NOTHING CHANGED UNTIL the laser cannon project a few months later.

Even the best battle plans put soldiers at risk, and at any time you could find yourself separated and in danger, your squadron pinned down or otherwise unable to help you. Your blaster could be damaged and, at any rate, couldn’t defend you from an enemy ship on its own. If you quickly constructed a larger weapon, however, you could continue the fight alone—perhaps long enough to be rescued but certainly long enough to make your enemy pay. A laser cannon could be built out of standard Imperial-issue parts, if you knew how.

Thane disliked mechanical work; flying and shooting were more his speed. But he was determined to ace this project. He and Ciena had held on to their top rankings so far; the only question remaining was which of them would finish the term at number one. If Ciena beat him, he’d be the first to congratulate her…but hopefully she’d be the first to congratulate him.

“Look at that grin,” said Nash, who lay under his own laser cannon in progress, a couple of meters over in the enormous repair bay. “Thinking about our off day? Ready to explore the Coruscant nightlife?”

From his place at the bench, Thane shrugged without looking away from the stormtrooper helmet he was currently cannibalizing for its power cell. “I’m working on my cannon, like you ought to be. Come on, Nash, focus.”

“How can I focus when we have a chance to go to clubs, cantinas, and a hundred other places where we’ll finally have a chance to meet girls?” Nash protested. “Girls who aren’t forbidden like our fellow cadets. Touchable girls. Kissable girls.”

“I understand, okay? But I’m trying to concentrate here so I can keep my ranking. Plenty of people have put in extra time on this.” Thane gestured to the rest of the repair bay for emphasis.

A couple dozen other laser cannons sat all around them, protected by the small sparkling hemispheres of low-charge force fields. Every single one of those machines might have been repaired more ingeniously than his own, with more inspired use of random spare parts that might be found in alien spaceports. Every single one of them counted as competition.

Nash slid away from his own repair table, the better to give Thane a withering look. “We’ve been working for a couple of hours now. We can’t talk about the one day of real fun we’ll get before the next term starts?”

“I guess.”

“You sounded excited enough the other day when Ved told us the best clubs to visit.”

“I was. I mean, I am. I’m excited, definitely.”

At this, Nash stood up and faced Thane across the array of spare parts spread across the worktable. “And yet you don’t seem excited—not about meeting girls, at least. That means one of two things. Either you’re interested in men instead—which I doubt, given your reaction to that risqué holo of Ved’s—”

The curse of fair skin was that even the faintest blush stood out. Thane tried to pretend he was still looking at the stormtrooper helmet.

“—or there’s a girl you’re already interested in. A girl you already know.” Nash leaned on the table, resting his chin on his hands, eyes wide open in mock innocence. “Could this girl’s name possibly rhyme with the syllables lie-henna see?”

“It’s not like that between us,” Thane insisted. “It never has been.”

Nash’s grin had turned wicked. “But I suspect it will be.”

The subject irritated Thane more than it should have. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the way his relationship with Ciena was changing, and he didn’t want Nash sticking his long nose into it. Besides, even if Nash meant well, his insinuating tone reminded Thane too much of the way Dalven had teased him about there being only one thing he could want from a girl of the valleys.

Talking about Ciena that way disrespected her. And made Thane think too much about things he couldn’t even begin to change until graduation.

“We take these matters more seriously on Jelucan than most people do,” he said, truthfully enough. “Speculating is…improper.”

“This, from the man who watched that holo five times!” Nash laughed out loud. “Besides, you’re supposed to stop being Jelucani and start being a citizen of the Empire, remember? And speculating is fun.”

“I need you to listen to me.” Thane put down his tools and looked Nash squarely in the face. “This subject is permanently closed. There’s nothing going on between me and Ciena. We’re just—”

“—good friends,” Ciena said as she walked away from the martial arts room, every muscle aching. “Always have been, always will be. That’s all there is to it.”

Jude nodded her approval, then winced; probably her head was still hurting from the last time Kendy had slammed her into the mat. “Very wise of you. Given the prohibition on dating fellow cadets, neither you nor Thane would want to compromise your careers by violating such an important rule.”

Kendy—beaming, sweaty, and triumphant—just laughed at them both. “I’d break the rules for a guy who looks that good.”

For a moment, Ciena felt a twinge of jealousy. That was not at all how she wanted to feel when it came to Thane—and yet it burned within her, an ember that refused to go dark.

But Kendy was already moving on. “So, what are we going to do with our free day?”

“Personally, I don’t care,” Ciena said, “as long as it involves eating real food.”

