Flight of the Outcast (18 page)

   "Oh," Asteria said in surprise.

   "Baron Kamedes appointed a commission that validated your father's claim to the land; the Bourse in—what is it?—Sanctal have agreed to surrender control of the estate to a conservator. Now, you can legally inherit on your sixteenth birthday. That's in—"

   "Two years and ten Standard days, Commandant," murmured Asteria, feeling her stomach flutter. That meant that the anniversary of her father's death was in twenty days. She had not thought about that before.

   "Study this." Chen pushed a dataslip across her desk, and Asteria picked it up. The commandant added, "I'll give you the gist of it. Your best choice, it appears to me, is to agree to resell the estate back to the local government. They will pay three hundred thousand credits for it. You will owe five thousand credits to the Bourse as local taxes and as reimbursement for their services to you following your father's death. Baron Kamedes is asserting the right to tax the estate at 50 percent. That will leave you with a hundred and forty-five thousand credits—you will be a very rich Commoner."

   Asteria didn't say anything. Money wasn't what she wanted.

   "However, you can make up your own mind," Vice Admiral Chen said. "Remember, though, if you decide to continue farming, you will still owe the taxes. You could choose to sell half the land to cover them—but then you would owe more taxes on the income. It's not easy to realize a full profit when you're dealing with the baron's government. If you want any advice, the Academy has counselors and legal advisors you can consult before making any decision—"

   "Tell them to sell it," Asteria said, her voice shaky. "I'm not going back to live on Theron, Commandant."

   The commandant nodded. "I understand. Very well, I'll have the Academy consultants put your decision into the proper form. You will have to authorize it, but that's a formality. If you return tomorrow at the same time, I think everything can be taken care of. As to your inheritance—do you have an account?"

   "No, Commandant," Asteria said. "I've never had any money."

   "We'll establish an account for you on Dromia. Most Fleet Officers maintain one here."

   "I don't want Aristos to administer it," Asteria told her.

   "The Royal Fleet is in charge of the bank, Cadet. Not the Aristocracy. Will you take my word on that?"

   Asteria didn't have to think for very long. "Yes."

   "Very well. We'll establish the account as soon as we can arrange for the transfer of funds. That may involve a brief trip to Theron for you, because the Bourse are very specific about the way funds transfers must be authorized."

   "I…I don't want to go back there," Asteria said.

   The commandant nodded. "I know you don't, but you're a cadet now—practically Empyrean property. Believe me, the Bourse would not dare to hold you. If I can, I will arrange for your summer space tour to allow you enough time at the end to fly to Theron, where you can settle everything. Now, as to the actual credits: Until you are fourth-year, there will be a limit on the withdrawals you can make, but that would hold true even if you were an Aristocrat. You will gain full control of everything upon your graduation. Is that all acceptable?" When Asteria did not immediately reply, Chen said quietly, "Do you trust me, Aster?"

   Asteria took a deep breath. "Yes."

   "Very well. That's all, Cadet. Dismissed."

   "Thank you, Commandant."

   Dai was waiting for her outside Bronze 1. "What happened?" he asked anxiously.

   "I'm rich," she said flatly, and told him about it.

   He whistled. "That's like ten years' salary for a fighter captain!" he exclaimed. "I don't think my whole family's worth that much. Congratulations."

   She nodded, and then an involuntary sob burst from her throat.

"What's wrong?"

   She shook her head. In a shaky voice, she said, "It's not right. I feel like they're trying to…to bribe me to keep quiet. Space Fleet hasn't done a thing to track down the Raiders who— who—never mind." She broke off, not wanting to cry in front of him.

   "They can't do anything on their own, not in a Fringe system," Dai said in a comforting tone, falling into step beside her. "Kamedes has to formally ask for assistance."

   Asteria balled her hands into tight fists. "Then why doesn't he?"

   Dai shrugged. "Who knows? He's an Aristo. Maybe he's afraid of losing status by—hey, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

   Asteria walked fast. A tear fell from her eye. She quickly wiped it away, breathing fiercely.

   Dai trailed along behind her. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

   No one could help.

   No one could bring back Carlson Locke.

G
raduation day: a hot morning under a steely blue sky. Some

      eight thousand cadets and more than twice that many family members and friends sat in the vast Punchbowl, a dead volcanic caldera on the edge of the campus that had been made into the largest amphitheater on the planet. Dai and Asteria, as lowly first-years, sat almost as far from the stage as possible. From there, they could barely see the figures in dress uniforms. For their benefit, an enormous holoscreen hovered fifty meters in the air, and on it, they saw the speakers in close-up.

    Asteria felt a bit overwhelmed. She was looking at more people than she had ever seen at one time. The cadet section was a rainbow. Up front were the graduating fourth-years, resplendent in their sky blue uniforms. Behind them sat rank on rank of third-years, a swath of navy blue. Second-years in their maroon uniforms sat just behind them, and then the first-years, all wearing the same green as Dai and Asteria, formed the last great stripe. The families on either side of the rows of cadets were splotches of all colors.

    A retired admiral, a white-haired old man, was droning on: "Most of you will never see actual combat. However, that does not make your role as Fleet Officers any less vital. The Fleet has a thousand responsibilities—"

   Asteria sat wishing that the planetary weather engineers had more control over temperature. They had delivered a sunny day, but the best they could do still left the air a sultry 34 degrees. In the heat, the admiral lost his place in his speech, repeated part of it, finished, sat down to loud applause, and then Vice Admiral Chen took the lectern. "Thank you, Admiral Obrey," she said with a tight smile. "And that brings us to the part of the ceremony you have all waited for. Graduating class, please stand."

