Interstellar Academy, Kennedy Harkins [epub e ink reader TXT] 📗

On the off chance I wasn’t on a shuttle in the next hour, I had to think of something.

February 1st:

I had to think of something. An excuse, and escape, anything! Everyday for the past month I’d gone into practice with the intention of telling Professor Euterpe that enough was enough, I play in her orchestra anymore. And yet, even with the best intentions, here I stood, my feet planted shakily behind the curtain of one of the most luxurious dining halls I’d ever seen.

Professor Euterpe, looking every bit the petite, crazy, old woman, was running around frantically, trying to fix every minor problem that arose. I couldn’t have caught her if there was enough room behind stage to take flight and hunt her in my natural patterns. So I was stuck trembling a and trying to spot my mother through the break in the curtain.

She was here. I just knew it. And that knowledge made my vehemently glad I hadn’t eaten all day, because I would have been wearing it.

The Professor motioned us all to our seats, and I gripped my piccolo with cold fingers. The girl next to me put up my music for me without saying a word, smiling encouragingly when I glanced at her face. I wanted to thank her and tell her I was perfectly capable of doing that myself at the same time. Not knowing which was the appropriate response, I kept my mouth shut, my default reaction to any foreign situation.

The audience seated themselves in circular tables throughout the hall. There was some buzz of conversation as people remarked on the lusciousness of the curtains and the pristineness of the tables. Silence fell in a cascade until the last person talking looked up and realized he was making an ass of himself.

Professor Euterpe raised her hands, a baton held carelessly between her fingers. I tried to focus on her, but each time my eyes found their way back to my mother who was paying the orchestra absolutely no heed.

The music started, but I didn't. The percussion was accompanying, and I was supposed to have a solo. My absence was a gaping hole in the performance.

I pressed the piccolo harder against my lips, staring at Professor Euterpe with scared eyes. She gave me a stern look and flicked her wrist to signal my entrance. I stuttered in, the notes clashing slightly, because we were in a different spot in the music.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward, the percussion transitioned to find me in the music, and the rest of the band followed. The melody was beautiful, haunting, just like in practice.

I lost myself in the music, and my inhibitions and insecurities didn't follow me into the void.  I closed my eyes, feeling the different parts and sounds flow together to make something exponentially better than any of us could do on our own. And I was a part of that, a member of the orchestra. It was like a high, one I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to quit.

The performance, like practices, was gone before I had time to prepare myself for closure. We were standing, blinking against the stage lights and grinning while Professor Euterpe accepted the applause for us with a bow. The girl who’d set up my music smiled at me again, and I smiled back, utterly sure it was the right reaction.

When we sat back down, the dread set in. This would be my last performance, my last night at the Academy. There was no way mother could’ve missed me. She would have had to be completely oblivious throughout the whole magical concert. I rubbed my ear, thinking about her latching onto it and dragging me off the ship, kicking and screaming.

But she wasn’t looking at me with fury in her eyes. She wasn’t even looking at me at all. Leaning towards a fellow politician, she laughed at something the man said, totally engaged in the conversation. It’s the same man she was talking to before the performance, I thought.

I grit my teeth and gather up my thing to leave. I exited stage with my head held high but feeling like the stupidest boy in the world. She hadn’t heard me, and for some reason, though that meant I could stay, that enraged me. My own mother sat through that entire breath taking concert without taking her attention once off of business.

She’d been doing what I should have been doing all along: keeping my eyes on the prize. But I’d let myself be distracted by the music, which made me feel whole, by the human, and by the suspicious goings ons at the school, which was none of my concern. What did I care if the robots attacked the school or whatever their plan was? This place was just a stepping stone, a means to an end. I shouldn’t have cared if the whole thing was shot out of the sky.

But I did. And I didn’t know what to do about that.

“Great show. Boring, but I’m sure there was ample skill there,” a voice said from behind me.

