Helium3.0

First published as an ebook by Nick Travers at Smashwords 2008
Copyright © Nick Travers 2008. Smashwords Edition
Cover illustrations copyright © James Young 2008

Nick Travers has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved:  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Visit the Nick Travers on Writing at
www.NickTravers.com

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Other examples of James young’s artwork can be viewed at www.artincas.co.uk
James Young can be contacted at moebius82@ukonline.co.uk
With grateful thanks to everyone who has helped me, in any small way, to write, and re-write this book.
Special thanks to my writing buddy, David, whose wisdom and honest critique kept Mervyn on the straight and narrow.  To Rachel Wade of Hodder Children’s Books who freely gave of her time to provided invaluable advice when I most needed it.  To my readers Sally, Josh, and Angela, who provide honest, and sometimes painful, feedback.  And to James Young who provided the original artwork.
I would also like to thank the members of Writers In Touch at www.writersintouch.com who provided much advice and encouragement when I first set out on this journey.
Nick Travers

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Helium3.0

By Nick Travers

– Chapter1 – 
Traitor

‘Wake up, Mervyn!’
‘Wozamaher?’  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched his aching muscles as far as his jumpsuit would allow.  At the age of fourteen, Mervyn Bright was so obsessed with pursuing his dream of becoming Galactic Sledding champion he was prepared to defy even his parents.  He was running away from home to join his father’s enemies.
A thick shock of red curls swam into view as Loren thumped the side of his bunk again, ‘Wake up, Mervyn.’.  She looked scared.
‘Time to jump ship already?’  He knew she dreaded transfers.
‘No, we need to hide.’
Mervyn bolted upright, cracking his head on the low ceiling in the process, ‘Ouch.  What’s up?’
‘No time to explain,’ Loren absently waved some wires she was attaching to something on the doorframe.  She hid them behind her back as a bald, diminutive Silvin scuttled into the cabin.
The Silvin scanned them with back multifaceted eyes, like an insect, ‘Quickly, hide in the priest hole under the bunks,’ it squeaked, pointing a wizened arm at the stack of bunks opposite.  Then it ran off.
Mervyn examined the bunks and spotted a loose bolt.  He kicked it free.  When he threw his weight against the beds the stack slid aside to reveal a shallow hole between decks, just large enough for two to lie in.  The smell of rotten eggs assaulted his nostrils. ‘Agh,’ Silvin.’  Nothing in the galaxy smelt like Silvin, and nowhere smelt as foul as a Silvin trading ship – maybe they had smuggled a Silvin mystic recently.  The smell cleared his head.  He threw their kitbags, spacesuits, helmets, and Academy uniforms into the rancid hole then jumped in on top.  Luckily, they had already packed for the transfer.  Loren dived in beside him and together they heaved at the underside of the bunks until the floor slammed back into place. Darkness enveloped them.
What would Mervyn’s father think if he could see him now?  Their last conversation, more a shouted exchange, reverberated in his mind.  ‘No, Mervyn,’ his father snarled across the kitchen table, ‘all this talk of racing is just stardust, and as for the Space Academy, do you really think they would let a son of mine into their midst?  This hobby of yours has gone far enough.  You are going to get a solid job in the mining corporation.  If you work hard you could become a section manager, maybe even take after me, and become a Senator for the Republic.’
‘I’m not interested in politics,’ Mervyn shouted back, ‘I don’t want to work in the mines, and I don’t want to be a traitor, like you.’  A resentful silence followed this last statement and Mervyn realised he had gone too far.  He tried a more reasonable tone, ‘I just want to race sleds.  The Space Academy turns out champions, it’s the best place to learn, and I want to be a champion.’  Loren had already gained a science scholarship at the Ethrigian Space Academy through her formidable intellect.  Mervyn lacked her brains.  The Ethrigians didn’t have a price on her father’s head either.  ‘I need to win the racing scholarship – it’s my only chance.’
‘It’s a trap,’ his father replied struggling to reign in his temper and match his son’s reasonable tone.  ‘As soon as you touch Ethrigian space they’ll kidnap you and demand I turn myself in for your release.’
Mervyn waved the e-mail at his father, his trump card, ‘This is a guarantee, from Lord Tivolli – free passage, immunity from your crimes, the Patriot’s own assurance of safety.’
‘Lord Tivolli is honourable,’ his mother murmured.  She hated to see the men of her household fight.  Predictably, her son’s sledding ambitions were at the route of the conflict.  ‘Why not let Mervyn have his chance, follow his dreams, like you did.’
His father glared at her, ‘And who will pay to have his sled transported to the race?’
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ Mervyn said quickly as the tide turned in his direction, ‘if I lose the scholarship race, I’ll give up sledding until I can fund it myself, and follow you into the mining corporation.  However, should I by a miracle win, we talk again.’  If his father paid any attention to sledding he would know Mervyn stood a better than even chance of winning.  His father foolishly agreed to the deal.
Mervyn won the race, and the Tivolli scholarship to the Ethrigian Space Academy, but instead of returning to face his father he sold his beloved sled, purchased his own passage, direct to the Space Academy.  On a Silvin trader he met up with Loren – as arranged.  As long as he stayed in Ethrigian space, where his father was a wanted man, he might be safe.  He would face his father’s wrath later, maybe.
Mervyn turned to Loren in the darkness of the priest-hole and tried again, ‘What’s up?’
‘Watch.’  A fuzzy light glowed in the darkness.  The fuzz resolved itself into a viewscreen showing the main control room of the spaceship.  ‘I set up this pinhole camera,’ Loren said, ‘I can’t abide being blind.’  So that’s what she was doing.  Mervyn found himself as grateful for a light in the blackness as much as a peek at the action.
He could make out the bald heads of the diminutive Silvin crew gazing at the main viewscreen, their insect eyes bulging.  It is said that in the depths of a Silvin’s eyes you can see a reflection of the universe.  It is also said that Silvin stink worse than the disease ridden swamps of Bocas Dorcus.  Their eyes are their only interesting feature.  His father argued that Silvin traders were the lifeblood of the galaxy.  Mostly, though, they were scavengers -- necessary, but distasteful.
A large wedge-shaped spaceship, bristling with guns, slid across the viewscreen.
‘Pirates,’ Mervyn gasped.
Loren nodded in the faint glow from the screen, ‘Yep.’
‘This close to Ethrigia?’
‘They’ve been getting bolder for a while -- it’s this Nagani or Nubab of Pewitt or something.’
The view on the screen changed.  A wild face, surrounded by a mane of black hair, filled the screen; feral eyes, as vacant as the Silvin’s were deep, glared into the trader; two humans stood in the background.  ‘I am the Naga of Pershwin.  You owe me a tithe -- five per cent of the value of your cargo,’ the pirate growled, ‘but as I’m in a good mood today, I’ll offer you a two per cent discount if you’re carrying Academy students.’
Mervyn’s heart stopped.  A trickle of ice ran the length of his spine.  Technically, they were not yet Academy students, just on their way to enrol.  Would the Naga care?  He doubted it.  What about the Silvin?  He had lived in a Helium3 mining community long enough to know, that for a trader, a two per cent discount could make all the difference to turning a profit.  What would happen to them if the Silvin handed them over?  He could already hear his father saying, ‘I told you so.’  He glanced at Loren, she looked as scared as he felt.
‘Why are pirates suddenly interested in Academy students?’ he hissed, ‘it doesn’t make sense.’  With his heart pounding he watched the Silvin.  He expected every head to turn towards the bunk-room at mention of the discount, but not a single multifaceted eye left the viewscreen.  That was good, wasn’t it?
The Silvin captain spoke up in a thin reedy voice, ‘We can pay you three per cent...  and forget to mention this trade to the authorities.’
The pirate’s eyes came alive with dark fire, ‘You have Academy students on board?’
‘We should agree a price before we negotiate discounts,’ the captain replied bravely.  Mervyn heaved a sigh of relief, maybe he underestimated the Silvin -- he hoped so.
The Naga stopped laughing so abruptly the sound continued without him, ‘You mention this little chat to the authorities and I’ll blast you to comet dust when I next meet yah.’  The little Silvin nodded meekly.  ‘The tithe is six per cent or I take your whole cargo,’ the Naga snarled -- the tithe was increasing.  Mervyn willed the Silvin to settle quickly before two Academy students became a deal he could no longer refuse.  He hated having no control over his own fate.  All he could do was watch while they haggled over the price of his skin, like a slave at auction.
‘Four per cent,’ the Silvin squeaked, ‘and we pay in gold.’
‘Done,’ those dark eyes shone again at the though of the gold, ‘and a one per cent discount for your Academy students.’  Mervyn almost dared not breath -- uh oh.  
‘Your original offer was two per cent.’
‘That depends who you have.’
‘Who are you looking for?’
Anger flashed across the Naga’s face and he glared at the Silvin, ‘Impertinence -- I have killed for less.’  Another being, clearly human, leaned into shot.  The human murmured something to the Naga.  ‘It’s none of their business, fool,’ the Naga shoved the human out of the picture.  Next moment, the Naga held a blaster in his hand, pointed it off-screen, and fired.  A thud sounded over the link.  Calmly, the Naga turned back to the Silvin Captain, ‘You have Academy students?’  Mervyn stared, horrified at the callousness of the Naga.  Stories of pirates had always conjured up tales of daring adventures not meaningless death.  A sliver of childhood innocence ebbed into reality.
‘Alas... today we have no passengers, otherwise, I... I would gladly claim your discount,’ the Captain squeaked.  He was shaking.  ‘Your gold is on its way.’
Loren sighed in relief, but Mervyn’s heart remained stone-cold.  He barely breathed at all now.  The name murmured to the Naga burned a hole in his mind.  Hadn’t Loren heard too?
‘I can’t believe the Silvin didn’t hand us over,’ he managed to blurt out, ‘everyone says they don’t have a shred of decency in them.’
‘They don’t,’ Loren said.
It was no good, he had to let it out, ‘Didn’t you hear what that human said to him?’  Mervyn asked, his voice all squeaky like the Silvin’s.
‘The one he shot?  No, it wasn’t very clear, just a mumble.  He could be looking for anyone.’
Mervyn breathed a bit easier, but his hands continued shaking.  Luckily, the darkness hid them.  He lay on his hands to keep them still.  In the main cabin the viewscreen flicked off.  Every noseless Silvin face turned towards the passenger cabin.  They knew.  They had heard.
A space-pirate was hunting for an Academy student named Mervyn Bright.  Maybe his father had been right, maybe he should have stayed home, and maybe they were after the price on his father’s head.   He took a deep breathe and steadied himself:  Loren was right, it was just a mumble, no more than a murmur, it could have been anything -- he had imagined it in the stress of the moment.
Mervyn felt the purr of engines through the decking as the ship got underway again.  He jumped as the bolt rattled free above his head.  The bunks slide aside to reveal another stubby Silvin.  Mervyn felt like a nervous wreck as he clambered out of the priest hole.
The Silvin studied him for a moment with those deep, deep eyes, ‘Message from the Captain to Master Bright, and friend -- rendezvous in fifteen minutes.’
‘Thanks for not handing us over to the pirates,’ he said climbing out of the hole.
‘Yes, very decent of you,’ Loren added.
The Silvin tried to pucker its thin mouth into a smile, ‘Discount too small,’ it squeaked, and scurried back into the main cabin.
‘I told you,’ Loren murmured, ‘not a shred of decency.’
Mervyn tried to put the thought of the Naga out of his mind -- a murmur, it could have been anything.  Maybe the Silvin hadn’t heard anything after all, just contemplating the loss of their discount.
‘I’m hungry,’ Mervyn said.  The vile smell of the ship could only put him off food for so long.  He knew Loren kept breakfast bars in her pack; Silvin food tasted revolting, besides, passengers had to provide their own meals.  He dug Loren’s pack out from under the spacesuits, pulled out a Merco bar, and tore off the wrapper.  Hmm, Quaff-Quaff fruit -- no one makes cereal like Merco.  He perched himself on the edge of Loren’s bunk while he munched into the bitter-sweet bar.  ‘Nothing refreshes like Quaff-Quaff,’ he hummed to himself chewing a large mouthful.
A young blue star twinkled on the viewscreen surrounded by a red cloud of hot gas.  Streamers of dust fanned outwards as the new star’s solar wind slowly dispersed the cloud that had given it birth -- like the iris of some interstellar eye.  In the distance Mervyn recognised the Ethrigian constellation: four stars, known as the Prefecture, where the Patriarch, hereditary ruler of the Ethrigians, ruler over a feudal society.
Another ship, silhouetted by the new star, appeared on the viewscreen.  Smaller this time, just a black dart.  The dart headed straight for them.  Not long now until the start of his new life.
‘What you doing Loren?’  His friend’s pale face peered out from the shock of red curls.  Her chima, the skin markings that ran down either side of her face, like a human blush, had an orange tinge.  She looked excited.  They had been friends since birth -- there was little she could hide from him.  She could almost have been human, if not for her chima -- convergent evolution or something.  Certainly he had never considered her any different to himself.
‘Look what I’ve found,’  she pointed to the viewscreen now taped to the bunk above her head.
Mervyn took another bite of the Merco bar, ‘Hmm?’
‘We’re famous,’ she hissed and punched the air. ‘Take a look at this.’  Mervyn squeezed into the lower bunk beside his friend.
‘Centaph Empire Swallows Up New Victim -- Millions Taken into Slavery’, stated the first article.  A host of similar headlines followed. ‘Centaph/Puncheon Invasion of Tanu Causes Panic in Neighbouring Ethrigia.’ ‘Only A Matter of Time Before Centaph Swarm Turns Greedy Eyes Towards The Prefecture.’ ‘Republic Will Jump to Ethrigia’s Defence, Says President Al-Zak-Uilin.’
‘That’s old news.’
‘No, down here at the bottom,’ Loren stabbed at the screen.  Mervyn took another bite of his cereal bar and focused where she pointed.
‘Outworld Pair Win Tivolli scholarships: ‘I am delighted Outworlders have won the first scholarships,’ Lord Tivolli of Ethrigia says.’  Lord De Monsero, hardliner and adviser to the Patriarch, condemned the result, ‘We should not reward Bright for betraying Ethrigia -- even indirectly through his son.  The result is obviously a fix to further the political ambitions of the sponsor’.  Lord Tivolli, head of one of the most ancient, and respected, houses on Ethrigia, denies the allegation.  ‘The competition was open to any youngsters in the Republic of Free Nations, which includes the Mining Federation, previously part of the Ethrigian Prefecture.  Mervyn Bright won the sledding race outright.  Lord De Monsero is just bitter because his son, Rufus De Monsero, was beaten into second place by an Outworlder.’  Demonstrations against the results continue in Ethrigia city.’
A stronger than usual whiff of rotten eggs caused them both to look up.  A Silvin, no taller than Mervyn, stood in the doorway.  Mervyn stared into its faceted eyes -- he saw nothing except reflections of their cramped quarters.
‘Your lift is here,’ the Silvin squeaked.  ‘Get ready to jump.’

