by B. J. Keeton
“Oh, well, okay,” he said. “And Professor?”
“Mmm hmm?”
“Swarley showed me a holovid last night. These people in it, they had swords like the one the headmaster had.” Ceril gulped, unsure if he should continue. “Like the one that I—”
Again, Nephil cut him off. “The incidents over the summer, Ceril, have nothing to do with the Charons. Or more accurately, they have nothing to do with the Charons as you will learn about them and become a part of. Do you remember how the headmaster mentioned the old civil war? The one that preceded the construction of this school?”
Ceril nodded.
“Well, the people who lost that war have apparently made their way back to Erlon. And they don’t really like the way we do things around here.”
Chapter Four
Ceril opened his eyes. It was dark. He rolled over, pulled the blanket over his shoulder, and tucked it beneath his chin. Dark was good. It meant there was still time for sleep. Ceril rolled over and tried to clear his mind. He wasn’t surprised at being unable to sleep; he was irritated by it. He stared out the window and looked at the stars. The constellations at Ennd’s were different from the ones in Ternia, and he never got used to the change. He watched them slowly drift across the window and eventually felt himself doze off.
When he opened his eyes again, it was still dark. The constellations had moved, but not much. He must not have made it all the way to sleep. He felt himself doze off again, and once again, he woke up with it still dark outside. Time seemed to crawl for Ceril that night, and his body ached from the tossing and turning he had been doing.
By the time his alarm sounded just past dawn, he was already fully awake. He had been for hours. Ceril grabbed the clothes he had worn for Presentation yesterday—Nephil had not given him instructions on how to dress, but he figured he couldn’t go wrong with his dress uniform—and ran to the shower with high hopes that the hot water would ease the ache in his neck and back.
As he left the dormitory, Ceril looked at Swarley’s side of the room. He hadn’t been at home when Ceril had finally made it back, and with his insomnia, Ceril was sure to have noticed him coming in late. There was a curfew for students, and Ceril was worried that Swarley was going to be in trouble for breaking it. More than that, though, he hoped to have a chance to say goodbye to his friend before being ushered off into whatever Phase the Charon recruits got into. Neither the headmaster nor Professor Nephil had given him any solid answer on what was coming next. For all he knew, he would be staying here with Swarley after his orientation period. But he wanted to say goodbye if that wasn’t the case.
After a long shower that did surprisingly ease his muscle aches, Ceril returned to his dorm and found Swarley asleep in his bed, face down and fully clothed. He must have been up all night, too.
“Swarley?” he said. His roommate didn’t stir. If he had been up all night, Ceril thought he should just leave him alone and let him rest. There were still three hours before normal Phase II classes started, and he figured that Swarley would appreciate every unconscious minute of them. Ceril gave his side of the room a last once over and gently placed the one picture that he had of himself and Gramps in the middle of the largest bag so it would be protected. He zipped up the bag.
Nephil had told Ceril that his belongings would be taken care of as long as he had them packed away, so Ceril closed the closet door as quietly as he could and headed to meet everyone in front of the Library.
“Bye, Swarley,” he said. “I’ll see you…sometime, man. I hope I get a chance to tell you about all of this soon. I doubt you’ll believe me anyway.” He waited for a response, for any kind of signal that would start a conversation, but the most he got was a muffled snore. He smiled and left the room.
Professor Nephil had given him three specific orders regarding this morning. The first was to shower and make sure he was clean. He didn’t mention clothing, but he had mentioned a shower specifically. The second was to meet at the Library door as soon as possible after his shower. He indicated to Ceril that he must be there two hours earlier than he had been to Presentation.
The third order was the oddest. “Do not, Ceril,” Professor Nephil had said, “eat any breakfast in the morning. Eat what you want before you go to bed, but please, eat nothing in the morning once you wake up. It just makes things easier for us all.” Ceril wasn’t hungry, so he had no trouble fasting. However, he did wonder why he had been asked to.
The halls of Phase II were empty as he made his way to the Library. He had expected as much. No students in their right minds would be out and about this early unless they had to be.
When Ceril arrived at the Library door, no one was there. He opened the door a crack to peek in and to see if Professor Nephil was waiting inside.
He wasn’t.
Ceril did see, though, that the ramped cylinder of the Phase II Library was bustling today—unlike yesterday. Instead of students standing rigidly at attention having interviews, he saw faculty whipping past one another in a frenzy. Despite the chasm in the middle, they seemed to take no precautions not to fall as they darted around each other to get to the shelf space they needed. He gasped when he saw one gaunt young professor, whom he had never seen, take a leap into the empty air in the middle of the room. To his surprise, she bounced across the chasm to the other side as though she were hopping from one side of a fluffy mattress to the other.
As he watched in amazement, a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Ceril jerked backward and hit his head on the door he had been peeking through. He let go of the door to rub his probably-bruised head, and the Library once again sealed itself off from the rest of Ennd's with a thud-hiss. When Ceril turned, he saw that the hand belonged to Professor Nephil. Instead of the black dress robes from the day before, he was dressed in slacks and a long shirt that flared out at the waist and ended about a quarter of the way down his legs. The cut of the shirt was not flattering because of Nephil’s overweight midsection.
