‘Wow, is this real?’ Mervyn asked as they stepped into the Stardome, a clear titanium dome, through which he could see the moons of Ethrigia topped the circular hall; the floor rose in the centre to form a mound, like a small hill, that dominated the hall; the hillock stood just higher that the surrounding walls. Natural sunlight, from Ethrigia’s yellow sun, illuminated the murals of space scenes lasered onto the walls.
The trio seated themselves in the middle of the regimented rows of seats facing the mound.
‘So what is this place Tarun?’ Mervyn asked. ‘There’s nothing here,’
‘It used to be the ballroom when Academy One was a luxury liner,’ Tarun said. ‘You can almost imagine tables and chairs around the edges – people dancing to the strains of an orchestra, couples in love wandering up the mound to gaze at the stars.’
‘Don’t start going soft on me,’ Loren interrupted. ‘What do they use it for now?’
‘Oh um, not a lot really. They have awards ceremonies here, the occasional assembly... not much else.’
Tarun pointed out the students he knew, ‘That’s Douglas Iwoth from Gadus Prime, he’s ok. And that’s Jenny Fase, she’s delightful I hope she’s in my syndicate,’ he waved to a girl who looked around nervously, she smiled with relief when she saw Tarun who introduced his new friends.
‘Don’t worry, we don’t all hate Outworlders,’ Jenny said.
‘There’s Rufus Dracon,’ Tarun hissed as a thin dark-haired boy entered with blond podgy boy in tow. Rufus ignored them as he paced his way to the back of the hall. He greeted a few other pupils as he went then sat down next to the podgy boy in seats reserved by friends, ‘and the other boy is Hidraba, Lord Designate for the house of Hidraba, he doesn’t become a full lord until he’s eighteen, until then his mother runs the show, and he really resents it. He’s slimy.’
Just when Mervyn thought all the students had assembled another girl appeared in the doorway; her hair, piled high on her head, matched the colour of her Academy uniform – both the lonely blackness of deep-space; she exuded an air of confidence, and authority, that drew every eye. Mervyn found her strangely compelling – the kind of girl who could look graceful wearing silly wide-brimmed hats. She stepped into the room then stopped, waiting. Slowly a few students rose to their feet.
‘That’s Aurora,’ hissed Tarun as he stood. ‘She’s the Patriarch’s niece – a right shrew.’
Aurora acknowledged the class with a nod then seated herself gingerly on the extreme edge of the seating area well away from anyone else.
‘Pity the person who gets her in their syndicate,’ Tarun whispered resuming his seat.
Eventually, a bulky gent in a blue and gold dress uniform appeared. He puffed his way slowly to the top of the mound. As he did so, the student’s chatter quelled to a quiet murmur. When he reached the top the glittering figure turned to address the students.
‘Good morning,’ the he wheezed. ‘My name is Andreas Mott,’ he paused again to catch his breath. ‘I am the Principal of Academy One. I welcome you to your first year at the Academy.’ Mervyn felt pride swelling in his chest. ‘This year, we are privileged to have the heirs from no less that two of Ethrigia’s great houses; Dracon and Hidraba,’ the Principal put his hands together, clapping loudly. The students followed his lead.
‘Aren’t you an heir as well,’ Mervyn hissed to Tarun.
‘Yes, but not of a great house there’s a big difference.’
‘This year I will not be making my usual welcome speech. Instead, now we are part of the Republic of Free Nations, we are privileged to have a very special guest. Please put your hands together for the first President of the Republic, Al-Zak-Uilin,’ the students applauded politely and the air beside the Principal began to shimmer. The strangest creature Mervyn had ever seen took shape on the mound: lizard-like, at least three metres tall in all its yellow-green splendour; balancing upright on two ungainly legs that ended in vicious three-toed feet. stubby four-fingered hands adorned four thick arms which sprouted from it’s chest.
‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen,’ Al-Zak-Uilin said in a deep rumbling voice, waving all four arms at once; his noseless face swayed from side to side as though inhaling the odour of his audience. It was only a biolink projection, but Mervyn still felt apprehensive as the massive creature lumbered round the top of the mound.