   They did, all 2,612 of them, with a sound like a wind rustling in the trees. The commandant said, "By the power vested in me by Space Fleet Command, I accept all of you and each of you into the Royal Space Fleet with the rank of junior lieutenant. Congratulations to you all. May your courage never fail, may your skills remain sharp, and may you always serve the Empyrator loyally. I present to you all the graduates of Empyrean Year Standard 2410."

   The crowd, parents and cadets alike, roared its approval. The commandant's order of dismissal could hardly be heard, but the remaining cadets all stood, ten thousand of them, and gave the graduates one last cheer.

   Dai said something Asteria couldn't hear. "What?"

   "I said I hope that will be us one day!"

   Only about one-sixth of any entering class ever graduated. The others would be washed out or redirected into support staff training.

   Asteria swallowed.
I'll make it
, she told herself. After all, she was one of the first-years who had done well enough to be allowed to attend the graduation ceremony, and that was a minority. And she had done so well in flight training—
No,
she told herself.
Don't think about it. Don't plan too much. Just
concentrate on getting through the next three years.

   They marched back to Bronze 1 in formation, answered questions from the unlucky cadets whose averages had been too low to allow them to attend the ceremony, and packed. Most of the cadets were heading home for the summer break.

   Fifteen hundred were going into space. The lucky ones, Dai said, but Asteria wasn't so sure.

   Asteria and Kayser had been assigned to the same ship, the
Pax
, a Sword-class cruiser, a cut above the destroyer that she and Dai had boarded to hitch a ride to Corona. Dai's orders instructed him to report for duty aboard a maintenance and repair vessel, the
Granite
. "Dull, dull, dull!" he wailed. Asteria couldn't help but feel angry…and suspicious. Angry that Dai only cared about his own excitement and not sharing the same ship with her, suspicious that she and Kayser were assigned together. Who had approved that after all of their drama? Was somebody looking to get her in trouble?

   That evening, she said good-bye to Valesa, Gala, and Bren. Bren said, "Hey, don't be so gloomy. We'll be back next fall. And you're going into space!"

   "I know," Asteria said, trying to smile. "But—well, I haven't always been a great friend. I'm sorry about that."

   Bren gave her a quick hug. "Nobody's perfect! I can be sort of—"

   "Make way!"

   They all turned. Dai Tamlin was walking carefully toward them, holding a cake decorated with one candle. "I wish this were fancier," he said. "But even with all my scrounging talents and all my persuasion, this measly little thing was all I could get from the mess hall. Happy birthday, Asteria!"

   Asteria's throat tightened.

   "It's your birthday?" Valesa asked.

   She shook her head.

   Dai set the cake—chocolate, and just about the right size for five to share—down on a study desk. "Not until tomorrow," he said. "But we won't be together tomorrow, so—anyway, on Theron it may already be her birthday. Who knows?"

   They all sang to her, and she tried to look pleased.

   But it was the first birthday she had ever had without her father there to share it. Dai goofed and joked and served slices of the cake, and when he had a moment, he said quietly to her, "I wish I could have gotten you a present. Best I could do is to get your friends together."

   "That's not true," she said. "You also got me cake."

The next morning was still clear but even hotter. Carrying her one piece of luggage, a heavy duffle, Asteria reported to the shuttle pad. She cleared her orders through a Cybot and found her place in line.

   Kain Kayser was already there. She fell into place behind him. He gave her a curt nod.

   The boarding door vanished, and the line of cadets trooped in. They were to sit back to back. Asteria carefully took the left turn when Kayser took the right, just so they wouldn't have to sit next to each other. The air lock began to close when a frantic voice yelped, "Wait!"

   The Cybot reopened the lock, and everyone turned in their seats as a red-headed boy hurtled aboard the shuttle. "Orders were changed at the last minute!" he gasped.

   "Look who's here," teased Kayser, in as easygoing a voice as Asteria had ever heard.

   "Sit down," the Cybot instructed Dai.

   Hastily, Dai stowed his bag in the underseat bin and slid into place in the front row, fastening the restraints. On impulse, Asteria unlatched herself and quickly moved up to take the one remaining empty seat beside him.

   "What happened?" she whispered.

   "
Please
secure your seat restraints," said the Cybot pilot, sounding as close to exasperation as a machine could.

   Dai shrugged. "I put in a request for transfer, and Chen approved it ten minutes ago. Didn't think I'd make it—"

   "You did cut it close," Kayser called from behind them, sounding amused.

   "Yeah, I did," Dai muttered.

   "We are ready for liftoff," the pilot announced. The ship engaged the grav drive, and as soon as it had risen a few hundred meters, it switched to ion propulsion. The cadets whooped as the G forces pressed them against their seat restraints, and the shuttle soared at full power up toward Sync-1, the station from which they would depart on the
Pax.

   Asteria looked past Dai to see the horizon of Dromia become a rounded arc, to see the blue sky darken to violet and then to star-studded blackness.

   "Look, you two," Kayser muttered loudly, "about this summer—"

   "What about it?" Dai asked, twisting around to frown at him.

   Kayser shrugged. "We're going to be stuck on the
Pax.
We'll have to work together. Remember the truce?"

   "Yes," Asteria said coldly. "That lasted a long time, didn't it?"

   "My fault," Kayser said. "I didn't treat you well. I admit it. But we'll be rated on cooperation. So—can we start over? I can't control my uncle. I'm sorry he butted in, and I'm glad the courtmartial didn't take place, all right? If we can't be friends, can we at least agree to be shipmates?"

   Dai was gripping the arms of his seat—the shuttle had switched off its engines, and in orbit, free fall had sent them into zero G, always a queasy moment—and said, "All right with me, if you're being honest…my lord." He pronounced the last two words with extra emphasis.

   Asteria bit her lip. "I won't start anything if you won't," she said.

   "Agreed," Kayser said. "Hey, do you know where we're going, Di—I mean, Aster?"