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– Chapter 2 – 
Academy One

Mervyn scrambled into his spacesuit, grabbed his helmet, and hefted his holdall.  He had to keep moving, doing something, if he stopped to think what he was about to do, fear might get the better of him.  He tried not to think about the jump.
Loren stomped after him, "Do we have to jump?  Isn’t there another way to transfer ships?"  The Silvin shrugged.  Loren glared at the Silvin, ‘Well I’m not jumping if there’s no safety line.’  On the main screen in the control room the dart had grown in size.  It was almost upon them, though, it still looked minuscule compared to the trader.’
"Helmets on," The Silvin squeaked opening the inner door of the airlock.  Mervyn saw immediately that they had a problem.  "Oh no, not a gravity net," Loren cried.  "I hate gravity nets.  Can’t you rig up a connecting tube?"  But that wasn’t the problem.  Mervyn could feel his stomach fluttering with nervousness, he hated gravity nets too, but he wasn’t about to let on to Loren.  "’eez quickest way to transfer you," the Silvin squeaked uncertainly. "Time ‘eez money."  Loren’s thick red eyebrows scowled into the Silvin’s many eyes, "What if I fall between the ships?"
Mervyn stepped between them, he could tell Loren was spoiling for a fight, but in her nervousness she still hadn’t spotted the problem – maybe he could hustle her into the airlock before she noticed.  There was no way he was going to miss out on a place at the Academy because Loren would not jump ships. ‘If you fall the catchers will hook you in, Loren,’ he said, deliberately stared into her eyes – he had read somewhere that direct eye contact created trust and confidence. ‘We’ll do it together, ok?’  She nodded uncertainly.
"Please try not to fall,’ the Silvin whined, ‘ eet takes far too long to retrieve you.  Time..."
"I know," Mervyn muttered.  "Time is money."
The Silvin’s focus on money was unnerving Loren again, "But what if a meteor hits me or the pirates return or something?"  The Silvin stroked a panel beside the door producing a graphic showing a swirling tunnel of energy tying the trader and the dart together.  The Silvin’s knobbly finger pointed to streaks above and below the swirl, "The gravity net, eet deflects everything around it.  Radiation levels, zey are normal."  Loren knew the technical details, of course, she was just scared.  She treated the Silvin to another withering frown which it ignored.
Mervyn snapped on his helmet and stepped into the airlock hoping Loren would follow.  She did.  He kept her busy checking the seals on each other’s suits:  it was second nature to check his buddy’s space equipment.  He waited nervously for the air lock to shut behind them, then forced himself to stand still while the air around them evacuated with a chill hiss.  His natural inclination was to pace around when nervous, but he knew if he showed any sign of fear Loren would back out, and he needed her to jump.  He felt the pull of the gravity net even before the outer door snapped opened.  He held on to the wall to steady himself and looked down.  Nothing.  Nothing for thousands of light years.  It was worse than looking over a cliff, if he fell out there he would fall forever, and when the heater in his suit packed up he would freeze down to absolute zero almost instantly.
Then Loren spotted it.  "No safety line," her thoughts screamed through the bionet link surgically implanted into Mervyn’s head -- the best way to communicate in a vacuum.  She was right, only the invisible gravity net linked the door they stood in to the dart flying alongside, but it was too late to go back now, and she knew it.  A circular hole, slightly smaller than the one they stood in opened in the dart’s side and two suited figures hung out ready to catch them.  Star light twinkled off the dart’s hull.
Mervyn swallowed hard, there was no way he was chancing the gravity net until he knew it was really there.  He picked up his kit-bag and threw it over first-- just to make sure.  It spun across like a propeller until one of the catchers grabbed it and dragged it into the dart.  He knew the gravity net’s spin made it almost impossible to achieve a graceful landing -- he usually ended in an ungainly heap.  Loren’s throw was less accurate and her bag bounced about until it stuck halfway, spinning around between the two spaceships as though caught in a whirlpool.  One of the catchers hooked it in with a long pole.  Mervyn saw the look of dread on Loren’s face and knew she was imagining being hooked in herself.
"I’ll go first," Mervyn thought into his biolink.
‘No.  I don’t want to stay here on my own,’ Loren replied.
‘Then we’ll go together,’ he said and grabbed her hand.  She smiled nervously through her visor and gripped him tightly – if they were not wearing thick gloves he was sure she would have crushed his hand.
If only the net was visible it would be less like throwing yourself into oblivion.  ‘We’ll go on three,’ he said, taking a deep breath and fixing his gaze on the catchers.  ‘One,’ he bent his knees ready to jump, ‘two,’ a thought flashed across his mind, ‘what would happen if he jumped and Loren didn’t?’  He pushed the thought away: best not to think about it, ‘three.’  As though diving into a swimming pool, he launched himself into space.  He thought he might feel some drag from Loren, but they were weightless.  All he could feel was her vice-like grip holding on as though he was her one link to reality.
They spun, like their bags.  Mervyn tried to focus on the catchers, but they whirled into a dizzy blur.  Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and he crashed to the deck.

Mervyn fumble blindly for a hand-hold, his gloved fingers working their way over the surface of the airlock for anything that would anchor him to the dart; anything to stop himself floating away again.  He found a scooped out depression in the deck plate and gripped it as tightly as Loren had gripped his hand, then he lay in a heap stars spinning before his eyes.  The dizziness cleared and he found himself face down, staring over the edge of the dart’s airlock at a cluster of stars.  Hastily, he scrambled further back.  He hauled himself upright to find Loren crumpled in a heap at the back of the airlock, both hands locked round as grab-handle.  She climbed shakily to her feet, ‘That wasn’t so bad.’  But through the curve of her visor, he caught the green shade of her chima, and knew she was lying.
Before the dart’s outer doors even snapped shut, the Silvin had already uncoupled the gravity net.  Belatedly, the inner door opened to reveal a sumptuously decorated hallway; wooden panelled walls, paintings of Ethrigian heroes chasing each other across the ceiling; lavishly upholstered sofas, interspersed with delicate tables, their spindly-legged tables buried in deep-pile carpets.  Two figures stood waiting for them.  Mervyn removed his helmet.

‘Welcome,’ intoned a distinguished Ethrigian Mervyn recognised. ‘I am Lord Tivolli.  Welcome to my yacht.’  He gestured to a dark-skinned youth standing uncomfortably a step behind him, ‘May I introduce my eldest son, and heir, Tarun.’  The youth looked about Mervyn’s own age with tawny brown hair and brown eyes.
The youth bowed low, "At your service," he said formally
"Tarun is joining your intake at the Academy.  I am sure you will have much to share."  Tarun’s chima blushed pink, but his face broke into an engaging smile, and Mervyn felt an instant warmth towards the young aristocrat.
"Hi, I’m Mervyn and this is my friend Loren."  They shook hands, Loren successfully managing to affect an air of self-confidence as though she jumped ship every day, though Mervyn noticed she hid her spare hand behind her back where it continued to tremble.  Lord Tivolli led the way to the dart’s observation room where refreshments awaited the guests.  Mervyn gazed longingly at the squishy sofas as they strode past – such luxury on a spaceship.
‘I understand you had a run-in with the Dagamon,’ Lord Tivolli said.
‘Dagamon?’
‘The self styled, Naga of Pershwin.  He is a Dagamon,’ Lord Tivolli explained, ‘an Ethrigian throw back to an evolutionary dead end, it happens occasionally.  They can be helped if they are caught early enough, but this one was hidden.  Always big, always aggressive, and always unhinged.  I apologise for the rudeness of my countryman.’  Mervyn didn’t think Lord Tivolli had anything to apologise for and an embarrassed silence ensued as they walked.
Tarun broke the silence, ‘I am really looking forward to the Academy – do you think we could be friends?’
Loren glanced sidelong at Tarun, ‘You want to be friends with Outworlders?’
‘You’ve seen the news reports then?  It’s just stupidity."
‘The demonstrators in Ethrigia city didn’t think so," Mervyn said.
‘It’s probably just another stunt by De Monsero.  He likes to stir up the people for his own ends  it gives him leverage with the Patriarch.’
They past a giant painting of the Ethrigian solar system.  Now it was Mervyn’s turn to frown, ‘What’s De Monsero got against me?’
‘Lots.  For a start you’re an Outworlders, and De Monsero hates Outworlders.  You also won one of our scholarships and De Monsero has an intense dislike for anything my family does.’
‘I know, I beat his son, Rufus, in the scholarship race.’
‘There’s also the small matter of De Monsero hating your father.  De Monsero lost a stack of money when your father...,’ Tarun’s voice trailed off as though afraid he was embarrassing his guest.  He shrugged his shoulders, ‘well you know.’  Mervyn knew exactly what Tarun meant.  He remembered the arguments, the divisions, and the votes when the Mining Federation claimed its independence.  He was too young to vote, of course; no one had asked for his decision, he hardly even had an opinion about it, but he was labelled just the same.  And now he would have to fight that stigma at the Academy.  It was so unfair.  Sometimes he hated his father, not for what he was, but for what he had done.
‘I was too young to remember,’ he lied.
They walked in silence for a while as they turned towards the prow of the ship.
‘A charming character all-round then, this De Monsero,’ Loren said.  ‘No matter, I doubt if we’ll ever meet him.’
Tarun grimaced, ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, his son, Rufus, is in our year at the Academy.’
‘I’m beginning to doubt whether this Academy is a good idea,’ Loren groaned.

They arrived at the observation room and caught their first glimpse of their new home.  The trio gazed in awe at the shuttle’s view-screens.  The lozenge shaped space liner, Academy One, had arrived in orbit around Ethrigia the previous evening.  Mervyn’s gut gave a sudden lurch, a toxic mix of fear and elation:  here at last, but at what cost?  He had alienated his father and run away from home to fulfil his dream, and here it was before him.  A traitor in name, and thought, if not in actual deed; a credit-less human among the Ethrigian elite.  At the same time, the opportunities enthralled him -- to race sleds and win, the chance to follow his dream as far as he could, even to the very top.  Anything was possible.
‘Look, there’s the stardome,’ Tarun cried, breaking into Mervyn’s thoughts.  He pointed excitedly at a clear titanium bubble projecting from the lozenge.  Every craft Mervyn had ever travelled in used view-screens to see the outside world.  Academy One was different, it had a clear dome allowing a direct view of space.  Mervyn imagined himself standing in the centre of the bubble surrounded by real space, not like space walking where your view is restricted by your helmet, but actually surrounded by the magnificence of the universe.  He decided the stardome was at the top of his list of things to see first, right after the sleds.
They stared in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Mervyn turned back to Tarun, ‘But it’s still a risk for you to be friends with me, right?’ Tarun glanced up, startled out of his contemplation of the Academy by the unexpected question, ‘Probably, but I value good friends over dodgy allies.  Anyway, if I’m going to restore my family’s fortunes maybe I need to gamble occasionally.  I’m told humans are good risk takers -- maybe you can teach me.’
‘You’re doing pretty good on your own at the moment,’ Mervyn said.

Private yachts, of every size and description, swarmed around the landing bay of Academy One, waiting their turn to land.  No one could doubt the Academy was a school for the wealthy and privileged.  Once again, Mervyn found himself overawed by his luck in landing a scholarship at such a prestigious seat of learning – even if he had earned it. 
‘Look, those are the launch tubes for the sleds,’ Loren said, as they drew closer.  She pointed to triangular holes on the side of the ship.  Sleds, like fighter craft, were catapulted into space to avoid the need for large antimatter engines; unlike shuttles, which took forever to reach a respectable speed.
Tivolli’s yacht ducked beneath the rim of a cavernous landing bay and alighted gently on a clear spot.  Mervyn could see more craft milling around, some arriving and disgorging their occupants, others hastily departing.  A large black shuttle craft lifted from an adjacent lot then shot recklessly towards the swarm outside.  Shuttles and yachts alike made way.
‘De Monsero,’ Tarun said.  ‘I recognise the yacht.’
A short balding Ethrigian greeted them at the end of the ramp as they disembarked.  ‘Welcome to the Space Academy, we are so pleased to have you as students;  I am Barros Arovy your economics tutor;  Put your luggage on a cart, as many as you need, just tell each one who you are.’  A shoal of flat-loaders skimmed about the landing bay, weaving between the yachts.  To his left, ten loaders had formed themselves into a train that snaked towards a lift.  ‘Flat-loader,’ Mervyn thought into his biolink and one broke away from the shoal.  He smelled a puff of ozone from the antigrav generators as it settled at his feet.  All around Mervyn could see students stacking bags and trunks of every description onto trains of flat-loaders.  He looked down at the loader by his feet, and dropped his single holdall into the centre.  Then he folded up the suit-carrier, which contained his spare uniform, and placed it neatly beside the bag together with the helmet for his spacesuit – all his worldly possessions.  ‘Name and destination?’ The flat-loader requested into his biolink in a clipped mechanical voice.  ‘Mervyn Bright, er... I’m new, I don’t know my apartment yet,’ he felt self-conscious admitting to a cart he did not know where his baggage should go.
‘Mervyn Bright, new intake, apartment twenty-five,’ chanted the flat-loader and shot off back to the shoal.
Twenty-five – he wondered apprehensively who would be joining the syndicate with him in apartment twenty-five.  Whoever it was would be more than just living companions – Tarun had explained that he would be living, racing, and working with his syndicate for the rest of his time at the Academy: they would stand or fall together.
‘Make your way to the stardome for the welcome speech, then lunch in the restaurant,’ Barros Arovy instructed.  As they made their way towards the lift, the Tivolli yacht soared towards the roof of the landing bay.  Another immediately replaced it disgorging its payload of students.  Mervyn heard Barros Arovy welcoming the new students.  ‘Welcome to the Space Academy; we are so pleased to have you as students;  I am Barros Arovy.....’

