After the first hour of the party Zare Leonis stopped pretending to look happy. It was a beautiful evening on Lothal. All around the top deck of his family’s apartment the lights of Capital City glittered and blinked, and he could smell the faint sweetness of seedpods and blossoms, carried on a gentle breeze from the grasslands beyond the city.

Besides their neighbors, the guests included scientists who worked with Zare’s parents at the Ministry of Agriculture, ministers from a variety of Imperial departments, and a scattering of officers in crisp olive-gray uniforms. Zare didn’t know most of the guests, but they knew who he was; people kept stopping to shake his hand.

But the congratulations weren’t for him, and neither was the party. All of it was for his older sister, Dhara—the person he wanted to talk with most, and the one who had the least time for him.

“Zare! Isn’t it marvelous about your sister!” said a rail-thin woman from the Ag Ministry whom Zare vaguely remembered was an assistant under-something to a deputy somebody. He managed a half smile, mumbled an excuse, and turned away only to hear a familiar whir of servomotors and feel a pinch at his sleeve.

“Assistant Vice Minister Sarkos is a guest in this house,” said Auntie Nags, her photoreceptors an angry red. “You are nearly fifteen years old, which means you know how to make conversation—or at least eye contact. And don’t let me catch you slouching, Zare Leonis.”

Zare started to snarl a response, then hung his head. He couldn’t yell at Auntie Nags. The ancient nanny droid had cared for him since he was a baby, just like she’d cared for his father, and his father, and so on back through the generations. No one remembered exactly how long she’d been in the family, or what her original model number had been. As long as there’d been Leonises, it seemed, she’d been there.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Nags,” Zare said, and the droid’s photoreceptors dimmed and turned yellow. “I just feel like I don’t belong here. Dhara’s going to the Imperial Academy, and I’m just some stupid useless kid in the way.”

Auntie Nags tilted her head and her eyes switched to a cool green.

“You are a Leonis, and that is the furthest thing from stupid or useless,” she said. “You will adjust to the Junior Academy for Applied Sciences, you will earn the marks expected of a Leonis, your application to the Imperial Academy of Lothal will be accepted, and you will join Dhara next year. Until then, you must be patient.”

“I know,” Zare said. “It’s just hard, that’s all.”

“Anything worth doing is hard,” Auntie Nags said, eyes flashing briefly yellow before returning to green. “Now then, Zare, I have jogan clusters to serve. There’s Ames Bunkle, and he looks lonely—his parents are on assignment and couldn’t be here tonight. A good host would go talk to him.”

The old nanny droid wheeled away. Zare looked sorrowfully at his sister, who was nodding at something Minister Maketh Tua was saying. Then he turned to where Ames Bunkle was leaning on the railing, looking out into the night. A broad-shouldered boy tanned by the sun, Ames was sixteen, the same as Dhara, and also entering the Academy in a couple of weeks. His parents lived on a lower floor of their building. They were colleagues of the Leonises at the Ag Ministry—something to do with fertilizer research, Zare thought.

“Are you excited about the Academy?” Zare asked, and Ames looked startled.

“More like scared stiff,” he said.

“What for?”

“Lots of people wash out of the Academy, you know,” Ames said. “It’s tough.”

“But so are you,” Zare said. “It’s a shame I’m getting to AppSci right after you left—your mom told me you hold the school record for carries in grav-ball.”

Ames smiled. “Yep—set it against Forked River last season. The physical things don’t scare me. It’s the learning—never liked being cooped up in a classroom, and can’t ever remember that stuff. Your sister will probably be governor someday, but I’ll be lucky to make stormtrooper.”

“So?” Zare asked. “You’ll still get to serve the Empire. There are still parts of the Outer Rim in the hands of pirates—or worse.”

Something whined in the night. The two boys looked up and saw the faint shapes of TIE fighters on patrol. They turned to follow the fighters’ path by watching the red lights on the rear of their fuselages.

“Think those were the new SFS P-s4 ion engines?” Zare asked, still scanning the night sky. “They sounded different somehow.”

“They were SFS P-s4s,” said a voice that didn’t belong to Ames. The accent was clipped and cultured. It was the voice of someone who came from the Core Worlds, or wanted people to think he did. “The new engines are an improvement over the P-s3s—fuel efficiency is 15 percent better and the heat exchangers are less prone to flux. Which means the pitch of the ion engines is a little higher.”

The speaker was a man in his midtwenties, with pale skin and close-cropped dark hair. He wore an Imperial military uniform.

“Lieutenant Piers Roddance,” he said. His handshake was strong, and Zare wondered if the young officer was trying to crush his hand.

“Of course,” Roddance said when Zare introduced himself. “I look forward to your sister’s progress at the Academy.”

“Me too,” Zare said. “Oh, this is Ames Bunkle—he’s going to the Academy, too.”

“Ah,” Roddance said, his pale blue eyes sizing up Ames’s rough-hewn hands and faded formal tunic. He kept his hands behind his back, Zare noticed, thinking Auntie Nags wouldn’t approve of that.

“How do you know all that stuff about the P-s4s, Lieutenant?” Zare asked quickly.

“My duties include inspecting the Sienar Fleet Systems’ new facilities here on Lothal,” Roddance said. “We just received three squadrons of the new TIEs last week. Maybe you’ll fly one someday, Zare.”

“Or maybe Ames will,” Zare said.

“Nuh-uh—give me firm ground under my feet,” Ames said. “Uh, sir…have you seen those new two-man walkers?”

