《Drifting Academy》 Rehoboam "Attention all students." "Class ¨€ has been eliminated." "I repeat, Class ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ has been eliminated. 38 students are with the stars." "All remaining pilots are requested to convene in Hangar B for immediate launch preparations." "This is not an exercise. St Light Academy is under attack."
Io Temperance Harmony Zebulon tightened her Z-suit and watched her Rehoboam sling down the curved hangar rails, a bee-like interceptor that narrowed from an armor-caked cockpit to a narrow waist, slamming into the endstop with the rattle of spare parts. When it settled, she peeked on tiptoes at the neighboring launchers. Five interceptors'' bodies blinked in the yellow strobe in time with the squawking of the scramble alarm. She waved her arm at the boy whose ship sat next to hers, one Melchizedek, about her age and a little shorter, with a fraying, vegetable-dyed shawl over his gray z-suit. He nodded deferentially and threw her a ''go'' thumbs up before strapping himself into the pod. Before she could join him, Io had... an important ceremony to conduct. She looked over her shoulder at the lead technician, whose body curled in slubby overalls over a laptop''s glow. "Rikka, smudge please..." Io had a small voice, but the victorious look on her face said more than words. "H...Hold on," the technician stalled as she teased out a glitch. "This is really stupid. I swear to the Seven this is the dumbest thing you''ve made me do." "Grandma Tallulah said we smudge before battle. You wouldn''t want to make the Elder upset, would you?" "This is going to make her upset. You''re not clever." With a gulp, Rikka hammered the return key and covered her face as if hiding from her ancestors. Servos whined. The repair arms unfurled from the ceiling bearing bushels of white sage, whipping them past another arm that held a hissing blowtorch. In seconds they pulled ropes of pleasant smelling smoke around the Rehoboam as a canned prayer blared from a speaker. Io sneezed and sucked her nose, her pride deflating slightly at how her plan seemed to trigger a bout of rhinitis. For a second she pawed around her suit for a pack of tissues that didn''t exist. The scruff of her neck itched from the heat, cooking under her short white hair. Shrugging, she reclined and clicked into the five point harness, then closed the cockpit.
The girl''s fists gripped the yoke as the mag-launch crushed her into the cold gel seat. For a second the old Rehoboam''s alarms smeared into a uniform groan, the viewport a succession of dull red magnetic coils, every subsystem protesting the acceleration¡ªand then she was out into the black, nudging the throttle with her pinky to keep up with Melchizedek and the others. She heard Mel push to talk and linger on it, as if he were embarrassed to say something. "Care for a uhh, quick recap, Boss?" Io cleared her throat. "We''re due some guests aboard the Vesta hardship Silver Needle. However, and this is bad timing¡ª" She left a beat there. They could all hear the dull bong of IRST spikes and hundreds of small red contacts swirling around the approaching freighter in the distance. "¡ªa couple of pod rustlers chose today to try their luck." She leaned on the throttle and the others slinked into formation behind her. Unless her eyes deceived her, there was also a single green blip orbiting the Silver Needle: a lone Rehoboam like theirs, its engines fighting to outpace a tail of ten or so smooth white bulbs reaching out towards it with tracers from 20mm cannons. Io took a deep breath, swallowing her irritation. "Oh, and the Chieftain''s son Erik went out earlier to ''escort'' the Needle into dock. That needs attention."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
In a minute the interceptors had traced a pursuit arc and arrayed in the Silver Needle''s wash, each pilot using their eye-tracking to light up a target. From this position they could see their own home looming over the comparatively small freighter: the great spindle Zebulon, a Drifter colony so huge that it eclipsed the moon behind it. The disc-like shield at the end of the spindle bore a mural of the Serpent that was never without a scattering of micrometeorite divots. Spherical grow pods glistened in the sunlight like grapes on a vine. "I''ll handle the kid," Io told them. Without another word, the Rehoboams each broke off towards their own marks. There was not a snowball''s chance of pulling enough missiles out of the pantry to swat this many drones, so it was guns hunting. On the Needle''s hull, an illustration of a pastoral farm winked in the light of the Rehoboams'' cannons. Io herself pushed hard on the throttle and blew past the Needle''s conning tower, towards the boy Erik''s Rehoboam. At some point, the rustlers had figured their drones were safer hiding in the Zebulon''s superstructure, and so''d Erik, apparently. This was normally the point where the enemy blew the supports for the grow pods in preparation to whisk them away to a hardship just over the horizon. This time they were after the kid, weaving after him through the trusses. Io''s suit compressed around the legs as she leaned into a back-to-back series of turns, her breath hitching as she dragged the nose from side to side, until she finally had a picture on a bulbous white drone that had turned around to face her. She pulled the trigger first. The viewport filled with fire and the drone burst into winking shrapnel. The girl gulped and pulled the nose onto the next one, when that lone Rehoboam buzzed right past her, turning the entire viewport black for an instant. The boy had nearly killed both of them. Her heart almost in her throat, Io wound down the throttle and depressed her throat mic. "Erik? Are you there?" She could almost feel him roll his eyes. "Yeah. K...Kinda busy here." She craned her neck to get a better look. The Chief''s kid still had a massive entourage of drones that he was now liable to run into an I-beam trying to outmaneuver. His breathing was audibly labored. Io smiled coquettishly, even though she knew he couldn''t see it. "Erik, would you like to dock with the Zebulon and leave aaall of this to us?" "N¡ªNo. I can handle myself. Dumbass." She winced at the epithet. "Excuse me?" "You''re such a meanie. That''s why nobody likes you or your weirdo dad. My dad wants to make me the next captain of the Guard. Bet you didn''t know that." "You''re a bad liar," she growled. He didn''t reply. This was not working. If the kid crashed into a grow pod like she''d done last cycle, Elder Tallulah might actually kill her. Clicking her tongue, Io slammed the engines and accelerated after him and the swarm. She had a plan, but it was going to get messy. "Erik, I''m coming in from behind," she said. "When I tell you, you''re going to cut your engines and eject." "No. Dishonorable," he said, gulping down tears. She was tailing the whole entourage now. Erik''s ship was barely visible past the pale cloud of drones. A different plan of action had begun to take shape in Io''s mind, the kinematics aligning as if in a simulation. At first she batted it from her thoughts like a fly, but it was becoming clear she didn''t have any other choice. She waited for him to stop jinking. The drones always fired their cannons together, in a burning wave of tracers¡ªthat''s how he''d been timing his dodges. Then¡ªyoke slippery with perspiration¡ªshe led his nose slightly, aiming for the thin section that connected the piloting pod to his engines, and fired.