******************************

– Chapter 3 – 
Al-Zak-Uilin

‘Wow, is this real?’ Mervyn asked as they stepped through the door.  A clear titanium dome, through which he could see the moons of Ethrigia, topped the circular walls of the Stardome.  The floor rose in the centre to form a small hill that dominated the hall; the hillock stood just higher that the surrounding walls.  Natural sunlight, from Ethrigia’s yellow sun, illuminated murals of space scenes lasered onto the walls.
The trio seated themselves in the middle of the regimented rows facing the mound.
‘So what is this place, Tarun?’ Mervyn asked. ‘There’s nothing here,’ 
‘It used to be the ballroom when Academy One was a luxury liner,’ Tarun said. ‘You can almost imagine tables and chairs around the edges -- people dancing to the strains of an orchestra, couples in love wandering up the mound to gaze at the stars.’
‘Don’t start going soft on me,’ Loren interrupted. ‘What do they use it for now?’
‘Oh um, not a lot really.  They have awards ceremonies here, the occasional assembly... not much else.’
Tarun pointed out the students he knew, ‘That’s Douglas Iwoth from Gadus Prime, he’s ok.  And that’s Jenny Fase, she’s delightful  I hope she’s in my syndicate,’ he waved to a girl who looked around nervously.  She smiled with relief when she saw Tarun who introduced his new friends.
‘Don’t worry, we don’t all hate Outworlders,’ Jenny said.  
‘There’s Rufus De Monsero,’ Tarun hissed as a thin dark-haired boy entered the hall.  A blond podgy boy followed close behind.  Rufus ignored them as he paced his way to the back of the hall.  He greeted a few other pupils as he went then sat down next to the podgy boy in seats reserved by friends, ‘and the other boy is Hidraba, lord designate for the house of Hidraba, he doesn’t become a full lord until he’s eighteen, until then his mother runs the show, and he really resents it.  He’s slimy.’
Just when Mervyn thought all the students had assembled another girl appeared in the doorway; her hair, piled high on her head, matched the colour of her Academy uniform – both the lonely blackness of deep-space; she exuded an air of confidence, and authority, which drew every eye.  Mervyn found her strangely compelling -- the kind of girl who could look graceful wearing wide-brimmed hats.  She stepped into the room then stopped, waiting.  Slowly a few students rose to their feet.
‘That’s Aurora,’ hissed Tarun as he stood. ‘She’s the Patriarch’s niece -- a right shrew.’
Aurora acknowledged the class with a nod then seated herself gingerly on the extreme edge of the seating area, well away from anyone else.
‘Pity the person who gets her in their syndicate,’ Tarun whispered resuming his seat.
Eventually, a bulky gent in a blue dress-uniform dripping with self-satisfied gold braiding appeared.  He puffed his way slowly to the top of the mound.  As he did so, the student’s chatter quelled to a quiet murmur. When he reached the top the glittering figure turned to address the students.
‘Good morning,’ he wheezed. ‘My name is Andreas Mott,’ he paused again to catch his breath. ‘I am the Principal of Academy One.  I welcome you to your first year at the Academy.’  Mervyn felt pride swelling in his chest.  ‘This year, we are privileged to have the heirs from no less that two of Ethrigia’s great houses: De Monsero and Hidraba,’ the Principal put his hands together, clapping loudly.  The students followed his lead.
‘Aren’t you an heir as well,’ Mervyn hissed to Tarun.
‘Yes, but I’m heir to an ancient house, not a great house  there’s a big difference.’
‘This year I will not be making my usual welcome speech.  Instead, now we are part of the Republic of Free Nations, we are privileged to have a very special guest.  Please put your hands together for the first President of the Republic, Al-Zak-Uilin,’ the students applauded politely and the air beside the Principal began to shimmer.  The strangest creature Mervyn had ever seen took shape on the mound: lizard-like, at least three metres tall in all its yellow-green splendour; balancing upright on two ungainly legs that ended in vicious three-toed feet; stubby three-fingered hands adorned four thick arms which sprouted from it’s chest.
‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen,’ Al-Zak-Uilin boomed in a deep rumbling voice, waving all four arms at once; his noseless face swayed from side to side as though inhaling the odour of his audience.  It was only a biolink projection, but Mervyn still felt apprehensive as the massive creature lumbered round the top of the mound.  
‘Welcome.  Welcome to the Space Academy.’ Mervyn tried to follow each of the four arms as they gestured and pointed round the room in different directions.  The Principal instinctively moved back to a safe distance, away from those powerful limbs.  There was no need of course, as Al-Zak-Uilin’s image would have passed straight through him, but he too must feel the power of this creature.  ‘Many in the Prefecture do not support your Patriarch’s decision to join the Republic of Free Nations,’ Al-Zak-Uilin thundered without any preamble.  ‘It is not for me to say if this is right or wrong, because freedom demands you choose your own path.  But be warned, we live in dark days: the Centaph are preparing to swarm against Ethrigia, to remove your freedoms, while pirates like the Naga of Pershwin plunder our trade routes, growing ever bolder with each passing year.’
All eyes followed the pacing President.  ‘You are the elite, in an elite academy.  And like your exalted status, the Academy is just a concept, an ideal.  Unless you live out that ideal the concept is meaningless.  This ship, Academy One, is not the Space Academy -- nor is any other place that you come together to learn, and there will be many.  You,’ he pointed at the audience with all four hands, ‘you are the Space Academy – it exists wherever, and whenever, you as individuals put on the Academy uniform and choose to live out the ideals of this institution.’
The President stared round at his enraptured audience, ‘The Centaph’s great strength is their ideology.  They cannot be defeated by might alone, but only by superior ideals -- the sort of ideals that have shaped this Academy.  So as you commence your studies I want you to remember this: study well, be loyal to your friends, be loyal to your people  whatever direction that takes – and above all, be loyal to the ideals of this Academy.’
The four great limbs fell motionless to the President’s sides.  In the stunned silence the Principal began to clap.  The students took up the applause, though, Mervyn noted, they clapped with less enthusiasm than they had for the heirs of the great houses.  The Principal addressed the students again as the President faded away, ‘Now, I bet you are starving, I know I am, so to lunch, and then to your apartments to meet your syndicates, and this afternoon we go straight into the first lessons.’
‘What do you make of Al-Zak-Uilin?’ Mervyn asked as they crowded out of the hall.
‘Big,’ Loren said.
‘Impressive, and an excellent message too,’ Tarun said.  ‘He’s the last of his kind, you know – the Silfar.  Father also says we are heading for troubled times, though no one knows whether the Centaph Swarm will come today, next year or next century: the Centaph work to their own time-scales.’
‘My father says we shouldn’t wait,’ Mervyn said. ‘We should take the fight to the Centaph at a time of our own choosing.’
‘He would, he’s human,’ Tarun said. ‘But that’s not the Ethrigian way; we prefer to negotiate until the very last moment.  Besides, once you start a fight with a Centaph clan they never stop – not until one of you is extinct.  Best not to start, I say.’
‘Hey guys, enough of the politics,’ Loren said.  ‘Let’s go find the food.’

The dinning room resembled a restaurant; indeed, Tarun advised them that back in the days when Academy One cruised the galaxy as a luxury liner it had been a restaurant – his grandmother had travelled on it, of course the galaxy had been a calmer place then.  The air was thick with appetising smells and Mervyn’s mouth began to water, he hoped the food would arrive quickly.  The trio seated themselves at a shiny round table under an imitation palm tree.  A virtual waiter appeared to take their orders from the virtual menus hovering in front of them.  Within minutes, their orders arrived.  Antigrav motors brought an automated trolley smartly to a halt by their table.  Mervyn removed three plates of steaming food from the hotplate, while Tarun opened the chill unit to remove three cold drinks.
‘Thank you,’ Mervyn thought into his biolink.
‘You are welcome,’ the trolley replied politely.  The virtual waiter appeared again to enquire if their meal was satisfactory.  They assured him it was.
‘Look out, here comes Rufus,’ Tarun hissed.  De Monsero sauntered towards them with Hidraba in tow.
‘Hello cousin,’ the dark-haired boy said in a silky voice. ‘Haven’t improved the quality of the company you keep, I see?  The traitor, and an Outworlder  don’t see many of those round here.’
Anger boiled suddenly inside and Mervyn leaped to his feet ‘My dad’s no traitor,’ he snapped.  Whatever he might personally think of his father’s actions, no one had the right to dishonour his family – he would defend them against anyone.  Tarun and Loren stood also.
Tarun squared his chin defiantly and met De Monsero’s eyes, ‘Ignore him, Mervyn, he’s only trying to rile you.’
‘‘Tis not right,’ Hidraba added, ‘shouldn’t allow riffraff like that into the Academy!’
‘I like my friends to have integrity,’ Tarun said. ‘Which is why I’m not with you, De Monsero, or your smarmy mate Hidraba.’
‘Think you’re smart, don’t you cousin?  Well they’re not meant to be here.  Bet you don’t survive until the end of the month  I’ve got a wager on it.’
‘Lucky to make it to the end of the week,’ Hidraba said.
‘Leave off, De Monsero, at least they earned their places,’ Tarun said.
‘My point exactly  it’ll be a sad day when the Academy recruits on merit,’ De Monsero said. ‘Be seeing you cousin  don’t expect any favours though, cos’ you won’t get any.’
‘Misfits, that’s what they are.  Misfits,’ Hidraba declared.  De Monsero turned his back on them and stalked away.
Tarun’s chima turned a sickly white as he sank back into his chair. ‘I hate him.  I really, really hate him,’ he said through gritted teeth.
 ‘Who does Rufus think he is?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Heir to the most powerful house on Ethrigia, and probably our future Patriarch if Maxamillion fails to improve his popularity,’ Tarun said toying with his food.  ‘The De Monsero’s smell blood and Rufus means to be Patriarch.’
Loren tucked into her lunch once more, ‘De Monsero’s never your cousin, is he?’
 ‘Distantly related.’  Tarun finally gave up on his food and pushing his plate away.
Mervyn decided to tactfully change the subject, ‘Which syndicates are you all in?  I’m in apartment twenty-five.’
A smile flashed across Loren’s face, ‘Me too.  I never dreamed they would put us together.  Brilliant.’
‘Fantastic,’ Mervyn said and they gave each other a high-five.
Tarun’s head sunk into his hands, ‘We’re doomed, we’re all doomed.’  The others stared at him in amazement.
‘Explain,’ Mervyn ordered.
‘I’m in twenty-five as well.’
‘Great.’
 ‘No, it isn’t.  It’s jinxed.’
‘Jinxed?’ Mervyn and Loren said together.
‘Jinxed.  Syndicate twenty-five is always the first to go.’
‘Rubbish,’ Mervyn said, ‘we’ll just have to beat the jinx.’
‘Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’  Tarun lifted his head again.  ‘The Academy is all about politics  even the results are fixed.’
‘What?’
‘You really don’t know, do you?’ Tarun glanced from one friend to the other. ‘It’s like this -- to graduate for the next year each syndicate needs to collectively average eighty percent in all their projects and exams (if you don’t pass you’re out), and eighty percent of the pass-marks are based on the results of your syndicate projects, right?’ The others nodded. ‘But the project answers are deliberately leaked to the great houses, then passed around to the other syndicates.’
‘So what if you’re not in favour?’ Mervyn asked, a huge hole opened up in the pit of his stomach – he had a feeling he knew where this was headed.
‘That’s obvious,’ Loren said as her chima turning a sickly green. ‘You don’t get the answers – no answers mean no passes and no passes mean...,’ she drew a finger across her throat.
‘They’ve lumped us together,’ Tarun said, ‘the no hopers, that means we’re on our own; just like De Monsero said  ‘no favours,’ no answers.  It’s already been decided – we’re toast.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Mervyn said doing the calculations in his head, ‘the other twenty percent of graduation points come from the exams, right?’
Tarun shrugged, ‘Which nobody works for, because they don’t have to.’
Mervyn ignored him, ‘So provided we all average a minimum of eighty percent in our projects and our exams, we’ll be in the clear.’
Loren nodded in agreement, ‘It’s doable – difficult, but doable.  I wonder who’s the other member of our syndicate?’
With a sinking feeling, Mervyn realised his vision of whiling away his Academy years racing sleds had been hopelessly naïve.  He would have to work hard just to retain a place, any racing he achieved was a bonus.  His unbelievable luck in landing a place at the Academy looked as if it was all about to turn sour.  The future, his future, rested entirely on the fourth member of their syndicate.  He hopped they were prepared to work hard, if not....  If not it was back to the Helium3 mine on Starlight and humiliation in front of his father.  He tried not to think about it, but that just made the image even clearer.  ‘We had better go find out who it is,’ he said, jumping up and leaving the rest of his food.  Together, the friends hurried towards apartment twenty-five.

******************************

– Chapter 4 – 
Apartment Twenty-Five

Mervyn located their apartment via the Academy gateway.  To his delight it was adjacent to the Stardome.  The friends crowded through the apartment door.  The apartment looked far better than Mervyn had imagined from Tarun’s description.  They stood in a curved multi-purpose common room into which four study bedrooms connected; a sunken seating area, shaped to match the sweep of the living space, dominated the centre of the room, work tables lined the one end, and three gigantic views of Ethrigia and her moons filled the opposite wall; a small kitchenette, which looked as if it could be shut away, was set into a side wall; all in white, titanium, and gleaming iridium; it smelled of leather and polish.
‘What’s so wrong with this apartment, it looks fantastic?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Other than tiny, it’s the only one without real windows,’ Tarun said.
‘You mean those are view-screens?’ Loren asked. ‘Fantastic!  I can do something with those.’  In no time at all she had her head inside a maintenance hatch below the central screen – her holdall remained untouched by the main door next to Tarun’s tatty vacuum case and a stack of shinny new trunks.
‘Oh, no,’ Tarun sighed spotting the trunks, ‘why me? Why is it always me?’
Mervyn glanced at him sidelong, ‘What’s wrong now?’
Tarun pointed to gleaming locks on the stack of trunks, ‘Don’t you recognise the crest?’.’  Mervyn looked blank so Tarun explained  ‘It’s the Agleo coat of arms, the Patriarch’s crest – his niece, Aurora, is our fourth syndicate member.  We’re doomed.’
Loren cracked her head as she hurriedly extracted herself from the maintenance hatch, ‘The Patriarch’s niece, in our syndicate?  She’d better work hard.’
‘Lucky for us she’s travelling light today  only six trunks,’ Tarun muttered and slunk off to deposit his things in one of the study-bedrooms.
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Mervyn called, nothing could dampen his spirits today.  He leaping into the sunken seating area and stretched himself out. ‘Wow, leather too.’  After a moment he jumped up and raced into one of the four study bedrooms.  ‘Bags I have this room, it’s got its own bathroom and everything.’  The room looked clean and simple.  Besides the bathroom, which consisted of a sonic shower, a concealed multi-being toilet, which slid out into the shower area then retracted after use, and a concealed basin, it had a bed, a built-in wardrobe and a study area.  He had never had a room so large in his life.  At home, on the asteroid world of Starlight, living space was always at a premium.  His room had comprised of little more than a cubby hole large enough for a bed.  Tarun may think their apartment tiny by Ethrigian standards, but compared to what Mervyn had experienced on Starlight it was massive.
Mervyn looked at the blank info screen in his room, then on impulse he called up an image of the Jensis Sledding team – winners of last years Galactic championships.  He and Loren were big Jensis fans, in fact they were big fans of anything to do with sledding; Mervyn’s private dream was to win the Galactic Championships.  The room was beginning to feel a bit more like home.  He would find some large info sheets later and load in more sledding images, then stick them round the room.
A sudden shriek brought his attention back to the present.  He rushed back into the common room to find Aurora standing indignantly beside her luggage.
‘Look what they’ve done to my luggage!  They’ve ruined it!’  Loren and Tarun had also come running.  They all stared at the neat stacked of pristine trunks.
‘Bumbling buffoons,’ Aurora declared, sticking her nose in the air. ‘They couldn’t even put them in my room.’
Mervyn held out his hand, ‘Hi, I’m ...’
‘This room is mine,’ Aurora called, ignoring Mervyn and striding into the study-bedroom recently claimed by Tarun.
‘Tarun, I have found your stuff.  The servants have left it in my room by mistake.  Come and remove it at once!  And when you’ve done that bring my luggage into this room.’ Mervyn stared in astonishment.  Tarun just sighed deeply and went to retrieve his ‘stuff’.
‘Don’t bother to unpack,’ Aurora called, ‘I will be moving soon. 
‘You’re not staying?’ Tarun asked.
‘I am not spending even a single day with Outworld low lifes,’ Aurora replied.
‘They could be your friends, your Grace, they are good people.’
‘I don’t do friends,’ Aurora said coldly. ‘I am the niece of the Patriarch  that is what I am, that is who I am, that is what I do.  I don’t need friends  I don’t want friends.’
Loren’s snort echoed from the guts of the viewscreens, ‘She’d better not treat me like that – I’m not even one of her uncle’s subjects.’
‘Poor Tarun,’ Mervyn thought retreating to his room in shock. Being called an Outworlder was bad enough, but a low life Outworlder was beyond bearing.  He hoped Aurora’s replacement was of a better disposition.  He couldn’t wait to see the back of her.

