The aggressive squeal of bagpipes woke (Y/N) up the next morning earlier than usual. Sergeant Fernsby delighted in sharing some of his culture with the cadets (chiefly through his prized bagpipes), but (Y/N) wished he wouldn't. She found that waking up to the sound of a strangled cat horrifically squawking the notes to the Academy's alma mater was less than desirable, and usually led to a very mediocre day.

She rolled out of her top bunk and hit the floor with a thud, moaning a string of profanities into the floorboards. Then pulling on her uniform, she trudged outside into the early frost-bitten morning.

"Mornin' Cadets, breakfast is earlier for the next four weeks ta give ye more time for preparin'." The Sergeant boomed to the half-asleep cadets. "So eat up, before it goes cold!"

The cadets began to meander into the hall for their meal (likely of porridge due to the low temperature), feet stiff and noses pink. Numb fingertips grasped hopelessly at buttons to close their blazers in the hopes of retaining a little more warmth.

After their hearty breakfast, the cadets broke off into their pairs, aiming to work towards the graduation test. But (Y/N) and Jim both sat motionless on a chilly bench to wallow in their misery for a little while longer.

"My butt's getting cold. I'll be over by the ropes." She yawned after a while and stood up, stretching her arms. Jim sighed and stood up as well.

"I guess I'm going there too if we're going to be working together." He said, and they began their day by walking over to the frosty ropes.

~~~

3 weeks before the test

It was a sunny day when (Y/N) and Jim were practising securing and releasing sails on a mock deck that had been set up outside.

"Hawkins, that's the literal worst coil I have ever seen." (Y/N) said bluntly as she looked down at his handiwork.

"Do you mind?" He seethed, glaring at her over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the rope. (Y/N) sighed and began to walk away, but her foot caught on one of Jim's 'coiled'  tangles of ropes and she crashed face-lift onto the deck.

"Jim!!!"

~~~

2 weeks before the test

"Turn North West!" Jim called from the back of the training boat, right into (Y/N)'s ear. She flinched but steered in that direction.

They were doing an exercise suggested by Commander Hawthorne which involved a lot of giving and taking orders from both parties: one blindfolded, the other giving directions. With anyone else this would've been a slight challenge, but since they couldn't take orders from each other, it was turning into an excruciating endurance.

"I said West, not North West!" Jim contravened hastily as the ship was about to plough into a makeshift wall. She sharply turned the boat west and the G-force made Jim slide to the other side of the boat. The sudden movement caught him off-guard, and he almost fell from him seat.

"You definitely said North West." She growled and tried to peek under the blindfold.

"You need to get your ears checked-- hard North!"

"Do you mean 'East'?" She teased dryly but still turned North. The boat grazed a wall and they both winced at the scraping sound of wood on wood.

"Gah! HARD North, (Y/N)!"

~~~

1 week before the test

"This isn't working!" (Y/N) yelled as she hit the engine with the screwdriver.

"Maybe because you're not letting me help." Jim snapped and put his hands on his hips.

"Why would I let you help when you were the one who busted it in the first place!" She was referring to his reckless flying of the practise ship. The temperamental engine had blown, leaving them stuck a kilometre away from the Academy.

"Because I'm the one who knows how to fix it?!"

"And you're also the one who never trusts me to do anything, so just let me figure it out!"

"I don't trust you because you don't trust me!"

"I don't trust you because you give faulty directions and crash me into walls! I think my mistrust is justified!"

"They weren't wrong, you just need to clean out your ears once in a while!"

"YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE!" (Y/N) cried out and threw her hands up. She slammed down the screwdriver on the top of the engine and stormed to the other side of the ship where she could get the chance cool off, away from Jim.

He glared at her back for a moment but soon turned his attention back to the busted engine and picked up the screwdriver that (Y/N) had left on the hood of the steaming machine.

~~~

3 days before the test

The practise ship was a decommissioned pirate carrack, small in size. Though beautiful, it now lacked any of the polished looks it had once possessed. She was a rustic lady with carved wooden railings covered in chipped gold paint; creamy sails of dated weave and design; helm wheel smoothed with heavy use.

Though the carrack, 'The Fat Lady', lacked the streamlined technology of the modern world and was severely out-moded, she certainly made up for her clumsy mechanics with her unmistakable charm.

When the pair boarded her she rocked dangerously, as if threatening to end their bickering by dumping them into space.

"I'll be captain," Jim said plainly and (Y/N) frowned.

"Wait a minute, why should you be the captain?!" She huffed.

"Because you'd make better first mate than I would!" He feigned earnest and swung on the railing to face her before climbing the steps to the upper deck. (Y/N) glared at the back of his white shirt -- he was in the habit of shedding his blazer as soon as authority was out of sight -- as he ascended the wooden steps and did a practice spin of the helm.