Tallulah was waiting for them in the hangar. The force with which the silvering woman totted forward on her twisted walking stick gave Io the impression that she was somewhat unhappy. Io crawled tentatively from the Rehoboam like a beaten dog. Her hair was pasted to her forehead with sweat. The others watched their captain emerge with flat, frog-like expressions, also soaked after what had proved to be an hours-long recovery. "Io dear." The Elder smiled, her eyebrow twitching. "There''s just one word I want to hear from you. You wouldn''t happen to know what it would be?" Io looked left and right, hoping for an out. She saw Melchizedek shake his head as if to tell her ''Boss, don''t''. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, she opened her mouth to say some other thing. "It was the most effective use of resources." "So¡ªrry," Tallulah corrected her, flicking Io''s forehead with a gnarled index finger. To hammer down the point, she leaned in further and pinched both of the girl''s cheeks in her thumbs, moving them in time with the word she hoped to teach if only by force. "Sorry. Sorry. So¡ªrry." It hurt. But Io kept her face stony as the Elder berated her. She''d already justified her decision. "There were so many other ways you could''ve handled that. You could have talked him down slightly more diplomatically, or diverted Mel or one of your other lackeys to clean up his tail. Seven¡ªuse your words! "It''s true what he said¡ªwe were going to groom him to be the captain of a different squad, but now the kid is mewling in the med bay that he doesn''t want to do it anymore because the current captain shot him. And what was that thing about an automatic smudging?" "F...For emergencies." Io batted her eyes, not feeling quite as superior as she''d hoped. "It was such a waste of poor Rikka''s time. I mean, just read between the lines and scramble. Seven, it''s like you want to get grounded. Actually, you know what?" Tallulah reached over, and with a snapping noise ripped the velcro patch of the Guard from her shoulder. Io''s face slackened and she struggled to stand, the blood draining from her face. It was as if the one brick holding her together had been knocked out of the mortar. "Acting Captain Melchizedek. Catch." Mel''s mouth flopped open like a fish as he resisted. "Ma''am, I don''t¡ªI can''t¡ª" The boy shrieked as Tallulah beaned him in the head with it. It stuck to his hair. "All of you, out of my sight." Tallulah turned to leave, her walking stick stabbing the floor in that clockwork time. She pinched her nose. "And take a fucking shower." Silver Needle Io kicked off the bamboo altar and floated listlessly through the docking spike towards the Silver Needle. Scenes from the Zeb''s history scrolled past on the walls, the image of the Serpent seeming to coil around her as her body drifted. It wasn''t fair. She''d just done it the quickest way. With most of the squadron chasing after drones, they''d managed to bring the Needle in with hardly a scratch on the hull. Why''d she have to take the fall for the kid? Her seventh and final father was already waiting for her at the end of the arm, albeit relatively upside down. Marat Foresight Zebulon looked too sharp to be a drifter, more alike a wealthy merchant plying the Huang¡ªfitting, given that he spent 10 months out of the cycle away from the Zeb, trading for spices and provisions. His jacket was made of red leather: the skin of an animal. His hair reeked of tobacco. They spoke without standing eye-to-eye. But Marat sounded as close as he ever got to comforting his daughter. "It''s just politics, Io. The Navigation Tribe used to pride themselves on their piloting, so electing a new guard captain was in the cards for a while. Not that they''d have told you." She bit her lip. Not that they''d have told her. "Come on." He motioned to punch her shoulder but quickly grabbed her with his other hand when he noticed he''d launched the girl. "You can get angry over tea."
In the foyer of the Silver Needle, purple carpets unrolled for miles beneath a trompe l''oeil of a planetary sky. They found a tall woman pirouetting from stair to stair wearing no clothes at all. A pet tarsier was perched on her shoulder, looking nauseous. The owner of the freighter was an old friend of Marat''s, one Duchess Patricia Brennan. Her skin was smooth and plastic with obvious joints, whorls of gold filigree hugging her hips. When she noticed Io watching, her eyes drooped in such a smitten way that Io felt her face burn. "Io, dear," she crooned in a sweet voice. "I have something for youuu ?" The woman raised a sheet that looked like a short white dress. "No!" Io stumbled back, and tried to scramble back to the airlock on all fours, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of purple runner. But Marat headed her off with his shoe and the Duchess was soon shoving her through a hem. "Get! Off of me!" She growled, struggling like a caught animal. "Father, help!" Her father had already picked up the Duchess''s clay tea set and settled at the table a few feet away. The way he used a bamboo scoop to tip black leaves into the vessel showed more than anything his admiration for the Imperial way of life. "Excellent vintage today," he remarked. "The raisined sweetness of the New Calcuttan sun... You spoil us, Duchess."Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "Oh, no," Patricia deflected as she tugged his daughter''s arms through the sleeves. The monkey had taken refuge from the violence by dangling on the hair behind her head. "I hope it will tide the both of you over until next cycle." "Oh my." Marat smacked his lips as the Duchess worked. "That is rather rugged looking, although perhaps too warm for the Zeb. Say ''thank you'' now, Io." "No." Io blushed and looked away from the two, because she wanted nothing less than to admit that it suited her. The ''dress'' had turned out to have a couple of layers to it: first, a brick-colored hoodie with a flared hem that resembled a tent dress. Then a white, quilted flight jacket with the Torch of House Vesta embroidered on the shoulder in gold thread. Half the belts and pockets on it didn''t seem to go anywhere, but perhaps the appearance of praxis was the most important thing. "It was my House uniform at the old Academy," Patricia reminisced. "It would be a little tight now, particularly this part." She clutched the girl to her plastic bosom, where the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of black tea, her polymer skin strangely warm. "It''s only appropriate that you have it, dear. You''ve been such a good escort to my ship, not to mention a lovely teamaid." Io felt butterflies in her stomach and buried her face deeper against the Duchess''s ribs. Along with the libertine parties, it was one of her most humiliating memories with the Duchess. Patricia, for her part, would eat anything endangered and screw anything with a pulse. "You mentioned a letter," Marat pointed his empty teacup at her, oblivious. "Did you say it was a recommendation?" "Well, the Tian Lung girl agreed, but it was only for a lark," Patricia shrugged, reaching behind her head to hold the frightened tarsier against her chest before melting into a seat at the table. "You could say the letter is a... thematically appropriate souvenir to go with the jacket. My Io wouldn''t lower herself, I know. Too many prissy Houser kids. Not to mention¡ª" She paused, her face suddenly serious. "Based on the in-flight entertainment earlier, I see the pod rustler situation isn''t improving¡ªto say nothing of the Federalists..." Marat nodded, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Indeed, it''s gotten to the point where we time our harvests around the raids. That''s where my tiger comes in." He patted his daughter''s shoulder. Io hunched forward in her warming jacket and picked up the letter between sips of hot, unsweetened tea. A smear of red wax sealed a sheet of embossed paper that felt cool to the touch.
Dear Io Temperance Harmony Zebulon, On the recommendation of the esteemed Duchess, we would welcome you gladly into our coming cohort. You may ask if it would ill suit one such as yourself to study among Nobles. Rest assured that for its first tour since its reopening, the Academy would like to extend its intake to include Houses not in good standing, and of course those of popular breeding. Accordingly, please find enclosed your very own Athame. All students must wear it at all times when aboard the ship. We hope for you to join us under one Emperor and graduate beneath the next. Manu propria, Lin Carrageenan Student Council President St Light Academy for Girls
When she shook the envelope, a small folding knife with scales of amber polyimide slid onto the doily. Its ring-shaped hinge had a hole for a carabiner, through which a lanyard had already been threaded. The paper shook like a leaf in Io''s hands as a black pit opened in her stomach. All she could think about was how Tallulah and the others treated her from day to day. How they didn''t tell her anything and expected her to read between the lines. It wasn''t for nothing that she stayed on the Guard. None of them recognized what they''d miss if she was gone. "I''ll do it." Io gripped the letter, her shoulders trembling. The two of them laughed, Patricia so vacantly that she spilled her tea on herself, some even in the joints. "Oh you," she wheezed. "You''re such a comedian. You''re joking." Io had already looped the Athame around her neck. She shook her head. Lin Carrageenan The shuttle rattled as Marat hung on the reverse thrusters, unused baggage straps swinging from the ceiling. Over the cycles, he''d burned the scent of tobacco into all of the fittings until it was inexorably his craft. Out the trussed front window, Io couldn''t tell if she was looking at the Zeb or the Academy. Elder Tallulah had told her that the two ships had been built on the same type of Kirlian Spine, although there were obvious differences in the structures erected atop the spacefaring central spindle. "Mousedeer two alike," she''d called it. "An old Kirlian saying." ¡ª"The way she went and made me ''acting'' Captain, it was almost like she was asking for it, Boss." Melchizedek grunted as he babied Io''s suitcase down from the racks, trying to use his hips but crumpling on the last few inches. "Man, what I''d give to have seen the look on that crone''s face!" Io shuffled glumly in her seat. She didn''t want to seem unsure of her decision in front of Mel. In truth, Tallulah had seemed strangely happy, whereas Patricia had tried to dissuade her for hours. "Eyes in the back of their heads," she''d said of the Lin Carrageenan whose signature terminated the letter, and of her House Tian Lung. Io heard a bump and a groan as something fell on top of Mel. Several thick prayer scrolls about the size of her forearm escaped from an overhead compartment and rolled forward towards the open cockpit. Mel scooped ahead to keep them from bumping into Marat''s chair. "I heard Boss can read," he whispered to him, as if it were a crime. Marat sighed, his eyes focused on the controls. "Well, I gave her the choice of Huang or Ecclesiastical dialect. She learned Huang, for technical manuals." Mel gasped. "So these are dead freakin'' weight!" "Give them to her anyway. She can burn them or sell them, or... or..." Marat trailed off. Choking, he raised a fist to rub his eyes. "Father, what''s wrong?" Io craned her neck to get a glance of Marat''s expression. The man quickly set his hands down and shook his head. "It''s nothing." "Do you..." Io struggled to utter the words her schoolteacher had taught her were so utterly rotten, an affront to the vision of the Seven.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Do you covet me, father?" "I love you. Like a real daughter." Marat confessed, facing ahead. "Of course I do¡ªwhat we have is different. Io, you... chose me." The girl felt her eyes start to water, and she sensed Marat''s did too. She looked to Melchizedek, as she often did when a social situation confused her, but he seemed guilty to be interrupting a tender moment he wasn''t privy to. But then his face suddenly lit up and he raised a finger. "Oh, I remember. Boss lit her sixth mom''s hair on fire so she''d get disowned!" Io blinked away the tears and pretended to laugh. She didn''t think it was funny when she did it, and she didn''t think it was funny now. But Mel''s heart felt fragile in that moment, and she wanted to set him down gently. He was in a sense a little brother. Marat had nursed Mel from ages 4 to 8, Io from 14 to 16¡ªon paper, at least. It wasn''t long before Marat set the craft down in the Academy''s forward bay, an identical twin of the same structure aboard the Zebulon. "Stay safe," he grunted, not meeting her eyes. "I mean it. No crazy stunts." "See you soon," Io replied.