Mervyn met up with Loren and Tarun in the restaurant for dinner.  Aurora sat by herself on the far side of the room, about as far away from her team-mates as she could get.  
Tarun looked glum, ‘Bad news, guys, the Patriarch himself insists Aurora stays in our syndicate – apparently, he thinks it will be good for her, give her a good grounding.  She volunteered to come to the Academy you know, so he’s not going to help her out.’
Mervyn felt the dark wings of despair stealing into his mind ‘Is he mad?’
‘Probably, but I can’t think of anyone better suited to bring her down from the ether than you two,’ Tarun said.  ‘In fact, I’m sure you’ll bring her crashing to the ground in no time.’  He laughed at his own joke, but with an edge of hysteria fuelled by hopelessness. Aurora looked up when she heard the laughter.
‘De Monsero is beside himself with glee,’ Tarun continued.  ‘He still intends to withhold the syndicate answers from us, but now he gets one over on Aurora as well, he hates her.’
Mervyn pondered the situation, ‘How do you know all this, Tarun?’
‘Information is the currency of politics, Merv.  I have contacts, my father has contacts, and our contacts have contacts.  I’ve spent the entire afternoon trying to discover why Aurora is in our syndicate.  I don’t have a lot of favours left.’
‘Surely the other houses won’t let Aurora sink?’
‘Who would you stand by, the niece of a weak and failing Patriarch, or the rich and powerful pretender?’
‘So we’re going to have to work anyway?’ Loren said.
‘Yep, right up until Aurora fails her end of year exams, then we’re out.  I told you, apartment twenty-five is jinxed,’ Tarun sighed.
‘Does Aurora have any idea?’ Mervyn asked.  He assumed the Patriarch’s niece would have an intelligence network at least as good as Tarun’s.  He glanced over to where Aurora sat at a solitary table.
Tarun glanced in the same direction, ‘None.  She thinks it’s going to be a breeze.’  They stared ominously at each other.
‘How much worse can it get?’ Loren whispered. ‘She’s a nightmare already.’
‘We could warn her,’ Mervyn suggested.
‘Threaten her,’ Loren said. 
Tarun shook his head, ‘Do you think she would listen?  The only person who can possibly make Aurora work is Aurora herself, and the chances of that happening are greater that me becoming Patriarch.’
Unseen, De Monsero had entered the restaurant with the rest of his syndicate; Hidraba, a mean looking girl called Isabel Slope, and a thin sullen lad called Malcolm Lazzard.  De Monsero spotted the trio straight away.
‘Ah, the misfits  I trust you find your new quarters to your liking,’ De Monsero sneered. ‘The VIP suite isn’t it?’  Hidraba laughed uproariously at De Monsero’s joke.
‘They’re gonna call their syndicate ‘No Room To Move’,’ Hidraba shrieked .
‘How about the ‘Teeny-Weenie-Twenty-fiver’s ’,’ Slope offered.
‘No, no, it’ll be ‘One Month Wonders’,’ Hidraba roared again, but an ice-cold voice from behind, cut short his amusement.
‘Crawl back under your rock, Hidraba!  They’re with me.’  Hidraba immediately backed off, bowing his head as he went.  Aurora had crossed the room unnoticed in the commotion and now faced De Monsero.  He stood his ground and squared up to the Patriarch’s niece.  A hush fell over the restaurant as every eye turned to watch.
‘Ah, the fourth member of the crew.  How are you settling in with your misfits?’
‘They will do well enough,’ Aurora replied.
‘They’re a liability, Aurora.  Just make sure they don’t bring you down with them.’
‘You would like that, wouldn’t you, Rufus – bring me down, bring my uncle down, become the next Patriarch?’ 
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ he said with a mock bow. ‘Now, if you will excuse me I would like to eat,’ Rufus turned his back on Aurora and sauntered away.
‘Thank you, your Grace,’ Tarun said.
‘He is such a creep,’ she said to no one in particular.
‘I thought you didn’t do friendship,’ Mervyn said.
‘I don’t, Marvin, but for some bizarre reason it looks like I am stuck with you lot.’
‘Mervyn.  My name is Mervyn, and this is Loren.’
‘Sorry, Marvin.  Well I hope you are prepared for a fight, because my syndicate will not grovel to De Monsero,’ she said in an unnecessarily loud voice, ‘or that slime Hidraba.’  The other diners suddenly took a keen interest in their meals as she glared round the restaurant.  Without waiting for an answer she stalked off to her solitary table.
‘I think she likes you, Marvin.’  Loren ducked as Mervyn lunged at her.
Tarun ignored them and stared after Aurora, ‘It ain’t much guys, but it’s a start.’ 

The rest of Mervyn’s first week proved both exciting and confusing.  Relations with Aurora deteriorated to the point where the common room became a no-go zone.  Aurora claimed it for her own and drove out anyone attempting to use it, except for specially selected guests from other syndicates, the ‘Girls’ as she called them.  There was one place where Mervyn felt very at home: the stardome become his private refuge.  Maybe, the starscape above his head reminded him of Starlight, or maybe he just craved personal thinking space away from the bustle of the Academy.  The magnificent room remained silent following the welcome ceremony, no one disturbed him.  For Mervyn, it was the most exciting place on the whole ship.  From there, he could see all the wonders of space for himself.  He soon found that if he pinpointed a feature accurately enough, he could zoom in and superimpose all the normal viewer images onto the dome itself: micro waves, radio waves, gamma rays, x-rays and thermal imaging -- like a virtual telescope.  Most of the time, though, he liked to just admire the beauty of the galaxy trough his own eyes.  He spent an increasing amount of his spare time in the dome, particularly while chatting to his family and friends at home – everyone except his father, who still refused to speak to him.

‘Listen to them,’ Tarun said, nodding towards the common room, from where laughter and giggles abounded as Aurora entertained, ‘The Girls.  It’s her own mini court,’ Tarun explained.  ‘The daughters of minor families hoping to find favour.  Though I fail to see what they can possibly gain through Aurora.’  Tarun did not approve of ‘The Girls’ -- even though he was their darling.
The trio sheltered in Tarun’s room from the latest court.
‘But they’re round here all the time, haven’t they got somewhere else to go?’  Loren complained.  ‘What do they talk about anyway?’
‘Oh, the usual things: hair, make-up, clothes, the latest gossip, make-up, who they fancy, clothes.’
‘Ah, all the things Loren doesn’t have a clue about,’ Mervyn said
Loren glared at him, but let it pass, ‘And they talk about you too, Tarun, by all accounts.  Though you’re welcome to them, they haven’t got a brain cell between them.’
‘This isn’t getting us anywhere guys,’ Mervyn said.  ‘The sled race is about to star.  How are we going to get rid of ‘The Girls’ so we can watch it?’  The big viewscreens, now in full working order thanks to Loren’s skill with bioelectronics, were about to come in very handy, if only they could clear the room.  It was impossible to concentrate on a race with ‘The Girls’ chattering away in the background.  The Jensis team, their team, was on a winning streak this season.  There was no way they could miss this race.
‘What we need,’ Mervyn said.  ‘What we really need, is something that’ll scare them away.’
‘Got it,’ Tarun said and dived into his cupboard.  He emerged with a shiny lump which fitted neatly into the palm of his hand.  ‘It’s a Skitterbug,’ he explained and placed it gently on the desktop.  You programme it through your biolink.’  An emerald green glint appeared in the bug’s eyes, and its wing casings slowly opened.  ‘Watch this, but stand very still.’  The bug’s wings began to vibrate and it lifted nimbly into the air.  It buzzed slowly round the room.  ‘Now wave your hand,’ Mervyn waved his hand.  As soon as he moved, the bug dived straight towards it.
‘Wow, megga,’ Mervyn said
‘Great, Tarun, how does it work?’  Loren asked.
‘Who cared how it works,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Give it here.’  He silently opened the study door and held his fist through the crack.  Momentarily he felt a bit guilty, then he remembered how important the race was to the Jensis team and released the skitterbug into the common room.
For a few minutes there was silence.  Then a hysterical scream sounded from the main room.  More screams followed, and the sound of stampeding feet.  The door chimed and they heard Aurora shouting.
‘Tarun.  Tarun, there’s something out here.’
‘What are ‘The Girls’ playing at now, your Grace?’  He shouted back, grinning to the others.  Loren stifled a giggle.
‘It’s a bug, Tarun.  Look out, Sinita, it’s coming your way.’ 
‘I’m sure you can deal with an incy-wincy bug, Aurora,’ Loren shouted, trying not to laugh.  Pandemonium reigned in the common room of apartment twenty-five.
‘It’s huge, Tarun, you’ve got to help us.’
‘Oh, ok,’ Tarun sighed, stifling another laugh with his hand.  ‘Straight faces guys.’  The trio rushed into the common room to a scene of utter confusion.  Girls, mostly in various shades of pink, ran in every direction, screaming hysterically.
‘Tarun, Loren, see if you can distract it.  Everyone else, leave the room!’  Mervyn shouted above the din.  He stood by the viewscreens and waved frantically.  The bug dutifully flew towards him.  All ‘The Girls’ ran for the apartment door and piled into the corridor.
‘Best if you all go back to your own rooms,’ Tarun shouted.  ‘This could take a while.’
Loren ducked as the bug plunged furiously towards him  ‘You can turn it off now, Mervyn.  The race is about to start,’ she said.
A few moments later, the trio settled in font of the big screen to watch the start of the race  the common room was theirs.  Mervyn held the bug absently in his hands, as the countdown to the race began.
Suddenly, Aurora returned.  ‘They have all gone back to their rooms.’  She looked suspiciously at the trio seated comfortably on the sofa, ‘What’s happening?  Where is the bug?’
‘We ah… we dealt with it,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Shame everyone’s gone though, they could have watched the race with us.’
‘Hey, are Jensis at the top of the league?’  Aurora asked, pointing to the big screens.
‘Yeah, why?’  Mervyn asked.  ‘Don’t tell me you follow sledding.’ 
‘You bet I do.  Jensis are the best,’ Aurora said, and settled herself further along the sofa to watch the race.
‘Well if we’d known you were a fan, we wouldn’t have had to chase the girlies out,’ Mervyn said, and lobbed the bug.  ‘Catch!’
Aurora shrieked as the bug landed in her lap, then glared menacingly as she realised it was a toy.  The cacophony of noise, as the sleds launched, and the trio cheered on their heroes, drowned out Aurora’s opinion of their trick.

******************************

– Chapter 5 – 
Sledding

The lesson everyone looked forward to was Sledding.  The boys because they would get to fly sleds, and most of the girls because their tutor was the dashing Jeremy Cage.  The rumours said Cage had retired as a fighter pilot after a brush with the Naga of Pershwin’s human marauders.  Now he walked with a limp, which made him all the more dashing in the girl’s eyes.
For the first lesson, they descended to Academy One’s shuttle bay  a promising start.  The cavernous bay was deserted, except for a solitary yellow sled in the centre.  Mervyn, looked around for any sign of Cage but there was none.  Slowly, the class congregated around the sled.  It was a fine piece of machinery: a small darkened cockpit perched on swept back wings and a large engine snuggled into either side of the rear fuselage.  This one looked newly painted.  The class chatted among themselves.  Mervyn ran his fingers lovingly over the uneven hull feeling the raised bumps of the integrity field and magnetosphere distributors – at many times the speed of light, even a grain of sand has enough energy to destroy your craft unless it is magnetically deflected, at those speeds nothing can be allowed to touch the hull.
Suddenly, the sled’s cockpit sprung open.
‘Greetings, to my humble abode!’ Cage shouted from the cockpit.  He grinning a wide boyish grin, as if it were the best joke ever.  Climbing out of the sled, he looked every bit as dashing as the girls had hopped.  His clingy jumpsuit showed off his slim, wiry, physique to good effect.  He walked with a pronounced limp, though he managed to swagger at the same time.  He’s exaggerating, Mervyn thought, suspecting Cage made the most of his wound.
‘This, is a Mark-three formula-two racing sled,’ Cage said.  ‘Together, we are going to learn to fly this baby, and survive the experience.’  He limped around the sled, ‘Take a good look at her.  She will be your friend, your enemy, your nemesis, and your lover.’  The girls tittered in embarrassment, and the boys looked anywhere except at a girl.  ‘When you leave this Academy, you will know her better than you know yourselves.’  He continued his limping progress around the sled, pointing out the main features to the class.


