Flight of the Outcast (7 page)

      wasn't exactly sitting—not comfortably, anyway, but stiffly, his back straight, his chin tucked in, staring straight ahead. He looked terrified. Their half hour on the planet had not calmed his worries.

    The anteroom was in one of the older buildings on campus. The Academy was the size of a city, with all the architectural variety of a settlement more than three thousand years old. The administration building stood twelve stories tall and was made of old-fashioned red brick, with arched, leaded windows and a floor tiled with some hard tan-colored stone that showed fossils, shells, and small skeletons of fish-like creatures. Old-fashioned electric lights still hung suspended on chains like displays in a museum. They were obviously not used, because the ceilings glowed with the standard tribiolumes.

    The chairs seemed new, though they must have been designed for maximum discomfort. Asteria hoped she didn't look as squirmy as Dai did to her.

    The midclassman who had shown them to the anteroom reappeared in the sharply arched doorway. "Come on, serfs," he said with a mocking grin. "The dragon lady is ready for you."

    Serfs. All freshmen were called that—because they "belonged" to the upperclassmen, who had the right to treat them like servants. They followed their guide through the inner doorway. A woman with hair the color of steel, wearing the dark blue uniform of a vice admiral in the Star Fleet space division, stood at a window, her hands behind her back. "Thank you, Scanlen," she said. "That will be all."

   "Aye," said the midclassman, saluting. He took one step back, did a crisp about-face, and walked out of the office.

   "Entering Cadets Tamlin and Locke," the woman said, turning and staring at them. "The first thing you have to learn is to come to attention when a senior officer is present."

   Dai somehow managed to stiffen even more, and Asteria put her shoulders back and stood tall. The woman came and circled them, gazing at them critically. Asteria saw with surprise that she had a small scar on her left cheek—as though a tattoo of the minor Aristocracy had been removed. The vice admiral stood in front of her and said, "Probationary Cadet Locke, ask your friend to show you the proper stance before you meet another officer. At ease, you two."

   Asteria relaxed. Next to her, Dai sagged perhaps a millimeter.

   "I am Vice Admiral Chen," the woman said. "Commandant of Cadets. Let us hope that in the coming months you won't see very much of me—because if you do, that means you are in serious trouble. You've arrived very early, but that may be to your advantage. You have a few days to familiarize yourselves with deportment and procedures. You'll be quartered in Bronze Barracks 1. There's a female wing and a male wing. Make sure you're in the right one, and don't trust the upperclassmen to tell you which is which. You should be able to tell from the latrines. You will be issued uniforms; you will wear them at all times when you are awake and active on the campus. You may not leave campus until midterm, and then only if you are maintaining an average of 2.5 in your studies. After midterm, if your grades are acceptable and you have no demerits to work off, you may have one half day a month leave time in Haven. Any questions?"

   Neither Dai nor Asteria responded.

   "Then get to your quarters and collect your gear. Memorize the student code pulsebook. Dismissed."

   Dai came to attention, saluted, and stepped back before pivoting, and Asteria tried to imitate him. Vice Admiral Chen's voice stopped her at the door: "Probationary Cadet Locke, remain."

   She froze in her tracks. As Dai marched out the door, she turned, wondering what she had done. She thought back to the guidebook: Should she come to attention? Better to do so than risk a demerit.

   "At ease," the vice admiral said. She nodded toward another uncomfortable-looking chair. "Sit."

   Asteria did, and when the vice admiral stared at her, Asteria matched her icy blue gaze. Silence stretched out.

   Finally, the admiral broke it. "You are the nephew of Carlson Locke," she said in a strangely teasing tone.

   "No, Commandant. The daughter," Asteria said in a level voice. "My cousin was Andre Locke. I'm…Aster."

   "Indeed. Then our records must be in some disorder."

   The vice admiral again let the silence go on. She looked as if she expected some kind of response.

   "My cousin Andre is dead," Asteria said. "So is my father."