‘Welcome. Welcome to the Space Academy.’ Mervyn tried to follow each of the four arms as they gestured and pointed round the room in different directions. The Principal instinctively moved back to a safe distance, away from those powerful limbs. There was no need of course, as Al-Zak-Uilin’s image would have passed straight through him, but he too must feel the power of this creature. ‘Many in the Prefecture do not support your Patriarch’s decision to join the Republic of Free Nations,’ Al-Zak-Uilin thundered without any preamble. ‘It is not for me to say if this is right or wrong, because freedom demands you choose your own path. But be warned, we live in dark days: the Centaph are preparing to swarm against Ethrigia, to remove your freedoms, while pirates like the Naga of Pershwin plunder our trade routes, growing ever bolder with each passing year.’
All eyes followed the pacing President. ‘You are the elite, in an elite academy. And like your exalted status, the Academy is just a concept, an ideal. Unless you live out that ideal the concept is meaningless. This ship, Academy One, is not the Space Academy – nor is any other place that you come together to learn, and there will be many. You,’ he pointed at the audience with all four hands, ‘you are the Space Academy – it exists wherever, and whenever, you as individuals put on the Academy uniform and choose to live out the ideals of this institution.’
The President stared round at his enraptured audience, ‘The Centaph’s great strength is their ideology. They cannot be defeated by might alone, but only by superior ideals – the sort of ideals that have shaped this Academy. So as you commence your studies I want you to remember this: study well, be loyal to your friends, be loyal to your people whatever direction that takes – and above all, be loyal to the ideals of this Academy.’
The four great limbs fell motionless to the President’s sides. In the stunned silence the Principal began to clap. The students took up the applause, though, Mervyn noted, they clapped with less enthusiasm than they had for the heirs of the great houses. The Principal addressed the students again as the President faded away, ‘Now, I bet you are starving, I know I am, so to lunch, and then to your apartments to meet your syndicates, and this afternoon we go straight into the first lessons.’ With that the Principal descended the mound with dainty steps.
‘What do you make of Al-Zak-Uilin?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Big,’ Loren said.
‘Impressive, and an excellent message too,’ Tarun said. ‘He’s the last of his kind, you know – the Silfar. Father also says we are heading for troubled times, though no one knows whether the Centaph Swarm will come today, next year or in the next century: the Centaph work to their own time-scales.’
‘My father says we shouldn’t wait,’ Mervyn said. ‘We should take the fight to the Centaph at a time of our own choosing.’
‘He would, he’s human,’ Tarun said. ‘But that’s not the Ethrigian way, we prefer to negotiate until the very last moment. Besides, once you start a fight with a Centaph clan they don’t stop – not until they either win or they’re wiped out.’
‘Hey guys, enough of the politics,’ Loren said. ‘Let’s go find the food.’
The dinning room resembled a restaurant; indeed, Tarun advised them that back in the days when Academy One cruised the galaxy as a luxury liner it had been a restaurant – his grandmother had travelled on it, of course the galaxy had been a calmer safer place then. The air was thick with appetising smells and Mervyn’s mouth began to water, he hoped the food would arrive quickly. The trio seated themselves at a shiny round table under an imitation palm tree. A virtual waiter appeared to take their orders from the virtual menus hovering in front of them. Within minutes, their orders arrived. Antigrav motors brought an automated trolley smartly to a halt by their table. Mervyn removed three plates of steaming food from the hotplate, while Tarun opened the chill unit to remove three cold drinks.
‘Thank you,’ Mervyn thought into his biolink.
‘You are welcome,’ the trolley replied politely. The virtual waiter appeared again to enquire if their meal was satisfactory. They assured him it was.
‘Look out, here comes Rufus,’ Tarun hissed. Dracon wandered towards them with Hidraba in tow.
‘Hello cousin,’ the dark-haired boy said in a silky voice. ‘Haven’t improved the quality of the company you keep, I see? The traitor, and an Outworlder don’t see many of those about.’
Anger boiled suddenly in side and Mervyn leaped to his feet ‘My dad’s no traitor,’ he snapped. Whatever he might personally think of his father’s actions, no one had the right to dishonour his family – he would defend them against anyone. Tarun and Loren also stood to face Dracon.
Tarun squared his chin defiantly and met Dracon’s eyes, ‘Ignore him, Mervyn, he’s only trying to rile you.’
