Helium3.0
First published as an ebook by Nick Travers at Smashwords 2008
Copyright © Nick Travers 2008. Smashwords Edition
Cover illustrations copyright © James Young 2008
Nick Travers has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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www.NickTravers.com
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Other examples of James young’s artwork can be viewed at www.artincas.co.uk
James Young can be contacted at moebius82@ukonline.co.uk
With grateful thanks to everyone who has helped me, in any small way, to write, and re-write this book.
Special thanks to my writing buddy, David, whose wisdom and honest critique kept Mervyn on the straight and narrow. To Rachel Wade of Hodder Children’s Books who freely gave of her time to provided invaluable advice when I most needed it. To my readers Sally, Josh, and Angela, who provide honest, and sometimes painful, feedback. And to James Young who provided the original artwork.
I would also like to thank the members of Writers In Touch at www.writersintouch.com who provided much advice and encouragement when I first set out on this journey.
Nick Travers
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Helium3.0
By Nick Travers
– Chapter1 –
Traitor
‘Wake up, Mervyn!’
‘Wozamaher?’ He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched his aching muscles as far as his jumpsuit would allow. At the age of fourteen, Mervyn Bright was so obsessed with pursuing his dream of becoming Galactic Sledding champion he was prepared to defy even his parents. He was running away from home to join his father’s enemies.
A thick shock of red curls swam into view as Loren thumped the side of his bunk again, ‘Wake up, Mervyn.’. She looked scared.
‘Time to jump ship already?’ He knew she dreaded transfers.
‘No, we need to hide.’
Mervyn bolted upright, cracking his head on the low ceiling in the process, ‘Ouch. What’s up?’
‘No time to explain,’ Loren absently waved some wires she was attaching to something on the doorframe. She hid them behind her back as a bald, diminutive Silvin scuttled into the cabin.
The Silvin scanned them with back multifaceted eyes, like an insect, ‘Quickly, hide in the priest hole under the bunks,’ it squeaked, pointing a wizened arm at the stack of bunks opposite. Then it ran off.
Mervyn examined the bunks and spotted a loose bolt. He kicked it free. When he threw his weight against the beds the stack slid aside to reveal a shallow hole between decks, just large enough for two to lie in. The smell of rotten eggs assaulted his nostrils. ‘Agh,’ Silvin.’ Nothing in the galaxy smelt like Silvin, and nowhere smelt as foul as a Silvin trading ship – maybe they had smuggled a Silvin mystic recently. The smell cleared his head. He threw their kitbags, spacesuits, helmets, and Academy uniforms into the rancid hole then jumped in on top. Luckily, they had already packed for the transfer. Loren dived in beside him and together they heaved at the underside of the bunks until the floor slammed back into place. Darkness enveloped them.
What would Mervyn’s father think if he could see him now? Their last conversation, more a shouted exchange, reverberated in his mind. ‘No, Mervyn,’ his father snarled across the kitchen table, ‘all this talk of racing is just stardust, and as for the Space Academy, do you really think they would let a son of mine into their midst? This hobby of yours has gone far enough. You are going to get a solid job in the mining corporation. If you work hard you could become a section manager, maybe even take after me, and become a Senator for the Republic.’
‘I’m not interested in politics,’ Mervyn shouted back, ‘I don’t want to work in the mines, and I don’t want to be a traitor, like you.’ A resentful silence followed this last statement and Mervyn realised he had gone too far. He tried a more reasonable tone, ‘I just want to race sleds. The Space Academy turns out champions, it’s the best place to learn, and I want to be a champion.’ Loren had already gained a science scholarship at the Ethrigian Space Academy through her formidable intellect. Mervyn lacked her brains. The Ethrigians didn’t have a price on her father’s head either. ‘I need to win the racing scholarship – it’s my only chance.’
‘It’s a trap,’ his father replied struggling to reign in his temper and match his son’s reasonable tone. ‘As soon as you touch Ethrigian space they’ll kidnap you and demand I turn myself in for your release.’
Mervyn waved the e-mail at his father, his trump card, ‘This is a guarantee, from Lord Tivolli – free passage, immunity from your crimes, the Patriot’s own assurance of safety.’
