Chapter 4
‘What do you make of Al-Zak-Uilin?’ Mervyn asked as they crowded out of the hall.
Loren grinned, ‘Big.'
‘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 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 never stop – not until one of you is extinct. Best not to start, I say.’
‘Hey guys, enough of the politics,’ Loren said. ‘Let’s go find the food.’
The dining 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 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. De Monsero sauntered 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 round here.’
Anger boiled suddenly inside 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 stood also.
Tarun squared his chin defiantly and met De Monsero’s eyes, ‘Ignore him, Mervyn, he’s only trying to rile you.’
‘Ah, yes,’ De Monsero said, as if noticing Mervyn for the first time, ‘the fly-boy who won the scholarship race. I owe you a good thrashing, don’t I?’ Mervyn ignored the comment, but Tarun looked puzzled – he would have to tell about the tussle now.
‘‘Tis not right,’ Hidraba blurted, ‘shouldn’t allow riff-raff like that into the Academy!’
‘I like my friends to have integrity,’ Tarun said. ‘Which is why I’m not with you, De Monsero, 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, De Monsero, at least they earned their places,’ Tarun said.
‘My point exactly - it’ll be a sad day when the Academy recruits on merit,’ De Monsero 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. De Monsero turned his back on them and stalked away, Be seeing you Fly-boy.’
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 De Monsero’s smell blood and Rufus means to be Patriarch.’
Loren tucked into her lunch once more, ‘De Monsero’s never your cousin, is he?’
‘Distantly related.’ Tarun finally gave up on his food and pushing his plate away.
Mervyn decided to tactfully change the subject, ‘Which syndicates are you 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, Marvin. It’s bad, very bad.’
‘Bad?’ Mervyn and Loren said together.
‘Bad. Syndicate twenty-five is always the first to go.’
‘Rubbish,’ Mervyn said, ‘we’ll just have to beat that 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?’
‘You really don’t know what you’ve got yourselves into, do you?’ Tarun glanced from one friend to the other. ‘It’s like this -- to graduate for the next year each syndicate needs to collectively average eighty per cent in all their projects and exams (if you don’t pass you’re out), and eighty per cent 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 mean no passes and no passes means...,’ she drew a finger across her throat.
‘They’ve lumped us together,’ Tarun said, ‘the no hopers, that means we’re on our own; just like De Monsero said - ‘no favours,’ it means no answers. It’s already decided – we’re toast.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Mervyn said doing the calculations in his head, ‘the other twenty per cent 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 each average a minimum of eighty per cent in our projects and our exams, we’ll be in the clear.’
Loren nodded, slowly, ‘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 was 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 liked hard work, 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, but that just made the image even clearer.
‘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.