‘Any questions?  Yes, Sinita.’
Sinita licked her lips nervously, and the girls around her started to giggle, ‘What happened to your leg, sir?’ 
‘I don’t see what this has to do with sleds,’ Cage said with a smile, not at all dismayed by the question.  Sinita’s chima turned pink.  ‘But as you have asked – I had a run in with some human marauders.’  Mervyn had the distinct impression Cage enjoyed talking about himself, especially to the girls – they all leaned towards him as he spoke in hushed tones.
‘Humans are among the Galaxies finest warriors, second only to the Centaph -- maybe even their equals.  Give me a squadron of Humans, I say, and I’ll drive the Centaph out of our sector; humans adapt quickly to new situations, they have an insatiable curiosity, and are endlessly inventive.  A combination of traits which makes them unpredictable and dangerous,’ Mervyn felt several eyes come to rest on him.  De Monsero glanced away quickly as Mervyn looked up.
‘Just when you think you’ve got their measure, they do something new -- as I found to my cost when I fought against them,’ Cage tapped his leg.’  Beside him Mervyn heard Loren muttering indignantly under her breath, ‘Oh, please.’  He guessed she would not be joining the Jeremy Cage fan club.  ‘Of course, no one knows where they come from – slaves originally, but they’re pretty good at escaping.  They gravitate towards Ethrigia because of our physical similarities.  Probably from some uncharted backwater of the galaxy’s spiral arms I would guess.’  Mervyn had heard this theory many times, though he failed to see it’s relevance to his life – he belonged where ever his family and friends lived.  He was from Starlight, which was all that mattered.
When he had finished, Cage let them all clamber into the cockpit and experience the authenticity of a real sled for themselves.  When it was Mervyn’s turn, he climbed eagerly into the cramped sled.  This was his dream -- being a sled pilot and winning races.  He lowered himself into the pilot’s seat.  From here he could easily reach all the controls on the curved panel in front of him.  The main controls looked deceptively simple; two large balls set into the tops of the flight panel, one on either side; slide control pads surrounded the balls; above the control panel stood the different viewscreens; controls for life-support, the shields, and a myriad of other tasks would be above his head when the hatch closed.  The navigator’s control panel, behind and to the right of the pilot’s seat, contained duplicate life-support systems.
Mervyn reminded himself the right-hand ball controlled forward and backward pitch, and side to side role.  The left-hand one controlled direction; the slide pads controlled thrust, speed, vertical lift, the small positioning jets, and the main engine functions.  Mervyn caressed the control panel to get a feel for the craft.  Everything fitted exquisitely, he could feel the firm curve of the control balls under the palms of his hands, and his fingers fell easily into place on the touch slides.  The controls were exactly the same as his formula-three sled, comforting and familiar, Mervyn began to feel at home.  For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to believe that his dream of becoming a champion sledger might become reality.  He could almost feel himself taking off and racing into the outer reaches of the galaxy.
‘Hurry up Mervyn, it’s my turn next!’  Jenny said, poking her head through the open hatch.
Mervyn jumped, jolted out of his daydream, ‘Sorry, just seeing how it feels,’ he said, scrambling up and surrendering the cramped pilot’s seat to Jenny.
Finally, Cage announced that until everyone attained a basic flight grade they would spend half their time on theory and the other half on flight simulators.  Mervyn, felt bitterly disappointed.  Somehow, he had expected to start flying sleds immediately, but it kind of made sense to learn the theory first.  He cheered up when Cage announced he expected everyone to pass their basic grade by next semester.

The simulators, suspended in gyroscopes, looked like a row of fairground rides, but inside they perfectly mirrored a Mark III formula-two sled – cramped and hot and sweaty.  Cage sat in an airy control booth at the end of the row.  He talked them meticulously through the instruments.  As a treat, he announced, he would talk them through a launch.  Mervyn and Loren tossed an academy badge to see who would go first.  The badge spun slowly in the air, then landed face down:  Mervyn’s turn first.
The viewscreen showed a graphic of the sled assuming a launch position: the front foils and triangular wings slid into the fuselage, until the sled resembled little more than a dart.  At the far end of the virtual launch tube Mervyn could see stars.
‘Make sure you are strapped in, please,’ Cage said.
Mervyn snapped the standard four part safety harness together at waist level.  He had done it many times before so it was no problem.  Evidently, some of his fellow students, were not so experienced.
‘Maurice!  You are still not strapped in properly.  Jenny, please show him what to do,’ Cage boomed.  So Mervyn guessed Cage could see everything happening in each simulator.  He tucked the information away for future use.
‘Above your head is the launch control panel.  Everybody got it?  Say ‘affirmative’ if you have.’  Mervyn searched above his head for the right group of controls  ‘Affirmative,’ he responded, ‘tower, this is sled six, we are ready for launch.’
‘Tower to sled six.  Cleared to launch on my command,’ Cage replied formally.
Mervyn waited nervously while sleds one to five launched in succession.  Soon it would be his turn.  He steadied his breathing -- anticipation or anxiety?
‘Tower to sled six, you may launch’
Mervyn hit the launch button.  Suddenly his world turned upside-down and he tasted bile in his throat:  the launch tube lit up and the sled spun forward, riffling round like a bullet.  The acceleration slammed him into the back of his seat.  He reminding himself it was only a simulation, though it felt real.  The spinning sled cleared the launch tube.  With a jolt the engines ignited, and Mervyn jammed his finger onto the ‘foils in/out’ button.  The foils snapped open, the stabiliser jets cut in, and the sled stopped spinning.  Mervyn collected his bearings, then grinned all over his face:  he had launched his very first formula-two sled -- albeit a simulated one.
‘Well done sled six, a successful launch,’ Cage said. ‘Now follow the route onscreen and see if you can bring it home.’
The screen showed a series of green squares, which Mervyn had to navigate, his flight path.  He spun the control balls trying to co-ordinate pitch and roll with direction.  Even with his familiarity of formula-three sleds it was a lot more difficult than it looked.  He missed the first square by a light year and nearly got the second.  With the third square dead ahead he increase power to the engines and went straight for it.  This turned out to be a mistake.  He steered successfully through the square at a satisfying pace, but lost it when he tried to turn.
With a gut wrenching jolt the sled careered into an asteroid throwing Mervyn against the restraints.  Without warning his seat pressed in from all sides, closing around him as though trying to eat him.  Clouds of steam poured into the cockpit and the main lights died, leaving only dim red glow of emergency light.  ‘Hull breach!  Hull breach!  Begin emergency evacuation!’ Blared a mechanical voice. ‘Distress beacon deployed!  Life-support shut-down imminent!’  For a moment Mervyn forgot it was a simulation and panicked.  Desperately, he struggled from the grasp of the seat while searching for his spacesuit.
‘Good one Merv,’ Loren said calmly from behind him, ‘you crashed your first sled.  My go I think.’
Mervyn felt his face reddening with embarrassment and collapsed into the chair with a sign – no need for the spacesuit, ‘That was fun,’ he lied.  He felt better, though, when Loren spun nose over tail at full throttle and broke up with no survivors.
‘At least I managed to hit something,’ Mervyn laughed.
‘I thought my cartwheel was quite spectacular,’ Loren replied looking shaken.  Flying a formula-two sled was going to take some practice.
Only two students completed the course:  De Monsero, and Aurora  she had almost succeeded in landing it too.  It looked as if Aurora had a natural affinity for sledding, which was news to all of them.

‘Race you to the top,’ Mervyn shouted, swarming up the mound in the Stardome, his voice echoing in the huge empty space.  He felt elated after their sledding lesson.
‘There before you,’ Loren called scrambling up the last few metres.  The pair reached the top together, panting and laughing like small children, but Tarun beat them both..
‘I’m the Patriarch of the castle, I’m the Patriarch of the castle,’  Tarun taunted.  ‘You two need to visit the gym a bit more.
Mervyn slumped onto the mound with the others.  He resolved to practise in the swot pools more often and visit the gym -- not because he wanted to climb the mound faster, but because he desperately wanted to beat De Monsero in the Swot league.  No, not just beat him, thrash him into the ground.  To achieve that he would have to work-out and practise his moves.
Suddenly, Mervyn leaped to his feet, flung his arms wide and spun around, ‘Look,’  The mound rose higher then the surrounding walls so from the top they had an uninterrupted view of space.  Academy One had returned to the Ethrigian system for a few days.
Tarun had seen it all before, ‘Why did you bring us up here, Merv?’
Below them the door opened and Aurora strode in.
‘What is she doing here?’ Loren hissed, as though Aurora had invaded her private sanctuary.
‘I invited her,’ Mervyn said.  ‘We need a syndicate name, we need an identity, and we need it before the first syndicate results are posted.’
‘De Monsero has called his team The Raiders,’ Tarun offered.
‘Precisely,’ Aurora said cresting the mound and seating herself a little distance from the others.  ‘And that is how we will forever remember them.’  She had a point, it was something to think about.
‘We could call ourselves The Racers,’ Tarun suggested, ‘we do all like racing.’
‘No, we will call ourselves The Patriarchs,’ Aurora declared.  ‘It is the only possible name.’
The others recoiled at the name.
‘You can’t have the son of a traitor in a team called The Patriarchs,’ Mervyn said.  ‘It would make you a laughing stock, Aurora.’
‘I’m not even an Ethrigan citizen,’ Loren reminded them. 
‘What we need is something challenging and descriptive,’ Tarun said, ‘something not too political.’
‘What about ... The Misfits,’ Loren said.
‘That’s what De Monsero and Hidraba called us,’ Tarun said.
‘What could be more challenging than a successful team using his own term of derision?’
‘I like it,’ Mervyn said.  ‘A constant reminder of our scorn for their corruption.’
‘Cool,’ Tarun said.
‘Absolutely not,’ Aurora snapped..  ‘It’s bad enough I have to put up with a syndicate of Outworlders, so there is no way I will be known as a misfit.  People would laugh at me behind my back.’
‘It’s perfect,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Why not?’
‘I am not a misfit.  I am in my rightful place.  And I do not want to be remembered as a misfit for the rest of my life.’
‘Ok, the Racers then,’ Loren said, ‘we can all live by that.’
‘No. ‘It is my team and I will not consider any other name – it’s Patriarchs or nothing.’
‘Your team,’ Loren yelled leaping to her feet, ‘since when has this been your team?’
‘Since I joined it,’ Aurora screamed, ‘I am the natural leader you know.’  She stormed off down he hill.

The restaurant that evening buzzed with lively chatter.  Everyone related their tales of sledding mishaps, accompanied by much laughter, but Mervyn, Loren and Tarun were discussing their science lesson which had followed sledding.  A lesson in which they had made their own star: an experiment which involved firing lasers at a spec of Helium3 trapped in a marble sized sphere of glass to produce superluminal (faster than light) and subluminal (slower than light) particles.  Their science teacher was the impressive Professor Magenta Pike – impressive not just for her intellect, but for the range of hand and arm movements she employed to describe her experiments.  In fact, Magenta Pike was unable to describe anything in words alone.  Her efforts to visualise her concepts for her students became a source of much amusement.
‘Shame,’ Tarun said, ‘I’ve got twenty-six separate hand movements, that’s one more than you, Merv.’
‘No way!  Let me see,’ Mervyn said. ‘You’ve cheated,’ Mervyn continued. ‘Waiving arm aimlessly at an imaginary diagram,’ and ‘Waiving arm aimlessly at student,’ are the same movement.  She made them both in the same sentence.  That means we’re even.’
Loren sighed heavily and propped her head on her hand, ‘We made a star today guys, a living, fusion reacting star.  Don’t either of you want to talk about that.’
‘No,’ they said in unison and returned to their notes.
‘Still here, Human?’ De Monsero had crept up unseen.  ‘Can’t find your way home?  At least I know where I belong.’
Mervyn felt fury boiling in his chest, lately, just seeing De Monsero induced this feeling.  He knew De Monsero was deliberately goading him, but could not remain silent, ‘My home is Starlight and I’m proud of it,’ he declared jumping to his feet.
‘Me too,’ Loren shouldered in beside Mervyn.
‘Starlight?’ De Monsero scoffed, ‘You think a has-been Helium3 mine ...’
‘– No Rufus, be careful,’ Hidraba interrupted.  De Monsero glared at Hidraba.
‘You’re the has-been, De Monsero, you and your trumped up family’ Mervyn snarled.  He couldn’t help himself whatever he might say about his own home and family he would defend them down to the dark-matter against the likes of De Monsero.
De Monsero turned back furiously, ‘At least I have a home, Bright.  And my family’ll still be alive tomorrow.  Where as yours ...’
Hidraba lunged at De Monsero and tried to haul him away, ‘No, Rufus, not that ...,’ he whined, ‘... Not the midnight thing. ..you’ll ruin everything.’  The fury seemed to pass and De Monsero turned away, as aloof as ever.
‘What was that about?’  Loren asked.
‘Who cares,’ Mervyn said surly.
Tarun, though, looked worried, ‘I don’t like it, I don’t like it one bit.  Something is up -- I can feel it in my chima.  What in quark’s name is going to happen at midnight.’
‘Well we’re not going to find out standing around here,’ Loren said. ‘I say we get some sleep and see what tomorrow brings.’