The bay looked under present renovation, ladders propped against the mural-lined walls and against chipped statues of unknown Housers. Her hands occupied by the suitcase, Io was forced to kick the scrolls down the shuttle ramp, hoping to the Seven someone would help her with them later. At the bottom of the ramp stood a black-haired girl with crimson paper talismans knotted through her tresses. Around her shoulders was a loose, thin jacket of floral-embroidered cotton, with no fasteners save for a large belt made from the same textile. A kimono, Io remembered. Much like the shrug she got from Patricia, it was worn with the amber Athame over a Z-suit during study hours, such was the Academy''s commitment to being a practice-led institution. "This meager one''s name is Lin Carrageenan, of House Tian Lung. I trust your parents have seen you off," the girl said, bowing her head slightly. "It''s only four years, but it can be painful for some families." ¡ª"Watch what you say around Tian Lung," Tallulah had warned, tapping her skull to illustrate. "Eyes in the back of their head." "I do not have parents," Io recited flatly. "Not the same way you do. I was mentored through different portions of my childhood by paragons from each of the tribes of the Zebulon, none my birth mother, in the image of the Seven." "Apologies. This much I''ve heard." Lin''s eyes narrowed and she glanced at her feet. "Blood is a troublesome thing. Needless to say, I am not a Federalist, but... perhaps it would be better if we did things your way." "Um," Io interrupted. All she could think of was her suitcase, and the scrolls presently swimming in the dust of the loading bay around her feet. "I was getting to that. Akira?" Lin snapped her fingers. "With pleasure, milady." Another student emerged from the shadows, a tall thing dragging a hand truck and dressed in what Io recognized from Patty''s libertine parties as a maid uniform. The sight of that horrible garb made Io''s blood curdle. Akira lowered herself to her knees to lift the scriptures, unfazed by the dust. Sensing Io''s judgment, Lin cleared her throat. "Now, I was in the middle of taking some of your cohort on a tour of the facilities. If you would kindly join us..." Io couldn''t help but side-eye the subservient Akira before she swallowed her reservations¡ªher first impression of Lin was so conflicted as to make her head spin. But she could at least read the air enough to move on. Delta-V It was crazy to her how two ships that looked identical on the outside could be so different on the inside. Io followed Lin through a tiled, dust-caked hall lit only by chemical emergency lights built into the ceiling, which stretched forwards and backwards into the darkness. But the dull green glow was enough to reveal a Houser fetish for paintings, so many paintings, each as tall as Io''s Rehoboam was long. Each a man she didn''t know, immortalized in peeling mats of egg tempera. It wasn''t so different, then, from the murals aboard the Zeb. How much history was there here, and whose was the more profound? Of course, even Io recognized the portrait of the Emperor, a man with a hawk-like nose and broad shoulders, always depicted sitting. Her back bent slightly beneath his gaze, which got a chuckle out of Lin. The brightest lights were floodlamps set up like checkpoints on the road, usually next to small groups of students in hi-visibility vests, groping around behind the wainscoting with toolboxes. It was clear that the ship was being repaired underway. "Many of this cohort will study to be military engineers and logisticians," Lin explained. "The Academy''s path runs through their home systems a few months ahead of schedule, so that they can perform any refitting necessary before the year officially starts. Trust me¡ªthis place looks much better than it did when we first opened. "Next we intake the officer cadets¡ªsuch as yourself¡ªalong with the Imperial scholars. Finally, we walk the Emperor''s Trail and study the Succession." Io tilted her head at this last thing. She felt like she''d been left out of a memo, again. Lin smiled. "Don''t worry. I know you''ll pick it up fast."
They soon rejoined the group she''d left behind, some tens of Houser girls. Io noticed immediately the way the students cleaved. There were uniforms that resembled Lin''s¡ªsome kimonos and some qipaos, but the most reliable indications were the red amulets and knots. These were the Tian Lung. They stuck to one side from the Vestas and seemed to close ranks against Io. She remembered the Torch on her shoulder; guess that''s why. Some of the Vesta girls nodded cautiously at her. They didn''t seem to sport any outerwear for uniform; instead their Z-suits seemed themselves ornamented, with a quilted panel tight across the breast and a ribbon around the neck. It struck Io as unladylike, given how the suits hugged the body. But the Torch on their shoulder was unmistakable. Io hovered near them politely, a wordless camaraderie, even if she was the fake.
Lin and the group ducked into a rotunda off the side of the hall. Asymmetrical arcs of seating swept through the circular space like eccentric orbits around a star. In the center was a glowing table that recalled the Navigation projector aboard the Zeb, set on a plinth that buzzed with the low groan of struggling cooling fans. The room smelled like a heater that hadn''t been turned on in a while. Lin tried to lead the students around the edge, perhaps wisely, but a few girls drifted towards the device like meteors caught in a gravity well. The president clicked her heels on the tile. "Girls? I''m sure the simulator is fascinating, but we have a lot of ground to cover before the class assignment." A few budged like swarf off a blank, but a group of about 10 hunkered down. With a grimace, Io glanced over the makeup of those who stayed.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. They were nearly all Vesta. Most had clustered around a blonde girl with a slightly modified uniform: over the quilts she wore a peaked military cap and huge velvet cape that dragged on the floor. She was flanked at the table by what were certainly sycophantic figures. "You''re a genius, Diane," one of them gassed her. "Do it again." The caped and capped Diane placed a finger between her collarbones and chuckled. "Now, now, a mere simulated opponent is beneath the strategic omniscience of Diane Levenger, successor to the decorated former Admiral Levenger of the Imperial Navy. But, because you asked so nicely, I shall demonstrate again." What an introduction. Io already disliked her. The Drifter pulled up a chair and watched the symbols circulate above the surface of the simulator. Diane''s finger dragged thrust orders onto a Vestan gunship facing off against a simulated Federalist flotilla¡ªtheir natural enemy¡ªon the opposite side of the moon. With a finger tap on the table itself, the symbols would zip through the air, the mission clock advancing at 1000x speed until the next moment of interest. Each time, the Feds would hock a swarm of hundreds of orbital missiles at Diane''s gunship. She would dodge them with one well-placed transfer, then close in for a guns kill. Io had proven herself a poor orbital strategist¡ªeven Melchizedek humiliated her here¡ªbut even she could tell something was seriously wrong with the simulation. Her heart thumped in her chest. Should she really say it? She raised her hand and said¡ª "Weeeell, that''s enough masterstrokes for one day." Diane pretended to scratch her head. "Wait," one of the others interrupted, locking eyes with Io. "You''ve got something to say, haven''t you? Better yet, can you take control of OPFOR?" A chill ran down Io''s spine at the suggestion. The interloper was a chubby, mousy-haired girl wearing what was clearly a boy''s uniform: a full-length necktie tucked into a vest with an earthy sportcoat that didn''t resemble either of the major Houses. "Hi, I''m Ema." The wide, rosy-cheeked girl curled a palm over her mouth and whispered loudly. Her other hand closed into a sparkling thumbs up. "You! Got! This! ?" A clap echoed through the rotunda. Lin had