuse us, we've got to get to the academy."

Ignoring his nerves, Max rushes out the door to the bus, not wanting the Academy staff to see any more of the disaster he was living in. Or even worse, talk with the woman who calls herself his mother. If they think he will end up like that, they just might wash him out of the advanced program.

"You are Samantha Max?" The driver asks dubiously and Max shows him his official identification.

"So you are. Lots of students to pick up today, and you're first. Let's get a move on."