   The vice admiral did not change her expression. "I see. How did they die?"

   Asteria swallowed the lump in her throat, and quickly, directly, she told the vice admiral about the raid.

   The woman drew in a deep breath. "There have been no requests for aid from the administration of Theron," she said. "No reports of an attack."

   "No, Commandant," Asteria said. "The Bourse of Sanctal can't ask for help on their own, and the planetary government thinks it's merely a local problem."

   "That would be Kamedes?"

   "Yes, Commandant."

   "I see. So you have decided to take your cousin's place at the Academy."

   "It was that or be forced to marry into the Bourse," Asteria said. "If the Academy won't have me—"

   "A legacy appointment is due to any child, niece, or nephew of Carlson Locke," the vice admiral said. "You didn't know that?"

   "No, Commandant."

   "You know that your father was something of a hero?"

   "I know he was badly wounded."

   "Do you know the whole story?"

   Asteria thought for a moment. "I—I'm not sure."

   "You probably don't. But Space Fleet owed your father a great deal after the
Adastra
incident. Yes, he was wounded, but his efforts helped the acting captain return the ship safely to our space. I see by our records that you're an orphan now. Your mother has been dead for some years." Without waiting for a response, the vice admiral reached for her cap and said, "Come with me. Let's walk around the campus."

   The day was warm, nearly uncomfortably warm to someone raised on the chilly Uplands of Theron. Outside the administration building, Vice Admiral Chen said, "You should walk to my left, half a step behind me. Speak only when I give you permission. Come."

   The campus of the space division of the Royal Military Academy had a kind of military beauty to it, everything severely landscaped, symmetrical. The lawn was a vivid shade of turquoise. Flower beds lined the walkways, the plants in them standing in ranks like a colorful army.

   Away from the Administration section, the architecture became more uniform. The classroom buildings, scattered enough to make the grounds seem airy and open, tended to be collections of long, low wings with arched roofs, like cylinders half-buried in the ground. The vice admiral pointed some out: The Space Sciences building. Biology. Chemistry. History and Government. They came at last to a plaza shaded by umbrellalike trees with drooping spear tip–shaped lavender leaves.

   Asteria had seen impressions of the campus before, in pulsebooks, but the real thing seemed different from what she had expected. For one thing, there were few people about. She had expected to lose herself in a crowd, but now, alone with the vice admiral, she felt uneasy, exposed, a moving target. A fountain jetted in the center of the paved opening between the trees; benches, arranged again in severe symmetry, surrounded the central fountain. Beyond the fountain stood a golden statue, somewhat larger than life-sized, of two men.

   "Read the plaque," the vice admiral said, nodding toward the base.

   But first Asteria stared at the two men. A heroic figure, all chiseled features and determination, supported a clearly wounded young man. The younger man's features seemed vaguely familiar. Asteria looked down at the inscribed plaque and read:

   THE HONORABLE ENSIGN SANSON KALIDES

   HERO

   "That's supposed to be my father he's supporting," Asteria said dryly.

   "Sanson Kalides—Lord Kalides now—saved the
Adastra
and brought her safely into port with the surviving crew aboard," said the vice admiral. In a quieter tone, she added, "Despite the fact that he wasn't actually aboard the ship at the time of the Tetra attack. The ship's captain, Princeps Makath Kyseros, is revered as the officer who gave his life to allow the ship to escape from the attackers. A Commoner Chief Warrant Officer is remembered as someone who was badly wounded and whose life was saved by Lord Kalides, and that is all. That is the official version. It is very important to the prestige of the Kyseros family that these are the accepted facts. You understand?"

   "Yes, Commandant."

   "Do you? I would advise you not to discuss your family with anyone here. Most of the cadets around you will be Aristocrats," the vice admiral warned. "Be aware of that. Be careful about what you say. Watch your temper. Do you have an advocate on Theron to watch over your affairs?"

