accompanied humanity everywhere across the stars.
If I was to prosper, or even survive, I had to become a lot smarter.
Unfortunately, becoming smarter isn’t something that happens immediately. I could have done with being very much more intelligent and knowledgeable before my next encounter with the forces that would shape my life, in this case in the person of Prince Huzand, Captain of the Imperial Navy and Commandant of the Kwanantil Domain Naval Academy.
4
T HE TRANSITION FROM the temple to the Naval Academy itself was quickly achieved. We simply followed another plain tunnel drilled through the rock till it ended in a massive armoured door. Two mekbi troopers outside the door came to attention as I approached, and the great slab of metal and Bitek armour cycled open. The corridor on the other side was brilliantly lit and perfectly rectangular, and the bare rock sides were now clad in smooth Bitek panels interspersed with occasional metal plates indicating various access points or emergency equipment storage.
There were four mekbi troopers on this side, who snapped to attention as a bored-looking Prince in cadet uniform with silver epaulettes rose from behind a Bitek desk that had been extruded from the floor. He sketched something in the air that was presumably a salute. I knew from his broadcast that this was Prince Janokh, who was a senior cadet officer, hence the silver epaulettes.
‘You’re six and a half minutes late, Cadet Khemri,’ he said sourly. He looked more closely at me and added, ‘What is that on your face?’
Though I’d wiped it off, the goop had left a bright green stain across half my face, a stain that would need attention from some sort of nanocleanser to remove.
‘Bitek digestive gel,’ I answered. ‘Someone tried to assassinate me on the other side of the temple. I’ll get it cleaned off before I—’ ‘Too late for that,’ said Prince Janokh. ‘The Commandant already ordered you to report at once. Assassination, huh? It looks to me like you just fell in the base recycling swamp.’
‘No, the bridge I was on was destroy—’
‘Save it for your biography,’ interrupted Janokh. ‘And get a move on.’
At the same time, he sent me directions, providing the required path as an illuminated overlay I could call up over my normal vision.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
He didn’t respond, turning back to his desk with studied indifference.
As I hurried along the white corridor, I thought about my first two meetings with other Princes. Both had been surprising, in their own ways. I had not expected to see Princes in such menial tasks as commanding a patrol of mekbi troopers, at least not in person. And I certainly didn’t expect to see a Prince sitting at a desk as a not at all glorified doorkeeper.
Everything I had read or seen about Imperial Princes to date always had them on the bridges of mighty warships, or directing vast enterprises from the centre of a glittering headquarters, surrounded by attentive priests. It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be some intervening stage before even a Prince of the Empire could reach those heights of power.
Perhaps you could call it an awakening of sorts. I was busy thinking about all this as I turned down another equally featureless corridor of white, descended a riser (checking it myself before Haddad could do so), passed another pair of mekbi troopers and another great armoured door, and entered the outer office of the Commandant.
My third encounter with a Prince didn’t make my thoughts about my own future more positive. Another third-year cadet with silver epaulettes, she sat at attention behind an antique (or Bitek reproduction) desk of very shiny mahogany at the far end of the Commandant’s outer office. There was a very long honour board on the wall to the left of her desk, an antique possibly made out of real polished timber rather than a Bitek extrusion. It was headed OUTSTANDING THIRD-YEAR CADET and had names on it
If I was to prosper, or even survive, I had to become a lot smarter.
Unfortunately, becoming smarter isn’t something that happens immediately. I could have done with being very much more intelligent and knowledgeable before my next encounter with the forces that would shape my life, in this case in the person of Prince Huzand, Captain of the Imperial Navy and Commandant of the Kwanantil Domain Naval Academy.
4
T HE TRANSITION FROM the temple to the Naval Academy itself was quickly achieved. We simply followed another plain tunnel drilled through the rock till it ended in a massive armoured door. Two mekbi troopers outside the door came to attention as I approached, and the great slab of metal and Bitek armour cycled open. The corridor on the other side was brilliantly lit and perfectly rectangular, and the bare rock sides were now clad in smooth Bitek panels interspersed with occasional metal plates indicating various access points or emergency equipment storage.
There were four mekbi troopers on this side, who snapped to attention as a bored-looking Prince in cadet uniform with silver epaulettes rose from behind a Bitek desk that had been extruded from the floor. He sketched something in the air that was presumably a salute. I knew from his broadcast that this was Prince Janokh, who was a senior cadet officer, hence the silver epaulettes.
‘You’re six and a half minutes late, Cadet Khemri,’ he said sourly. He looked more closely at me and added, ‘What is that on your face?’
Though I’d wiped it off, the goop had left a bright green stain across half my face, a stain that would need attention from some sort of nanocleanser to remove.
‘Bitek digestive gel,’ I answered. ‘Someone tried to assassinate me on the other side of the temple. I’ll get it cleaned off before I—’ ‘Too late for that,’ said Prince Janokh. ‘The Commandant already ordered you to report at once. Assassination, huh? It looks to me like you just fell in the base recycling swamp.’
‘No, the bridge I was on was destroy—’
‘Save it for your biography,’ interrupted Janokh. ‘And get a move on.’
At the same time, he sent me directions, providing the required path as an illuminated overlay I could call up over my normal vision.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
He didn’t respond, turning back to his desk with studied indifference.
As I hurried along the white corridor, I thought about my first two meetings with other Princes. Both had been surprising, in their own ways. I had not expected to see Princes in such menial tasks as commanding a patrol of mekbi troopers, at least not in person. And I certainly didn’t expect to see a Prince sitting at a desk as a not at all glorified doorkeeper.
Everything I had read or seen about Imperial Princes to date always had them on the bridges of mighty warships, or directing vast enterprises from the centre of a glittering headquarters, surrounded by attentive priests. It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be some intervening stage before even a Prince of the Empire could reach those heights of power.
Perhaps you could call it an awakening of sorts. I was busy thinking about all this as I turned down another equally featureless corridor of white, descended a riser (checking it myself before Haddad could do so), passed another pair of mekbi troopers and another great armoured door, and entered the outer office of the Commandant.
My third encounter with a Prince didn’t make my thoughts about my own future more positive. Another third-year cadet with silver epaulettes, she sat at attention behind an antique (or Bitek reproduction) desk of very shiny mahogany at the far end of the Commandant’s outer office. There was a very long honour board on the wall to the left of her desk, an antique possibly made out of real polished timber rather than a Bitek extrusion. It was headed OUTSTANDING THIRD-YEAR CADET and had names on it
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