"I bet I'd also make a better captain, too!" Jim scoffed at her comment but didn't reply; instead choosing to familiarize himself with the wheel. The sails were secured against the light breeze to ensure that the ship wasn't carried off into the etherium, but still the ship swayed in the wind. (Y/N) had a difficult time balancing herself on the deck due to the vessel's lurching.

After finding her footing, she grabbed a length of rope that sat in a mess by the mast and coiled it neatly as she waited for the Sergeant's 'All Clear' signal from further down the dock.
There were still a few ships pulling into the dock when she heard Jim sigh in exasperation.

"This is taking too long," He groaned and leaned his bare forearms with rolled-up sleeves on the helm while blowing a few strands of hair from his face.

"Be patient, we need to wait for the other ships." (Y/N) sighed.

"It's been 20 minutes."

"So? We could be here an hour but it's better than getting in an accident with a freighter." (Y/N)'s comment tipped Jim over the edge and he threw his hands into the air. She looked at him strangely as he began to loosen the mainsails and prepare the ship for launch. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He heaved as he let down the mainsail, which gently flapped in the wind. "'D'ja do me a favour and turn on the generator?"

"This is reckless, Jim." She said warily but he scoffed.

"Better then waiting here. Now please turn on the generator."

She begrudgingly obliged, flicking the switches on and coaxing the hydraulics into action, which took a moment of tender loving care due to its bad temperament akin to a cantankerous old man. It sputtered into life eventually and the ship lurched forward but was tugged back by the tether still fastened to the dock.

(Y/N) jumped to unfasten it, but unfortunately, Jim had the same idea and as they both dived for the rope they knocked foreheads and fell back onto the deck.

"OI, CADETS! TURN THAT ENGINE OFF RIGHT NOW!" Sergeant Fernsby bellowed, making both cadets flinch at his tone as they rubbed their heads.

All of a sudden, a cracking noise emanated from the dock as the wooden post The Fat Lady was tethered to began to splinter under the immense pressure. (Y/N) paused and was momentarily swept with sickening horror, but Jim was on his feet in an instant and dashed up to the helm. Just as he grasped the wheel, the top of the wooden post broke off altogether and they careened forward; the piece of wood dragging behind them still attached to the tether. Jim spun the wheel and the ship narrowly missed a patrol coming into the dock, but though they had managed to avoid the scattered obstacles in the sky above the dock, the fierce motion knocked (Y/N) off of her feet, who -- recovering from the head clash -- had been climbing to steps to the upper deck. She toppled over again, this time into Jim, and they both hit the starboard railing while the ship spun out of control.

"Get off me!" Jim grunted. Pushing her to the side, he tried to grasp the wheel but instead tripped over an uncoiled mess of rope -- the rope that held the mainsail in place. It wrapped around his ankle and the sudden jolt unfastened the knot and the boom swung around, pulling Jim with it.

Since Jim was preoccupied (being dragged around the deck by the swinging boom), (Y/N) grabbed the helm and, with much difficulty, steadied the ship. Eventually, the boom came to a halt and (Y/N) saw a very nauseous and dishevelled Jim sprawled across the deck.

The engine coughed warily as (Y/N) set the ship back at the docks, sputtering to a halt as soon as she had been parked. While she was securing the sails, Jim emptied his stomach over the side facing away from the dock. His miserable retching made (Y/N) cringe for the sake of the paint job and the awful stench that would be left for the next pair to endure.

As she walked down the makeshift gangplank she avoided Sergeant Fernsby's fierce glare and braced herself for the grilling that was sure to ensue. Jim stumbled behind her, face still slightly green, but as soon as Sir violently inhaled they both snapped to attention.

"CADETS 4 AND 15! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YE THINKIN'!" He raged, and a drop of his spittle landed on (Y/N)'s cheek but she stifled the excruciating urge to wipe it off.

"WHEN I SAY IT AIN'T TIME TO GO, IT AIN'T TIME TO GO, YE TWITS! YER'LL BE LUCKY IF YE DON'T GET KICKED OFF THE PROGRAM AND SHIPPED OFF TO BE HUMAN BATTERIN' RAMS ON THE FRONT!"

The Sergeant continued to explode, but all (Y/N) could see were the other Captains and Lieutenants that had been docking with disappointed looks on their faces, and her fellow classmates that had gathered behind the Sergeant. When her eyes glazed over their faces and saw Broden Wilkes stifling a laugh, her knuckles whitened as she imagined slugging his tubby face.

She spared a glance at Jim who seemed to be equally as agitated and internally sighed. Why did things have to turn out so horribly, embarrassingly wrong?