 
Helium3.0

First published as an ebook by Nick Travers at Smashwords 2008

Copyright © Nick Travers 2008. Smashwords Edition

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

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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.

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

– Chapter 1 –

Mervyn scrambled into his spacesuit, grabbed his helmet, and hefted his holdall. He had to keep moving, doing something, anything. If he stopped, even for a fraction, to think what he was about to do, fear might get the better of him. He tried to focus on tightening the suit's seals instead of the jump.

Loren stomped after him, "Do we have to jump? Isn't there another way to transfer ships?" Mervyn shrugged. 'Well I'm not jumping if there's no safety line,' she declared. On the spaceship's main screen, in the control room, the transfer ship had grown in size. It was almost upon them, though, it still looked minuscule compared to the trader.

"Helmets on," The trader 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?" Mervyn could feel his stomach fluttering with nervousness, he hated gravity nets too, but he wasn't about to let on to Loren.

"Time 'eez money," the trader rasped.

Loren's thick eyebrows scowled into the trader's blank eyes, "What if I fall between the ships?"

"Gravity net 'eez quickest way to transfer you."

But that wasn't the problem.

Mervyn stepped between them, Loren was spoiling for a fight, but in her nervousness she still hadn't spotted it - 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, and deliberately stared into her eyes - he had read somewhere that direct eye contact creates trust and confidence. 'We'll do it together.'

She nodded uncertainly, 'Ok.'

"Please try not to fall,' the trader drawled, ' eet takes far too long to retrieve you. Time..."

"I know," Mervyn sighed. "Time is money."

The trader's focus on money was unnerving Loren again, "But what if a meteor hits me or the pirates return or something?"

The trader stroked a panel beside the door, with a knobbly finger, producing a graphic showing a swirling tunnel of energy tying the trader and the dart together. He 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 trader 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 the problem, "No safety line," her thoughts screamed through the bionet link surgically implanted into their heads -- the best way to communicate in a vacuum. She was right, nothing visible linked the door they stood in to the dart flying alongside.

'Too late to go back now, Loren,' he thought and he could tell by the resigned slump of her shoulders that she knew it too. 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 and reached for his kit-bag. Graphics were fine, but there was no way he was chancing the gravity net until he knew it was really there. He threw the bag over first-- just to make sure. It spun across like a propeller until one of the catchers caught it and dragged it into the dart.

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. A gravity net's spin made it almost impossible to achieve any sort of graceful landing -- he usually ended up in an ungainly heap.

"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.

'We'll go on three,' he said, taking a deep breath and fixing his gaze on the catchers. If only the net was visible it would be less like throwing yourself into oblivion. '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, Mervyn 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, their one link with reality. They spun, like their bags. Mervyn tried to focus on the catchers, but everything whirled into a dizzy blur.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and he crashed to the deck. He 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.

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– Chapter 2 –

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 fastened round a grab-handle. He helped her climb shakily to her feet.

'That wasn't so bad,' she said. But through the curve of her visor, Mervyn caught the green shade of her chima, and knew she was lying.

Before the dart's outer doors even snapped shut, the Trader had already uncoupled the gravity net. Belatedly, after a slow compression, the dart's 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-legs 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.

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 don't think so," Mervyn said.

'It's probably just another stunt by Lord De Monsero. He likes to stir up the people for his own ends - it gives him leverage with the ruling 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 a human one at that. De Monsero hates Outworlders. You also won one of our scholarships and De Monsero has an intense dislike for anything my family does.'

Mervyn grinned, 'I know, I beat his son, Rufus, in the scholarship race. He wasn't best pleased.'

'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 from Ethrigia. 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, as well, 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 towards the prow of the ship.

'A charming character all-round then, this De Monsero,' Loren ventured, she was trying to make conversation. '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.'

Mervyn groaned, now he wished he hadn't rubbed Rufus De Monsero's face in the dirt, even if only figuratively, when he beat him. Perhaps he should have been more gracious in victory – but the guy was so stuck up, and so sure of himself. It wasn't even as if De Monsero, rich as he was, needed the scholarship, he had only competed to win so he could deny someone else the coveted award. He had admitted as much to Mervyn – right before Mervyn punched him to the ground. Best not to mention the tussle to Tarun.