had enough. "That''s more than enough milling around from you all. Read the blasted air for once¡ª" "Motion vetoed," said yet another interloper. Her voice carried like a shot, making both Lin and Diane wince when they heard it. "Vineta..." Lin grimaced. Io turned her head towards the source to find it came from an unlikely character. Vineta was a pale, diminutive Vesta who wore a comically small tiara, watching from somewhat afield with her chin propped on a lecture table. For some reason, the others seemed to lose color at the sight of her. "Diane made her bed," the little girl spoke with the same clear, practiced intonation. "Surely Admiral Levenger''s granddaughter should like to lie in it?" She capped it with a yawn, her limbs stretching languidly like a cat. Lin sighed in frustration before nudging Io towards the table with her eyes. "Go on. Do it." With an anxious breath, Io tapped the yellow Federalist fleet and took control. The table beamed the count of missiles and fuel directly into Io''s retinas so that Diane couldn''t see. She knew roughly what to do here. She dragged out from the fleet and carefully massaged the arc of the missile launch onto Diane''s gunship. An unsatisfying midair tap confirmed the trajectory. Meanwhile, Diane Levenger worked on the opposite side of the table, gulping as her friends looked on expectantly. The unaffiliated ''Ema'' did the honors of advancing time for both of them once they''d made their moves. Io''s missile slung around the planet and missed, as expected. But it was only one rocket of the many. Diane might''ve set the ELO of the scenario so low that the Feds sent everything they had at once. But that wasn''t the strategy against a gunship with finite delta-V, particularly chemical bipropellants like methane-oxidizer. Io flicked her another missile after she''d dodged the first one. And another. Ten turns elapsed before Diane froze with her finger half-extended, struck dumb by a ''NO FUEL'' callout only she could perceive. "W... Well, I think we''ve troubled President Lin enough." She stalled and wiped a crop of sweat from her brow. "For now, I''ll gladly accept your concession. Just know that, for a tactician such as myself, coming back from a setback like this is but a simple matter." Io looked Diane square between the eyes. She tried to keep the words in her mouth but they slipped as if electrified. "The only simple matter here is yourself." Something shattered behind the mask. Moreover, she swore she saw cracks spider through the glass where the Vesta girl had been resting her palm. "Wow..." Diane said in a sweet, lilting voice. "You are a Drifter after all ?" Elevation In her advanced age, Tallulah needed a footstool to reach the top of the not-particularly-tall display cabinet in her office. She brushed aside a letter opener given by the Feds apparently as a threat, and grabbed a disc of compressed white tea¡ªa cha bing¡ªwhich she''d been saving for a special occasion. The Elder chipped a few grams off with the letter opener and passed the filled gaiwan to Io. The hot golden liquor had a sugared mouthfeel and a medicinal aroma to it, like nothing Marat ever brought her. It tasted like something you were prescribed rather than gifted. "You''ll need this," she said, wrapping the remainder and sliding it across the polymer table. "Boiling water and longer than you''d think. Don''t baby this leaf." "You seem excited," Io pointed out, her expression cordial. "I''m fucking miserable. Have you noticed your rations getting smaller? No, you wouldn''t have, would you." Tallulah reached over and pinched the white fat of Io''s flank, which made her flush. "In hindsight Marat did good to spoil you. Houser girls are delicate, refined. They drink tea. He''s taken you on a few field trips to the Huang and you can um..." The Elder stroked her chin, trying to think of something flattering to say. "Name some planets. Read store signs. Wouldn''t expect that of Melchizedek, for instance." She groaned at Tallulah using her brother as the picture of an uncultured Drifter, but accepted the sentiment. "And while the Guard under your command hasn''t been the best at... Guarding things, it''s been great at destroying the enemy. That''s good. Housers respect power. "Pod rustlers, Federalists¡ªthe Zeb has a lot of enemies these days. I want you to make some inroads into the Houses, for our sake. That entails a level of delicacy, but surely much of it will come naturally." Her dark, calloused fingers closed the tea cake in Io''s hands and patted them lightly. "And above all, don''t forget to have fun."
"Don''t let her come up for air," one of the Vestas grunted. Io closed her eyes in anticipation of the wall of cold water that slapped her face. Her hair found its way every place it shouldn''t¡ªup her nose, between her teeth. The girls shoved her neck against the porcelain lip of the convenience; she couldn''t breathe even if she wanted to. Poisoned laughter surrounded her as they surfaced her by the scruff of her hoodie. She didn''t even fight it, just squeaked air into her lungs until they were painfully full, as if her life depended on it¡ªbecause it did. There was no telling when they''d let her breathe next. "She can''t even Elevate, can she? How''s she supposed to get out of the unpowered section?" "That''s the thing¡ªshe doesn''t. Nobody''s gonna miss a little lowborn who chickened out before class assignment." Of course Io had tried to fight them. But she noticed something immediately: none of the boys or men on the Zeb were ever as strong as these girls. Their limbs felt like moving statues; like the robot arms in the hangar, which she''d seen take someone''s face off. She froze like a doe. She didn''t want to die. "She''s done," one of them said, audibly dusting off her suit. "Let''s go." She heard the girls somehow lock the stall behind her, and sniffled.
Eventually Io squeezed through the gap between the stall and the ceiling. She flopped into a gilded lavatory somewhere on the ship; earlier, they''d inverted the hem of her now soaked hoodie over her head to keep her from figuring out where they were taking her. A single sconce on the wall shed a warm glow into the powder room. She couldn''t see her face in the corroded mirrors, maybe for the best. Patricia had given her this uniform. It was on her to take care of it. So she slipped out of those sopping wet layers and hung them on the sole running lamp to dry. Earlier, the Vestans had mentioned an ''unpowered section'', which proved an appropriate name. The hall outside was just as dark as the one she''d been in earlier, minus any signs of life at all; not even the sound of life support in the walls. Her ears rang in the silence. Her whole body felt heavy and numb.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. This hall was decidedly finite. After a few minutes of walking, she reached the end, where a towering, wrought iron double door blocked her off from the rest of the ship. She banged her fist on its cool black surface, hoping to at least slip out before the class assignment Lin had scheduled for the end of the day. But of course, nobody answered the door. It stacked neatly in the deck of her life in general. Because Io had said a single thing wrong, she was about to miss the one appointment she knew to be mandatory¡ªalthough who knew what else she''d fucked up, unwritten? How long could she even survive here without her luggage? No¡ªshe''d done this so many times already on the Zeb. Io felt spent. This time her stupid mouth had done it for real. Her shoulders slumping, she turned around to go find somewhere appropriate to die, when¡ª ¡°Hey, watch where you¡¯re goi¡ªOw!