Mervyn scrambled into his spacesuit, grabbed his helmet, and hefted his holdall. He had to keep moving, doing something, if he stopped to think what he was about to do fear might get the better of him. He tried not to think about the jump.
Loren stomped after him, "Do we have to jump? Isn’t there another way to transfer ships?" The Silvin shrugged. Loren glared at the Silvin, ‘Well I’m not jumping if there’s no safety line.’ On the main screen in the control room the dart had grown in size. It was almost upon them, it still looked minuscule, though, compared to the trader.’
"Helmets on," The Silvin squeaked opening the inner door of the airlock. Mervyn saw immediately that they had a problem. "Oh no, not a gravity net," Loren cried. "I hate gravity nets. Can’t you rig up a connecting tube?" But that wasn’t the problem. Mervyn could feel his stomach fluttering with nervousness, he hated gravity nets too, but he wasn’t about to let on to Loren. "’eez quickest way to transfer you," the Silvin squeaked uncertainly. "Time ‘eez money." Loren’s thick eyebrows scowled into the Silvin’s many eyes, "What if I fall between the ships?"
Mervyn stepped between them, he could tell Loren was spoiling for a fight, but in her nervousness she still hadn’t spotted the problem – maybe he could get he into the airlock before she noticed. There was no way he was going to miss out on a place at the Academy because Loren would not jump ships. ‘If you fall the catchers will hook you in, Loren.’ He deliberately stared into her eyes – he had read somewhere that direct eye contact created trust and confidence. ‘We’ll do it together, ok? She nodded uncertainly.
"Please try not to stick,’ the Silvin whined, ‘ eet takes far too long to retrieve you. Time..."
"I know," Mervyn muttered. "Time is money."
The Silvin’s focus on money was unnerving Loren again, "But what if a meteor hits me or the pirates return or something?" The Silvin stroked a panel beside the door producing a graphic of the trader and the dart tied together by a swirling tunnel of energy. The Silvin’s knobbly finger pointed to streaks above and below the swirl, "The gravity net, eet deflects everything around eet. Radiation levels, zey are normal." Loren knew the technical details, of course, she was just scared. She treated the Silvin to another withering frown which the it thankfully ignored.
Mervyn snapped on his helmet and stepped into the airlock hoping Loren would follow. She did. He kept her busy checking the seals on each other’s suits: it was second nature to check his buddy’s space equipment. Mervyn waited nervously for the lock to shut behind them, then forced himself to stand still while the Silvin evacuated air from around them. His natural inclination was to pace around when nervous, but he knew if he showed any sign of fear Loren would back out, and he needed her to jump.
Mervyn could feel the pull of the gravity net even before the door snapped opened. He held on to the wall to steady himself and looked down. Nothing. Nothing for thousands of light years. It was worse than looking over a cliff, if he fell out there he would fall forever, and when the heater in his suit packed up he would freeze down to absolute zero almost instantly. Then Loren spotted it, "No safety line." She was right, only the invisible gravity net linked the door they stood in to the dart flying alongside, but it was too late to go back now, and she knew it. A circular hole, slightly smaller than the one they stood in opened in the dart’s side and two suited figures hung out ready to catch them. Star light twinkled off its hull.
Mervyn swallowed hard, there was no way he was chancing the gravity net until he knew it was really there. He picked up his kit-bag and threw it over first – just to make sure.. It spun across like a propeller until one of the catchers grabbed it and dragged it into the dart. The gravity net’s spin made it almost impossible to effect a graceful landing. Mervyn usually ended in an ungainly heap. Loren’s throw was not so accurate and her bag bounced about until it stuck halfway, spinning around between the two spaceships as though caught in a whirlpool. One of the catchers hooked it in with a long pole. Mervyn saw the look of dread on Loren’s face and knew she was imagining being hooked in herself.
"I’ll go first," Mervyn said being gallant.
‘No. I don’t want to stay here on my own.’
‘Then we’ll go together,’ he said and grabbed her hand. She smiled nervously through her visor and gripped him tightly – if they were not wearing thick gloves he was sure she would have crushed his hand.
If only the net was visible it would be less like throwing yourself into oblivion. ‘We’ll go on three,’ he said, taking a deep breath and fixing his gaze on the catchers. ‘One,’ he bent his knees ready to jump, ‘two,’ a thought flashed across his mind, ‘what would happen if he jumped and Loren didn’t?’ He pushed the thought away, best not to think about it, ‘three,’ As though diving into a swimming pool, he launched himself into space. He thought he might feel some drag from Loren, but they were weightless; all he could feel was her vice-like grip holding on as though he was her one link to reality.