“The AT-DPs,” Roddance said. “Proper terminology is a rule of the Academy, Bunkle. Yes, they’re remarkable machines—faster and better armored than the old AT-RTs.”

“What about firepower?” Ames asked eagerly. “That ball cannon looks mean.”

“I’ve seen a single shot punch through medium vehicle plating,” Roddance said. “That mean enough for you?”

“Wizard!” Ames said.

“And having a separate gunner makes them suitable for infantry support, not just recon,” Roddance said. “The 291st Legion used them to clear out a nest of Thalassian slavers on Galpos II, and then as the vanguard in urban fighting on Mendavi. I can assure you they were most impressive.”

“I heard about the Galpos raid!” Bunkle said. “You were there, sir?”

Pink spots bloomed in Roddance’s cheeks.

“Well, no—but I’ve studied the reports extensively,” he said. “Such displays of military strength will soon be seen everywhere in the galaxy. Our Empire is strong—and growing stronger. Nothing will drag us back into the mire of Separatism and insurgency that the Republic allowed to fester.”

Roddance looked up into the night and smiled. His eyes were bright and eager, and the look on his face made Zare feel momentarily uneasy.

“The Emperor began by offering mercy to fools who wanted to cling to the past—senators who put their own advancement over the needs of the citizenry, and greedy corporations, and pretend patriots. They took advantage of the Emperor’s patience, but more and more they are learning of his wrath.”

“Just hope I get to help deliver the message,” Ames said, grinning.

“Governor Pryce is here,” Zare said, finding himself eager to change the subject. “Mom hoped she’d come.”

The governor moved through the guests with aides on either side, smiling and shaking hands. Auntie Nags was rolling back and forth outside the knot of people waiting to talk to the governor. She had a tray of drinks balanced on one synth-flesh hand, which tipped precariously as she shied from potential collisions.

Zare’s parents reached the governor, with Dhara standing between them. As their mother chatted with Governor Pryce, Dhara turned her head and looked straight at Zare. As always, she seemed to know where he was without having to search for him. A smile split her dark brown face and she gestured for him to come over—and, he could tell, to hurry.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” Zare said to Roddance. “Come on, Ames! You are about to be an Academy cadet, aren’t you?”

Ames nodded sheepishly and the two boys worked their way through the crowd to the Leonises. Behind Governor Pryce, Zare recognized Supplymaster Yogar Lyste, Commandant Cumberlayne Aresko, and his hulking aide, Myles Grint. Zare’s father, Leo, patted Zare’s head and Zare raised an arm to fend off further displays of affection.

“And this is our son, Zare,” Leo said. “He’s about to start at AppSci. Next year he’ll be eligible for the Academy, too.”

“Arihnda Pryce,” the governor said, extending a slim hand. “Your sister’s told me about you, Zare. I’m very glad to welcome you and your family to Lothal, and honored that such accomplished scientists would send not one but two children into Imperial service.”

“We’ve only been here a month, but Lothal already feels like home,” Leo said. “And the honor is entirely ours, Governor.”

“Uh-oh, Dad’s going to make a speech,” Zare said, and his family laughed.

“Just a short one,” Leo said, smiling. “Tepha and I remember when our inventions were stuck in the Republic courts, and when the Trade Federation let our genetically modified crops rot in warehouses to protect their profit margins. The Empire changed all that—now our work is improving the lives of Imperial citizens, and the Trade Federation is just a bad dream. So we are honored to have our daughter serve the Empire that has given us so much.”

Governor Pryce smiled and bowed her head.

“You should have been a politician, Leo,” she said. “How about you do the talking and I just clap my hands and eat more of these delicious jogan clusters?”

“Oh, no, Governor,” Tepha Leonis said. “For my husband that really was a short speech. Give him a chance and we’ll be stuck listening to him all night.”

“Governor, I’d like you to meet one of my Academy classmates,” Dhara said. “The strong, silent young man here is Ames Bunkle.”

As a flustered Ames tried not to fall over his own tongue, Dhara nudged Zare and retreated with him to the railing.

“Aren’t there people you need to talk to?” Zare asked, expecting Auntie Nags to roll up and lecture him for monopolizing his sister’s time.

“Oh, probably,” Dhara said. “But I wanted to talk to you, Zare. I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“Me too,” Zare said, and heard his voice catch in his throat. Embarrassed, he stared out into the dark beyond Capital City.

“But we’ll get to talk regularly once orientation’s over,” Dhara said. “I’ll let you know what the Academy’s like so you have a head start next year.”

“Next year,” moaned Zare. “You may as well say forever.”

Dhara smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

“I know it’s a new school, but you’ll find your way and make friends, like you always have,” she said. “And you’ll have Auntie Nags to make sure you study each night when you come home.”

“Oh, now everything sounds perfect,” Zare said, and his sister smiled.

“Anyway, the time will pass before you know it,” said Dhara. “And then your biggest problem will be trying to live up to the reputation of your beautiful, brilliant older sister.”

She elevated her chin, then grinned. Zare had to laugh.

“Looks like it’s time for the governor’s speech,” Dhara said. “She’s insisted I say a few words, too. Wish me luck. Hmm—actually, wish Ames luck. I think he might faint.”

Zare watched his sister move gracefully through the crowd to the governor’s side. Dhara was right, as usual. The year would pass and then he’d be with her at the Academy, helping bring security and prosperity to Lothal and the other planets of the Outer Rim.

He had no idea that everything was about to change.