“I guess I’m overdressed?” Ceril asked. The formality that Professor Nephil had inspired in Ceril since their first meeting dissipated as he looked at the teacher's casual outfit.
Nephil nodded. “Indeed. But it shouldn't matter. If you need to change, you will be given new clothes. I am not sure what Roman has planned for you all.”
“Roman? Didn’t Headmaster Squalt mention him yesterday?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Nephil said.
“And what do you mean by you all?” Ceril asked. “Nobody else is here yet. How many of us are there?”
“Two dozen total. Though I bet a quarter of you will not make it through the classroom orientation and half of those who do will surely not make it through the physical portion.”
“Twenty-four? Out of how many Phase II students?”
“Thirteen hundred thirty-seven from Ennd’s alone, of which you are this institution’s only candidate.”
“What do you mean?”
Nephil said, “Ennd’s Academy is not the only school on Erlon, Ceril. While we do have a few students from Yagh and Ferran here at Ennd’s, parents in many provinces prefer their children not to attend school half a world away. To accommodate that, the Charons have set up similar institutions in Bester, Yagh, and Ferran, from which we can recruit.”
Ceril smirked. He liked being part of such an elite group, even if it wasn't what he actually wanted to study or do with his life. He'd never really been special before, except to Gramps. But being the only recruit from Ennd’s? A single student out of over a thousand?
Nephil noticed the pride. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ceril. This is only the beginning. The odds are stacked against you actually making it into the program.”
“And what happens if I don't?” Ceril asked.
“You will be placed back into the general population of the academy to study whatever subject you wish. I believe you had mentioned agriculture.”
“So as big a secret as you and Headmaster Squalt ma
de this out to be yesterday, I get to go back to my daily life like none of this ever happened. And you expect me to keep the secret that the Charons use Ennd’s as a home base? That they’re—we’re? You’re?—not just legends and myths?”
“Hardly. If that were the case, you would remember none of this. Not a word or a second. All you would recall is having a very pleasant talk with the headmaster at Presentation where you told him that you wanted to study agriculture to help your grandfather in Ternia. You would remember him agreeing and placing you in an accelerated agriculture program, where you would finish your studies in half the time of non-accelerated students. After that, well, I’m sure you would go back to Ternia and make use of what you learned here.”
“But how is that possible?” Ceril asked. “You’d��brainwash me?”
“Nothing quite so pedestrian, Ceril. You’ve been watching far too many holovids, I think. I’m sure that your classroom instruction will enlighten you to the finer points of Charonic technology and procedures,” Professor Nephil said.
The Library door opened and attracted both of their attentions. A large man came out of the door. He wasn’t fat or even overweight, but he stood almost a head taller than Professor Nephil. He wore a tunic that matched Nephil’s, except instead of a drab grey, the large man’s was a metallic blue and was embroidered with a symbol Ceril couldn’t quite make out—maybe a feather. Ceril had never seen anyone with such large muscles before, and he couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need muscles like that. Ceril could barely see behind him, but he was certain that what he glimpsed was not the Phase II Library.
“And here he is, Ceril. I'd like to introduce you to Roman Beckins. You two will get to know each other quite well, I expect.” Nephil nodded at Roman, who returned the gesture. “How are you, old friend?”
“I've been better, Lim. These new recruits you've got me are a hell of a group, I'll tell you that. But I don't think we'll be having much more success than usual with them, and that’s a shame given all that’s going on right now. Is this Ceril?” He gestured at Ceril with his thumb and a cocked eyebrow.
“I am,” Ceril said before Nephil had the opportunity. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”
Roman's gaze went back to Nephil. “Polite. I like that. Not at all like his granddad. But we'll see how he does.” He turned back to Ceril and reached to shake the young man's hand. Roman’s hand was easily three times the size of Ceril’s. “It's nice to meet you, too, Ceril,” he said. “If you'll follow me, we'll get you oriented to your new life.”
New life? Ceril thought.
“I'll see you around, Roman,” Nephil said. Roman waved and then reached for the door. It opened without a catch, but this time, instead of showing the Phase II Library, Ceril was ushered into a windowless, unfurnished metal room, filled with what had to be twenty-three other students. The other Recruits.
Roman patted Ceril on the shoulder and made his way through the throng of bodies. He waved his hand, and the floor rumbled under their feet. Ceril thought for a moment that it was going to give way. Instead, Roman was lifted a few feet into the air so that he was plainly visible to everyone in the room, even those in the back.
“Welcome,” he said, “to your new lives. I'm not going to waste my time or yours by going over basic information that you are all going to get during your classroom instruction. You will learn anything you need to know precisely when it becomes necessary for you to know it. Like right now, for instance, you are here to learn your way around.”