On Imperial ships, officers were encouraged to drink nutritive beverages instead of consuming food; it was more efficient in terms of both ship resources and officer time, and the medics insisted the nutritives were healthier, too. They didn’t taste bad—but they definitely didn’t taste good. The academy mess served the nutritives, and like most students, Ciena had dutifully started getting used to them. But as long as she could enjoy some real, true, delicious food without guilt, she intended to indulge.

“I believe we will be able to find acceptable meals at virtually any potential destination,” Jude said, then hesitated before making her suggestion. “Would anyone else be interested in visiting the Museum of Multispecies Sciences?”

Kendy groaned, but Ciena shot her a look. Their third roommate was soft-spoken, patient, and accommodating; she deserved to get her way once in a while. “Maybe we could go to the museum first thing in the morning. But in the afternoon, I’d rather do something less”—completely boring?—“cerebral. We study so hard here already, you know? I’d like to try something like, maybe, sea diving.”

“Diving. Yes.” Immediately, Kendy became excited. As a native of the tropical world of Iloh, she’d begun swimming even before she could walk. “I can’t believe it’s been six months since I’ve been in the water! And no, Jude, swimming laps in the wave pool doesn’t count.”

Jude didn’t respond to that as they stepped into the lift. Already she was deep in thought. “Diving would be a fascinating challenge. Bespin is a gas giant, which means we have no oceans or lakes. Swimming pools are rare luxuries. Therefore my experience in the water is limited. The chance to expand my skills and observe marine life would be extremely pleasant.”

As the lift settled onto their floor, Ciena had to shake her head and smile. “Everything’s a science project to you, Jude.”

“Science is the study of the entire material universe. Therefore everything is science—whether you see it or not.” Only the faintest smile on Jude’s thin lips revealed that she was teasing them back.

Ciena didn’t mention what they might do that night. Inside she hoped they’d be celebrating her finishing the term as number one in the class, but even saying that out loud sounded prideful. The only other possible candidate for number one was of course Thane—and if he won, she thought she could be happy for him.

Maybe celebrate with him, toasting his success. She’d rather he toasted hers instead, but…

“Ciena?” Kendy shot her a look as they walked toward their room. “Your brain was in orbit for a second there.”

“Sorry. I think my head’s still scrambled from that time you flipped me.” Ciena began untying the belt of her martial arts gear as the door swished open for them. “Think you could show me how that’s done?”

“No way,” Kendy said with a laugh. “It’s one of the only things I’m better at than you.”

Next morning came the inspection of the laser cannons.

Ciena stood at attention before her cannon, which she’d assembled to perfection. She’d made a point of using the most ungainly salvage parts possible so the instructors would see that she could build one under even the most unfavorable conditions. Her gut told her Thane might not push as hard to make his own task more difficult. If she could gain an edge anywhere, that was it.

Commander Harn walked along the rows of laser cannons, each one matched with a cadet at full attention. Although the repair bay was by its nature a place to work hard and get dirty, the gray rubberized floor and walls remained unstained by grease or scorch marks. Imperial discipline demanded perfect cleanliness, the erasure of every task as soon as it was done. Only Cadet Windrider’s cannon displayed any smudges whatsoever—as usual.

Harn nodded approval as Kendy’s cannon powered up. He opened her control panel, then nodded in satisfaction at her choices of new parts. He didn’t smile, though, not then or during the next several inspections—though he did murmur, “Innovative,” when he looked over Ved’s work. That made Ved smile so smugly that Ciena wanted to groan.

She awaited her turn, started her engine, and watched as Harn checked the efficiency ratings and overall power. Although he did not speak, his eyes met hers as if he were assessing her anew—and well. She’d impressed him. Somehow she managed to keep a straight face, even when Kendy mouthed, Way to go, over the commander’s shoulder.

When Harn looked over Thane’s cannon and reached for the starter, Ciena held her breath—

—but the laser cannon didn’t power up.

At all.

The color drained from Thane’s face. Ciena didn’t feel so good herself. She’d wanted to beat him but not to see him fail completely.

How is that even possible? she thought, gripping her hands together more tightly behind her back. Thane’s not an instinctive mechanic, but he works hard and he’s thorough, and he would have checked his cannon dozens of times. This can’t be happening.

“This is unlike you, Kyrell,” said Harn as he made a notation on the tablet he carried in one hand. “Let’s see where you went wrong.”

Harn flipped open the control panel of Thane’s laser cannon, then froze, his sharp features hardening into a look of displeasure, even anger.

Whatever it was, Thane saw it, too, and it made him swear out loud—right there, standing at attention, a commander right in front of him. A few people gasped.

But Harn didn’t reprimand Thane. Instead, with a gesture, Harn released everyone from attention. Cadets crowded close, blocking Ciena’s view at first, but she pushed through until she could see inside the open panel of Thane’s cannon and realized just why everyone had begun muttering and looking around suspiciously.

