The next several minutes went by in a blur as Alexandros fought to keep the ship even and balanced. At one point he thought he had nearly broken the controls, and he yanked back on the joystick so hard it numbed his hand. His body tired rapidly as the stress and pressure of the simulator wore on him. Alexandros began to worry that he could not keep it up when a bell sounded. The skimmer was lowered to the ground and a helping hand steadied him as he extricated himself from the airship.
Clapping and cheers met him as he left.
“Excellent job, cadet. We’ll have to see if the rest of this team can stand up to your marvelous skills.”
Feeling slightly embarrassed at the praise of Ikalrus, Alexandros began removing the flying gear. He turned to proffer it to the next lad coming up.
“Oh no, cadet. You keep your gear when you pass. You’re now responsible for your own flying uniform,” said the same helpful senior cadet as before, handing him a gray canvas rucksack.
Alexandros placed the gloves, hat, and goggles inside. As he took his place at the station abandoned by the next testing candidate, he also received his own tough pair of work gloves. He fidgeted with them for a few moments, before realizing they were simply too big.
The next boy clambered into the skimmer’s cockpit and the same series of drills began again. A single joystick dominated the center of the boxy control panel before Alexandros, while two small gauges fluttered slightly at each top corner. Grasping the joystick, he hesitated before moving it gingerly to the right. The pulley system hummed faintly as metal parts clinked and clanged together, pulling the skimmer’s rear starboard side out farther to the right.
The pilot inside compensated, and the ship swung back toward its central origin. This is fun, almost like a strategy game, Alexandros thought as he swung the joystick up, down, left, and right, putting his classmate through the paces before the bell rang and the skimmer was lowered back to the ground. Another cadet took his place, and was put through the wringer just as his two classmates before him.
Another few minutes later the bell rang once more, and they lowered the skimmer again. This time, the cadet had to be pulled out of the airship. He tottered a few steps toward the edge of the platform, then fell to his knees as he puked onto the gravel below. Nearby cadets recoiled in disgust as the poor boy emptied his stomach, tears streaming down his face.
“Help him, please,” Ikalrus ordered his assistants, and one placed an arm around the boy’s back and helped him to a bench, giving him a drink of water out of his canteen.
“Pilocretis, please take over the last control panel, if you would? Hopefully, Justarin will get his stomach back in time for our last cadet.”
The fourth cadet now took his place in the cockpit. As he prepared himself, Alexandros recognized the boy as Scipio Kretarus, a cadet with powerful family connections and wealth. While they hadn’t had much interaction, Alexandros always got the sense that Kretarus looked down on those students he deemed to be part of the “rabble.”
Bet his family stole their fortune. He probably hasn’t worked a real day in his short life, he thought cynically. Of course, we’re only ten years old , most of us haven’t worked a “real” day in our lives. Except today. Today has been hard work.
As Kretarus clambered into the cockpit, he caught Alexandros’s eye.
“Thanks for going first, Rufius, glad you could show us how not to do it,” he jeered.
“Quiet down now,” Ikalrus told everyone as Kretarus was secured into the skimmer, and they raised it to its starting position. This time, Alexandros waited with his hand on the controller, anticipation building. Not to be mean, but he is in for a rough ride.
The bell rang and Alexandros immediately began straining the machine to its utmost limit, dropping his quarter of the ship low, then high, in every direction available. The gauges on his control box hovered in the red constantly now, and Alexandros threw everything he had into it.
The bell rang, and they lowered the machine to the ground. Alexandros let out the breath he had been holding and wiped his brow, feeling the rough material of the work gloves clearing the perspiration off. He pulled his hands out of the gloves to let them cool off for a second, dropping them onto the control panel.
Kretarus climbed out of the compartment, looking a tad bit green. Alexandros leaned over to place his hands onto the cool surface of the panel. Suddenly, his hands slipped and jostled the joystick, sending the skimmer crashing into Kretarus, who was knocked off the stage face first onto the ground in front of the entire class. Sheepishly moving the joystick back to neutral, Alexandros backed hurriedly away from the controls. Kretarus was standing now, angrily brushing dirt and debris from his clothing and skin.
“You puny plebian! You imbecile!” he shouted. “You purposefully did that!”
He stepped back up onto the platform and approached Alexandros menacingly, pushing back the sleeves of his tunic.
“I did not!” Alexandros shouted back. “I slipped on the gloves,” he protested, trying to fend off the larger boy.
Kretarus charged him, and Alexandros ducked low under his first swing, tackling him. Both boys fell to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Alexandros was fairly certain he got in at least one or two good hits. Unfortunately, Kretarus was a master wrestler and gave just as good as he got. Alexandros soon saw stars after the other cadet’s fist connected with his eye. After much yelling, the two combatants were finally pulled apart by the professor’s aides.
“You watch yourself, Rufius. You’re going nowhere in this airfleet, you hear me? You’ll never make officer!” Kretarus sneered, struggling against the grip of the upperclassmen.
Their professor stepped between the two boys. “That is quite enough.” His voice was iron, and their struggles ceased almost immediately. “Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves. Regardless of whether or not it was an accident, fighting is strictly against the Cadet Code. Cadet Kretarus, you will leave my class and return to your quarters. Now.”
Still screeching and shouting obscenities at Alexandros, Kretarus was manhandled out of the theater.
Ikalrus turned to stare at Alexandros. “Cadet Alexandros, I would have figured you had better sense than to let a stupid comment like Kretarus’s get to you.”
“But, sir, I didn’t… it wasn’t…” Alexandros protested.
“You’ve just made a powerful enemy, cadet. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences. You will spend the rest of your day in the contemplation chambers. Then you will report to the master of cadets tomorrow and ask for additional gymnasium training.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pilocretis, please see him to the contemplation chambers.”
The upperclassman released Alexandros’s arms and led him off stage. As he followed in Pilocretis’s wake, Alexandros wondered what exactly would come of Kretarus’s threat.
Chapter 3: The Winnowing
Heart pounding, Alexandros jostled with his classmates as he rounded the finishing bend of the marathon. The young men, sweaty from their exertion, put everything they had into this last chance to impress the judges.
It was the final day of the trials, and for the last seven days, the oldest students of the Athenae Roma Aeronautica had been tested: mentally, academically, physically, and emotionally. They had been kept up for twenty-four hours straight, working in a mock-up of an airship, running the engine, using the scorpion and ballista launchers, repairing “damage” created by their instructors. They had demonstrated how to right a stalling skimmer, and how to navigate by map, landmark, and astronomy. They had even performed their swordplay and crossbow skills.