Chapter 3
‘Wow, is this real?’ Mervyn asked as they stepped through the door. A clear titanium dome, through which he could see the moons of Ethrigia, topped the circular walls of the Stardome. The floor rose in the centre to form a small hill that dominated the hall; the hillock stood just higher that the surrounding walls. Natural sunlight, from Ethrigia’s yellow sun, illuminated murals of space scenes lasered onto the walls.
The trio seated themselves in the middle of the regimented rows facing the mound.
‘So what is this place, Tarun?’ Loren 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. Just the majority of you, Mervyn thought. He could feel the eyes of the other students watching him with distaste or was it just disapproval. He wondered what the other students knew about him.
‘There’s Rufus De Monsero,’ Tarun hissed as a thin dark-haired boy entered the hall. Close behind, like a shadow, followed a blond podgy boy. Rufus ignored them as he paced his way to the back of the hall. He greeted a selection of other pupils as he went then sat down next to the podgy boy in seats reserved by his cronies.
‘Who is the blond shadow?’ Mervyn asked.
‘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. Watch out for him, 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 which drew every eye. Mervyn found her strangely compelling -- the kind of girl who could look graceful wearing wide-brimmed hats. She stepped into the room then stopped, waiting.
Slowly a few students rose to their feet, Tarun among them. Mervyn couldn’t think why they should want to show a fellow student such respect, but he followed Tarun’s lead – the young aristocrat seemed to know what he was doing.
‘That’s Aurora,’ hissed Tarun, ‘she’s the Patriarch’s Niece -- a right shrew.’ Suddenly Mervyn didn’t know whether he should sit or remain standing, was he compromising the independence of the Mining Federation by showing respect to the Niece of the Ethrigian Patriarch? It dawned on him that his time at the Space Academy could be riddled with all sorts of political pit-falls.
‘Keep well away from Aurora,’ Tarun continued, ‘she’s toxic.’
‘Toxic?’
‘Her uncle is struggling to hold on to power on Ethrigia – shame because he is a good guy. Anyone seen with Aurora might be mistaken for a supporter. She’s as much an outsider here as you are.’
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 dress-uniform, dripping with self-satisfied gold braiding, 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,’ 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: De Monsero 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 I’m heir to an ancient house, not 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 he Principal waved vaguely at thin air.
Suddenly, the air beside the Principal began to shimmer and 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 three-fingered hands adorned four thick arms sprouting from its chest.
‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen,’ Al-Zak-Uilin boomed 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, but it was impossible. 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, entranced, except De Monsero who looked bored and studied his fingernails.
‘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.’ Mervyn had never before thought of the Ethigian social system, of aristocratic houses, as a concept, a bit like a game really that everyone played. He wondered what would happen if enough people decided not to play. Maybe this is how his Father had thought before breaking the Mining Federation away from the Ethrigian Prefecture – now they played their own game.
‘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 all four hands at the audience, like a battery of cannons, ‘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.’
Mervyn wanted to grin as the Principal scurried away from the approaching reptile. He wondered if Al-Zak-Uilin could see the setting and was chasing the Principal around the hillock on purpose or whether it was just a recording.
The President stared round at his spellbound 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 - w
hatever 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 stepped forward and 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.
‘Now, I bet you are starving,' the Principal said with relish, as if nothing particularly important had taken place, 'I know I am. So to lunch, and then to your apartments to meet your syndicates, and tomorrow we go straight into the first lessons.’ He wheezed his way down the mound, the students standing respectfully until he exited the dome, then everyone stated talking at once.