¡± Io found herself flat on her butt, a dull ache spreading across her shoulder where she¡¯d managed to bump into... another student? She''d managed to flatten a much shorter girl. Her nose was smushed into the tile, crushed under a massive ripstop backpack that dwarfed her body. It was difficult to determine her House affiliation from the synthetic anorak piled on her shoulders. Her golden hair was tied into pigtails with paper amulets. The interloper groaned as she tried to peel herself off the floor, but her hands slipped in the dust and she replanted her forehead with a crack. "Shit, sorry!" Io prostrated herself and helped the girl to her feet. "Are you hurt? I didn''t mean to." Sweat ran down her neck as she belted out indistinct apologies. This girl might be her only ticket out. "...I''m Io. What''s your name?" "M...Mica Pallas Malvern," the pipsqueak said, dusting herself off and propping her hands on her hips. "House Tian Lung. But just a branch family. We''re um, merchants, mostly raw materials." Her lip quivered as she specified this, her eyes wandering off to the side. "Eyes in the back of the head?" Io muttered unconsciously. "You... you betcha!" The girl winked and made a gun with her hand¡ªa sudden about-face that made Io grimace. "So how long have you been looking for the exit?" "H...Huh?" Io blinked. "Some girls... left me here about an hour ago," she said, neglecting to mention the toilet part. "Oooh." Mica glanced at a men''s watch on her wrist. "I''ve been looking for another student for about a week. My mom said the same thing happened to her back in the day, so I packed appropriately." She shimmied her backpack proudly, where a soiled bedroll jiggled from the latch tab. "How does that even happen?" "Excuse me." Mica pulled a chalky white bar from her pocket and filled her cheeks with half of it. Io recognized it as a desiccated silkworm ration. It smelled like a cupboard. She continued with a full mouth, "When my dad dwopped me off, there was this girl who said she was a ''prefect''. Gulp. She confiscated the knife that came in the acceptance letter, said we ''weren''t allowed to carry weapons'' or something. After that, I never saw anybody again." Now that she mentioned it, Mica didn''t seem to be wearing an Athame. One by one, the pieces assembled in Io''s mind. "You... you idiot!" She shook Mica''s shoulders. "How the hell did you fall for that?" "E...Excuse me?" Mica''s eyes widened with indignity, but her face softened as she seemed to actually consider the bullshit she''d proactively prepared for and accepted. For a second there was a hint of wetness in her eyes¡ªbut she quickly blinked it out and speared Io with a scowl. "You don''t understand!" She looked away. "I just... wanted everything to go smoothly. If I said anything... they''d..." The way she sulked looked like Melchizedek, back when the bigger boys would bully him. Io couldn''t help herself. She hugged Mica tight against her chest. "From now on, I''m your big sister," she insisted. "D... Don''t get ahead of yourself!" Mica stamped her feet. "I mean... It''s not even a guarantee we end up in the same class..." The two hugged silently in the darkness beside the gate, their bodies the only warm thing in the unpowered section. After a while, Mica sniffled and pulled away to wipe her nose. There was blood on the back of her hand, probably from falling flat on her face. "Shit," Io apologized again. "I''m sorry. Let me get you a tissue." "I got this." Mica held her at arm''s length and rummaged in her backpack. As her hands pawed at the pockets, a single drop of blood, black-green in the emergency lighting, slipped from her chin and fell on the marble floor. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the grout between the tiles began to shine. "M...Mica," Io stammered, pointing. "Look down." "Wh... WHAT?" The two jumped away as streaks of light spidered across the floor and seared their dark-adjusted eyes. In the distance, a series of gargantuan relays slammed shut with a sound like cannon fire. Waves of cold downlights flickered to life and banished the dark between the marble columns until they''d spread all the way down the corridor. Io''s eyes stung. She didn''t know what to think of it until she saw a thin ring of light hovering above Mica''s head, apparently unnoticed. "N-N-Network Gene detected." A woman''s voice emanated from the ring, distant and cold. "Granting User Elevation. Restoring power to section D." "...so that explains the knife," Io said. Both of them screamed again as the black gate swung open, striking its hinges in a metallic crash. Who was there on the other side but a familiar group of four students in Vesta uniforms, chatting in hushed tones. One of the girls had two Athames around her neck instead of just the one. Her face turned pale when she saw Mica. Despite all of them being larger than the diminutive Tian Lung, the whole group, confusingly, turned to run. "Get back here!" Mica shredded after them, the luminous ring bobbing up and down with her head. Coldness Class assignment took place in a lecture hall not unlike an amphitheater, with hard arcs of stone for seating. There was a far greater density of students than had taken Lin''s tour: at least a few hundred girls packing the benches, the air noticeably degrading with the perspiration from their walk. "We''re more punctual than my mom was." Mica grinned, twirling her Athame on its lanyard. "And I got my knife back!" Io still didn''t understand why the bully had just given it to her. Was it just because she was a Tian Lung...? President Lin was already calling out names when Io and Mica arrived, her voice hoarse despite regular sips of water from a carafe held by her dutiful maid Akira. The clipboard in her hand was dog-eared and colorful with pasted notes. ¡ª"Nausicaa Vogel. House Benetnasch. 1-Epiphyllum." ¡ª"V...Vineta Yellowknife. House Vesta. 1-Calla." The sleepy, betiara''d girl from the War Room was leaning alone against an emergency exit. At the sound of her name, Vineta flashed Lin a mocking thumbs up, as if to say ''Hooray. You said it.'' Io and Mica stayed low as they crept down the steps. Io took comfort in the idea that she hadn''t met most of these students yet, and thus they couldn''t possibly be her enemies already¡ªalthough she ducked, her pulse accelerating, when she saw Diane and her cronies playing board games in a corner far from the stage. ¡ª"Diane Levenger. House Vesta. 1-Rhododenron." A single contrived "Whoooo!" flew from that corner, answered by a crushing silence that Lin seemed to deliberately prolong in a rare display of cruelty. In the lull, Io spotted the student she was looking for, standing by herself in the front row. A chubby girl in a boy''s uniform... there really wasn''t any other. "Y... You!!" Io grabbed the collar of Ema''s sportcoat¡ªnot really knowing what to say next, but hoping her indignation came through in her voice. "Ema! You set me up!" "Wh... wha...?" Ema babbled, her dark eyes wide at the assault. Something like recognition passed over her features, but her eyes quickly hardened. "I just thought you needed a push. How was I supposed to know what you''d do with it?" She swatted Io''s hands away and huffed, disabused of any cheer from before. "Where did you even learn to say something like that to a person you just met?" Io gritted her teeth. "That was clearly entrapment. Diane''s crooks almost¡ª" ¡ª"Mica Pallas Malvern. House Tian Lung. 1-Epiphyllum." ¡ª"Io Temperance Harmony Zebulon. No House. 1-Heliotrope." ¡ª"Emeline Arius Exarcheia. House Cairnbrae. 1-Heliotrope." ¡°W¡­ what¡­?¡± Mica tugged Io''s sleeve and turned to her with a knit brow, her face totally pale. Her shoulders shook as if the temperature had plummeted in the room. ¡°Io¡­¡± Io could feel the other students'' eyes on her; those in the corners stood up from their seats and gawked. Even Vineta looked, although she pretended not to. The chattering that was once a whisper rose to a fever pitch. Io¡¯s breath hitched in her throat. ¡°Wait. What¡¯s wrong? I thought you knew I was a¡ª¡± ¡°¡­Not you,¡± Mica stopped her. She gestured to Ema with her eyes. Sweat poured from her brow in ribbons, like she was afraid to even finish the thought. Both of them turned to Ema, who wasn''t facing them. She raised her hands and waved to Lin vacantly. They were close enough to the stage that Lin could not have avoided noticing this. "...shouldn''t be here..." Somebody whispered. The President coughed lightly into her microphone, fingering the next page of the clipboard. ¡°I didn''t stutter,¡± she said.