‘Lord Tivolli is honourable,’ his mother murmured. She hated to see the men of her household fight. Predictably, her son’s sledding ambitions were at the route of the conflict. ‘Why not let Mervyn have his chance, follow his dreams, like you did.’
His father glared at her, ‘And who will pay to have his sled transported to the race?’
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ Mervyn said quickly as the tide turned in his direction, ‘if I lose the scholarship race, I’ll give up sledding until I can fund it myself, and follow you into the mining corporation. However, should I by a miracle win, we talk again.’ If his father paid any attention to sledding he would know Mervyn stood a better than even chance of winning. His father foolishly agreed to the deal.
Mervyn won the race, and the Tivolli scholarship to the Ethrigian Space Academy, but instead of returning to face his father he sold his beloved sled, purchased his own passage, direct to the Space Academy. On a Silvin trader he met up with Loren – as arranged. As long as he stayed in Ethrigian space, where his father was a wanted man, he might be safe. He would face his father’s wrath later, maybe.
Mervyn turned to Loren in the darkness of the priest-hole and tried again, ‘What’s up?’
‘Watch.’ A fuzzy light glowed in the darkness. The fuzz resolved itself into a viewscreen showing the main control room of the spaceship. ‘I set up this pinhole camera,’ Loren said, ‘I can’t abide being blind.’ So that’s what she was doing. Mervyn found himself as grateful for a light in the blackness as much as a peek at the action.
He could make out the bald heads of the diminutive Silvin crew gazing at the main viewscreen, their insect eyes bulging. It is said that in the depths of a Silvin’s eyes you can see a reflection of the universe. It is also said that Silvin stink worse than the disease ridden swamps of Bocas Dorcus. Their eyes are their only interesting feature. His father argued that Silvin traders were the lifeblood of the galaxy. Mostly, though, they were scavengers -- necessary, but distasteful.
A large wedge-shaped spaceship, bristling with guns, slid across the viewscreen.
‘Pirates,’ Mervyn gasped.
Loren nodded in the faint glow from the screen, ‘Yep.’
‘This close to Ethrigia?’
‘They’ve been getting bolder for a while -- it’s this Nagani or Nubab of Pewitt or something.’
The view on the screen changed. A wild face, surrounded by a mane of black hair, filled the screen; feral eyes, as vacant as the Silvin’s were deep, glared into the trader; two humans stood in the background. ‘I am the Naga of Pershwin. You owe me a tithe -- five per cent of the value of your cargo,’ the pirate growled, ‘but as I’m in a good mood today, I’ll offer you a two per cent discount if you’re carrying Academy students.’
Mervyn’s heart stopped. A trickle of ice ran the length of his spine. Technically, they were not yet Academy students, just on their way to enrol. Would the Naga care? He doubted it. What about the Silvin? He had lived in a Helium3 mining community long enough to know, that for a trader, a two per cent discount could make all the difference to turning a profit. What would happen to them if the Silvin handed them over? He could already hear his father saying, ‘I told you so.’ He glanced at Loren, she looked as scared as he felt.
‘Why are pirates suddenly interested in Academy students?’ he hissed, ‘it doesn’t make sense.’ With his heart pounding he watched the Silvin. He expected every head to turn towards the bunk-room at mention of the discount, but not a single multifaceted eye left the viewscreen. That was good, wasn’t it?
The Silvin captain spoke up in a thin reedy voice, ‘We can pay you three per cent... and forget to mention this trade to the authorities.’
The pirate’s eyes came alive with dark fire, ‘You have Academy students on board?’
‘We should agree a price before we negotiate discounts,’ the captain replied bravely. Mervyn heaved a sigh of relief, maybe he underestimated the Silvin -- he hoped so.
The Naga stopped laughing so abruptly the sound continued without him, ‘You mention this little chat to the authorities and I’ll blast you to comet dust when I next meet yah.’ The little Silvin nodded meekly. ‘The tithe is six per cent or I take your whole cargo,’ the Naga snarled -- the tithe was increasing. Mervyn willed the Silvin to settle quickly before two Academy students became a deal he could no longer refuse. He hated having no control over his own fate. All he could do was watch while they haggled over the price of his skin, like a slave at auction.