The wires inside had been cut. Straight, clean—the marks made it clear that this wasn’t bad wiring or an accident. Someone had done it on purpose.

Sabotage. Academy competition could be cutthroat, but up until then everyone had apparently played fair. A chill ran along Ciena’s spine at the thought of it. How could anyone, much less an Imperial cadet, be so devoid of honor? She was nearly as offended at the thought as she was sorry for Thane.

“We’ll solve this quickly enough,” Harn promised, his voice sharp and cold as an ice pick. “Whoever thought to improve class rankings through such a stunt will have cause for regret.” He strode toward the main door panel, pressed his hand to it, and said, “How many cadets had access to this room, alone, between Cadet Kyrell’s last visit and this inspection?”

The flat monotone of a synthesized voice replied, “One.”

“And who was that?” Harn barked.

“L-P-eight-eight-eight.”

Ciena had misheard the computer. She had to have.

But then the computer continued, finishing its answer: “Cadet Ciena Ree.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Ciena swore in Commandant Deenlark’s office, as she stood at attention before his long obsidian desk. “Not to anyone, but especially not to Thane.”

“And why not? He was your only competition for the top rank in the class, yes?”

“But—he’s my friend.”

“Friendship rarely endures ambition.”

Ciena’s stomach churned so violently she had to fight not to be sick on the floor. This nightmare had swallowed her whole. Not only had she seen Thane’s shocked look of dismay, not only had the entire class glared at her as she was hastily marched out of the repair bay, but also—and worst of all—her honor was in tatters, and she didn’t know whether she could salvage it.

What happens if I’m thrown out of the academy? Her thoughts raced wildly while she maintained her rigid posture and best attempt at outward composure. I’ll never become an Imperial officer. Maybe I could still get work as a pilot, but I couldn’t return home to Jelucan, not ever. My parents couldn’t even allow me in the house without the rest of the kindred shunning us.

No. She couldn’t put her mother and father through that. If she were expelled, Ciena would have to travel to some completely unknown planet and start over, completely alone.

The doors of Deenlark’s office slid open, and the commandant barked, “We’re still dealing with this situation.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.” Harn quickly stood at attention. “But another cadet has stepped forward with critical information.”

The mixture of terror and hope flooding through her made Ciena unable to speak, even when Jude walked through the door, a tablet in her hands. Once Commandant Deenlark motioned impatiently for Jude to begin, she spoke as calmly and evenly as if she were reading a list of machine parts. “Sir. Cadet Jude Edivon of Bespin, T-I-eight-zero-three, reporting in. A thorough review of the data reveals that at the time Cadet Ree supposedly entered the repair bay to tamper with Cadet Kyrell’s ship, she was in fact with me and her other roommate, Cadet Idele, in our bunk. I’ve pulled up data logs that show her leaving the martial arts arena, entering the lift, and coming into our room, and there is no correlating record of her departure.”

Ciena felt almost faint with relief, but Deenlark continued to frown. “Data logs can themselves be tampered with, Cadet Edivon.”

Jude nodded. “It is my belief that someone not only sabotaged Cadet Kyrell’s ship but also the repair bay computer, in order to make it look as though Cadet Ree was the one responsible. In short, sir, I believe she was framed.”

“Your beliefs are meaningless without evidence, Cadet Edivon,” said the commandant. Ciena didn’t dare hope that Jude and Kendy’s testimony on its own could clear her. If so, wouldn’t he have said so already?

“Sir—I hesitate to name the person who seems to be responsible for this sabotage, because while the data is clear, it is not absolute proof.” Jude’s fingers tightened around the tablet, as if she were afraid the information would be snatched from her.

Why are you holding back? Ciena wanted to shout. Who did this to me?

Commandant Deenlark stood up, and he was tall enough to tower over even the willowy Jude. “Report your findings.”

Jude gave Ciena an apologetic glance. “Sir, it appears that the person responsible for framing Cadet Ree was…Cadet Thane Kyrell himself.”

No. Ciena refused to believe that. There had to be another answer; Jude must have misunderstood the data.

But nobody was better at getting into the inner workings of computers than Jude. Thane was the only other competitor for the top slot, and mechanical repair was one of his main weaknesses. If he hadn’t done well on the project and had feared he would fail—he could have cut the wires of his own machine to disguise his inability to repair it. By framing Ciena for the sabotage, he would not only avoid being marked down for failing the project but also drag her down so far she’d never be number one in the class.

This isn’t as simple as class rank, though. This could get me expelled! Thane wouldn’t do that to me, not ever.

And yet Jude stood there with the proof glowing on the datapad in her hands.