Roman waved his hand again, and the wall behind him disappeared. It did not gently fade out, nor did it flicker and disappear like most holograms. It was there one moment, and the next, the students were staring into an unobstructed view of the stars. If Ceril hadn’t been standing upright, he would have sworn that he was lying on his back looking up at the night sky. He heard murmurs and gasps from the students around him. Some of them took instinctive steps backward, Ceril included. Even before yesterday’s interview with the headmaster, Ceril was used to holograms. Despite Gramps' tendency to keep any tech of the kind out of the house and away from his grandson, Ennd's more than kept him up-to-date on holovids from the ‘Nets. But no amount of streaming video could have prepared him for what Roman had just done. It might as well have been magic.
The magic didn’t stop there. Roman turned his back to the students and the remaining three walls, the floor, and the ceiling disappeared, too. Now, everyone was just floating in a sea of stars in all directions. There was no up, no down, and no point of reference for anything except for each other.
Ceril’s throat tightened up, and it wouldn’t let him vocalize his fear. Some of the others didn’t have that problem. He heard a couple of outright screams, a few whimpers, and maybe even a sob. Ceril looked around frantically for anything to hold onto. He reached for the tall, gangly boy beside him, but let go just as quickly as the boy doubled over and vomited into the void.
Two thoughts about that came to Ceril. The first of which was that he now understood why Professor Nephil had forbidden him from eating breakfast. Ceril was glad he listened, unlike someone else. The second was that the vomit did not land on the floor. He felt completely stable, and apparently, all of the other students did, too. No one had flown off into space just yet, at least. Even though, Ceril thought, they probably should have. He couldn’t explain why they hadn’t.
If the room disappearing had been an illusion or a hologram, the boy’s vomit would have still pooled up on the floor. It hadn’t. It just kept…falling?…into space until it was completely out of view.
What the hell is going on? Ceril thought. What have I gotten myself into?
Roman’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Let me be the first to officially welcome all of you Recruits aboard the Inkwell Sigil.”
A hand raised in the crowd. A chubby girl Ceril didn’t know asked, “What's an Inkwell Sigil?”
Roman smiled at her. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I get ahead of myself sometimes. The Inkwell Sigil is the name of a spaceship.” He waved into space off to his left. “A spaceship whose most basic function is as a location where we train our Recruits.” Roman swept his arm across the group. “And it will be your home for the next six years.” Roman waited for the students to get their murmurs out before he continued. “Your families will be given cover stories about your education. In a way, they will be told the truth. They will know that you have been selected for an extremely selective boarding program and that the program lasts for six years. I’m sorry to say that your contact will be limited during your tenure here, but that is temporary.”
A boy with a round face spoke up behind Ceril. “I don’t think my Ma will go for that, Mr. Roman.”
Roman smiled, and it was the first time Ceril thought it wasn’t genuine. He said, “She won’t have a choice.” His tone indicated that the matter was closed. He changed the subject before anything else was said. “Right now, we are traveling through hyperspace.”
“What are you talking about?” asked another voice from the crowd. “Hyperspace? Did you just make that up?”
Roman was unperturbed. He was used to that kind of disrespect during these initial moments. This was a lot to take in, so he forgave the kid’s rudeness. “No,” he said. “I didn’t. Hyperspace is pretty easy to understand. Think about it like this. Have you ever rubbed your hands together and felt heat building up? That burning sensation?”
The student said, “Well, yeah.”
“Well, it’s friction doing that. Now, have you ever rubbed your hands together with something between them? Like some water, jelly, anything like that?”
“I guess.”
“Does it make it easier to rub your hands together? Does it stop the burning and make you not blister?”
“I guess.”
“Well, think of that jelly, water, or whatever, as hyperspace. If we were to move through normal space, we’d be slowed down by what you can basically think of as friction. There’s a limi
ting force to how fast we can go without destroying ourselves, kind of like that burning when you run your hands together too fast. However, if we coat ourselves in jelly, so to speak, we can move far more quickly and far more smoothly to where we’re going without burning ourselves up from too much friction. Does that make sense?”
“So we’re in a spaceship that’s covered in jelly?” the student asked.
“It’s not a perfect metaphor,” Roman said.
“It’s a stupid metaphor.”
Roman laughed and said, “I can’t help that. It’s the best I’ve got. Right now, from where we are, you can’t see the hyperspace envelope that surrounds the ship. Once we leave this lobby area, though, you’ll be able to see the envelope through any window or porthole you look out of—a colored blur, some swirling lights, maybe.” He looked at the student who didn’t care for his explanation of hyperspace. “That’s the jelly we’ve got on the ship. Other than that, we are in a completely empty Instance.”
More muttering and whispering started, and Roman let it slide once again. Something didn’t sit right about what Roman just said with Ceril, though.
Then it hit him: why could they see stars? If they were in a completely empty Instance, why were there stars? It just didn’t make sense. And on top of that, if they were in hyperspace because it let them go farther away, faster, and with no damage to the ship, why would they have to be in an empty Instance? Couldn’t they just stay in one place and not worry about hyperspace at all?
Ceril raised his hand to ask, but Roman never acknowledged him. He opened his mouth to speak once the conversation about the jelly on the ship died down a bit, but Roman started in again before he could speak.