I flinched, almost dropping my piccolo. Setting it down gently in the case, I made sure it was secure before latching it and turning around. The human girl was standing there, leaning against one of the pillars supporting the stage, like a physical embodiment of all that was wrong with my life right now. I was rooming with a human who wore pink boots.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “I came to hear you play. Professor Euterpe was more than willing to let me tag along and support a friend.”

Snorting, I said, “Right. You came for blackmail material.” I placed the piccolo in the giant case that held the flute like instruments safe during travel. “And we are not friends.”

“I have plenty of ammunition on you if I needed it. Let’s not forget that dismembered hand you have under your bed.”

I remained silent, waiting for her to get to the point. I wasn’t completely certain, but she probably had one. Maybe. Or maybe she was as insane as her flying suggested. Either way, I was impatient to be out of her presence. She wasn’t like Mae, and I couldn’t make sense of half the things she said and did.

We started out walked back to the shuttle, and at the exact moment I was sure she wasn’t going to say anything more, she spoke. “I came to see you when you’re not being a total square--disappointment there, you’re always a square. I mean, classical music? Lame.”

I went out on a limb and decided that a “square” was not a compliment. “What is it you do for fun then? Burn down buildings?”

“A couple of times,” she said. “There’s a lot of set up on that though. Mostly I just settle for ruining peoples’ days.”

April 20th:

A couple  weeks  later I was sitting in my music corner in broad daylight, though it wasn’t going to be that way for long, lights out was soon approaching. I stared at Commander Rike’s hard face made faint by the hologram. He’d made a show of asking me about my studies, my progress, but I knew what he wanted.

I’d sent him the map weeks ago, woefully unfinished. I’d detailed all of campus, which was what he’d wanted, but now he wanted more. As I knew he would. I’d even planned for how I would accomplish what he desired. What I didn’t understand is why I hadn’t done it yet.

“This is excellent work, Drusus,” he said, holding up the map. “But part of it is missing, yes? The Central Controls room.”

“It’s in the actual ship below campus. Students aren’t allowed there,” I said dully.

He smiled with teeth. “And students also aren’t allowed to map the entire campus, but here we are.” Commander Rike continued in a more compassionate tone. “I’m not unsympathetic. You’re doing this at great personal risk, and it won’t go unrewarded.”

“When do you need it by?”

His smiled was gone, replaced by a smug air. “Yesterday.”

I went to close off the connection, but the Commander said,”Oh, and Dru? Keep a cautious eye out for yourself and your Tundrian classmates.” There was something in his eyes that I didn’t like. “The Academy’s not as safe as it used to be.” He cut the feed, and I was left alone in the growing darkness.

I ran back to the apartment, not wanting to be caught out and get grounded for the night. Somehow, I didn’t think the Commander would think that a suitable excuse.

The girl, strangely, was the only one home. I floated cautiously through the door, the gravity in the room off. She was doing sporadic flips through the air, her expression more concentrated than I had ever seen it. She didn’t even appear to notice my entrance. It startled me to realize I’d gotten used to her one-liners.

I wouldn’t have to worry about that, though, if I gave the entire map to the Commander. I had no idea what his plans were for the information, but people didn’t go through all that trouble to learn the lay of the land for fun. He had a purpose, no doubt. Beyond that, I didn’t like to think about what a man with his skills and resources could do with those maps.

All that mattered was that I would give it to him. Of that, I was certain.

Mae was the next one back, the Animarian right behind her. We all went to bed unusually early, for which I was grateful. It would ensure that no one was awake to see me sneak out.

My aunt had told me, years ago, about an emergency exit tube straight under the arena that led the the ship below. Though I’d had enough of emergency exits, I grabbed my bag and went out to find it none-the-less. It was easily located, being labeled and right in the spot my aunt had said it would be. Luckily, since it wasn’t common knowledge to students, there was no AI guarding it. I released a sigh of relief and relinquished my white knuckled grip on the stun stick, slipping it back into my calf