‘Four per cent,’ the Silvin squeaked, ‘and we pay in gold.’
‘Done,’ those dark eyes shone again at the though of the gold, ‘and a one per cent discount for your Academy students.’ Mervyn almost dared not breath -- uh oh.
‘Your original offer was two per cent.’
‘That depends who you have.’
‘Who are you looking for?’
Anger flashed across the Naga’s face and he glared at the Silvin, ‘Impertinence -- I have killed for less.’ Another being, clearly human, leaned into shot. The human murmured something to the Naga. ‘It’s none of their business, fool,’ the Naga shoved the human out of the picture. Next moment, the Naga held a blaster in his hand, pointed it off-screen, and fired. A thud sounded over the link. Calmly, the Naga turned back to the Silvin Captain, ‘You have Academy students?’ Mervyn stared, horrified at the callousness of the Naga. Stories of pirates had always conjured up tales of daring adventures not meaningless death. A sliver of childhood innocence ebbed into reality.
‘Alas... today we have no passengers, otherwise, I... I would gladly claim your discount,’ the Captain squeaked. He was shaking. ‘Your gold is on its way.’
Loren sighed in relief, but Mervyn’s heart remained stone-cold. He barely breathed at all now. The name murmured to the Naga burned a hole in his mind. Hadn’t Loren heard too?
‘I can’t believe the Silvin didn’t hand us over,’ he managed to blurt out, ‘everyone says they don’t have a shred of decency in them.’
‘They don’t,’ Loren said.
It was no good, he had to let it out, ‘Didn’t you hear what that human said to him?’ Mervyn asked, his voice all squeaky like the Silvin’s.
‘The one he shot? No, it wasn’t very clear, just a mumble. He could be looking for anyone.’
Mervyn breathed a bit easier, but his hands continued shaking. Luckily, the darkness hid them. He lay on his hands to keep them still. In the main cabin the viewscreen flicked off. Every noseless Silvin face turned towards the passenger cabin. They knew. They had heard.
A space-pirate was hunting for an Academy student named Mervyn Bright. Maybe his father had been right, maybe he should have stayed home, and maybe they were after the price on his father’s head. He took a deep breathe and steadied himself: Loren was right, it was just a mumble, no more than a murmur, it could have been anything -- he had imagined it in the stress of the moment.
Mervyn felt the purr of engines through the decking as the ship got underway again. He jumped as the bolt rattled free above his head. The bunks slide aside to reveal another stubby Silvin. Mervyn felt like a nervous wreck as he clambered out of the priest hole.
The Silvin studied him for a moment with those deep, deep eyes, ‘Message from the Captain to Master Bright, and friend -- rendezvous in fifteen minutes.’
‘Thanks for not handing us over to the pirates,’ he said climbing out of the hole.
‘Yes, very decent of you,’ Loren added.
The Silvin tried to pucker its thin mouth into a smile, ‘Discount too small,’ it squeaked, and scurried back into the main cabin.
‘I told you,’ Loren murmured, ‘not a shred of decency.’
Mervyn tried to put the thought of the Naga out of his mind -- a murmur, it could have been anything. Maybe the Silvin hadn’t heard anything after all, just contemplating the loss of their discount.
‘I’m hungry,’ Mervyn said. The vile smell of the ship could only put him off food for so long. He knew Loren kept breakfast bars in her pack; Silvin food tasted revolting, besides, passengers had to provide their own meals. He dug Loren’s pack out from under the spacesuits, pulled out a Merco bar, and tore off the wrapper. Hmm, Quaff-Quaff fruit -- no one makes cereal like Merco. He perched himself on the edge of Loren’s bunk while he munched into the bitter-sweet bar. ‘Nothing refreshes like Quaff-Quaff,’ he hummed to himself chewing a large mouthful.
A young blue star twinkled on the viewscreen surrounded by a red cloud of hot gas. Streamers of dust fanned outwards as the new star’s solar wind slowly dispersed the cloud that had given it birth -- like the iris of some interstellar eye. In the distance Mervyn recognised the Ethrigian constellation: four stars, known as the Prefecture, where the Patriarch, hereditary ruler of the Ethrigians, ruler over a feudal society.