They arrived at the observation room and caught their first glimpse of their new home. The lozenge shaped space liner, Academy One, had arrived in orbit around the planet Ethrigia the previous evening. It looked like any other large space-going vessel, but inside was the most elite school in the Galaxy – well, their corner of it anyway.

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. A traitor to his family: 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 of Academy One. Every craft Mervyn had ever travelled in used view-screens to see the outside world - even in this lavish observation room what looked like windows were in fact view-screens. Academy One was different, every apartment had real windows looking out on to space, and it had the Stardome - the famous, entirely clear dome, allowing a direct view of space from any direction.

Mervyn imagined himself standing in the centre of the bubble surrounded by real space, not like space walking where your view was 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 to Tarun, 'But it's still a risk for you to be friends with me, right?'

Tarun glanced up, startled out of his contemplation 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, scattering shuttles and yachts alike.

'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 in a clipped mechanical voice. 'Mervyn Bright, er... I'm new, I don't know my apartment yet,' he felt self-conscious admitting this to cart.

'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 they were would be more than just living companions. Tarun had explained that he would be living, racing, and working with his syndicate for the rest of his time at the Academy: they would stand or fall together.

'Make your way to the Stardome for the welcome speech, then lunch in the restaurant,' Barros Arovy instructed. As they made their way towards the lift, the Tivolli yacht soared towards the roof of the landing bay. Another immediately replaced it disgorging its payload of students.

Mervyn heard Barros Arovy welcoming the new students. 'Welcome to the Space Academy; we are so pleased to have you as students; I am Barros Arovy.....'

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– Chapter 3 –

'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?' Loren 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. Just the majority of you, Mervyn thought. He could feel the eyes of the other students watching him with distaste or was it just disapproval. He wondered what the other students knew about him.

'There's Rufus De Monsero,' Tarun hissed as a thin dark-haired boy entered the hall. Close behind, like a shadow, followed a blond podgy boy. Rufus ignored them as he paced his way to the back of the hall. He greeted a selection of other pupils as he went then sat down next to the podgy boy in seats reserved by his cronies.

'Who is the blond shadow?' Mervyn asked.

'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. Watch out for him, 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, Tarun among them. Mervyn couldn't think why they should want to show a fellow student such respect, but he followed Tarun's lead – the young aristocrat seemed to know what he was doing.

'That's Aurora,' hissed Tarun, 'she's the Patriarch's Niece -- a right shrew.' Suddenly Mervyn didn't know whether he should sit or remain standing, was he compromising the independence of the Mining Federation by showing respect to the Niece of the Ethrigian Patriarch? It dawned on him that his time at the Space Academy could be riddled with all sorts of political pit-falls.

'Keep well away from Aurora,' Tarun continued, 'she's toxic.'

'Toxic?'

'Her uncle is struggling to hold on to power on Ethrigia – shame because he is a good guy. Anyone seen with Aurora might be mistaken for a supporter. She's as much an outsider here as you are.'

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 he Principal waved vaguely at thin air.

Suddenly, the air beside the Principal began to shimmer and 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 sprouting from its 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, but it was impossible. 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, entranced, except De Monsero who looked bored and studied his fingernails.

'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.' Mervyn had never before thought of the Ethigian social system, of aristocratic houses, as a concept, a bit like a game really that everyone played. He wondered what would happen if enough people decided not to play. Maybe this is how his Father had thought before breaking the Mining Federation away from the Ethrigian Prefecture – now they played their own game.

'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 all four hands at the audience, like a battery of cannons, '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.'

Mervyn wanted to grin as the Principal scurried away from the approaching reptile. He wondered if Al-Zak-Uilin could see the setting and was chasing the Principal around the hillock on purpose or whether it was just a recording.

The President stared round at his spellbound 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 stepped forward and 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.

'Now, I bet you are starving,' the Principal said with relish, as if nothing particularly important had taken place, 'I know I am. So to lunch, and then to your apartments to meet your syndicates, and tomorrow we go straight into the first lessons.' He wheezed his way down the mound, the students standing respectfully until he exited the dome, then everyone stated talking at once.