‘‘Tis not right,’ Hidraba added, ‘shouldn’t allow riffraff like that into the Academy!’
‘I like my friends to have integrity,’ Tarun said. ‘Which is why I’m not with you, Dracon, or your smarmy mate Hidraba.’
‘Think you’re smart, don’t you cousin? Well they’re not meant to be here. Bet you don’t survive until the end of the month I’ve got a wager on it.’
‘Lucky to make it to the end of the week,’ Hidraba said.
‘Leave off Dracon, at least they earned their places,’ Tarun said.
‘My point exactly it’ll be a sad day when the Academy recruits on merit,’ Dracon said. ‘Be seeing you cousin don’t expect any favours though, cos’ you won’t get any.’
‘Misfits, that’s what they are. Misfits,’ Hidraba declared. Dracon turned his back on them and stalked away.
Tarun’s chima turned a sickly white as he sank back into his chair. ‘I hate him. I really, really hate him,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Who does Rufus think he is?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Heir to the most powerful house on Ethrigia, and probably our future Patriarch if Maxamillion fails to improve his popularity,’ Tarun said toying with his food. ‘The Dracon’s smell blood, and Rufus means to be Patriarch – thinks he’s a reincarnation of old Cedex The Dragon Lord if you ask me.’
Loren tucked into her lunch once more, ‘Dracon’s never your cousin, is he?’
‘Distantly related.’ Tarun finally gave up on his food and pushing his plate away.
Mervyn decided to change the subject, ‘Which syndicates are you all in? I’m in apartment twenty-five.’
A smile flashed across Loren’s face, ‘Me too. I never dreamed they would put us together. Brilliant.’
‘Fantastic,’ Mervyn said and they gave each other a high-five.
Tarun’s head sunk into his hands, ‘We’re doomed, we’re all doomed.’ The others stared at him in amazement.
‘Explain,’ Mervyn ordered.
‘I’m in twenty-five as well.’
‘Great.’
‘No, it isn’t. It’s jinxed.’
‘Jinxed?’ Mervyn and Loren said together.
‘Jinxed. Syndicate twenty-five is always the first to go.’
‘Rubbish,’ Mervyn said, ‘we will just have to beat the jinx.’
‘Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’ Tarun lifted his head again. ‘The Academy is all about politics even the results are fixed.’
‘What?’ Mervyn and Loren said in unison.
‘You really don’t know, do you?’ Tarun glanced from one friend to another. ‘It’s like this, to graduate for the next year each syndicate needs to collectively average eighty percent in all their projects and exams (if you don’t pass you’re out), and eighty percent of the pass-marks are based on the results of your syndicate projects, right?’ The others nodded. ‘But the project answers are deliberately leaked to the great houses, then passed around to the other syndicates.’
‘So what if you’re not in favour?’ Mervyn asked, a huge hole opened up in the pit of his stomach – he had a feeling he knew where this was headed.
‘That’s obvious,’ Loren said as her chima turning a sickly green. ‘You don’t get the answers – no answers means no passes and no passes means...,’ she drew a finger across her throat.
‘They’ve lump us together,’ Tarun said, ‘the no hoppers, that means we’re on our own; just like Dracon said ‘no favours,’ no answers. It’s already been decided – we’re toast.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Mervyn said doing the calculations in his head, ‘the other twenty percent of graduation points come from the exams, right?’
Tarun shrugged, ‘Which nobody works for, because they don’t have to.’
Mervyn ignored him, ‘So provided we all average a minimum of eighty percent in our projects and our exams, we’ll be in the clear.’
Loren nodded in agreement, ‘It’s doable – difficult, but doable. I wonder who’s the other member of our syndicate?’
With a sinking feeling, Mervyn realised his vision of whiling away his Academy years racing sleds had been hopelessly naïve, he would have to work hard just to retain a place, any racing he achieved would be a bonus. His unbelievable luck in landing a place at the Academy looked as if it was all about to turn sour. The future, his future, rested entirely on the fourth member of their syndicate. He hopped they were prepared to work hard, if not..., if not it was back to the Helium3 mine on Starlight and humiliation in front of his father, he tried not to think about it. ‘We had better go find out who it is,’ he said jumping up and leaving the rest of his food. Together, the friends hurried towards apartment twenty-five.