Another ship, silhouetted by the new star, appeared on the viewscreen. Smaller this time, just a black dart. The dart headed straight for them. Not long now until the start of his new life.
‘What you doing Loren?’ His friend’s pale face peered out from the shock of red curls. Her chima, the skin markings that ran down either side of her face, like a human blush, had an orange tinge. She looked excited. They had been friends since birth -- there was little she could hide from him. She could almost have been human, if not for her chima -- convergent evolution or something. Certainly he had never considered her any different to himself.
‘Look what I’ve found,’ she pointed to the viewscreen now taped to the bunk above her head.
Mervyn took another bite of the Merco bar, ‘Hmm?’
‘We’re famous,’ she hissed and punched the air. ‘Take a look at this.’ Mervyn squeezed into the lower bunk beside his friend.
‘Centaph Empire Swallows Up New Victim -- Millions Taken into Slavery’, stated the first article. A host of similar headlines followed. ‘Centaph/Puncheon Invasion of Tanu Causes Panic in Neighbouring Ethrigia.’ ‘Only A Matter of Time Before Centaph Swarm Turns Greedy Eyes Towards The Prefecture.’ ‘Republic Will Jump to Ethrigia’s Defence, Says President Al-Zak-Uilin.’
‘That’s old news.’
‘No, down here at the bottom,’ Loren stabbed at the screen. Mervyn took another bite of his cereal bar and focused where she pointed.
‘Outworld Pair Win Tivolli scholarships: ‘I am delighted Outworlders have won the first scholarships,’ Lord Tivolli of Ethrigia says.’ Lord De Monsero, hardliner and adviser to the Patriarch, condemned the result, ‘We should not reward Bright for betraying Ethrigia -- even indirectly through his son. The result is obviously a fix to further the political ambitions of the sponsor’. Lord Tivolli, head of one of the most ancient, and respected, houses on Ethrigia, denies the allegation. ‘The competition was open to any youngsters in the Republic of Free Nations, which includes the Mining Federation, previously part of the Ethrigian Prefecture. Mervyn Bright won the sledding race outright. Lord De Monsero is just bitter because his son, Rufus De Monsero, was beaten into second place by an Outworlder.’ Demonstrations against the results continue in Ethrigia city.’
A stronger than usual whiff of rotten eggs caused them both to look up. A Silvin, no taller than Mervyn, stood in the doorway. Mervyn stared into its faceted eyes -- he saw nothing except reflections of their cramped quarters.
‘Your lift is here,’ the Silvin squeaked. ‘Get ready to jump.’
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– Chapter 2 –
Academy One
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, though, it still looked minuscule 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 red 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 hustle her 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 said, 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 fall,’ 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 showing a swirling tunnel of energy tying the trader and the dart together. The Silvin’s knobbly finger pointed to streaks above and below the swirl, "The gravity net, eet deflects everything around it. 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 it 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. He waited nervously for the air lock to shut behind them, then forced himself to stand still while the air around them evacuated with a chill hiss. 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. He felt the pull of the gravity net even before the outer 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," her thoughts screamed through the bionet link surgically implanted into Mervyn’s head -- the best way to communicate in a vacuum. 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 the dart’s 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. He knew the gravity net’s spin made it almost impossible to achieve a graceful landing -- he usually ended in an ungainly heap. Loren’s throw was less 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 thought into his biolink.
‘No. I don’t want to stay here on my own,’ Loren replied.
‘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.
Mervyn 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 stars spinning 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 each other 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 helmet.
‘Welcome,’ intoned a distinguished Ethrigian Mervyn recognised. ‘I am Lord Tivolli. Welcome to my yacht.’ He gestured to a dark-skinned youth standing uncomfortably a step behind him, ‘May I introduce my eldest son, and heir, Tarun.’ 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 affect 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 Tivolli 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 Tivolli said.
‘Dagamon?’
‘The self styled, Naga of Pershwin. He is a Dagamon,’ Lord Tivolli 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 my countryman.’ Mervyn didn’t think Lord Tivolli 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 De Monsero. He likes to stir up the people for his own ends it gives him leverage with the Patriarch.’
