Nobody moved. Nobody wanted to be first. Five years of friendship to come crashing down.
Finally, Chen Wei stood. "I need to go... Security detail will notice I've not returned."
"Yeah." Alexei checked his watch. "I should... yeah." Yet he didn't move.
Diana rose following Chen Wei. She looked at each of us one more time. "Thank you. For everything. For letting me pretend."
"It wasn't pretend," I said. "Not for us."
Her lips curled into a smile, something I realised I had never seen before. Always distant, always... She didn't need to say anything. Her eyes said it all.
Chen Wei left first. She began to climb down the observation tower with a practised fluidity. My eyes followed her down; she didn't look back.
Diana followed, quiet and careful, already fading. She paused halfway down and looked up. Her eyes met Alexei's. I watched the moment between the two.
-
Alexei and I sat there for a little while afterwards. I'd have to be home soon, too, but I didn't care to move. A comfortable silence ensued as we sat there, still processing what had just happened. What was going to happen?
"So," he said. "This is it."
"Yeah."
"We had a good run, right?"
"The best."
He grinned. That practised grin again... "See you on the other side, brother."
"See you soon, brother." He climbed down, leaving me alone on the platform.
I sat as the sun rose, warming my face. The city hummed below. Shuttles, morning shifts, life going on like nothing changed.
In a few hours, we'd all know exactly where we stood. What we were worth. What paths we'd walk and that we'd likely walk them alone. The hope of matching ranks. The hope of ending up in the same units. We didn't even dare to speak aloud. Some hopes were better left unvoiced.
I stood, taking one last look at the Nest. Our sanctuary. Our refuge. Our home.
Dawn had come, and tomorrow was here.
-
The walk home took fifteen minutes through quiet, pre-dawn streets. Pale lights reflected off glass townhouses and neat greenery. Only the hum of shuttles and a few footsteps broke the stillness. The time it took was enough to put my story together.
I checked my commlink. 0645. Both Mother and Father would be awake, the house stirring with Tiernan's morning routine.
Shit...
Getting a move on, I began a quick jog, just fast enough to work up a sweat but just slow enough to be sustainable for the whole trip. I felt a little lightheaded from the fatigue of an all-nighter, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Prep-Academy had prepared us for such scenarios; I'd pulled countless nights without rest.
Three blocks from home, I stopped at a water fountain. I splashed my face, neck, and scalp, then ran my fingers through my hair to mess it up.
I needed to look like I'd been running, not like I'd been sitting on a tower watching everything fall apart. I started jogging again, heading home.
Two blocks out, I transitioned from a jog to a sprint. Sweat poured, my heart pounded. I let my breath come harder than it needed to.
One block out, I rehearsed my story.
"I couldn't sleep, was too nervous. Went for a run to clear my head. Lost track of time. The route I took? Familiar streets, nothing suspicious." I reasoned. The lie needed to be 80% truth. That's what made it stick, or so they taught us.
I rounded the corner and slowed to a walk. I stood straight, hands behind my head, selling the exhaustion.
Deep breath. I headed for the door.
The key turned silently. I stepped inside, boots hitting just loud enough to announce my presence.
"Marcus?" Mother called from the kitchen. Concerned, not angry. Good.
"Yeah, it's me." I kept my breathing slightly elevated. "Went for a run. Couldn't sleep."
She appeared in the hallway. Took in my appearance: a soaked shirt, flushed face, messy hair. Her expression softened. "You should have left a note. I was worried."
"Sorry. I just... needed to clear my head before today."
She studied me for a moment. I held her gaze, kept my breathing laboured. Let the partial truth show in my eyes; I had needed to clear my head. I was nervous about today.
Finally, she nodded. "Go shower. Breakfast in an hour."
"Thanks, Mother."
I headed for the stairs, careful not to move too quickly or too slowly.
-
As I reached my room, I allowed myself a small exhale, closing the door behind me. I leaned against it. A moment of respite. With the distraction gone and the lie behind me, I was left alone to face the weight of what came next; my stomach twisted.
Dress clothes were already laid out on my bed. Mother must have done it while I was gone. Navy blue, excessive and pressed to perfection.
Five hours.
I grabbed my towel and headed to the bathroom. The shower was already turned to cold. I needed to wash off the sweat from the 'run' and to 'cool down', selling the story even to myself.
The icy water hit like a shock. Good. I needed that. I scrubbed at my skin and hair, watching the night wash down the drain. The Nest. The goodbyes. The promises we'd made, knowing they'd break. The water ran clear, but I kept scrubbing.
Four and a half hours.
I dried off mechanically as I walked back into my room. My eyes drifted to the clothes on my bed. They looked expensive. Important. Like they belonged to someone who mattered.
The fabric felt wrong, too stiff, too formal. Once finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. Same face as yesterday. Same fearful eyes. Same copper taste in my mouth.
My commlink buzzed. A message in the group chat. Bile rose in my throat, and I sucked in a deep breath. I didn't open it.
Four hours.
"Marcus!" Mother's voice drifted up the stairs. "Breakfast!"
I couldn't even stomach the idea of food. I looked at my reflection one more time, trying to find something resembling confidence. All I could find was fear dressed in expensive clothes.
I left the datapad under my pillow, grabbed my commlink, and headed for the door.
-
As I exited the hallway and entered the kitchen, my parents were already there. Mother making breakfast as per usual. The warm, nutty aroma of sautéed glowroot mingling with the tangy sharpness of veilweed and a hint of spicy heat. My favourite breakfast.
