After the Counselor and Carver departed, Josef remained seated behind his desk, frowning at the wall. Finally he turned back to them, his gaze shifting back and forth between the twins, as though he had never seen them before. Or was seeing them differently, a change that was not particularly welcome, but one over which he had no control. Finally he rose to his feet, moving with slow, awkward movements, and held out his hands. “There is something you must see.”
Sean took hold of one massive hand, as much as he could grasp, and Dillon took the other. They transited. And the vista squeezed a gasp from them both.
“Behold the Academy of the Praetorian Guard,” Josef said. He released their hands and took a step back.
They stood upon a broad platform carved from the solid rock of a lone mountain peak. The surface was black and cold and lifeless. Behind them rose a curved arena that could have held several thousand on benches of ancient lava. The speakers’ platform where they stood was massive, larger than a tennis court. An empty dais rose like a black thumb at the center.
Beyond the arena stretched a vista of devastation and ruin.
The Academy itself was impressive enough, a silent fortress shaped from the same black lava. The buildings rose like spears behind a tall, dark wall. It shone in grim repose beneath a sky of slate-grey cloud.
Spreading out in every direction was a realm of ancient doom.
Josef said, “This is Hegemony, Tirian’s and my home world. And this before you is what we must never be allowed to forget. The war that led up to Hegemony entering the galactic empire almost destroyed our planet.”
From their vantage point, Sean could see the ruins of five different cities. They were connected by raised road systems whose remnants clung to the earth in a script of desolation and woe. The cities were crumbling tombstones to a time that was no more.
“There was no shortcut through the horror of war for my planet,” Josef said. “No comfort in the time of mayhem. Our world was divided between those who wished to join the Assembly and those who saw it as a threat to their cherished cultures and an end to their grip on power. The war lasted nineteen years. It ended three hundred and seventeen years ago, the last great war our planetary system has experienced. May it be the last we ever know.”
A breath of acrid wind flicked dust into Sean’s eyes. He wiped his eyes, determined to see everything.
“My world was forced to witness what no civilization should ever glimpse, not even for an instant. We endured the descent into the horror and depravity of the worst that man can do to his own kind. We saw the shadow of our own making. And in the end, we turned away.
“The aftermath was worse than the war in some respects. Generations of broken and bitter folk had no one to blame but themselves. Hatred was the watchword. Life was sold for a penny. For a song.” Josef walked forward so he stood within their field of vision. “I am the result of genetic manipulation, when feuding nations sought to build a better warrior. After the war, my kind was hunted and killed like animals. We reminded the survivors of the horrors they had inflicted upon themselves. We represented powers they could never afford to release again. The only reason a remnant survived was because Hegemony voted to join the Assembly of worlds, and the first Counselor and Ambassador ordered that the purge be halted.”
Josef turned and pointed over at the Academy. “All incoming and graduating classes are gathered here. The opening ceremonies of each new year are held here. As is the anniversary of my world’s granting the Academy this entire province for its training. All take place here. So that we will remember. So that the bitter lessons of Hegemony’s tragic past are kept alive for all time.”
Josef leaned forward to bring his face within breathing distance of their own. Close enough they could see the tension and the fury and the fear. “I need only stand here to know that Examiner Tirian would never, never release the fires of battle on two young men. No matter how much he might despise what you and your outpost world represent—another raw planet full of egotistical leaders who shout of battles yet to be fought, who permit children to suffer and die unnoticed. Tirian would never be one to release what has wreaked such havoc upon his home world. The lessons are too great, the wounds still unhealed. Tirian is many things, and his character is one that invites friction. That too is the legacy of my culture. But he would not do this.”
Dillon’s voice sounded as broken as Sean felt. “It wasn’t Tirian who attacked us.”
“I know this to be true. I have known this before the Counselor brought you to my school. And for this above all else, I count you as my allies.” He held out his hands. “Come.”
When they returned to the office, Sean saw the school through different eyes. The absence of windows, the locked portals, the identical uniforms, the rigidity of their training, the absence of any chance to explore the boundaries of what their talent might do. He did not agree with it. He most certainly did not like it. But for the first time ever, it all made sense.
Sean asked, “What do we do now?”
Josef slipped behind his desk. “To try to save Tirian is the basis for your current tutorial. I am expressly ordered not to participate beyond my role as instructor. I have a school to run, and new Examiners arriving who will seek a reason, any reason, to shut us down. You understand what I am saying?”
“No, no, I am here to give you what I can. But you must see this as an opportunity to explore, to reach, and to grow.” He gave that a beat, then added softly, “Go and save my friend. Please. If you possibly can.”