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– Chapter 4 –

'What do you make of Al-Zak-Uilin?' Mervyn asked as they crowded out of the hall.

Loren grined, 'Big.'

'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 dining 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.'

'Ah, yes,' De Monsero said, as if noticing Mervyn for the first time, 'the fly-boy who won the scholarship race. I owe you a good thrashing, don't I?' Mervyn ignored the comment, but Tarun looked puzzled – he would have to tell about the tussle now.

''Tis not right,' Hidraba blurted, 'shouldn't allow riff-raff 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, Be seeing you Fly-boy.'

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 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, Marvin. It's bad, very bad.'

'Bad?' Mervyn and Loren said together.

'Bad. Syndicate twenty-five is always the first to go.'

'Rubbish,' Mervyn said, 'we'll just have to beat that 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 what you've got yourselves into, 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 per cent in all their projects and exams (if you don't pass you're out), and eighty per cent 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 means...,' 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,' it means no answers. It's already decided – we're toast.'

'Not necessarily,' Mervyn said doing the calculations in his head, 'the other twenty per cent 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 each average a minimum of eighty per cent in our projects and our exams, we'll be in the clear.'

Loren nodded, slowly, '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 liked hard work, 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 5 –

To Mervyn's delight apartment twenty-five was adjacent to the Stardome. The friends crowded through the apartment door. It 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 one end, and three magnificent views of the planet 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 seductively of polish.

'Mmmmm,' Mervyn inhaled. 'What's so wrong with this apartment, it looks fantastic?'

'Other than tiny, we're tucked away at the back of the ship away from all the other syndicates,' Tarun said, a sour look on his face.

'Sounds like an advantage to me,' Loren commented striding to the admire the view of Ethrigia.

'And it's the only one without windows so you have to choose which monotonous views you want to see.'

'You mean these are view-screens?' Loren asked. 'Fantastic! I can do something with these.' In no time at all she had her head inside a maintenance hatch below the central screen – her holdall abandoned on the floor beside her.

'Oh, no,' Tarun sighed spotting a stack of shiny red trunks, next to his tatty vacuum case, by the entrance. '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?' Crests weren't something to which Mervyn paid much attention. He looked but the crest meant nothing to him. He supposed, with all hierarchy the aristocratic families on Ethrigian crest could hold a lot more significance for Tarun. Maybe this was something else he would have to learn.

At Mervyn's blank look Tarun explained 'It's the Agleo coat of arms, the Patriarch's crest,' he signed at Mervyn's continued blank look, 'his niece, Aurora, is our fourth syndicate member. We're doomed.'

'Oh Muon's.'

'Ow,' Loren cracked her head as she hurriedly extracted herself from the maintenance hatch, 'The Patriarch's niece, in our syndicate? You're joking aren't? you' At the sight of Tarun's shaking head she pulled herself back into the machine, muffling her voice, 'Well, 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, though, he doubted it. But today nothing could dampen his spirits, he had made it to the Space Academy – he had fulfilled the first, and for him, the most difficult part of his dream He leaping into the sunken seating area and stretched himself out. 'Wow, leather too.' From now on it was just a matter of hard work.

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. Most luxurious of all, it had roof space. Wondrously, Mervyn reached up with his hand and failed to touch the ceiling – never in his entire life had he seen a bedroom with such high ceilings, what a criminal waste of space.

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. Here he had not only a bed, but his own wardrobe and a desk, and for the first time in his life, a private bathroom.

Quickly, Mervyn unpacked and stuffed everything into the wardrobe. His single spare uniform hung on its solitary hanger, emphasising the poorness of its owner, and waiting limply for night when it's twin would join it. like.

Tarun may think their apartment tiny by Ethrigian standards, but compared to what Mervyn had experienced on Starlight it was a palace.

He 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 year's Galactic championships. He and Loren were big Jensis fans, in fact they were big fans of anything to do with sledding; Mervyn's dream was to win the Galactic Championships, an ambition towards which the Space Academy was an important stepping- stone.

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 into the common room to find Aurora standing indignantly beside her luggage.