They past a giant painting of the Ethrigian solar system. Now it was Mervyn’s turn to frown, ‘What’s De Monsero got against me?’
‘Lots. For a start you’re an Outworlders, and De Monsero hates Outworlders. You also won one of our scholarships and De Monsero has an intense dislike for anything my family does.’
‘I know, I beat his son, Rufus, in the scholarship race.’
‘There’s also the small matter of De Monsero hating your father. De Monsero lost a stack of money when your 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, the divisions, and the votes when the Mining Federation claimed its independence. 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. And now he would have to fight that stigma at the Academy. It was so unfair. Sometimes he hated his father, not for what he was, but for what he had done.
‘I was too young to remember,’ he lied.
They walked in silence for a while as they turned towards the prow of the ship.
‘A charming character all-round then, this De Monsero,’ Loren said. ‘No matter, I doubt if we’ll ever meet him.’
Tarun grimaced, ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, his son, Rufus, 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 view-screens. The lozenge shaped space liner, 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. A traitor in name, and thought, if not in actual deed; a credit-less 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 he could, even to the very top. Anything was possible.
‘Look, there’s the stardome,’ Tarun cried, breaking into Mervyn’s thoughts. He pointed excitedly at a clear titanium bubble projecting from the lozenge. Every craft Mervyn had ever travelled in used view-screens 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 his list 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 dodgy allies. Anyway, if I’m going to restore my 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.
Tivolli’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.
‘De Monsero,’ 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 Tivolli 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.....’
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– Chapter 3 –
Al-Zak-Uilin
‘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?’ 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 De Monsero,’ Tarun hissed as a thin dark-haired boy entered the hall. A blond podgy boy followed close behind. 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, 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.
‘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 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 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 three-fingered hands adorned four thick arms which sprouted from it’s 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. 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.’
‘What do you make of Al-Zak-Uilin?’ Mervyn asked as they crowded out of the hall.
‘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 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 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 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.’
‘‘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, 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.
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 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’ll 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?’
‘You really don’t know, 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 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 mean no passes and no passes mean...,’ 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,’ 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 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 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, 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.
******************************
– Chapter 4 –
Apartment Twenty-Five
Mervyn located their apartment via the Academy gateway. To his delight it was adjacent to the Stardome. The friends crowded through the apartment door. The apartment looked far better than Mervyn had imagined from Tarun’s description. They stood in a curved multi-purpose common room into which four study bedrooms connected; a sunken seating area, shaped to match the sweep of the living space, dominated the centre of the room, work tables lined the one end, and three gigantic views of Ethrigia and her moons filled the opposite wall; a small kitchenette, which looked as if it could be shut away, was set into a side wall; all in white, titanium, and gleaming iridium; it smelled of leather and polish.
‘What’s so wrong with this apartment, it looks fantastic?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Other than tiny, it’s the only one without real windows,’ Tarun said.
‘You mean those are view-screens?’ Loren asked. ‘Fantastic! I can do something with those.’ In no time at all she had her head inside a maintenance hatch below the central screen – her holdall remained untouched by the main door next to Tarun’s tatty vacuum case and a stack of shinny new trunks.
‘Oh, no,’ Tarun sighed spotting the trunks, ‘why me? Why is it always me?’
Mervyn glanced at him sidelong, ‘What’s wrong now?’
Tarun pointed to gleaming locks on the stack of trunks, ‘Don’t you recognise the crest?’.’ Mervyn looked blank so Tarun explained ‘It’s the Agleo coat of arms, the Patriarch’s crest – his niece, Aurora, is our fourth syndicate member. We’re doomed.’
Loren cracked her head as she hurriedly extracted herself from the maintenance hatch, ‘The Patriarch’s niece, in our syndicate? She’d better work hard.’
‘Lucky for us she’s travelling light today only six trunks,’ Tarun muttered and slunk off to deposit his things in one of the study-bedrooms.
