Commencement
In the year 325 ASC on the Imperial calendar of the Skolian Imperialate, the year 2228 A.D. on Earth, the Dieshan Military Academy graduated its three hundred fifteenth class. The graduates included a tall, gold man—Althor Izam-Na Valdoria kya Skolia, Im’Rhon to the Rhon of the Skolias.
The graduation took place on a windy day in the quadrangle before the arches and columns of the academy. Students sat in chairs set up on the plaza, an area paved with glittering white flagstones and a tiled image of the J-Forces insignia two meters in diameter, a soaring Jag in white, silver, and black. The sun beat down on the assembled crowd, and chimes hanging in the eaves of the academy building clattered in the breezes.
Families and friends watched from risers bordering the plaza. Soz sat with her mother, her brother Eldrin, and his son Taquinil. Eldrin seemed unusually serene today, probably because he was with his son. His peace of mind calmed Soz and shielded Taquinil. Her brother Denric, her sister Aniece, and her youngest brother Kelric sat on the riser below them, restless with excitement on this world they had never before visited. Del-Kurj and Chaniece had stayed on Lyshriol to look after Dalvador, and Vyrl and Lily hadn’t been able to come either, with the demands of their farm and children, and Vyrl preparing for his university exams. But the family members on Lyshriol could experience the graduation in a virtual reality broadcast, using mesh links Brad had set up for them in the castle.
For the graduation, DMA had erected a stage at the front of the plaza facing the cadets. Kurj sat in a high-backed academy chair, as did Secondary
Tapperhaven, Lieutenant Colonel Stone, and Secondary Foxer. Commandant Blackmoor was at the dichromesh glass podium, speaking to the graduates. The officers made a tableau of strong figures in the sunlight, their uniforms crisp, gold on black, their faces just distant enough that Soz couldn’t read their expressions. Were they proud of the graduates? Certainly. But she sensed regret as well. They were taking the pride of Skolia, the smartest and the fastest, the greatest empaths, and sending them to battle, perhaps to die.
Soz’s aunt, the Ruby Pharaoh, sat in an academy chair next to Kurj. She wore her hair swept onto her head in an elegant roll. Her black jumpsuit had no adornment except the silver insignia of the Imperialate on her chest. The edges of her body rippled, the only indication from this distance that she was a holo, a creation of light sent through Kyle space and projected here by hidden screens. Rumors of hostilities from the Traders became more widespread each day. The Skolian Assembly didn’t want to risk having both members of the Dyad in the same place at the same time, not even on the same planet if possible. So Dehya attended as a virtual simulacrum while she remained on the Orbiter, the governmental center that orbited throughout the Imperialate.
It puzzled Soz that people thought she resembled Dehya. She had even overheard one of her instructors describe her as a robust, sexier version of the pharaoh. Soz just didn’t see it. Dehya’s hair hung straight to her waist, as black as space, whereas Soz’s curled wildly and lightened to gold at the tips. A shimmer overlay Dehya’s eyes, a remnant of the inner eyelids from her father, Soz’s grandfather. Soz had no trace of it. Dehya had an ethereal quality; Soz felt more like the mythical bull-dragon. Personally, she thought Dehya resembled Shannon. Although he was a Blue Dale Archer rather than a Raylican noble, his face had that otherworldly beauty Soz associated with her aunt.
When it came to intellect, Dehya left her in the metaphorical dust. As an unusually sensitive Rhon psion, Dehya had a brain full of extra neural structures, intricate and convoluted. Psions tended to be smart, but Dehya was in a class with no one except her son Taquinil. Legend claimed the Ruby Pharaoh’s mind had gone beyond human. Soz thought it an annoying statement; the pharaoh was human, so how could her mind go beyond
itself? Dehya made mistakes like everyone else, forgot where she put her light-stylus, misread moods, became absentminded. But she learned tremendously faster than other people and at an unusually abstract level, especially now with all her biomech enhancements. The few times Soz had pitched wits with her, Dehya had left her so far behind, Soz had felt like a wind had blasted by her mind.
The Ruby Pharaoh ruled through the meshes. Dehya spread her mind throughout the webs of humanity until she became the mind of Skolia. And reign she did, regardless of what the Assembly claimed. Soz doubted Eldrin had any true sense of how far his wife’s influence extended or how deep it went. If he cared that he was consort to one of the most powerful human beings in the history of the human race, he gave no sign.
Now Dehya and Kurj—the Dyad—sat together, though only one of them was physically here. He said something to her and she smiled. Commandant Blackmoor continued his commencement oration. When he finished, he took his seat on Dehya’s other side, and Kurj went to the podium. He spoke only briefly, as taciturn as ever. Then it was time to give out the diplomas. Blackmoor returned to the podium and called the names, and one by one the new Jagernaut Quaternaries came up to receive the antique parchments from Kurj.
When Althor crossed the stage, the audience fell unnaturally quiet. Anyone who hadn’t realized before that he had a kinship to Kurj would have no doubt now. They looked like twins, two gold giants, muscled and square-jawed. Kurj handed Althor his diploma, along with the certificates and medals Althor had earned by graduating with honors. Then the Imperator paused, which he had done with no one else.
Breezes ruffled Althor’s short hair, making the metallic locks glitter. Kurj laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder and inclined his head. Even from so far away, Soz felt Althor’s gratification at the unexpected display of approval. He nodded, his face easing into a smile, and Kurj returned the nod. Then Althor went on, down the stage and back to his seat. An exhale seemed to come from the audience, though it could have been only the wind in the arched colonnade.
After the last senior had crossed the stage, the ceremony ended. DMA had graduated another class of elite warriors, sixteen Jagernauts, all that
remained of the thirty-six who had entered as novices. Sixteen new weapons joined the ranks, sixteen of the deadliest, most versatile fighter pilots created.
And Soz watched, wondering. When she graduated, would her ceremony suffer the same lack as this one, the absence no one mentioned but everyone felt, the cavity in the foundation of their family and their love, the one person Soz had heard nothing from since the day she left Lyshriol, the one she feared would never speak to or acknowledge her again.
Her father.