'Look what they've done to my luggage! They've ruined it!' Tarun had also come running. They stared at the neat stack 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 out soon.

'You're not staying?' Tarun asked.

'I am not spending even a single day with Outworld low-lifes,' Aurora replied, 'what do you think that would do to my reputation?'

'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, chuckling to himself and retreating towards his room, which seemed the safest place for the moment. Being called an Outworlder was bad enough, but a low life Outworlder was beyond bearing.

Suddenly, Aurora appeared in the doorway of her room, looking haughty, but strikingly handsome.

'You,' she cried, striding over to Loren's sprawled form, head still hidden inside the service hatch of the viewscreens.

This is going to be good, Mervyn thought, peering out from his room. He made no attempt to intervene, knowing Loren could look after herself.

'Hey. You,' Aurora kicked the souls of Loren's boots.

Loren slowly slid out from the guts of the machine, but made no attempt to rise from the floor. She brandished a screwdriver in her right hand. First, she stared at Aurora's boots, then slowly raised her eyes until she met Aurora's gaze.

Mervyn clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing. Loren was staring at Aurora in open disgust, like a handful of dirty grease she'd pulled from the machine.

Aurora stepped back in alarm, as if Loren had struck her.

'What do you want?' Lorne rasped, glaring even harder.

Aurora stuck her nose in the air and inhaled deeply, 'A lock on my trunk is stuck. Fix it.'

Loren leaped to straight to her feet, like an obedient servant, 'Oh, is that all, no problem, your Highness.' Aurora visibly relaxed, until Loren thrust the screwdriver into her hand. Aurora stared at the screwdriver like it was contagious, then stared back at Loren, not comprehending what was happening.

A very brief smile flicked across Loren's face, then the frown returned, 'Hi, I'm an Outworld Low-life. Fix it yourself.' Loren snatched up her kit bag and stalked to the unclaimed room, slamming the door behind her.

Aurora closed her open mouth, 'Well. I have never....' Then she stared at the screwdriver in her hand, 'Tarun!'

Mervyn closed his study door quietly, and gave in to the waves of laughter bubbling up inside.

After a moment, Loren's voice sounded through his biolink, he could tell she was laughing too, 'What did you think?'

'Priceless. The look of disgust on your face was absolutely priceless. She reacted like you'd hit her.'

'You don't think I might have over done it?'

Mervyn grinned, 'I don't think she'd have noticed if you'd been more subtle.'

'I nearly lost it when I thrust the screwdriver into her hand and she looked at it like a dead rat.

'Absolutely priceless,' Mervyn repeated, 'I can't wait to see who replaces her.'

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

– Chapter 6 –

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.'

'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.'

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

– Chapter 7 –

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.

'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?'

'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 metallic green 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 – it's programmed to respond to movement.

The bug's wings twitched, then began to vibrate as it lifted nimbly into the air. It buzzed slowly round the room, those malevolent green eyes searching steadily for movement.

'Now wave your hand,' Tarun instructed.

The moment Mervyn began to move, the buzzing Skitterbug banked and dived straight towards his hand.

'Ow,' the bug ricoched off Mervyns hand, leaving it stinging, then circled round and came at him again. He ducked his head and it thudded into his skull, 'Ow.'

Loren tried to cover her laugh with a hand, but the bug spotted her. 'No, not me. Get away. Ow.' Now it was Mervyn's turn to laugh.

Someone pounded on the door, 'Less noise please, we're trying to have a serious discussion out here.' Aurora thrust the door open and stuck her head through.

Tarun killed the bug, snatched it out of the air, and hid it behind his back, 'S... s... sorry.' He spluttered. Aurora glared at each of her team-mates, unsuccessfully trying to suppress their giggles.

Somehow, Aurora's disapproval just made it worse. Mervyn could feel his shoulder's shaking and tears stinging his eyes as he tried to hold his breath.

'Blah ha ha ha ha,' he roared pointing at Aurora's poker face, unable to contain his laughter any longer.