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Mervyn called, nothing could dampen his spirits today. He leaping into the sunken seating area and stretched himself out. ‘Wow, leather too.’ After a moment he jumped up and raced into one of the four study bedrooms. ‘Bags I have this room, it’s got its own bathroom and everything.’ The room looked clean and simple. Besides the bathroom, which consisted of a sonic shower, a concealed multi-being toilet, which slid out into the shower area then retracted after use, and a concealed basin, it had a bed, a built-in wardrobe and a study area. He had never had a room so large in his life. At home, on the asteroid world of Starlight, living space was always at a premium. His room had comprised of little more than a cubby hole large enough for a bed. Tarun may think their apartment tiny by Ethrigian standards, but compared to what Mervyn had experienced on Starlight it was massive.
Mervyn looked at the blank info screen in his room, then on impulse he called up an image of the Jensis Sledding team – winners of last years Galactic championships. He and Loren were big Jensis fans, in fact they were big fans of anything to do with sledding; Mervyn’s private dream was to win the Galactic Championships. The room was beginning to feel a bit more like home. He would find some large info sheets later and load in more sledding images, then stick them round the room.
A sudden shriek brought his attention back to the present. He rushed back into the common room to find Aurora standing indignantly beside her luggage.
‘Look what they’ve done to my luggage! They’ve ruined it!’ Loren and Tarun had also come running. They all stared at the neat stacked of pristine trunks.
‘Bumbling buffoons,’ Aurora declared, sticking her nose in the air. ‘They couldn’t even put them in my room.’
Mervyn held out his hand, ‘Hi, I’m ...’
‘This room is mine,’ Aurora called, ignoring Mervyn and striding into the study-bedroom recently claimed by Tarun.
‘Tarun, I have found your stuff. The servants have left it in my room by mistake. Come and remove it at once! And when you’ve done that bring my luggage into this room.’ Mervyn stared in astonishment. Tarun just sighed deeply and went to retrieve his ‘stuff’.
‘Don’t bother to unpack,’ Aurora called, ‘I will be moving soon.
‘You’re not staying?’ Tarun asked.
‘I am not spending even a single day with Outworld low lifes,’ Aurora replied.
‘They could be your friends, your Grace, they are good people.’
‘I don’t do friends,’ Aurora said coldly. ‘I am the niece of the Patriarch that is what I am, that is who I am, that is what I do. I don’t need friends I don’t want friends.’
Loren’s snort echoed from the guts of the viewscreens, ‘She’d better not treat me like that – I’m not even one of her uncle’s subjects.’
‘Poor Tarun,’ Mervyn thought retreating to his room in shock. Being called an Outworlder was bad enough, but a low life Outworlder was beyond bearing. He hoped Aurora’s replacement was of a better disposition. He couldn’t wait to see the back of her.
Mervyn met up with Loren and Tarun in the restaurant for dinner. Aurora sat by herself on the far side of the room, about as far away from her team-mates as she could get.
Tarun looked glum, ‘Bad news, guys, the Patriarch himself insists Aurora stays in our syndicate – apparently, he thinks it will be good for her, give her a good grounding. She volunteered to come to the Academy you know, so he’s not going to help her out.’
Mervyn felt the dark wings of despair stealing into his mind ‘Is he mad?’
‘Probably, but I can’t think of anyone better suited to bring her down from the ether than you two,’ Tarun said. ‘In fact, I’m sure you’ll bring her crashing to the ground in no time.’ He laughed at his own joke, but with an edge of hysteria fuelled by hopelessness. Aurora looked up when she heard the laughter.
‘De Monsero is beside himself with glee,’ Tarun continued. ‘He still intends to withhold the syndicate answers from us, but now he gets one over on Aurora as well, he hates her.’
Mervyn pondered the situation, ‘How do you know all this, Tarun?’
‘Information is the currency of politics, Merv. I have contacts, my father has contacts, and our contacts have contacts. I’ve spent the entire afternoon trying to discover why Aurora is in our syndicate. I don’t have a lot of favours left.’
‘Surely the other houses won’t let Aurora sink?’
‘Who would you stand by, the niece of a weak and failing Patriarch, or the rich and powerful pretender?’
‘So we’re going to have to work anyway?’ Loren said.