Io had been assigned to class 1-Heliotrope, a word that meant nothing to her until she took a much-needed shower in her dorm¡ªand from then on would mean "ice cold water, makeshift, awful." She wrapped herself in a towel and sat shivering in the pantry beneath the hydroponics rack, which was an earthy-smelling shock of green in what had generally proven to be an artificial environment. An electric kettle whined with the boiling water she''d need to make Tallulah''s tea. She sipped the warming brew anxiously as she absorbed her living situation.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Looking around, the dorm had likely once been a parts closet with partitions erected for bedrooms. There must''ve been about 30 girls here in all, some already retired to their pipe beds. Successive generations of Heliotrope engineers had erected improvised amenities such as the shower she''d just used, but this was so obviously the worst-appointed dormitory. It was at this point she caught sight of Ema walking past the pantry in pyjamas, lugging what seemed to be a plush, life-sized automaton, or least an antiquated vision of one: corrugated tubes for arms, light-up teeth. Irritated by her ease, Io banged on the shower door to get her attention. "Ema, this is hazing." She gestured at the corrugated plating that passed as a door. "That freezing cold thing is not a shower. This is not a dorm." Ema shuffled around. Before she could reply, a shock of pink spread across her cheeks. "T...Those are not clothes." Ema pointed at Io with all the graces of a toddler. After a second she realized she''d been staring and clutched the robot to her chest defensively, trying to make herself small behind it¡ªalthough she was too wide for it to work. Did this girl have... a prudish streak? Well, okay. Io ran for a change of clothes. She could see the relief in Ema''s expression when she returned. Ema and her robot were curled into a ripped ottoman she''d apparently dragged all the way from 1-Gladiolus for some extra comfort, her feet propped on a repurposed rover tire. "We should tell Lin," Io insisted. "She knows," Ema grumbled. "Give up." "Yeah, I wouldn''t," one of the other students concurred; a bespectacled girl in overalls who sat bow-legged on the floor, cleaning out the pipes in the hydroponics rack with a bottlebrush. She adjusted her glasses as glasses-wearers do before lecturing someone, then continued: "Historically, Heliotrope is where the Academy has concentrated the less respected Houses. I can understand wanting to quarantine degenerates like Ema, of course¡ªalthough I personally am from House Jura, and I resent the idea that we are undesirables." Ema groaned and kicked her legs against her plushie. "Face it, Fredda. You''re just as hosed as the rest of us. Why do you wanna be an Imperial scholar anyways?" Fredda puffed out her chest and set her tools in a bucket full of dirty water. She was remarkably unafraid of Ema¡ªmaybe camaraderie in being at the bottom of the pecking order. "We Jura can be found wherever the pursuit of knowledge takes us. Imperial, technical, or¡ªEmperor forbid," she held a finger to her collarbone and winked, "Both." A double degree? The thought made Io''s head hurt, but there was a sense of relief too: at least she knew whose homework she''d be copying when classes started in a couple days. "Why do you wanna be an officer cadet?" Fredda shot back. "Do you have a death wish?" Ema hesitated for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Her eyes darted left and right and settled on Io''s as if pleading for a time out. "Io?" "Diplomacy," Io answered, smiling flatly. "I''m supposed to ''make inroads'', but I''ve been flying an interceptor for most of my life and that''s the only thing I can do. Next?" Ema sighed, and hid behind her robot again. "...Because President Lin told me to." "She said it would be good for my future." She gulped. Her eyes wandered off to the side, something wavering in her voice. "I didn''t think much of it back then, because I''d been flying an Arrowhead for a few years. So I said okay." It explained the way she stood in front during the class assignment. Something in the ''back then'', however, told Io that Ema did not precisely admire Lin¡ªmore that she was upholding some kind of obligation. That was understandable. Io''s mind wandered to the maid Akira who''d delivered her luggage. Nobody really good had a maid. "M... Makes sense," Fredda broke the silence. Resenting the dismissal from Fredda, the large girl stirred and climbed to her feet. "To your proposal, Io. The President has a lot of work on her hands. I don''t think we should hassle her any more." She exhaled deeply, looking to the corrugated door. "Free showers are really nice, you know. You can take one every day. Sometimes I''d shell out for it, but it was usually better to eat." "Wait," Io said. "What do you mean¡ª" Io followed Ema a little too far towards her room. The girl cringed away, her shoulders slumped. It didn''t seem like she wanted to talk anymore.
It was hard to sleep. Io''s first day kept replaying behind her eyelids as she shuffled on the pipe bed, curling beneath a yellowed blanket she''d brought from home. Class 1-Epiphyllum''s dorm wasn''t too far, and there wasn''t a curfew that she knew of. So she made the trip across the hall, shivering a little in her white casual tunic. She found herself outside their common room, where an inviting flower arrangement capped a dinner table bathed in warm light. The students chatting inside hailed largely from House Benetnasch, whose ''uniform'' consisted of tiny puffer jackets that looked like they''d shrunk in the wash. Mica''s attitude towards Io had noticeably cooled. She struggled to meet her eyes, instead lowering her head and clicking her Athame open and shut as if it were a toy. "I... told you I was from a merchant branch family," Mica said. "This is important for me." Io''s voice wavered. "Where is this going, Mica...?" "I''m sorry, Io. I can''t be seen with you or that..." She shuddered. "Cairnbrae. Ema. Not in person, anyway." "You''d have starved to death without me," Io snapped. "I... I know that." Mica rubbed her eyes. "But my family''s future is on the line. Everyone knows I don''t deserve to be here. I''m going to make so many mis-steps, but I''d at least like to avoid the most obvious." Mica met Io''s gaze and tried to smile, one of her eyes squeezing shut from the effort of collecting herself. "Let''s just say I owe you one, okay?" She turned away, but not before reaching into her pocket and handing her a handwritten note with a Benetnasch constellation letterhead. "Cordially invited to join us for the morning flyover," it read. "Nausicaa Vogel, class 1-E."
It had been a long first day. Maybe Lin was right that blood was a troublesome thing. Vesta, Tian Lung, Benetnasch, Jura, and perhaps the lowest of them all: Cairnbrae. Io closed the pillow over her head as if to block the intrusive feelings. She couldn''t help but wonder if this was all some kind of punishment on the part of Tallulah. It felt like Io had stepped on every possible rake; as if the old lady had she''d designed this situation in a lab to make her feel small and lose any friends she tried to make. The thought made her angry enough to cry. She clenched her teeth. The ship would be landing in a neutral system in couple of days, and that invitation was burning a hole in her pocket. She''d show them, she''d show Diane, and she''d show that old crone. She didn''t know what, but she''d show them all. Yellowknife The letter said a craft would be waiting for her in the hangar. For their first class, 1-Epiphyllum had been slated to do a loaded flyover of the landing zone¡ªcursory, of course, since the Academy had a "real" escort in the form of some Imperial Navy frigates riding the Academy''s jump wake. 1-E had an overwhelming majority of cadets, which explained the schedule. The Arrowhead mkI lacked a real windshield, at least while it was underway. After you strapped into the Z-cradle through a glass cupola in the front, it would retract deep into the armored belly of the craft, the blue of the sky wired in through cameras. It was several times the size of a Rehoboam, but just as responsive as Io tipped it into the thick atmosphere of the planet Tyumen. She gained altitude and joined a ''V'' of Arrowheads cutting a cat-scratch of contrails above the Academy, which had come to rest in the dusty red soil on gracile legs. She observed a cluster of flat buildings not far from the landing site, their flumes white with the smoke of habitation. The Imperial Navy escort was a pair of gold spindles hovering a few kilometers away. Suddenly, the radar detector beeped. Her blood pressure rose immediately. Someone in the back had turned off their IFF. Io held the yoke steady. Her stomach turned when she recalled her encounter with Diane and how that nearly killed her. Looking over her shoulder she saw the offending Arrowhead flying level and tucking into her wake, matching speeds. Eventually it might abandon the idea, and say ''my mistake,'' and flip back to green. That might''ve been ruder, though. Io banked into a dive and the other one followed suit. She led it through a series of tight banks that she could hear the heavy spaceframe struggling to take. Left to right, left to right¡ªa small scissor exercise. She imagined her attacker was coming close to getting a guns picture and punched the airbrakes, the straps digging into her shoulders as she lurched forward in her seat. The other one zoomed ahead into view. Io tipped the nose slightly and whispered into her push to talk, "Bang." The enemy fighter stilled its course, its contrail straightening as if stretched taut. "Good kata." A voice came through, a student who sounded a bit older. Her voice was muddy and distant. "My name is Nausicaa Vogel, of House Benetnasch. How long have you been flying an Arrowhead?" "A few hundred hours," Io lied. She hadn''t much experience with it. Some cycles back, the Zeb''s technician Rikka had obtained an Arrowhead through unscrupulous means, but she''d given up maintaining it within a month: too expensive to buy replacements when they could make Rehoboam parts themselves. "I just wanted to thank you for rescuing my classmate the other day," Nausicaa''s voice filtered in. "She spoke ill of you, but I think we should get to know each other¡ªmaybe after Lin''s expedition?" Io smiled. "If I see you."