******************************

– Chapter 6 – 
Starlight

‘Mervyn! Mervyn! Wake up it is nearly midnight.’
His dream about winning the Galactic Champions took a strange turn.  Midnight?  Then he realised he had forgotten to set the alarm and someone was hammering on his bedroom door.
‘Mervyn ,wake up!’  Tarun yelled.
He flung off his covers and raced to the door in his pyjamas.  Tarun and Loren were already assembled in front of the main screens in the common room.
He peered at them through sleep laden eyes, ‘What’s up?’
Tarun yawned, ‘Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.’
Loren nodded, ‘There’s a meteor storm hitting Garagyat II, and unseasonably high level of noxious gases in the swamps of Bocas Dorcus.  Apart from that, it’s the quietest night the Galaxy has ever seen.’
‘It’s not midnight yet,’ Mervyn reminded them.
‘Ok, one more sweep of the net, then I’m going to bed,’ Loren sighed.  She waited for midnight to pass then started the sweep.  A collage of images flashed across the screen, the news stories of the moment; a crashed train, an erupting volcano, storms, the meteor shower on Garagyat II, minor dignitaries spouting about local politics, flies around a nut, the swamps of Bocas Dorcus.
‘Wait,’ Mervyn shouted, something had caught his attention, ‘go back, Loren.’
‘What, the swamps of Bocas Dorcus?’
‘No, before that.’
Loren scrolled back to the flies.
Tarun squinted at the screen through tired eyes, ‘What is it.’
‘It’s a long range shot of an asteroid,’ Mervyn informed him, ‘and those flies are ships.’
‘Nothing significant about that,’  Tarun said.  ‘Keep scanning.’
Loren had the glazed look of someone accessing data on the link, ‘Hmm, that’s interesting -- this feed’s coming from inside the Academy.’  Lights sparkled on the surface of the asteroid.
‘De Monsero,’ Mervyn said, ‘But why is he--’  
‘What is all this noise,’ demanded a strident voice behind them, ‘it has gone midnight – how dare you keep me awake.’  Aurora, hugging a fluffy pink dressing gown around her, glared accusingly at each of her team mates and then at the screen, ‘And why are you watching a battle?’
‘Battle?’  Realisation struck Mervyn in the gut, ‘Great muons -- it’s Starlight.  And someone’s attacking it.  Look!’  They watched in horror as more explosions blossomed silently on the surface of the asteroid.
‘I’ve got to talk to Dad,’ Mervyn said.  He tried to link to his father via his biolink, but all he received back was static.  ‘It’s blocked,’ he said in despair.  All he could do was stand helplessly and watch Starlight be ripped apart, and his family with it.
‘Everything’s blocked,’ Loren confirmed.
Mervyn glared accusingly at Aurora, ‘Where’s the Ethrigian navy?  Why isn’t anyone defending them?’
‘I will speak to my father,’ she announced and went glassy eyed.  After a few moments she turned back to the others, she swallowed hard, ‘My uncle says the navy is on exercise with the Republic.  They are steaming back here as fast as they can, but I don’t think they are going to make it in time.  Sorry, Merv.’  Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, it was the first sign of emotion, other than contempt, Aurora has ever shown.  He shouldn’t blame her.
‘Is this the best view we can get?’ Mervyn asked, desperate to see more detail, yet afraid in case he saw too much.
‘It’s a long shot from a relay station, there’s nothing closer,’ Loren said.
‘We’re closer, Mervyn said.  ‘What about the Academy’s telescopes?’  The Academy had an array of telescopes for astronomy classes.
‘Of course,’ Loren said.  ‘Give me a moment,’ her eyes glazing as she searched for the right connections.  A few seconds later the giant screen flicked to a background of stars.  The largest of Academy One’s telescopes tracked slowly to Loren’s new co-ordinates and Starlight filled the screen.  A swarm of fighter craft circulated the asteroid bombarding the surface and a single warship sat in orbit blasting away with it’s big guns.  As Mervyn watched, horrified, a photon blast ripped apart Starlight’s central dome.  Debris scattered outwards as Starlight’s atmosphere whooshed into the vacuum of space.  He turned away from the sight.  Anything not tied down would have been sucked out too; he could only imagine the devastation inside.  A shoal of life-rafts erupted as Starlight’s residents fled the safety of their home.  With his heart pounding, Mervyn hoped fervently that one of them contained his family.  A moment later he changed his mind.
‘Look!’ Tarun called.
‘Oh quarks,’ Mervyn mouthed in horror.  The fighters began picking off defenceless life-rafts as if for target practice.
‘I wish we could do something,’ Aurora said, her eyes staring wide in shock.
‘We can,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Loren, upload this feed to the main news networks -- all of them!  Let everyone see what’s going on.  It might just stop them.’
Loren’s eyes glazed again, ‘the original station has taken it, and five more -- let’s hope that’s enough.’  Almost instantly the fighters turned away from their prey and returned to the warship.
‘Someone’s given an order,’ Tarun said.  ‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘Saw themselves on the news I’ll bet,’ Mervyn said.  The friends watched with relief as shuttles appeared and started gathering up the life-rafts.  Soon the warship sped off taking the survivors with it.
‘We must go and see what we can do to help,’ Mervyn said starting towards the door.  ‘I’m going to wake the principal.’
‘No need,’ Aurora said.  ‘My uncle has already ordering him to help.’
‘In that case, I’m going to kill De Monsero or at least find out what he knows,’ Mervyn snarled, but before he had even taken two paces towards the door the alarm sounded calling all hands to emergency stations and locking them in their apartments.

Mervyn breathed heavily into his spacesuit.  He stood on a gallery in Central Control looking down at the remains of Starlight town with mixed feelings.  In happier times he would have been please to showing off his home to his friends, but not in these circumstances.  An eerie silence reigned in place of the usual happy bustle.  Above stretched the shattered dome, a self-contained bubble of air -- until last night.  A shaft of light streamed through the hole in the dome:  collected, focused, and reflected by the mirrors of orbiting satellites.  Right about now it should be noon -- the dome protectors would have cleared allowing the artificial sun to shine through the hexagonal panes at its brightest.  He would have stood here, in the warm sunshine, eating a packed lunch with his dad, but now he didn’t even know if his dad was alive.  He remembered their last conversation and shuddered, if only he could turn back time and unsay the things he had said.
He pointed out his house in the distance to the others.  Like every other dwelling on the asteroid, the windows and glass roof had blown out when the dome exploded.  All the debris, furniture, and anything else not secured had instantly disappeared into space -- it looked as if a giant vacuum cleaner had swept everything clean, which in a way it had.
The friends had volunteered to join the Principal in the rescue party, citing their intimate knowledge of Starlight as the excuse they needed to find Mervyn and Loren’s families.  They had spent all morning helping survivors out of their hiding places in the storm-rooms and ferrying them to the terminus where they were evacuated to Academy One.  These were people Mervyn knew and had grown up with, so seeing them so forlorn and desperate was heart-breaking.  Among the survivors he was relieved to have found his mother and his sisters, and Loren’s Aunts, Uncles and cousins, but there was no trace of Mervyn’s dad.  Mervyn knew he would have commanded Starlight from Central Control, so the friends had slipped ahead of the Principal’s search party to investigate the control tower from themselves.
‘You grew up here?’ Aurora asked, she had insisted on accompanying the rescue party and had worked tirelessly to rescue survivors.  When the others slipped away she insisted on coming with them.  Mervyn would rather she had stayed behind, but she could easily tell the Principal where they had gone so, reluctantly, he agreed.  ‘But it’s so...’
‘Small,’ Mervyn added aggressively.
‘The other homes are practically on top of each other.  You must have been falling over one another.’
‘Not really.  It’s large for an outworld house,’ Mervyn said, feeling the need to justify his lifestyle, but hating himself for doing so.  ‘We had a happy home -- lots of fun -- and I was never alone.’
‘Duty and tradition came first in the Patriarch’s palace.  I would have given anything for a happy home,’ Aurora said wistfully.
Mervyn turned back to Central Control, now twisted and crumbling, where his father would have co-ordinated resistance.  Had anybody inside survived the blast?  Was his father still alive somewhere?  He stepped back through the shattered remains of an airlock, careful not to rip his spacesuit on the jagged metal.
Everything looked so different from the fresh building he had seen on his frequent visits to dad’s work.  Even the staircase to the upper storey lay in ruins.
‘How do we get up there?’  Tarun asked.
‘Use the pinion lines on our spacesuits,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Find a secure bit of ceiling, shoot the pinion, and use the suit’s winch to pull yourself up.’
‘That’s meant for a nil-G environment though,’ Tarun said, ‘are you sure It’s strong enough?’
‘Sure, the molecular grip on the end is incredibly strong, I’ve done it before -- one of the advantages of being a light-weight kid.’
‘How do we get it out again?’
‘Easy,’ Loren said, ‘when you feed an amino acid up the line and the molecules on the end let go.’
Mervyn laughed at the blank look on Tarun’s face, ‘Press the release button and it lets go.’  Tarun looked relieved.
Loren sighed, ‘That’s what I just said.’
Mervyn led the way.  His pinion lodged in the ceiling and he swung his weight on the line, it still held so he activated the winch and sailed up to the first floor landing.  The pinion loosed itself on command.  ‘This way,’ he said as the others joined him and led them to the main control room.
The beautifully engraved glass doors were cracked and splintered.  Mervyn expected to feel crunching glass beneath his feet, then remembered all the debris had been sucked into space along with anything not bolted down.  The roof had completely gone and Central Control stood open to the stars.  Mervyn hoped his father had escaped before the roof exploded.
Aurora made the grisly discovery, ‘Argh.  Quick, there’s something over here!’  The others ran into a small side room built like a bank vault.  Aurora stood with her hand to her mouth.  At her feet lay something crumpled and orange.
‘Who is it?’ Loren asked anxiously as Mervyn knelt by the lifeless body.
‘I don’t know, but I’ve seen him working here before.  Look, someone shot him with a blaster.’  Dried blood crusted the edges of a hole in the corpse’s chest.
‘Fully suited,’ Loren said, ‘that means he survived the main attack.  Someone shot him afterwards.’
‘You sure?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Of course, his body would have been sucked out when the roof went otherwise.’
‘What is this place?’ Tarun asked.
‘Airtight secure room.  If they made it into here before the dome went they would have been safe.’
‘Look at the walls,’ Aurora said.  ‘Photon blasts,’ she wandered back into main control.  ‘It is the same in here -- photon blasts everywhere.  Must have been quite a battle.  Whoever he is he was not alone.’
‘Any recordings, Loren?’
‘Good idea, I’m on it,’  Loren rummaged through the ruined equipment until she found what she wanted.  ‘Hey, look at this.’  They all crowded round a screen while Loren flicked through scenes of everyday activity in Central Control searching for the start of the attack.  Mervyn pointed out his dad as the crew on the screen ran for the secure room.  Moments later every alarm in the place went off and chairs, cups, pens, and magazines shot upwards.  A lunch box bounced off a camera as it disappeared from view.
‘There does the dome,’ Loren skipped forwards until the crew emerged again fully suited.  Mr Bright handed out photon blasters and the crew took up defensive positions.  Suddenly, everyone started shooting at once.  Mervyn gasped as a blast threw his father across the room.  Mr Bright lay quite still as the battle raged around him, then slowly clambered to his feet again apparently dazed, but otherwise unhurt.  Mervyn sighed in relief.  The fight soon ended: the defenders fell back to the secure room, then threw down their weapons in surrender.  Though pleased his father had survived, Mervyn still felt ashamed they had lost the battle.
‘Now we’ll see who they are,’ Loren watched the screen intently.  A grey suited figure edged through the main door.  Then the screen went blank.
‘Hey, what happened?’ Mervyn asked.
‘Shot out the cameras.  Someone didn’t want to be seen,’ Loren said.  ‘Now we’ll never know who did it.  Do you think it might have been marauders?’
Suddenly, Tarun waved them to silence, ‘I heard something.’
Mervyn made for the door, ‘It must be the Principal.  We’d better go.’
‘No.  Something else.  It came from over here.’  Loren followed the line of Tarun’s finger and tiptoed towards the security room, then screamed as something clunked off her helmet and flew past, ‘What was that?’
‘A spybot,’ Mervyn shouted.  ‘Don’t let it get way!’
The misfits dived after the fist sized ball as it flitted round Central Control.  Without their spacesuits they might have stood a chance.  Instead, they blundered after the droid, always one step behind.  Eventually, it escaped through the open roof of Central Control.  Moments later a small rocket streaked through the shattered dome.
‘There goes your evidence,’ Tarun panted.
Mervyn sat down to catch his breath, ‘Why would someone leave a spybot on Starlight?’
‘To see whether they got away with it.’
‘I don’t know, but it certainly reacted to something we said.’  They watched the rocket as is streaked away.
‘Don’t give up yet,’ Aurora called, ‘there’s a sled right in it’s path.’  Mervyn tagged the sled first.
‘What do you want, Bright?’  Mervyn’s heart sank.
‘De Monsero, there’s a spy droid heading straight for you.  Grab it with your robot arm.’  For a moment all went silent.
‘Nothing coming my way, Bright.’
‘It’s coming straight for you.’
‘Noting on my sensors -- must be heavily shielded.’
‘You don’t need sensors, go to visual.  I can see it from here.’
‘Nothing in my line of sight.’
‘But you must see it De Monsero, it’s practically on top of you.’
‘Are you calling me a liar, Bright?’ Mervyn punched the wall, what is it with De Monsero?  Desperately he tried to think of another option, but he knew it was hopeless, the spybot was as good as gone.
‘Well?’ Tarun asked.
‘Says he can’t see it.’
‘What?  But if he stays where he is it’ll crash into him.’
‘Let’s hope it does,’ Loren hissed, ‘at least we’ll recover the spybot.  De Monsero’s sled remained on station and the rocket skimmed past within a hair’s breadth.
‘Wow, that took courage,’ Aurora said releasing her breath.
‘Something just passed my sled, Bright.’
‘Yeah, it was an invisible rocket.  I’m surprised you felt it, you muon.’  Mervyn cut the connection.
‘Now what?’ Loren asked.
Tarun looked confused, ‘Can’t we just tell someone about the spybot?'
‘Yeah right, Tarun,’ Mervyn said, ‘and who is going to believe a bunch of kids?  Especially kids who are not meant to be here  We had better go before the Principal arrives.’
Back on Academy One, Rufus De Monsero went out of his way to avoided Mervyn for the next few days.  Inevitably their paths had to cross at some point.