They spun, like their bags. Mervyn tried to focus on the catchers, but they whirled into a dizzy blur. Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and he crashed to the deck.
He fumble blindly for a hand-hold, his gloved fingers working their way over the surface of the airlock for anything that would anchor him to the dart; anything to stop himself floating away again. He found a scooped out depression in the deck plate and gripped it as tightly as Loren had gripped his hand, then he lay in a heap as stars spun before his eyes. The dizziness cleared and he found himself face down staring over the edge of the dart’s airlock at a cluster of stars. Hastily, he scrambled further back. He hauled himself upright to find Loren crumpled in a heap at the back of the airlock, both hands locked round as grab-handle. She climbed shakily to her feet, ‘That wasn’t so bad.’ But through the curve of her visor, he caught the green shade of her chima, and knew she was lying.
Before the dart’s outer doors even snapped shut, the Silvin had already uncoupled the gravity net. Belatedly, the inner door opened to reveal a sumptuously decorated hallway; wooden panelled walls, paintings of Ethrigian heroes chasing across the ceiling; lavishly upholstered sofas, interspersed with delicate tables, their spindly-legged tables buried in deep pile carpets. Two figures stood waiting for them. Mervyn removed his helmets.
‘Welcome,’ intoned a distinguished Ethrigian Mervyn recognised. ‘I am Lord Tivoli. Welcome to my yacht. May I introduce my eldest son, and heir, Tarun." He gestured to a dark-skinned youth standing uncomfortably a step behind him. The youth looked about Mervyn’s own age with tawny brown hair and brown eyes.
The youth bowed low, "At your service," he said formally
"Tarun is joining your intake at the Academy. I am sure you will have much to share." Tarun’s chima blushed pink, but his face broke into an engaging smile, and Mervyn felt an instant warmth towards the young aristocrat.
"Hi, I’m Mervyn and this is my friend Loren." They shook hands, Loren successfully managing to effect an air of self-confidence as though she jumped ship every day, though Mervyn noticed she hid her spare hand behind her back where it continued to tremble. Lord Tivoli led the way to the dart’s observation room where refreshments awaited the guests. Mervyn gazed longingly at the squishy sofas as they strode past – such luxury on a spaceship.
‘I understand you had a run-in with the Dagamon,’ Lord Tivoli said.
Mervyn had no idea what his host was talking about, ‘Dagamon?’
‘The self styled, Naga of Pershwin. He is a Dagamon,’ Lord Tivoli explained, ‘an Ethrigian throw back to an evolutionary dead end, it happens occasionally. They can be helped if they are caught early enough, but this one was hidden. Always big, always aggressive, and always unhinged. I apologise for the rudeness of countryman.’ Mervyn didn’t think Lord Tivoli had anything to apologise for and an embarrassed silence ensued as they walked.
Tarun broke the silence, ‘I am really looking forward to the Academy – do you think we could be friends?’
Loren glanced sidelong at Tarun, ‘You want to be friends with Outworlders?’
‘You’ve seen the news reports then? It’s just stupidity."
‘The demonstrators in Ethrigia city didn’t think so," Mervyn said.
‘It’s probably just another stunt by Dracon. He likes to stir up the people for his own ends it gives him leverage with the Patriarch.’
Loren frowned, ‘Dragon?’
‘No, Dracon, though you’re not far off – in fact the founder of their house was know as Cedex The Dragon Lord. Lord Dracon is the Patriarch’s adviser.’ They past a giant painting of the Ethrigian solar system. Now it was Mervyn’s turn to frown, ‘What’s Dracon got against me?’
‘Lots. For a start you’re an Outworlders, and Dracon hates Outworlders. You also won one of our scholarships and Dracon has an intense dislike for anything my family does.’
‘I know, his son, Rufus, tried to stop me.’
‘There’s also the small matter of Dracon hating your father. Dracon lost a stack of money when you father...,’ Tarun’s voice trailed off as though afraid he was embarrassing his guest. He shrugged his shoulders, ‘well you know.’ Mervyn knew exactly what Tarun meant. He remembered the arguments and the divisions and the votes when Helium3, the fuel for nuclear fusion, became the centre of their universe. He was too young to vote, of course; no one had asked for his decision, he hardly even had an opinion about it, but he was labelled just the same. It was so unfair. And now he would have to fight the stigma at the Academy – sometimes he hated his father, not for what he was, but for what he had done.
They walked in silence as they turned towards the prow of the ship.
‘A charming character all-round then, this Dracon,’ Loren said. ‘No matter, I doubt if we’ll ever meet him.’