"Do you really think we''ll install a new Emperor some day?" Fredda''s voice sounded crushed through her rebreather as she used her Athame to bleed her finger onto a dais carved into the red rock. The halo on her head muttered some spiel about User Elevation before its searing light raced its way through a carving on the wall: a larger-than-life icon of the incumbent monarch on a throne as tall as a house, a halo behind his crowned head and broad, powerful shoulders.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "That''s the hope," Lin said as she dithered around the dig holding a ruggedized tablet. Her eyes looked sunken despite her optimism. "We don''t study the Succession because it''s easy. It''s like a chore you''ve been procrastinating¡ªlike taking the trash out after 700 years. No disrespect to His Grace." Fredda smirked. "His Grace hasn''t looked his best lately. I guess it gets harder the longer you put it off." Io listened from the periphery of the expedition of 40 or so girls, her hands in the pockets of Patricia''s jacket, now dried and pressed. She didn''t like the way her own breath tasted in the oxygen set or how the dust got inside her boots. Most of her class had already skipped to the nearby waystation because of the buffeting cold winds. "This download is taking forever," Fredda groaned, rapping her tablet. "With our luck, the Feds will lynch us before the second waystation." "W... Well, we''re at least safe in this system," Lin assured her. "Without a Benetnasch to help tune the Spine, there''s no way to even reach this place." Suddenly, Io felt a tug on her sleeve, which she recognized at this point was a thing only shorter girls did to her. Her neck broke out in an icy sweat when she noticed it was the tiara-wearing Vineta, who even Lin seemed to lose her composure around. "I rather fancy your uniform, you know," the little girl said. Her voice was thin and raspy in her oxygen set, like a seashell. "It''s an older Vesta style, like one my mother would''ve worn." "O-Oh?" Io wasn''t quite sure she heard that right, or if Vineta was talking to someone else. "I do mean yourself, of course." Well, that settled that. She tugged Io''s sleeve again. "Say, shall we retire to the waystation for a spot of tea? I tire of Lin; she is terribly wooden." "Me?" Io pointed between her collarbones. "I do mean yourself."
"Oh I do love bao," Vineta said with a full mouth. The sight of her tiny lips nibbling a meat bun nearly the size of her face¡ªIo couldn''t help but feel something nurturing in her chest. It was strange, since she normally hated children, although Vineta was likely older than her: you could see the beginnings of crows'' feet at the corners of her eyes. It was warm and dark in the waystation''s cafeteria. An icon of the Emperor overlooked the wooden booth, his head framed by golden halo. Most of the customers were waystation workers in dusty coveralls, but she also spotted a few truants from 1-H whispering to each other in the dimly-lit booths, although she struggled to pick out anyone she recognized. Vineta had ticked an unusual black tea on the order chit. Golden Eyebrow. The ruby liquor was so rich that it was difficult to swallow, and it didn''t seem to get weaker with successive steeps. "You know, Io. I know how you feel." Vineta held Io''s hand in her cold, white fingers. "It feels like nobody really respects you. They''ve all been rather shite to you, haven''t they?" The word was a very particular Vestan affectation. Io grimaced and looked away. She didn''t want to be told her feelings in a dialect that so recalled Patricia''s. "On top of that, it must be so hard being alone for the first time in your life. You lot always stick together, don''t you?" Vineta curled her fists on the corners of her eyes and pretended to bawl. "It''s even in your name; Harmony." Her father''s face flashed through her mind. It hadn''t even occurred to her to be homesick, but the way Vineta said it made her throat tighten. Io clicked her tongue. "What do you want?" "I just want you to know that I''m in your corner. You can tell me anything you want. Simply being here, at this Academy, is proof that your existence has worth." She smiled. "As for my dear Diane, I''ve told her to apologize to you in time. You needn''t worry about her again." Io didn''t even realize she''d been instinctively looking out for Diane. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She scanned the girl''s eyes for anything like condescension, but her doll-like face held a precisely guarded expression. She was a gargoyle of platitude. "Oh, where are my manners." The small girl wiped her mouth and offered her hand to Io, her wrist slack like a leaf in the rain. "My name is Vineta Yellowknife. Please, don''t be polite. Feel free to treat me like any other student." "What?" Vineta covered her mouth and giggled, her tiara twinkling under the fluorescent tubes. "Oh, you know what." I Didnt Stutter Io should''ve known things would not be so simple. "It''s simple, really." Diane dusted off her peaked cap and touched her own shoulder as if appointing herself Emperor. "I''ll apologize. All you need to do is prostrate yourself completely. Like actually kiss my shoes." She grinned. ¡°That should do it.¡± They''d crossed paths on the internal train back to the dormitories at the Academy''s bow. The setting sun of Tyumen filtered through the trusses in the window, casting fast-moving shadows over the empty carriage. Only the air conditioner made a sound. "Don''t," she heard Ema bark from behind. "You are not her bitch, Io." It was not a suggestion. Io almost couldn''t breathe, caught between someone she had good reason to fear and someone she''d been told to. Her calves tensed in preparation to simply dart as soon as the train stopped. Diane walked past her with powerful strides, her blue cape dragging on the floor¡ªtowards Ema. "Watch your mouth, Cairnbrae. You lot were supposed to have died off centuries ago. I know you didn''t come back just to get in my way." Io was too afraid to look back, but it was quiet enough in the car that she heard the faint click of Ema unfolding her Athame. "G... Get back," Ema stuttered. "I''m not afraid of you." Her knees clattered together as she held the blade in front of her. The girl''s eyes were glassy and distant, as if Diane''s words had triggered an unpleasant memory.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Diane didn''t even look at the knife. Her hand reached out for one of the standing poles and gripped it tentatively. Io couldn''t help but notice that the pole had begun to bend. "Go to hell," Ema said, scowling. "If I told you to, you''d drive that thing right through your skull." "You wouldn''t dare." Diane glowered. "You''d just be repeating history, over and over. Do you think your ancestors would be proud?" Io couldn''t bear to watch this. Ducking, the girl placed herself in front of Ema and opened her arms to shield her. She felt her heart rise in her throat, beating viciously as the adrenaline prepared her for whatever was about to come. "I... I may not know what''s happened between your families," she gulped, "But I''m not about to watch you stab each other to death." Where Diane once looked at her with contempt, she now shook her head and wrinkled her brow in pity. "If only you knew what you were protecting¡ª" "¡ªShit!" She suddenly stumbled back and gripped the pole. Before Io could process what had happened, she felt the floor come out from under her feet and slipped forwards towards the rubberized surface. She managed to stick her elbows out to cushion her landing, but it wasn''t for much. Ema''s full weight toppled forward onto her from behind, knocking the wind from her lungs with a squeal. Without warning, the train had come to a screeching halt. "I... Io, are you okay?" She felt Ema touch her neck as if looking for a pulse. "I didn''t mean to¡ª" "Wait," Diane said, raising her finger. "Listen." The three fell silent. They heard the intercom crackle before a distant voice filtered through, barely identifiable as Lin Carrageenan. "A... Attention, all students," Lin began, her voice shot through with a weariness that seemed total, even for her. "Class 1-E has been eliminated." "I repeat, Class 1-Epiphyllum has been eliminated. 38 students are with the stars." "All remaining pilots are requested to convene in Hangar B for immediate launch preparations." "This is not an exercise. St Light Academy is under attack." Deep Breaths As the morning dawned on the Imperial Library on Cordoba, Lin Carrageenan would have prepared for bed by squirreling into a dusty corner with a thing of green tea¡ªa pan-fried lung ching or a steamed ryokucha¡ªand booting up a game of net-chess. It was a game sometimes poisoned by analogue notions¡ªmateriel, positioning, development¡ªbut her mind had long boiled it down to a game of fixed decisions: you either moved this pawn or this knight on that turn. Together, all the possible decisions in a game formed a dense, sprawling tree. Making a move amounted to moving down a branch, and all the others fell away as if pruned, representing versions of the game made impossible by that choice. And on the living stalk, Black or White''s win loomed larger over the leaves that remained. That''s why she''d studied long openings since she was a little girl: strategies that stretched into what most people considered the midgame. Between the pages of the book she always carried, the dog-eared and annotated copy of "On The Trail of the King" that had fattened past its original covers and looked fit to burst, you could sometimes find a sticky note with a good move¡ªQueen to C8, Knight to B6, double exclamation mark. Because with enough study, Lin could prune the tree so that her victory was inevitable. Why now then, after she''d tended to her tree for years¡ª Nausicaa Vogel''s voice filtered through the console speakers. "Madam President. We''re disengaging as you requested, but the enemy reinforcements are right on top of us." Lin wiped her brow, although it felt colder on the bridge than