‘Yep, right up until Aurora fails her end of year exams, then we’re out. I told you, apartment twenty-five is jinxed,’ Tarun sighed.
‘Does Aurora have any idea?’ Mervyn asked. He assumed the Patriarch’s niece would have an intelligence network at least as good as Tarun’s. He glanced over to where Aurora sat at a solitary table.
Tarun glanced in the same direction, ‘None. She thinks it’s going to be a breeze.’ They stared ominously at each other.
‘How much worse can it get?’ Loren whispered. ‘She’s a nightmare already.’
‘We could warn her,’ Mervyn suggested.
‘Threaten her,’ Loren said.
Tarun shook his head, ‘Do you think she would listen? The only person who can possibly make Aurora work is Aurora herself, and the chances of that happening are greater that me becoming Patriarch.’
Unseen, De Monsero had entered the restaurant with the rest of his syndicate; Hidraba, a mean looking girl called Isabel Slope, and a thin sullen lad called Malcolm Lazzard. De Monsero spotted the trio straight away.
‘Ah, the misfits I trust you find your new quarters to your liking,’ De Monsero sneered. ‘The VIP suite isn’t it?’ Hidraba laughed uproariously at De Monsero’s joke.
‘They’re gonna call their syndicate ‘No Room To Move’,’ Hidraba shrieked .
‘How about the ‘Teeny-Weenie-Twenty-fiver’s ’,’ Slope offered.
‘No, no, it’ll be ‘One Month Wonders’,’ Hidraba roared again, but an ice-cold voice from behind, cut short his amusement.
‘Crawl back under your rock, Hidraba! They’re with me.’ Hidraba immediately backed off, bowing his head as he went. Aurora had crossed the room unnoticed in the commotion and now faced De Monsero. He stood his ground and squared up to the Patriarch’s niece. A hush fell over the restaurant as every eye turned to watch.
‘Ah, the fourth member of the crew. How are you settling in with your misfits?’
‘They will do well enough,’ Aurora replied.
‘They’re a liability, Aurora. Just make sure they don’t bring you down with them.’
‘You would like that, wouldn’t you, Rufus – bring me down, bring my uncle down, become the next Patriarch?’
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ he said with a mock bow. ‘Now, if you will excuse me I would like to eat,’ Rufus turned his back on Aurora and sauntered away.
‘Thank you, your Grace,’ Tarun said.
‘He is such a creep,’ she said to no one in particular.
‘I thought you didn’t do friendship,’ Mervyn said.
‘I don’t, Marvin, but for some bizarre reason it looks like I am stuck with you lot.’
‘Mervyn. My name is Mervyn, and this is Loren.’
‘Sorry, Marvin. Well I hope you are prepared for a fight, because my syndicate will not grovel to De Monsero,’ she said in an unnecessarily loud voice, ‘or that slime Hidraba.’ The other diners suddenly took a keen interest in their meals as she glared round the restaurant. Without waiting for an answer she stalked off to her solitary table.
‘I think she likes you, Marvin.’ Loren ducked as Mervyn lunged at her.
Tarun ignored them and stared after Aurora, ‘It ain’t much guys, but it’s a start.’
The rest of Mervyn’s first week proved both exciting and confusing. Relations with Aurora deteriorated to the point where the common room became a no-go zone. Aurora claimed it for her own and drove out anyone attempting to use it, except for specially selected guests from other syndicates, the ‘Girls’ as she called them. There was one place where Mervyn felt very at home: the stardome become his private refuge. Maybe, the starscape above his head reminded him of Starlight, or maybe he just craved personal thinking space away from the bustle of the Academy. The magnificent room remained silent following the welcome ceremony, no one disturbed him. For Mervyn, it was the most exciting place on the whole ship. From there, he could see all the wonders of space for himself. He soon found that if he pinpointed a feature accurately enough, he could zoom in and superimpose all the normal viewer images onto the dome itself: micro waves, radio waves, gamma rays, x-rays and thermal imaging -- like a virtual telescope. Most of the time, though, he liked to just admire the beauty of the galaxy trough his own eyes. He spent an increasing amount of his spare time in the dome, particularly while chatting to his family and friends at home – everyone except his father, who still refused to speak to him.
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