Aurora slammed the door shut and the three friends dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

Some while later, Mervyn managed to calm his heaving chest. 'Wow. Mega,' he panted, wiping the tears from his eye. Chrissie would have loved this, Mervyn thought, sobering up fast. But his sister was far away on the Starlight asteroid with the rest of the family. He had deliberately exiled himself, cut himself off from them to pursue his single-minded dream. He missed them, but there was no way back. He sighed heavily.

'Great, Tarun,' Loren grinned, 'how does it work?'

'Work?' Mervyn groaned, 'who cares how it works. Let's just use it.' He snatched the Skitterbug from Tarun and moved towards the door.

'Wait!' Loren stepped across the room and threw her weight against the door, 'that thing hurts. I think it should make low passes rather than actually hit anyone.'

Mervyn glared at her with those piercing eyes, 'Let's just get on with it.'

'I know you, Mervyn Bright. I've known you most of my life, and I know what you're like when you are in a mood.

'I'm not in a mood - I'm happy, I'm laughing.'

'You were happy, now you're brooding.'

'Just get out of my way.'

'See - you're brooding.' She turned to Tarun, 'When he's like this you can't get him to listen to reason. His Father's the same.'

'I am not like my Father,' Mervyn snarled and tried to shove Loren out of the way, but she stood firm.

'Bruising could be used as evidence against us,' she insisted, still talking to Tarun. 'Make the change!'

'Agreed,' Tarun said and his eyes glazed momentarily as he reprogrammed the Skitterbug. 'Ok, do it.'

Loren moved away from the study door and let Mervyn silently opened it just enough to push his fist through the crack. Fleetingly, he felt a bit guilty, then he remembered how important the race was to the Jensis team and opened his hand. The Skitterbug lifted quietly into the air in the common room. Mervyn closed and locked the door.

For a few minutes there was silence. Then an hysterical scream rent the air from the main room. The friends grinned.

More screams followed; shouts, scuffles, then stampeding feet. Someone tried the door, then pounded frantically on the other side.

'Tarun. Tarun, there's something out here,' Aurora shouted. Then she screamed and Mervyn could picture the Skitterbug diving towards her and his brooding mood suddenly lifted.'

A moment later she was back, 'Tarun. Help!'

'What are 'The Girls' playing at now, your Grace?' Tarun shouted back, grinning to the others. Loren stifled another giggle.

'It's a bug, Tarun. Look out, Sinita, it's coming your way. Duck!'

'I'm sure you can deal with an incy-wincy bug, Aurora,' Loren shouted through the door.

Pandemonium reigned in the common room of apartment twenty-five.

'It's huge. You've got to help us.'

'Oh, ok, I'm coming out,' Tarun shouted stifling another laugh with his hand. 'Straight faces guys.'

Tarun rushed out into the common room to a scene of utter confusion. Girls, mostly in various shades of pink, ran and dived in every direction, screaming hysterically.

Loren made to push her way out the study door, but Mervyn caught her shoulder, 'Thanks.'

'I know,' she replied seriously, before they both leaped into the confusion.

'Tarun, Loren, see if you can distract it. Everyone else, leave the room!' Mervyn ordered above the din. He stood by the viewscreens and waved frantically. The bug dutifully flew towards him. Tarun opened the apartment door and held it for 'The Girls' to make their escape. They bolted and piled into the corridor.

'Best if you all go back to your own rooms,' Tarun shouted after them. 'This could take a while.' He slammed the door shut behind Aurora.

Loren ducked as the bug plunged furiously towards her, 'You can turn it off now, Tarun. The race is about to stat.'

The trio settled in front 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 calmly on the sofa, 'What's happening? Did you get 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 gushed, 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 laughed, 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 8 –

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, like a demented jack-in-a-box. 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 jumped nimbly out of the sled and strutted around, like a peacock on heat. 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 to impress the girls. Mervyn decided right there that he didn't trust Cage at all.

'This, is a Mark-three formula-two racing sled,' Cage said, patting the sled. 'Together, we are going to learn to fly this baby, and survive the experience.' He swaggered around round again, '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, 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, are endlessly inventive, and viciously destructive. 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 its relevance to his life – he belonged wherever his family and friends lived. He was from Starlight, which was all that mattered.

When he had finished showing off, 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.