Mervyn grimaced, ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, his son, Rufus, the one who tried to beat me, is in our year at the Academy.’
‘I’m beginning to doubt whether this Academy is a good idea,’ Loren groaned.
They arrived at the observation room and caught their first glimpse of their new home. The trio gazed in awe at the shuttle’s viewscreens. The lozenge shaped craft, Academy One, had arrived in orbit around Ethrigia the previous evening. Mervyn’s gut gave a sudden lurch, a toxic mix of fear and elation: here at last, but at what cost? He had alienated his father and run away from home to fulfil his dream, and here it was before him. Now; thought, his chosen course was uncertain: a traitor in name, and thought,. if not in actual deed, a poor human among the Ethrigian elite. At the same time, the opportunities enthralled him; to race sleds and win, the chance to follow his dream as far as she could, even to the very top: anything was possible.
‘Look, there’s the stardome,’ Tarun cried, breaking into Mervyn’s thoughts. He pointing excitedly at a clear titanium bubble projecting from the lozenge. Every craft Mervyn had ever travelled in used viewscreens to see the outside world. Academy One was different, it had a clear dome allowing a direct view of space. Mervyn imagined himself standing in the centre of the bubble surrounded by real space, not like space walking where your view is restricted by your helmet, but actually surrounded by the magnificence of the universe. He decided the stardome was at the top of things to see first, right after the sleds.
They stared in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Mervyn turned back to Tarun, ‘But it’s still a risk for you to be friends with me, right?’ Tarun glanced up, startled out of his contemplation of the Academy by the unexpected question, ‘Probably, but I value good friends over good allies. Anyway, if I’m going to restore the family’s fortunes maybe I need to gamble occasionally. I’m told humans are good risk takers maybe you can teach me.’
‘You’re doing pretty good on your own at the moment,’ Mervyn said.
Private yachts, of every size and description, swarmed around the landing bay of Academy One, waiting their turn to land. No one could doubt the Academy was a school for the wealthy and privileged. Once again, Mervyn found himself overawed by his luck in landing a scholarship at such a prestigious seat of learning – even if he had earned it.
‘Look, those are the launch tubes for the sleds,’ Loren said, as they drew closer. She pointed to triangular holes on the side of the ship. Sleds, like fighter craft, were catapulted into space to avoid the need for large antimatter engines; unlike shuttles, which took forever to reach a respectable speed.
Tivoli’s yacht ducked beneath the rim of a cavernous landing bay and alighted gently on a clear spot. Mervyn could see more craft milling around, some arriving and disgorging their occupants, others hastily departing. A large black shuttle craft lifted from an adjacent lot then shot recklessly towards the swarm outside. Shuttles and yachts alike made way.
‘Dracon,’ Tarun said. ‘I recognise the yacht.’
A short balding Ethrigian greeted them at the end of the ramp as they disembarked. ‘Welcome to the Space Academy, we are so pleased to have you as students; I am Barros Arovy your economics tutor; Put your luggage on a cart, as many as you need, just tell each one who you are.’ A shoal of flat-loaders skimmed about the landing bay, weaving between the yachts. To his left, ten loaders had formed themselves into a train that snaked towards a lift. ‘Flat-loader,’ Mervyn thought into his biolink and one broke away from the shoal. He smelled a puff of ozone from the antigrav generators as it settled at his feet. All around Mervyn could see students stacking bags and trunks of every description onto trains of flat-loaders. He looked down at the loader by his feet, and dropped his single holdall into the centre. Then he folded up the suit-carrier, which contained his spare uniform, and placed it neatly beside the bag together with the helmet for his spacesuit – all his worldly possessions. ‘Name and destination?’ The flat-loader requested into his biolink in a clipped mechanical voice. ‘Mervyn Bright, er... I’m new, I don’t know my apartment yet,’ he felt self-conscious admitting to a cart he did not know where his baggage should go.
‘Mervyn Bright, new intake, apartment twenty-five,’ chanted the flat-loader and shot off back to the shoal.
Twenty-five – he wondered apprehensively who would be joining the syndicate with him in apartment twenty-five. Whoever it was would be more than just living companions – Tarun had explained that he would be living, racing, and working with his syndicate for the rest of his time at the Academy: they would stand or fall together.
‘Make your way to the stardome for the welcome speech, then lunch in the restaurant,’ Barros Arovy instructed. As they made their way towards the lift, the Tivoli yacht soared towards the roof of the landing bay. Another immediately replaced it disgorging its payload of students. Mervyn heard Barros Arovy welcoming the new students. ‘Welcome to the Space Academy, we are so pleased to have you as students; I am Barros Arovy.....’