******************************

– Chapter 7 – 
Swot

Mervyn pulled on the stretchy dycra suit: a grey tight-fitting, lightweight cloth woven from graphite nanotubes.  Although immensely strong, the fabric weighed almost nothing.
As soon as he powered up he saw the familiar shimmer of protective shields around him.  He jogged on the spot a few times and felt the suit tighten.  It drew kinetic energy from his movements to power the defence fields.  He stepped from the locker room and joined the other students waiting around the swot arena for Tasha Sanches, their physical education tutor, to explain the mysteries of swot.
Tasha Sanches, tall, athletic, and spiky-haired, strolled in like a predator in a purple dycra suit,  ‘To play the noble game of Swot you need – one photon ball, two contestants in armoured suits and a Swot Pool -- that’s the large low gravity sphere in front of you.  The aim of the game is very simple – you whack the ball with your armoured hand and bounce it off your opponent’s target.  The difficult bit is manoeuvring in the low-g pool.’  Tasha Sanches made it sound easy, but Mervyn, who had topped the Starlight junior league two years running, knew Swot was not for the faint hearted.  He had also been the unofficial Junior Body Swot champion:  unofficial, because Body Swot, the more aggressive version of the game where an opponents arms, legs, and torso, but never the head, formed the target, had a minimum legal age limit of eighteen.  In the Academy they played the tamer, and legal, Target Swot version.
‘The easiest way to learn Swot, is to watch a game,’ Tasha said. ‘Has anyone played before?’ 
Mervyn tagged her biolink.
‘Thank you, Mervyn… and Rufus.  Step into the swot pool please.  The rest of you hang onto the outside of the sphere and watch the action through the clear sides.’
Mervyn glanced at De Monsero, it was the first time he had encountered De Monsero since the incident with the spybot.  His opponent looked lithe and dangerous in his bodysuit  he smirked back at Mervyn.  How good was he?  He looked confident.  Mervyn felt a surge of hatred for his opponent.
‘Helmets on, gentleman,’ Tasha said.  The door of the swot pool closed Mervyn and he felt his body become lighter.  For a moment he wobbled unsteadily on his feet as he adjusted to the weaker gravity.  It was like stepping off a boat onto dry land and feeling the ground still moving.  He took a step, and glided two metres across the pool, then, he pushing gently with his toes, he floated to the centre.  Both contestants jumped and ran around the pool to acclimatise themselves to low gravity.
‘Rufus, you are blue; Mervyn you are orange,’ Tasha said.
Mervyn ran his fingers lightly over a control pad woven into his sleeve.  Starting at his feet and working its way up, the suit changed colour to a fluorescent orange.  Finally his helmet turned orange as well.  ‘Oohs,’ and ‘ahs,’ from the rest of the class accompanied the colour transition.  They crowded in, pressing their faces against the clear walls of the pool.  De Monsero now stood in a neon blue outfit.
‘Ready to strike off?’ Tasha asked. ‘Good.  Strike positions then please.’  Mervyn and De Monsero leaped gently into the air.  Their momentum, in the near weightless environment of the pool, propelled them easily to the ceiling.  They both clung to grab handles, and hung there dangling from the roof of the pool.
Tasha explained she would drop a photon ball into the pool between the hanging players, which must strike the side once before play began.  The contestants would bat the ball toward the target painted on the wall behind their opponent.  ‘Every time a ball hits the target area, the successful player gains points.  ‘Swot,’ she said, ‘is a game of acrobatics and agility, and hand to eye co-ordination.  Are you ready, gentlemen?’ 
Mervyn, hanging from the strike rings sizing up his opponent, nodded.
‘Crying shame that spybot got away from Starlight, huh?’  De Monsero murmured.
‘I thought you didn’t see it.’
De Monsero changed his grip on the ring and bit his lip, ‘Not until it headed for Revlon.’
‘It nearly flattened you, how could you miss it?’
‘Instrument failure.’  Mervyn struggled to contain the anger flaring inside again.  De Monsero was trying to unnerve him, put him off his game.
‘Ready… Strike!’  Tasha released the purple photon ball from its trap.  The ball dropped straight between the hanging players.
De Monsero smirked at Mervyn as he dropped to the floor, caught the ball on the rebounded, and swatted it at the blue target – the ball turned blue as his hand made contact.  A second later the ball turned orange as Mervyn, only a split second behind De Monsero, deflected it with his outstretched arm.
‘Mine,’ De Monsero snarled, leaping after the streaking ball, but Mervyn wasn’t giving a nanometre and dived after him.  The players crashed together, their body armour absorbing most of the impact.  The ball turned blue again as De Monsero swatted it expertly at his target.
The scoreboard beeped.
‘Hit! One: Nil - to Rufus’ Tasha declared. ‘I will recall the ball after each point.  Players will resume their strike positions’.  She sucked the ball back into its trap, while Mervyn and De Monsero dangled from the strike rings again.  There was nothing wrong with De Monsero’s aim, and he was all to ready to go for the ball  let’s see what else he can do, Mervyn thought.
‘And your eyes failed to notice the spybot too I suppose,’ Mervyn said.
‘Horrible coincidence.’
‘Why Revlon?  You said the spybot headed for Revlon.  Why?’
De Monsero avoided his gaze, ‘Just a guess... logical -- it’s the only place in that direction... if I were looking for the Naga that’s where I’d start.’
‘Ready...strike.’
This time both players dropped together.  De Monsero caught the ball a glancing blow, which sent it spinning towards the ceiling.  Mervyn leaped high over De Monsero’s head -- easy in the low-g pool, but at full stretch he made only brief contact with the ball.  Maddeningly, it drifted slowly towards the orange target.  He somersaulted and pushed himself off the ceiling.  Why Revlon?  Without warning De Monsero hurtled straight into him, like a rocket, knocking him away from the ball.  Mervyn cursed himself for allowing De Monsero to distract him.
‘Foul!’  Tasha cried and sucked the ball back into the trap. ‘Rufus deliberately bumped into Mervyn to throw off his aim and stopped an almost certain hit.  Whilst effective it’s an illegal move.  Three fouls and the game is forfeit to your opponent  so play with care,’ she told the class. ‘I am awarding a penalty against Rufus so he must now assume position on the strike rings while Mervyn waits on the floor for a penalty shot.’
The ball dropped strait towards Mervyn.  So did De Monsero.  As the ball rebounded he took careful aim at the target.  His caution cost him vital milliseconds and the ball deflected off De Monsero’s descending leg, straight into the orange target.  The scoreboard beeped.
‘Two: Nil -- to Rufus.  You won’t see a luckier shot than that,’ Tasha said excitedly.
As the purple streak entered the pool for the third time, Mervyn accurately judged the rebound and struck it with a backhander, but it was a poor shot.  He launched himself after the ball.  De Monsero arrived first and smashed it hard against the nearest wall.  There was no target in sight, but it rebounded straight into Mervyn’s stomach.  His armour absorbed most of the impact, but it still winded him.  Doubled up with pain, Mervyn rolled on the floor trying to catch his breath and regain his balance.  De Monsero leapt after the ball again.
‘The winner of the set is the first to score three hits.  A game consists of three sets,’ he heard Tasha telling the rest of the class. ‘But it is a contact sport so you can expect some rough-and-tumble.  It’s fine as long as each player is chasing the ball.’
Rough-and-tumble?  Mervyn thought.  De Monsero was trying to kill him.
A moment later, just as Mervyn was getting his breath back, the ball slammed into the small of his back, and drove him into the wall.  This time he saw stars as his helmet rebounded off the inner shell of the sphere.  An orange blur hovered just on the edge of his periphery vision.  He tried to focus on what it might be, but a bead of sweat trickling down his nose seemed more important.
Orange?  Then he remembered:  the ball.  Somehow it had come to a rest just by his head.  He started to reach out for it, but there was someone making faces at him through the wall.  Who was it?  Aurora?  She mouthed something about being behind.  Suddenly, his mind cleared, and he realised the danger he was in.  
He launched himself skyward with as much strength as he could muster.  The sight of De Monsero hurtling head first into the wall beneath him proved reward enough.  That would have hurt.  De Monsero’s crash had flipped the photon ball into the air, ready for Mervyn to swot it into the orange target.
‘Two: One - to Rufus.’
So De Monsero wanted to play dirty, did he?  Mervyn thought, as he hung from the strike rings.  De Monsero was pretending to play ‘target swot’, but using it as a cover to play his own game of ‘body swot’.  Well two could play at that game; Mervyn knew a few tricks of his own -- he had grown up playing body swot in the mines.
De Monsero’s aim may be good, but Mervyn had worked out his opponent’s weakness:  he only used the lower half of the sphere.  He had probably learned to play in a high-g environment making aerial acrobatics difficult to perform.
‘You knew about the attack on Starlight, De Monsero,’ Mervyn accused to gain himself more breathing space, ‘you said I wouldn’t have a home in the morning.’
‘Coincidence... just a turn of phrase,’
‘And what’s the Naga got to do with anything?’
Abruptly, De Monsero flared, ‘Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand, Bright.  It might be bad for your health.’  He turned his back and jumped for the rings.
Mervyn smiled to himself – now who was riled.
 ‘Ready...strike.’
Mervyn left De Monsero to pick up the ball and rebounded into a high back flip towards the orange target.  He only just managed to intercept De Monseros’ shot; then he Swatted the ball as hard as he could.  The orange streak sizzled past De Monseros’ ear, slammed into the opposite wall, missed the blue target, and bounded into De Monsero’s elbow with a crack.
‘Ouch.  Foul!’ De Monsero cried nursing a numbed arm.  The crowd held their breath, silently waiting for Tasha’s decision.
‘Play on,’ Tasha called and the crowd went wild.  Mervyn played on; he ran up the side of the pool, leaped high for the ball, and swatted another shot at the blue target; again he missed, but only just.  This time the rebounding ball whacked De Monsero on the knee.  The crowd roared.  ‘Bad luck,’ someone shouted, it sounded like Tarun.  
 ‘Ouch.  Miss.  That has to be a foul,’ De Monsero demanded.
‘Sorry Rufus, you moved in front of the ball again,’ Tasha said, and her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Mervyn played on again and looped the ball easily into the centre of the blue target while De Monsero hobbled around:  grounded for the moment.
‘Two: Two -- even scores,’ Tasha said. ‘This play’s getting a bit rough for a demonstration game, lads, make sure you aim for the target.  ‘Rufus, do you need a break?’
‘No.  I can shoot just as well with my left hand,’ he growled, jumping one-handed to the strike rings.  The roar of the watching students slowly settled down in to a quiet murmur.
‘Maybe the Naga is a friend of yours?’  Mervyn said as they both swung from the rings, he could see De Monsero almost shaking with anger – was it the questions or the thought of being beaten by an Outworlder?  Mervyn hopped the latter.
‘That’s traitors talk, Bright.  You need to watch yourself or you might just get hurt.’
The two opponents started each other out, furiously.
The ball dropped; Mervyn dropped; he swung for the ball; something heavy crashed on top of him.  A bony knee connected with his stomach as he fell to the ground and he gasped for breath.  De Monsero had abandoned all pretence at fair play and thrown himself at Mervyn, winding him again.  The scoreboard beeped, somehow De Monsero had managed to swot the ball into the blue target as they fell.
‘Foul!’ Someone shouted through the fog in Mervyn’s head, it sounded like Loren.
‘Hit!’ Hidraba’s voice.
‘No!  De Monsero didn’t go for the ball.  He hit it by accident.’  This sounded like Tarun.  Then pandemonium broke out, as the whole class took sides.  From his position on the floor of the pool Mervyn tried to make sense of the cacophony.  Were the majority supporting De Monsero or him?  Would Tasha take sides?
Tasha had to blow her whistle several times to cut through the noise.  ‘As the judge my decision in final…’  Mervyn’s ragged gulps formed the only sound as everyone waited breathlessly for Tasha’s decision.  ‘Hit!  Three: Two -- Rufus wins!’ 
‘What?' Mervyn croaked as the hullabaloo erupted again.  De Monsero’s supporters danced and cheered, drowning out the objections from Mervyn’s friends.
‘Tough luck, traitor,’ De Monsero mouthed through the noise.
‘Are you hurt, Mervyn?’ Tasha asked, releasing the pool door.
‘Nothing a bit of fair play wouldn’t fix,’ he muttered.
De Monsero held out a hand to help Mervyn up, but the smirk on his face showed it had nothing to do with any belated feelings of sportsmanship
Mervyn swiped the hand away and struggled to his feet, ‘Sorry De Monsero,’ he snarled, ‘didn’t see it – instrument failure.’
‘Temper, temper,’ De Monsero chided. ‘If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the Academy – you don’t belong here.’  Then he turned his back and stepped out of the pool, to meet his adoring fans, leaving a furious Mervyn to ponder his remarks and plot a rematch.

Once Mervyn calmed down he realised De Monsero had let slip some useful information in the swot pool.  He discussed the incident with the others in the stardome. 
Loren summed up everyone’s thoughts, ‘Do you really think De Monsero knows the Naga is connected to the raid on Starlight?  Or is he just bluffing?’
‘Could be just a guess, as he says,’ Tarun said.
‘But what if he did know,’ Mervyn persisted.  ‘Who would have told him?’
‘Same person who told him not to interfere with the spybot,’ Tarun said.
‘You are right,’ Aurora said, she had tagged along without being invited on the pretext she had an interest in seeing justice done.  Now she hovered on the edge of the mound.  ‘It would have come direct from Lord De Monsero.’
Mervyn looked doubtful, ‘But why?’
‘You know Lord De Monsero has volunteered to get the asteroid mines up and running again, don’t you,’ Aurora said.  ‘From his point of view, the mines are back in Ethrigan hands.  He has done well for himself out of this.  Too well.’
‘And by all accounts he’s bringing in his own people,’ Loren said in a rare moment of agreement with Aurora.  ‘He even turned the refugees away from Ethrigian because they aren’t citizens.  They’ve had to settle on Zetalona, the administrative centre of the Republic.  My uncles are furious.’
Mervyn stared accusingly at Aurora, ‘Your Uncle’s doing?’
To her credit she looked embarrassed, ‘De Monsero is the hero of the hour.  It is not a good time for the Patriarch to stand up to him – maybe if my Uncle were more popular...’  She shrugged helplessly.
‘We need more proof,’ Tarun said.
Mervyn suspected Tarun was trying to distract them from the sorry state of Ethrigian politics, ‘We’ve got to find my dad.’  The disappearance of his father had played heavily on his mind for the past few days.  ‘He must have seen the attackers close up.  He’d know if it was the Naga’s Marauders.’
‘But that will only prove a link with the Naga,’ Tarun complained.  ‘What about De Monsero?’
‘Revlon,’ Loren said suddenly.  ‘We have to prove the spybot headed for Revlon.  That way we’ll know De Monsero wasn’t just guessing.  I’ve tracked the spybot as far as I can, but lost it in the dust clouds of NGC6543, we need to track it from there.  Did it head straight for Revlon or turn off in another direction?’
Tarun shrugged, ‘And how do we do that?’
‘Easy,’ Mervyn said.  ‘We ask Professor Pike to organise a field trip to NGC6543 -- to help with our next project.  She’s bound to say yes.’
‘If Lord De Monsero is involved you will need to watch our backs,’ Aurora warned.  ‘Everyone is playing for high stakes here, and if De Monsero thinks you know what is going on you could be in real danger.’
‘Like you care,’ Loren muttered.
‘I have no more love for De Monsero than you do,’ Aurora said.  ‘If he is involved it is despicable and he should be punished – to think he is one of my uncle’s advisors.’  She shuddered.
‘Come on,’ Mervyn said, ‘let’s go see Professor Pike.’

******************************

– Chapter 8 – 
Racers and Supernovas

The deadline for the syndicate project approached fast.  Aurora started to fiddle with her long hair whenever she had time to think -- the first signs of nervousness.  Mervyn tried to interest the others in choosing a syndicate name, but the more they discussed it, the more Aurora demanded The Patriarchs and Loren dug her heals in for The Racers.  Loren thought she could beat Aurora on a majority vote, and suddenly it became important for her to win.
For her part, Aurora considered any name to be a matter of principle:  hers.  The pair remained entrenched in their opinions.  In the end, Mervyn decided a compromise name was called for and suggested the Supernovas.  Tarun liked it.  Loren, realising her majority vote was lost, agreed grudgingly.  Mervyn tried to discuss the new name with Aurora, the response was a stony silenced; Aurora, spent even more time with ‘The Girls’, and showed even less interest in her work.

As they entered the final week Aurora started checking for incoming mail every day, then twice a day, and finally every hour.  She ever dropped hints about finishing the project.  Eventually, she asked outright.  ‘Has anyone handed you the results?’  Her roommates, struggling with their mathematics prep around the big table in the common room, looked up.
‘Hmm?  No, your Grace,’ Tarun said, ‘were you expecting someone to?’ 
‘Not really.  Just asking,’ Aurora said in a lighter tone of voice.  ‘All this work really is a waste of time you know.’
Mervyn tried the direct approach, ‘What if it doesn’t turn up?’
‘Don’t be daft.  I’ll ask ‘The Girls’,’ and she dashed off to see who she could find.
‘The Girls’ were busy -- all of them.  For the first time ever they were working hard on their prep.  Their biolinks were engaged too and their apartment doors close to visitors.  Not even Sinita visited apartment twenty-five any more, and she had practically become a permanent resident.  It was remarkable how quickly ‘The Girls’ could get out at the end of class, and how they always managed to eat either before or after Aurora.  They had evaporated.
‘Do you think ‘The Girls’ are avoiding me?’  Aurora asked the next evening.
‘Yes,’ Mervyn replied avoiding eye contact.
Aurora thought about the possibility, ‘Nah, I am the niece of the Patriarch, they wouldn’t do that to me.’  Tarun shook his head in disbelief.  ‘Well think about it, Tarun, I would become a laughing stock.  And what sort of message would that send to my uncle?’  She retired to her room and left the others to continue their work.
‘Aurora is in for one nasty shock,’ Mervyn said.  ‘She’ll take it badly, and that means she’ll make us suffer too.
‘I don’t think you fully understand just how much of a shock,’ Tarun said, pushing his books away.  ‘It’s much deeper then just failing the project.  She’ll take it as a personal attack on the Patriarch, which it is, and on herself, which it’s not, unless you count De Monsero’s personal vendetta.’  Unable to concentrate on their work anymore the trio abandoned their work for the night.
Even De Monsero had made himself scarce this week, no doubt preparing to crow at the announcement of their catastrophic results.
After a final desperate push, and with only minutes until the deadline expired, Tarun handed in their project to Miss Gant, their history teacher.
‘It’s the best we can do,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Now we wait... and hope.’

