"Most of the time," said Emillian. "They don't make great speakers, but they do a good job in giving the right answers to students’ questions."

"So what did he do?" asked Arcturus. "Sergeanl Devlin, what did he do?"

"I don't know," replied Emillian. "Those files are sealed. Once you're a marine, resoclalized or otherwise, your past life is irrelevant. You're a marine, plain and simple."

"How very egalitarian, but I don't think that's entirely true, is it?"

"No, it's not, but would you rather bear how he murdered his entire family with a butcher knife? Or maybe that he enjoyed molesting small boys in the park?"

"I see your point," said Arcturus, looking over his shoulder at the bland face of Sergeant Devlin and imagining it contorted with rage, a bloody knife in his hand.

"The few, the proud, the psychotic..." said Arcturus.

"You're trying to make fun of us, but it won't work, Arcturus," said Emillian with a smile.

"No? Why not?'

"Because I already know you're thinking of joining up."

"I am?" said Arcturus. "And how would you know such a thing?"

"I know more about you than you think. I've seen your test scores and read your psych profile. I know you have fine leadership skills and a confidence that makes people want to follow you. I know that you have a problem with authority figures you consider your inferiors and that your IQ is at the upper end of genius level."

"Those files are classified," said Arcturus, more irritated at her spot-on assessment of his personality than at the violation of his privacy. He didn't like to be so easily read by others.

"Yes they are, but Principal Steegman allowed us to read up on his final-year students before we came here today. Makes selecting likely candidates for recruitment much easier."

"Isn't that against the law?"

"Almost certainly."

Arcturus was surprised at Emillian's easy admission and smiled as he realized why she'd allowed it. "You're trying to put me at ease by sharing a secret," he said. "If you've read my psych profile, then you think I'll trust you more if I think you're being honest with me and appeal to my sense of rebelliousness."

Captain Emillian nodded. "Very good. Is it working?"

"A little," admitted Arcturus, enjoying the back-and-forth he was sharing with this attractive warrior woman.

"So tell me, Arcturus," said Emillian, slopping at one of the sergeants' booths and lifting a handful of different flyers. "What do you want to do with yourself once you leave the academy?"

"I was thinking of becoming a prospector, traveling to the fringe worlds and exploring the edge of space. There's planets there that even the Confederacy hasn't set foot on. I want to leave my mark on history—name a planet, discover something no one's ever seen before. You know, the usual..."

"A prospector," said Emillian. "Thai's an honorable profession. Did you know the Corps can help you with that?"

"Really? How?"

"Most of our tours take place out on the fringe worlds. We deal with miners all the time. You'd be able to pick up some real firsthand experience dealing with mines, miners, and the like. Not to mention the training you'd get on your downtime. The further education facilities on our fleet ships are second to none, equipped with the very best in neural interface mnemo-tutors. You could learn entire new skill sets while you slept."

"Sounds interesting," said Arcturus, surprised to find he was actually intrigued.

"You could do a lot worse than the Corps," said Emillian, handing him the flyers she'd picked up. "With your test scores, you easily qualify for officer training. And once you've completed your basic service, you're free to leave if you want and use the skills you've learned in the military and apply them in civilian life."

"Ah...my 'basic service'..." said Arcturus. "How long would that be?"

"The Corps offers a range of flexible terms," said Emillian smoothly. "It all depends on your circumstances and the current threat level as defined by High Command."

"And what's the current threat level?"

Emillian smiled. "Low," she said.

GRADUATION DAY. ARCTURUS FELT A NERVOUS thrill of excitement coursing though him at the thought of finally escaping the confines of Styrling Academy. After the Marine Corps recruitment morning, Arcturus had found his thoughts returning more and more to the idea of joining up. He had even filled in the electronic application form, though he had not yet submitted it.

The idea of learning the skills of a prospector while being paid by the Confederacy appealed to him, as did the idea that it would drive his father up the wall. And given the current low level of threat in the Koprulu sector, it seemed likely that he would need to serve only a minimum of three years before he was eligible to resign his commission and begin his life as a prospector.

Yes, the idea had its merits, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't shut out the idea that his life would be at risk, and Arcturus hated the idea of placing himself in physical danger.

Wasn't that what the marines were for, to keep danger away?

He put the military from his mind and concentrated on the day at hand. He had enough to concentrate on without creating distractions.

Styrling Academy was bathed in sunlight, the gray granite shining like marble and imparting a sense of modernity to the building. A wide stage had been set up on the lawn before the main portico, with row upon row of seats facing it.

The hundred and fifty-six students of the senior year who were graduating (and that was all of them, for an institution of the stature of Styrling Academy did not allow its students to do anything so prosaic as fall) sat in these seats, dressed in long black capes edged with pale blue silk and wearing mortarboard hats.

Bleachers had been set up on either side of the seats in the center of the lawn, and proud parents sat watching their offspring finally graduate from school. Behind the lectern at which Principal Steegman handed out gold-edged scrolls containing diplomas sat the tutors and masters of the academy. Accompanying them were distinguished alumni of the academy. CEOs of major corporations, noted academics, patrons of the arts, senior marine commanders, and even the chief of the Styrling Police Force.

The principal of Slyrling Academy was dressed in his full ceremonial robes of black and gold, complete with scarlet chasuble and tall, conical hat—which made him look like a cockaded martinet—and Arcturus was sure he was concealing height augmenters beneath his robes.

The school band played rousing tunes as the students walked toward the stage one by one and accepted their diploma from Steegman to the hearty applause of their parents and the curl applause of those whose sons or daughters had already accepted their diplomas or had yet to receive them.

By virtue of his surname, Arcturus was in the middle of the list of names being called out by a lower school prefect, and he eagerly awaited his turn to take the walk to the stage. He glanced over at the bleachers, smiling as he saw his family watching with pride.

Dorothy saw him looking and waved enthusiastically. His mother gave a more restrained wave, and even his father gave him a proud nod of acknowledgment

Sitting next to his father was Ailin Pasteur and beside him was Juliana. It was the first time Arcturus had seen Juliana since the attack on the summer villa, and he was struck again by her stunning beauty. Aside from her being someone to write to, Arcturus hadn't thought of her much, but seeing her here in the flesh reminded him of the desire she had stirred in him upon their first meeting.

The student next to him, a panbrained moron by the name of Toby Mercurio, fallowed his gaze and said. "Who's the curve, Mengsk? Sweet looker."