He 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 remembered the first time he sat in his old, smashed up, formula three sled, wondering if it would ever fly. He had purchased it for virtually nothing from a scrap yard where it has lain undiscovered for years. With the help of Loren and her Uncle Tom, they had stripped it down to its chasse and begun the arduous task of rebuilding every single part.

What had started out as a hobby turned into an obsession. For two years they spend every spare moment, and every penny they could earn rebuilding and renewing the sled. The experience meant he knew the sled intimately, and he knew just how to set it up to gain the maximum from any course.

Getting the sled tested and certificated as space-worthy was by far the most expensive part of the project. Loren's interest didn't extend much beyond getting the sled certificated and selling it on to repay the loans. She grudgingly allowed Mervyn to fly it, 'Just the once.'

The first time he felt the acceleration from the sled's refurbished engines, Mervyn acquired a new obsession: racing. Hammering out an agreement took a while, and not without a lot of adult intervention from Uncle Tom. Eventually, they agreed a fifty-fifty split on prize money and the sled to be sold if Mervyn won no raced in the first half year.

Two years and plenty of prizes later they were still racing. It wouldn't have mattered if they never won anything: with Loren as mechanic and Mervyn as lead pilot, it only took two races for the pair to be smitten on the whole race scene. Somehow, they never seemed to make a profit, all the prize money went straight back into preparations for the next race or the next season.

Despite his faithful sled being his ticket to the Space Academy, and a career boost he once could only have imagined in his wildest dreams, he still missed it. This Academy owned Formula two sled would never replace his dear old Marmaduke.

Tarun's friend ,Jenny, poking her head through the open hatch, 'Hurry up Mervyn. Stop daydreaming, it's my turn next!'

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. To Mervyn's annoyance Cage grinned impishly at him, as if he could read Mervyn's mind.

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.

Cage led them away to the sled simulators. Mervyn wasn't the only one who looked wistfully back at the sled. He caught both De Monsero and Aurora taking final peaks at the graceful flying machine as the lift doors closed on the shuttle bay.

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.

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

– Chapter 9 –

The sled assumed a launch position: the front foils and triangular wings slid into the fuselage, until the sled resembled little more than a dart. A viewscreen showed the graphic of a virtual sled being lifted into the launch tube by a crane, like a torpedo. The simulator swung and bumped realistically as the crane settled the virtual sled into the tube. A clang confirmed the virtual blast door had closed.

At the far end of the virtual launch tube, Mervyn could see virtual stars. He sighed, remembering previous races in formula-three sleds, standing starts were his speciality. All those pole-position get-aways from the grid were a thing of the past, an advantage he could no longer rely on. 'Eat my dust,' he had snarled in the scholarship race as he rocketed straight into the lead past De Monsero's sled. It was all just a matter of knowing your sled so well you could control it like an extension of your own body, without even having to think about it, like running.

'Make sure you are strapped in, please,' Cage said.

Mervyn checked the standard four part safety harness already fastened at his waist. 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. Maurice was a nice enough lad, but hopeless at most things – old family, not at the centre of power, certainly not here on merit. From his comment, Mervyn guessed Cage had a visual feed to 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, 'sled six to tower, we are ready for launch.'

'Tower to sled six. Cleared to launch on my command,' Cage replied formally.

'The word, Maurice is 'Affirmative.' Cage sighed, accidently leaving the sled six channel open. 'Yes, I know you are ready, but when you are ready you still have to say 'Affirmative. Just 'Affirmative' will do. Thank you Jenny.' Mervyn chuckled to himself and the open channel snapped off abruptly.

He waited nervously while sleds one to five launched in succession. Soon it would be his turn. He steadied his breathing - anticipation or anxiety? He didn't know this sled at all well – it was so clunky and unfamiliar - like a stranger. He wondered how many hours of practice it would take until every aspect of the sled's controls became second nature. A lot, and then they would only be on first name terms.

'Tower to sled six, you are go,' Cage intoned dramatically.

Mervyn hit the launch button and his world turned upside-down: 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 the taste of bile in his throat made it feel real enough.