she''d set the thermostat. She ducked her head, cringing at the idea that someone could see her now¡ªbut none of the students looked up from the blinking consoles below. A full classroom''s worth were hunched over their assignments in the grid of marshalling symbols above the main projector. From the meridians alone, she could see who among the crew had friends in the sky today. Sending 1-E out with full arms had been prudent, but not sufficient. She saw their blue triangles entangled with an equal detachment of Federalist Sabers, scrap rectangles hurtling through the air with little regard for aerodynamics. She''d have trusted Nausicaa to down those, but a new wing of unknowns was closing over the horizon. Lin patched into one of the Imperial frigates, a golden spindle floating southeast of the furball. "Major Reynaud. Focus on the new arrivals. Fire on my mark." "Roger, madam president. Fire." Hundreds of anti-radiation missiles streamed over the rocks and mated with the incoming Federalist wing. ''X'' after ''X'' marked the point of impact seconds before the dull booms rattled the bridge on the Academy. For a moment Lin thought she could breathe, that she hadn''t sent those students to their grave. But one of the yellows was still moving. Its flight path coiled around the class like a snake. "Pull it up on the projector." She gulped. Past the emerald waves of the Academy''s shields, against the red sunset of Tyumen, they saw a black inter-atmospheric jet with a serpent''s head painted on its cranked-delta wing. Its thrust-vectoring engines crossed like a ballerina''s legs. The girls below chattered. "That''s Klaus Schwartz, the Federalists'' Black Adder." Lin felt cold fingers touch her trembling hand. Akira''s. Her expressionless face was close, something metal glinting behind the irises. "Madame President, you look pale. Do you need a glass of water?" Lin could not see a single meridian on her maid''s body. Akira sometimes unnerved the other Tian Lung when she approached from behind, but Lin had always found her presence soothing: like talking to a shade tree. "N... No. Set the kettle going, Akira." Lin took a sip of cold tea. "Have you managed to contact Fredda?" "Not yet. However, some of the expedition crew did return to the ship safely." "Did they have the Epitaph of Jade with them?" Lin asked. Akira lowered her head solemnly. "I''m afraid not." Dammit. She''d been up for days with her nose in the dirt of the dig site. The effort of supporting Fredda''s research had cut circles of grey into her eyes. Without the Epitaph, they wouldn''t even be able to reach the second system on the Trail. At this point, the cut-grass scent of lung ching was the only thing keeping her awake. But the steeps were getting further apart, and she''d need to wash the teapot soon. "I have a lock on him," said a girl from 1-E. "Fox two." The Black Adder didn''t lower himself to missiles. His broad wings clawed at the air and whipped him in viciously tight circles. 38 students chased after him, but he always found a way to put one in front of his nose, and 1-Epiphyllum dwindled in silence to nothing. The tea rumbled in Lin''s cup as the shockwave from each crashed Arrowhead reached the bridge.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Losing a student wasn''t anything like she''d imagined. Nobody screamed or cried for help. She entertained that it was something in the House Benetnasch character, but it was likely just the way they''d set up the radios. Three of the operators stood around a girl who''d started weeping at her terminal. She''d known someone who''d been shot down. Don''t worry, there''s a chance she punched out before she hit the ground. No, no, no¡ª "Contact from the Feds," the radio officer said. Lin shuddered. "P... Patch it through." Klaus Schwartz''s dialect was rhotic and refined, the sneering drawl of Neo Xiaguan''s upper class. "Monarchist dogs, the time of your festering king is lapsed. Power down your shields and surrender the Spine in peace. The New Huang Federation cordially invites you to return to your families in good health rather than in caskets." "Give me some time," Lin spat without thinking. He smirked audibly. "If you need some encouragement, you need but ask your sensor officer, Madam President." Lin looked to her right. The Academy''s drones transmitted images of six rusted prisms shorn from old seaships, slicing between clouds in literally another time zone. Two hundred li due east, beyond the red horizon. "...Filiality-class beam frigates," the sensor girl identified. "A crude way to crack shields, but effective. They can''t fire over the curve of the planet, but as soon as they have direct line of sight..." "You have fifteen minutes," Klaus said. "Death is waiting, Madam President. Best not bore him." Lin pounded her fists against the console and cradled her head. This wasn''t anything. An intercept this late into the game was nowhere in the cards. Apart from the frigates floating nearby, not even the Imperial Navy had been informed of the first waystation''s location. And besides, they''d needed a Benetnasch student to tune the spine for this jump since the warp-thread to Tyumen was so faint. To even reach this system, they Feds would at the very least have needed a traitor from House Benetnasch to grab the thread. Worse, to figure out the Academy was headed to Tyumen of all places¡ªa lifeless rock on the way to nowhere at all¡ªthey''d have needed someone on the inside. A mole. Could Lin have invited this upon herself by being so open with the invitations? Her teeth clenched at the thought. She felt so humiliated at the idea that tears welled up in her eyes. In hindsight, the answer to Klaus'' offer was clear: she couldn''t be responsible for any more deaths. Even this much was going to tar the remainder of her life. She''d never be able to face those students'' parents. "Madam President," Akira said. "It''s been five minutes." "I know, just give me a second¡ª" That''s when she felt a meridian cross its arms in the corner behind her. A Vesta. "...What do you want, Vineta?" Lin grumbled. Based on the direction, she added: "You came from the hangar, didn''t you? You Vesta are all the same: all you care about is glory..." Only Vineta''s shoes made a sound as she approached the president and touched her shoulder. Her brow creased with uncharacteristic concern. "Come on now, Lin, take a deep breath..." She touched the book on Lin''s console; the plump, annotated copy of On The Trail of the King. "We''ve known each other for a while now. I always see you lug this thing around. It''s clearly precious to you. Getting us here¡ªto the head of the Trail¡ªwas your life''s work." For some reason Vineta liked to pretend things were heavy to her. Although she picked up the book in both skinny arms and pretended to heave, her heart meridian was still cold and silent. This girl was ultimately the same sort of gorilla as her pet ape Diane, albeit smaller. That kind of physical instrument affected the way you made decisions. When normal objects posed no resistance in your day-to-day life, you tended to extend that invincibility to every matter. "No shit, Vineta," Lin hissed. "Do you expect me to fight for it? Look where that''s gotten us already. I can''t bring all these girls down with me just because I wrote some papers. And besides, we lost the fucking Epitaph!" "Is that true?" Vineta looked to the radio operator, her jaw open. She nodded in her headset. "Some of the expedition crews came back here without the Epitaph¡ªthey say Federalists hit the dig site with shock troops." "See?!" Lin cried, clutching her head. "Still, breathe... Breathe..." Vineta rubbed her shoulder. "Give me a second with that Federalist," she proposed. "Do what you want," Lin huffed, and stuffed her face in her elbows. With that, Vineta gingerly picked up the microphone that had previously belonged to Lin and plugged in the first frequency in memory. She took a deep breath. "This one''s name is Vineta Yellowknife." Her face contrived into a light smile. "Good man, may I ask if transport will be provided back to the core systems?" "I agreed to speak with Madam President." Klaus sounded irate. "Although I do not have authority myself, I fear she is indisposed, and what do have to fear from speaking to a little old student as myself." "...We will generously allow you to decamp your supplies to the waystation and inform the Navy of our attack." "I shall inform the President¡ª" "They mean for all of us to starve to death!" Lin yelled, bolting to her feet and slamming the desk. Her head felt hot from the effort of penetrating the ruse. "Nobody even knows we''re here¡ªthere''s a few months'' supplies in that waystation at most! That Federalist bastard almost¡ª" Vineta cupped Lin''s mouth. "Shhhhhhh. Yeah." She smiled. "But what do we do about the Epitaph?" "Leave it to me," Vineta nodded. "1-Calla won''t be the best in a dogfight, but we can shore up the search for Fredda''s team." "I hope you know what you''re doing." Lin slowly slinked back to her post, adjusting her disheveled uniform back to some semblance of dignity. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her disordered nerves, watching them cool as she swallowed her fury at being deceived. The game was not drawn yet. "Scramble the rest of the interceptors," she said, her finger dragging a gleaming line from the Academy over the horizon. "Take down those beam frigates before they get in range. As for the Imperial escort, have them move as far forward as they can and pick off any stragglers." One of the operators looked towards her for clarity. "Should we authorize the use of reaction warheads?" A late-game decision. Not one of her strong points. "...Leave it up to the individual classes to do so if they see fit," Lin dodged. "I know we had a few gunship pilots who might take issue with opening the RoE so soon." "Roger," the girl confirmed. "As for that bastard..." Lin gritted her teeth, watching Klaus''s fighter circle the Academy like a vulture. "...send Tian Lung''s Alice Specter."