Unustainable Recruitment

- Welcoming Address. Astral Calendar 6297 -
". . . Whatever they call this place on the outside, to you it's the Grater. All you cadets come from the 62% who lived through having your genes scientifically altered in the womb to augment your ability to operate in space. That's what will make you Void Guards, if you survive. Most of you won't. 54% will die in your first year. 44% of what's left won't make it through the second. 29% of the remainder might have a chance to serve . . ."

- Welcoming Address. Astral Calendar 6301 -
". . . 42% will die in your first year. 30% won't make it through the second . . ."

- Welcoming Address. Astral Calendar 6302 -
". . . Some of you cadets are products of genetic engineering, but all of you have potential. The training is difficult. 25% will be expelled to prevent serious injury . . ."

- Welcoming Address. Astral Calendar 6305 -
". . . And if a cadet writes your name in the 'Recommended By' section, you will receive credit toward fulfilling your 'Practical Leadership' requirement . . ."
Finis

Addendum

The final stage is no warships at all. Your cybermaturgically enhanced warriors fight in the void unaided.

The Projceleb List

Alfred Bristow walked into the airlock, or rather the lobby. Department C had attempted for the entirety of his tenure there, and surely before that, to persuade employees not to call it the airlock. One hoped its other projects saw greater success, as indeed they did when Bristow was in charge of them.
"The Unassuming Gentleman is inside," the secretary directed. Bristow nodded, walked into the office, and took a seat. There was indeed an unassuming gentleman inside. Bristow had of course learned the man's name long before, but feigned ignorance on that point. No need to make things awkward, he reasoned. For himself. Besides the man, there was unassuming furniture and objets d'art, the exact amount a comfortable man in a comfortable position would have. A difficult calculation given the ready availability of every possible item in every possible material.
"Modern industry is wonderful, wouldn't you say, sir?"
"What in the world are you talking about, Bristow?" His superior turned around and harrumphed. "We need you to focus on this one. It just came down from Department S. They're hopping mad over there. It seems their database of newborns projected to become famous has been stolen."
"What's the motive?"
"We're operating under the presumption the thieves intend to take pictures of the babies to sell in thirty, forty years." "Well, that's hardly a crime, is it?"
The unassuming gentleman tapped the papers on his desk. "What's important is that said database is absolutely vital for the Department S eugenics program. It simply cannot be replaced."
Alfred Bristow leaned back. "Eugenics program, sir? I never knew they had one of those."
"Yes, well, they like to keep inputs and outputs separate. Get on it, would you?"
"Yes, sir." Bristow rose and left.
Finis

Fashion Is the Answer

Out: Bounty hunters who are secretly the results of supersoldier experiments
In: Ringed planets

Big Reveal

Obviously whoever hired a pop punk band for the coronation was skimming money from the event budget. That much is a given.

Integration

"I can't believe the pop punk band I hired for the coronation was actually a bunch of disguised bounty hunters!"

A Sentence Never Heard

"That supersoldier program worked out great!"

Addendum

The secret part is optional. Having a megacorporation advertise its supersoldier projects using bounty hunters is perfectly acceptable, nor must the bounty hunter be shy about it. May the bounty hunter acquire a quiver of infinite arrows? Why, certainly.

The Vicissitudes of Fashion

Out: Quivers of infinite arrows
In: Bounty hunters who are secretly the results of supersoldier experiments