The spinning sled cleared the launch tube with a whoosh of escaping air. With a jolt the engines ignited, and Mervyn remembered to jam his finger onto the 'foils in/out' button. The foils snapped open, the stabiliser jets cut in, and the sled stopped spinning.

He 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. It looked easy.

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. So much more power and those front fins, 'How can anyone navigate a gas cloud without flipping us stern over bow?' he complained loudly to Loren, who just laughed at him. But he managed it

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 a sharp turn towards gate four.

Desperately, he tried to straighten the sled, then decided to cut his losses and give gate four a miss, taking a short-cut to five instead.

'That's cheating,' Loren called from the back, 'but she sounded more amused than annoyed.'

'I'll worry about the rules once I've learned to fly this thing,' Mervyn snapped, steering perfectly through gate five. Now where was gate six?

Suddenly Loren called a warning from her navigation panel, 'Meteor shower.'

'I see it,' he glided safely over meteor field then spotted gate six. It sat right in the middle of an asteroid belt. This was going to be tricky.

'You're going in too fast,' Loren warned.

'I need the power to slingshot round that first asteroid,' he said as he slid sideways through the gate. It was a manoeuvre he'd managed several times in his Formula-three sled, 'Just trust me.'

With a gut wrenching jolt, the sled careered into the asteroid, throwing Mervyn against the restraints. Without warning his seat pressed in from all sides, closing around him like a clam. Clouds of steam poured into the cockpit and the main lights died, leaving only the dim red glow of emergency lights. '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 called calmly from behind him, 'you crashed your first Formula-two 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,' he chortled.

Fleetingly, he wondered if he shouldn't have hung onto his old Formula –three sled, but instantly dismissed the idea. The only way he could possibly afford living expenses for the first year of Space Academy was to sell his trusted sled, though, he did begin to doubt his ability to fund the rest of his Academy years with prize money from races – it had seemed like a good plan at the time.

'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.

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

– Chapter 10 –

'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. Whereas 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 11 –

'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.

'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 its 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 show 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, more a shouted exchange, really – they had stopped actually talking a long time ago.

'No, Mervyn,' his father had 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.'

'No way. 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,' he said with an effort. '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, besides, the Ethrigians didn't have a price on her father's head.

'I need to win the racing scholarship – it's my only chance.'

'It's a trap,' his father replied, carefully sitting down as he struggled 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. Which I, of course, I will.'

Mervyn waved the communique 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 from the sidelines. 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, get it out of his system, 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, sitting opposite his Father. The tide was turning 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 miraculously 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 he had no intention of returning to face his Father. Instead, he sold his beloved sled and purchased his own passage direct to the Space Academy. He would face his father's wrath later. Maybe.

Mervyn shuddered, if only he could turn back time and unsay the things he had said, maybe he should have taken the time to work out a proper deal with his Father.

He sighed and 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. He was relieved to have found his mother and his sisters among the survivors, and Loren's Aunts, Uncles and cousins, but there was no trace of his 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 as they stood outside Mervyn's house. 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.' Aurora said wistfull, 'I would have given anything for a happy home.

Mervyn immediately regretted his aggression.'

He 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 and someone shot him afterwards.'

'You sure?' Mervyn asked.

'Of course, his body would have been sucked out when the roof went otherwise. If he survived, it's a fair bet others did too.''

'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. Someone put up quite a struggle here.'

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

– Chapter 12 –

'Any recordings, Loren?'

'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, most of which seemed to require a lot of sitting around watching graphs on screens. She scanned for the start of the attack.

'That must be it,' Mervyn said, pointing out his Father as the crew on the screen ran for the secure room. Moments later every alarm in the place went off. Then chairs, cups, pens, and magazines shot upwards, in fact, anything not screwed down disappeared from view. A lunch box bounced off the camera on is way out.

'There goes the dome,' Loren skipped the recording forwards until the crew emerged again silently and fully clothed in space suits. No air meant no sound, and with the air would have gone all the heat. The cosy control room had suddenly become a hostile environment, requiring full survival suits.

Mr Bright crossed to a cabinet, unlocked the door and started handing out photon blasters. He handed out half the weapons, though, a quick glance confirm the still open weapons locker was now stripped bare.