Miss Gant announced the syndicate results in her history lesson the next day.  It was the last lesson of the day.  Gant, tall, thin and stern, devoted the whole lesson to the history of the ‘Grey Wars’.
‘Why are we going over this again?’  Mervyn whispered to Tarun.
‘Because we’re the only ones who’ve done any work,’ Loren hissed.  ‘Everyone else just copied the answers – they probably didn’t even read them.’
Mervyn tried to keep alert, but he soon felt tired, he wished Grant would just get to the results.  Tarun and Loren kept a tab on the answers.  They reckoned the team had done pretty well.
Finally, Gant finished, ‘I am sure you are all eager to hear the results,’ she said.  ‘Rather than post them on the net, I always like to read them out.  So here goes:   The Raiders, one hundred per cent,’ there was a cheer from behind Mervyn, as De Monsero and his gang celebrated.  The Cuties, one hundred per cent.’
Each team scored full marks except for two, who had marks deducted for sloppy presentation.  Gant saved their marks for last, savouring the moment perhaps?  Beads of sweat formed on Mervyn’s brow and his hands became clammy as Gant announced the penultimate result, ‘Sinita’s Crew, one hundred per cent.’  Now there were no more teams, except theirs.  This was it.  Mervyn glanced over to Aurora who had seated herself at the front, well away from anyone else.  She must realise by now she had been betrayed.  Her face was a mask of stone.
‘Aurora, before I announce the result of your team I need to know its name?’  Gant said.  Mervyn hoped Aurora toed the line with Supernovas, otherwise he would have a furious Loren to deal with.
‘The ‘No Hope Twenty-fivers’,’ Hidraba sniggered from behind.
‘My team is called...,’ Aurora said, and stared slowly round the class at all the impassive faces.  Jenny and Maurice looked embarrassed.  ‘The Girls’ stared fixedly at their tutor and avoided Aurora’s eye.  In the silence, De Monsero could be heard whispering. ‘This is going to be funny.’  Finally, Aurora’s gaze rested on her team-mates.  Mervyn gave a weak smile, he formed his thumb and index finger into a circle, and showed it to Aurora, an ok sign his father sometimes used.  The look of hopelessness she gave him in reply brought a lump to his throat 
Aurora stared at the desk in from of her, ‘The team...,’ she began, then faltered.
‘I am still waiting,’ Gant said sternly.
Aurora’s head snapped up and she tossed her hair defiantly, ‘The team... My team, are called The Misfits.’  The class gasped.  Spoken in this charged atmosphere, the name sounded like a challenge.  Some held hands over their mouths in surprise, others just let their jaws hang slack in shock.  Loren clenched her fist under the table in a sign of victory.  Mervyn didn’t know whether to be shocked or elated, he found himself grinning at either possibility.
‘I’m not quite sure I caught that,’ Gant said, frowning suspiciously at Aurora.
‘The Misfits,’ Aurora repeated firmly.
‘You said it,’ muttered a voice from the back, it sounded like Hidraba.  This produced a burst of sniggers from the Raiders and nervous giggles from the rest of the class.
‘Quiet class,’ Gant snapped, she looked flustered.  ‘Very well, The Misfits have scored eighty-nine per cent.’  Instantly, the class fell silent again – another shock.  The grin on Mervyn’s face spread even wider, it seemed De Monsero had nothing to say.
Aurora looked as surprised as everyone else.  It was a brilliant score considering every other team had known the answers.  But it was still nine points less than the worst and that meant humiliation for Aurora.
Gant seemed unimpressed, ‘Professor Pike will set the next syndicate challenge.’
Aurora’s face remained impassive until the end of the lesson.  Then, from her position close to the door, she slipped out first before the rest of the class.  The remaining Misfits had to queue to get out.  Most students pushed past without speaking or looking, but not De Monsero who had finally thought of something to say.
‘How does it feel to be bottom of the class, Bright?  The proper place for an Outworlder.’
‘For a misfit,’ Hidraba chipped in.
‘Just ignore them,’ Jenny whispered at Mervyn’s elbow.  ‘They’re just annoyed Aurora got away.  Maurice and I wanted to give you the results, but the rest of our team wouldn’t let us.  I think De Monsero threatened them.’  At least someone showed sympathy.
‘Well done,’ Maurice muttered, looking around nervously, ‘Great score – considering.’
As the trio headed back to apartment twenty-five, they heard De Monsero calling after them, ‘Hard-luck cousin.  That’s what happens when you back losers.’ 
Amazingly, they found some of ‘The Girls’ waiting back at the apartment -- they had let themselves in.  If they thought they could still ingratiate themselves with Aurora, now the deed was done, they were wrong and they soon realised their mistake.
Aurora suddenly burst through the door, she froze, and just stared, ‘Please leave,’ she said quietly, but her chima burned blood red.  Mervyn could feel the suppressed rage in her voice and backed out of the way.  The ‘Girls’ just stared back.
Sinita made a move towards Aurora.  ‘No hard feelings... huh?’
‘GET OUT!’  Aurora screamed.  The hangers-on didn’t need telling twice, and as one they bolted for the door.  ‘AND DON’T COME BACK!’ she screamed charging down the corridor after them.  ‘EVER.’

After clearing out the ‘Girls’, Aurora did not return for the rest of the afternoon.  Nor did she show for dinner.
‘Let her be,’ Mervyn said, ‘she just needs some space, wouldn’t you?’
When suppertime arrived her team-mates started a search.
‘She’s in a simulator,’ Mervyn informed his friends when he eventually found her, ‘and judging by the way it’s throwing itself around, I’d say she’s running a particularly violent program.’ Mervyn replied.  The three of them crowded into the next simulator in the line.
Mervyn grabbed the pilot’s seat, ‘I’ll call her.’  Aurora’s biolink failed to respond.  ‘Loren, can we see what she’s running?’
‘Not from here.  We’d have to get in via Cage’s control box.’
‘Can you hack us in?’  Mervyn asked, he had limitless faith in the Loren’s ability to do anything with bioelectronics.
‘Let’s see,’ Loren’s eyes glazed over as he concentrated on her biolink and located the master program.
‘I need a password.  What sort of thing would he choose?’
‘Something obvious,’ Mervyn said.
Loren considered the possibilities, ‘Does he have a family?’
‘No.’
‘Pets?’
‘No.’
‘Nicknames?’
‘None he’d be aware of.’
‘There must be something interesting about him, surely.  How does he sign himself online?’
‘J. Cage.’
‘That’s boring.  Wait a minute,’ Mervyn said, ‘isn’t there a top-twenty of all-time-great simulator scores on here somewhere?  He must be on that.’  He brought up the list on the main viewscreen.  ‘Hey, did you know Aurora’s on this list at number twenty, and who’s Rebel One?  Rufus De Monsero?.’
‘I believe so, De Monsero senior was an ace pilot too in his time, so he’s probably on there as well,’ Tarun said.  ‘Which one do you think is Cage?  Destroyer, Fighter Pilot or Nomad?’
‘I’ll try them all,’ Loren said entering each name.  ‘Got it  Fighter Pilot.’
‘Of course,’ the others said together.
‘I bet Lord De Monsero in destroyer,’ Mervyn muttered to no one in particular.
‘Here she is,’ Loren said, with a hint of satisfaction.  ‘She’s smashing her sled into meteors.  She must have disconnected the destruct cycle.’  They watched as Aurora drove her sled head-on into a massive meteorite.  Tarun fell heavily against Mervyn’s chair as his senses responded to the crash on the viewscreen.  Even from within the cabin, they heard Aurora’s simulator protesting as it lurched backward to simulate the shock of a full-on crash.
Tarun steadied himself, ‘That can’t be good, can it?’
‘Yeah, quite a ride,’ Loren agreed.  ‘She’s really beating herself up.’
‘She’s still not responding to her biolink,’ Tarun said.  ‘How are we going to talk her out of this?’
‘We’ll just have to grab her attention another way,’ Mervyn said.  ‘Loren, can you get us into that program?’
‘I can’t, but Cage can.  Let’s see what you can do Fighter Pilot,’ Loren said as her eyes glazed over once more.  She hummed to herself as she worked.
Suddenly, the viewscreens filled with images of meteorites hurling towards them through the depths of space.  Mervyn instinctively threw the sled to his left to avoid a spinning meteor, ‘Whoa, hold on, this’ll be bumpy.’  The sled flew so close he could see separate impact craters on the surface as it skimmed passed.  He eased forward on the throttle as a way opened between the meteors and their speed increased, ‘Where’s Aurora?’
Loren brought up a schematic of the meteor field, ‘There, just ahead of you.  Do you see her?’  Mervyn steering a zigzag path through the meteors towards their Aurora.
‘She’s going for that large meteor that looks like a fist,’ Tarun said, with only two seats in the sled, he had managed to wedge himself into a corner.
‘This should get her attention,’ Mervyn said and shot across Aurora’s bows as close as he dared.  Aurora’s sled turned away from the meteor, and she broke her self-imposed silence,  ‘Who’s that?  Is that you Mervyn,?’ she demanded over her biolink. ‘It must be, neither Loren or Tarun would be that crazy?’
He dodged another meteor and came round behind her.
‘Leave me alone, I am enjoying myself,’ Aurora said.
‘No you’re not,’ Mervyn said, dodging another meteor, ‘you’re beating yourself up.’
‘Why shouldn’t I beat myself up?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Tarun said.
‘Yeah right, everybody loves me.  Loren, do you like me?’
‘Well...’
‘See, the touchy Outworlder hates me.’
‘Ok, so you’re a stuck-up brat,’ Loren said, ‘but that doesn’t mean you deserve what they did to you,’
‘I should have seen it coming, you did.  I was just so full of myself, so sure of my position.  Now everyone’s laughing at me.’
‘You’ve still got us, your Grace,’ Tarun said.
‘A couple of social outcasts and a political pariah?’
‘She should fit right in then’ Loren murmured to the crew of her simulator.
‘I wouldn’t say pariah, you Grace.’
‘You lot are just a bunch of misfits,’ Aurora said.  It should have been the perfect put-down, a week ago it would have been, but now it held a different meaning.’
Mervyn sniggered -- he couldn’t help himself.
‘That’s not funny,’ Aurora snapped.
Mervyn bit his cheek in an attempt to control his laughter, but it made no difference.  Soon they were all in fits of giggles, even Aurora.  Every time one of them tried to speak, they all burst into renewed gales of mirth.
Tarun rolled around on the floor, oblivious to the plunging sled.  Mervyn could not tell if his friend were laughing or crying – his chima had turned bright purple, so had Loren’s, a colour Mervyn had never seen on any Ethrigan.  Slowly they brought themselves under control.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Aurora said, as they completed the tricky manoeuvre of landing their sleds back on a virtual Academy One.  ‘I needed a good laugh.  And you did brilliantly at the project -- eighty-nine per cent is an incredible score.’  No one knew what to say, so they said nothing.  ‘And I didn’t do anything to help you.  I know you tried to tell me, but I didn’t want to....I don’t know....I just didn’t want to listen.  Shame everyone else got full marks.’
‘Actually,  no one scored full marks,’ Loren said.
‘One hundred per cent is surely full marks, Loren,’ Aurora said.
‘I’ve been studying the marking schemes, there’s an extra ten percent for presentation and another ten for additional relevant information, so the maximum possible score is one-hundred and twenty per cent – not that I can see Gant offering extra marks, but Professor Pike might.’
‘Which means we could still be in with a chance,’ Tarun said. ‘All we need to do is change the rules.’
Mervyn turned the simulator off and unbuckled himself, ‘What are you going to do, Aurora?’
‘I’m going to fight back of course... no, we’re going to fight back.’  That sounded more like the old Aurora.
Mervyn felt slightly unsteady on his feet as he climbed from the simulator.  He paused on the top step to steady himself.  Aurora emerged from her sled beside him, but it was a different Aurora to the one he had last seen.
‘What have you done to your hair?’ Mervyn asked.
‘I cut it off,’ she replied defiantly, ‘I’m no longer the niece of the Patriarch, I’m a Misfit.’  Mervyn stared at her short spiky hair.
‘It kind of suits you,’ Loren said.
‘There’s going to be trouble, your Grace,’ Tarun said without thinking.
‘Tarun, for quark’s sake stop calling me ‘your Grace’ -- I am your team mate, a Misfit,’ she caught the look of horror on Tarun’s face.  ‘I command you to call me Aurora.’
‘Yes, your Grace... I mean, Aurora, your Grace... I mean,’ he waived his arms helplessly in a way that reminded Mervyn of Professor Pike.
Mervyn dived in to save his friend from more embarrassment, ‘Why ‘The Misfits’, Aurora?’
‘That’s what we are.  We’re all outsiders here, even me -- especially me.  Besides, they all knew what was coming and I wanted ram it up their noses.’
‘Well you certainly did that,’ Loren said. Mervyn offered his team-mates a high-five, ‘If you don’t like the game...’
‘Change the rules,’ they responded, and for a brief moment all four hands came together above their heads.  The Misfits were in business.

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Thank you for reading Helium3, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The adventure continues in the next book, Helium3.1, which I hope you will be keen to purchase – to help you on your way, I am offering you an exclusive 50% discount off the purchase price.  All you have to do, is subscribe to the mailing list on my blog, which can be accessed via NickTravers.com or by clicking here.  I will also send you news of new releases, occasional newsletters, and the latest discount codes as they become available.  

Nick Travers

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About the Author

Nick Travers wanted to be that mystical figure, an author, from almost the very first book he read.  As a child his mind constantly buzzed with characters and adventures, fed by an insatiable appetite for stories.  Unfortunately, a childhood tramping the wilds of Dartmoor, the joys of playing jazz trombone, and generally having a blast, left little time for serious writing as he grew up.
Later, an education in science and the demands of holding down a career again pushed writing to one side.  Then he hit forty, and realised his imagination had never grown up.  Finally, with a second-hand laptop (off e-bay), a fascination with astronomy, and a character named Mervyn Bright lodged firmly in his mind, Nick embarked on the most thrilling adventure of his life: writing a novel – this one.