I had no appetite.
She caught me watching and locked eyes with me. That same soft smile, trying to emanate warmth. Yet this time, it did nothing.
"Sleep well, honey?" She asked.
She already knew I'd been out on a run to clear my head, that I didn't sleep well. I think she was just trying to instil some normalcy. I appreciated it, but all I could give was a wry smile.
Father sat at the table, not in uniform. Civilian clothes looked wrong on him. He stared at his datapad, but his eyes didn't move. Just staring at the same spot.
"Something the matter, Father?" I asked, the words automatic.
"Oh- Marcus, good morning!" He shook his head and put the pad face up.
I sat down in my usual spot. The chair felt wrong.
"Big day today, huh, son?" He tried for that Fatherly bravado. It didn't reach his eyes. That look of expectation and pride from yesterday was still there, yet masked by something more.
"I'm not too worried. Tiernan blood runs true!" The declaration came out flat.
"That's my boy!" Father exclaimed.
Silence held for a little too long before Mother interjected with a plate full of colourful delights. I stared at the food and picked up my fork. Put it down. And picked it up again.
"You should eat, Marcus." Mother's voice was gentle. "You need your strength."
"I'm not really hungry."
The silence stretched, suffocating.
Three and a half hours.
"You should still try," Mother tried again. "Even a little."
I looked at the plate. The expensive eggs. The effort she put into making everything perfect. As though it could somehow change the outcome.
I couldn't shake the feeling I'd dreamed this before.
"Finish up," Mother said as she gathered the untouched plates. "The chauffeur will be here—"
"No." Father stood, chair scraping, "I'll fly us."
Mother paused. "James, you haven't flown in months."
"I'm flying my son to his testing." His voice carried a finality I hadn't heard in days. "Get your things."
-
Three hours.
The family anti-grav shuttle sat in the garage, covered in a thin layer of dust. Father ran his hand along its hull as though he was greeting an old friend. He kept it maintained, even though we rarely used it. We usually walked. Mother said it kept us grounded.
"She still purrs," Father stated as he began the pre-flight sequence. His hands moved with practised ease, muscle memory taking over. For just a moment, he looked younger. Like the pilot he used to be before becoming Major Tiernan, administrator.
Mother took the co-pilot seat as I strapped myself into the back. The lift-off was smooth, Father's touch on the controls was gentle but certain. We rose above the upper-residential district and above the morning smog into clear air.
Other atmospheric craft filled the air lanes, many heading the same direction as he shot off towards them. The inertia stabilisers kicked into action with a soft hum, ensuring I didn't lose my non-existent breakfast.
The silence in the shuttle was palpable as we joined the slow, intermittent flow of traffic, thousands of families drawn together en route to the testing centre. Through the viewport, I observed shuttle after shuttle passing by, each ferrying a young candidate toward their own judgement day.
Two and a half hours.
Father adjusted our heading and cleared his throat.
"Marcus," Father said, not looking back. "I need to tell you something."
I looked up at him, unable to find the words in response.
"When I tested B-Grade, I thought my life was over. Your Grandfather- He didn't speak to me for three days. Just... silence."
"Father-"
"Let me finish." He gently reprimanded, "I was supposed to be A-Grade. Maybe S-Grade. The Tiernan legacy demanded it." His voice was steady, but I could see his knuckles white on the control stick. "The morning of my testing, my Father flew me himself. Told me about every Tiernan who'd ever served. The weight of their expectations. Then when the machine said B-Grade..."
He trailed off. Mother reached over and touched his arm. It seemed to steady him as his grip on the control stick softened.
"He wasn't there when it mattered," Father continued. "When I needed him to tell me I was still his son, he was planning how to minimise the family embarrassment."
"Father, you don't have to-"
"Yes, I do." He finally looked back at me through the mirror. "Marcus, I don't care if you test C-Grade. Hell, even D-Grade, though we both know that won't happen." He gave a reassuring smile. "You're my son. That's what matters."
"B-Grade felt like the end of everything," he continued, "But I met your Mother. Had you and Sara. We built a life that matters. The Grade is just a letter, Marcus. Don't let it define you as it did me."
"Thanks, Dad." My voice came out rough; I hadn't even noticed it was the first time I called him Dad in years.
"I mean it. Whatever happens in there, when you come out, I'll be waiting. I'll be proud. That's the promise I'm making you, the one my Father couldn't make me."
Two hours.
The Epsilon Eridani Testing Arena, The Moirai, dominated the skyline. Three hundred years of construction layered on top of each other, Federation steel and glass wrapped around a core that felt ancient. From above, it looked like a giant wheel. Spokes radiated from a central hub where the actual testing took place.
We weren't even close, yet my ears were raptured by a hundred thousand voices merged into a single roar.
The landing platforms were stacked six deep with atmospheric craft. Premium spots for military families, commercial zones for civilians and overflow lots stretching for blocks. Father had to circle the premium spots twice before a shuttle left a gap just wide enough.
As we descended, the screens hit me. Massive holo-projections, each one fifty feet tall, showing the same countdown:
TESTING DAY 3187CANDIDATES REGISTERED: 12,847TESTED: 0000TIME UNTIL TESTING: 01:47:23
Below the numbers, sponsors scrolled past. Meridian Defence Contractors. Chen Heavy Industries. The Enlightened Cultural Exchange. Everyone had money in this game.