The crew took up defensive positions round control and waited. After what seemed like ages, to the watchers and must have seemed much longer to the defenders, everyone suddenly started shooting at targets off screen.

Mervyn thumped the console in frustration, 'Is there any footage from camera's covering the entrance? I want to see who they're fighting.'

Loren paused the battle and scrabbled through the ruin of the console, 'Sorry, Merv, these are the only images that survived the conflict.' Without waiting for his comments, she restarted the battle.

The watchers gasped as a blast threw his Mervyn's Father across the room.

'Oh Mervin,' Aurora grasped his arm. In shock or to comfort him? This seemed out of character for the feisty Aurora, maybe there was a softer side to her they were yet to see. Then Mervyn felt guilty, his attention should be on his Father not on trying to figure out Aurora.

Mr Bright lay quite still as the battle raged around him, then, ever so slowly, he clambered to his feet apparently dazed, but otherwise unhurt. Mervyn sighed in relief and Aurora released her grip on his arm.

The fight soon ended: the defenders fell back to the secure room, then threw down their weapons in surrender. Mervyn didn't know what he should feel - in one sense he should be pleased his father had survived, but in another way he felt ashamed they had lost the battle. If he were honest, he just felt an overwhelming numbness at the who situation. Perhaps it was too soon to feel individual emotions.

'Now we'll see who they are,' Loren watched the screen intently. A grey suited figure edged through the main door and pointed a blaster at the camera. Suddenly, the screen blinked out.

'Hey, what happened?' Mervyn demanded.

'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?'

Tarun waved them to silence, 'Shh, I heard something.'

Mervyn made for the door, 'It must be the Principal. We'd better go.' He didn't want to be caught rummaging through a crime scene before the real investigators had a chance to lock the area down.

'A noise. It sounded mechanical. Over here.' Loren followed the line of Tarun's finger, then tiptoed towards the secure room, which is a manoeuvre hard to achieve in a full spacesuit. She peered cautiously through the door, then screamed as something suddenly shot out the room, clunked off her helmet, and whizzed past, 'What was that?'

Mervyn recognised it immediately, 'A spybot,' he shouted. 'Don't let it get way! It can't go far unless it connects with the delivery rocket.'

The friends 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 shattered roof. 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?'

Tarun shrugged, 'To see whether they got away with their raid.'

'It certainly reacted to something we said,' Loren offered, 'I guess whoever raided Starlight will shortly know we're on to them.' They watched the rocket as is streaked away. 'If only we knew where it was headed.'

'Don't give up yet,' Aurora called, 'there's a sled right in its path.' Mervyn tagged the sled first.

'What do you want, Bright?' Mervyn's heart sank. Of all the people who could have been in that sled, why did it have to be De Monsero. He was tempted to say 'Nothing ,' but you never knew your luck until you actually tried something. So he gave it shot, even though he was pretty sure of the outcome.

'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,' he could clearly see the rocket's trail streaking towards De Monsero's sled.

'Nothing 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, Bright.'

'But you must see it, De Monsero,' Mervyn shouted in frustration, 'it's practically on top of you.'

'Are you calling me a liar, Bright? Because if you're calling me a liar there will be consequences.' Mervyn punched the wall in frustration, 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 Stubbornly on station as 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, an invisible rocket. I'm surprised you felt it, you.....' Mervyn cut the connection before De Monsero could hear what he thought of him. He didn't really care whether De Monsero heard or not, but insulting the heir of a great house on an open channel was sure to bring trouble for his friends.

'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 13 –

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.'

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

– Chapter 14 –

'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 Monsero's shot; then he Swatted the ball as hard as he could. The orange streak sizzled past De Monsero's 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.

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

– Chapter 15 –

Mervyn jumped 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,'Aurorasaid, 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,'Aurorasaid. '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 withAurora. '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 atAurora, '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 16 –

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.

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

– Chapter 17 –

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, evenAurora. 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.

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

Thank you for reading Helium3.0, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The adventure continues in the next book, Helium3.1, which can be purchased from http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31835 for $0.99.

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 started to learn how to write a novel – this one.