   Absently, Asteria shook her head, but then remembered her place as a lowly candidate cadet. "No, Commandant. The Bourse are looking after the farm. I'm supposed to inherit it, but I don't know—"

   "It's a matter of Empyrean law," the vice admiral said. "Too important to you to allow the Bourse to take care of your interest without someone supervising them. I'll have an advocate appointed. Kamedes will listen to me. Dismissed, Cadet. The Bronze Barracks are that way, beyond the Language and Communications building. On the double."

   Asteria saluted, the unsmiling Vice Admiral Chen returned the salute, and then the new cadet did an about-face—not as clean as Dai's had been—and trotted away, feeling uncertain. She wondered if the library was open yet. She had a lot to learn about Empyrean law, about the Academy, about…well, everything.

One advantage of having turned up early for the term was that Asteria had her choice of rooms. Barracks at the Academy were like dormitories—at least the cadets did not all sleep in one vast bedroom. Still, their quarters seemed made to accustom them to the cramped living areas on starships. Asteria's compartment—she chose it because it was nearest one of the outside doors—was no larger than the little cubby that she had occupied on the flight to Corona. The bunk swung down from the wall. When it was in the upright position, she had access to two wide drawers beneath it, which held everything she owned: civilian clothing, pulsebook reader, textbooks.

   She had so few possessions that half of one drawer gave more than enough room. At the foot of the bunk, a recess served as a closet. She hung the five gray first-year uniforms there, along with her gym clothing. A shelf above the hangers held her boots, dress shoes, and athletic shoes. With the bed folded up, she could sit in a chair that folded out from one wall and open up a desk that folded from the adjoining wall: there was her computer and AI unit.

   Very stark. She had a few pangs of claustrophobia, but she thought she could get used to it. Hoped she could. If she got antsy in her tiny room, she had lots of space to roam—at least until the other cadets arrived and settled in. The Bronze Barracks were huge, tawny cubical structures made of the same fossil-bearing stone that paved the floors in the Admin Building. The first-year mess hall was on the north side of the small park in the center of a cluster of the four Bronze Barracks. Because it was summer break, the mess hall was operating on a very reduced scale. Meals were at set times, and she had to eat fast. The food was fairly tasteless, and that was the best compliment Asteria could give it.

   "I'm taking your advice," she told Dai as they finished their first meal on campus. "I'm going to tell everyone my name is Aster."

   "Good idea," Dai said. He looked around the mess hall. Its long tables could accommodate a thousand cadets. "It seems weird to be here all by ourselves."

   Asteria nodded. "Lucky for us, though. We'll have time to memorize the student code."

   "I've done that already. I can boil it down to a few principles: Do what you're told. Don't attract attention. Don't be different. Always let the Aristos win."

   "Same as at home, then."

   Dai gave her a long stare. "You didn't have much to do with Aristos where you came from, did you?"

   She shook her head. "I didn't have much to do with anybody. I was raised on a farm. No neighbors. My dad and my cousin were almost the only people I saw."

"You never went into civilization?"

   "Our farm was civilized!" she snapped. "Yes, I went into Sanctal—that was the nearest town—with Dad or Andre a few times a month. Sometimes we went as far as Central, where the government center is. You know, dealing with pensions and taxes and stuff."

   "My planet was thick with Aristos," Dai said moodily as they finished eating. On the table in front of them, their plates were quietly dissolving, taking the last scraps of food along with them as they vaporized into curling white mist that quickly dissipated. "Inspectors, auditors, advisors, administrators." Dai lowered his voice: "All of them idiots. You get a lower-level Aristo too dumb or lazy to make it in the Academy or the Royal Colleges, they get appointed to positions like that. The safety advisor for our mines was a baronet. Advisor! He'd come by once a year and say, 'Continue your safety procedures,' and collect ten percent of our profits!"

   "We didn't have inspectors on Theron. Too far out, I guess."

   "Lucky."

   They walked back to Bronze 1, but before they reached the entrance, both of their wrist communicators chirped.