Professor Hendrick shuffled to the lectern and cleared his throat with a dry, papery sound. "Let us begin."
At his side, his chrome Compadre whirred softly. Its primary optical sensor began to glow, casting a cone of blue light into the space above the lectern. A fully interactive hologram of the course syllabus materialized in the air. As Professor Hendrick spoke again, his Compadre's hologram dutifully transcribed his words like a digital whiteboard.
"Compadres," Hendrick said, his voice devoid of any energy. "Does anyone know what it is?"
A hand shot up from the middle of the class. It was Dorian's.
"It stands for Companion Process Assist Digital Response Entities," Dorian said, his voice clear and confident. "They were designed for both assistance and companionship by the original inventors of the Accord."
Professor Hendrick squinted and pointed vaguely towards the far left of the room. "Correct."
Dorian, who was sitting almost directly in front of him, exchanged a confused glance with Juno. Several other students snickered quietly. The professor's Compadre took over, its synthesized voice picking up the lecture seamlessly.
"Compadres are created with a vast array of functions," it explained, as the hologram shifted to show different models. "While some, like myself, are equipped for high-level academic and protocol support, many serve more... standard issue roles. There are sanitation units, cargo-lifters, and models whose sole purpose is to serve as a mobile battery for starships awaiting maintenance in a hangar. From this class, you will gain the introductory knowledge to service, program, and interact with all of them."
Professor Hendrick stirred again, his gaze drifting across the sea of young, ambitious faces. "Some of you think this course is not necessary," he began, his listless tone suddenly carrying a new, sharper edge. "You are here because you want to be Solars. You want to Awaken."
He paused, letting the statement hang in the air.
"But think for a moment. The percentage of you who will actually Awaken your power is not big. Most of you will fail. And when you do, you will need anything you can get. The more things you know, the more... certain your life trajectory will be if you do not become a Solar."
A palpable chill swept through the lecture hall. The easy, privileged confidence of Aethelgard's chosen few evaporated in an instant. These students were the cream of the crop, the brightest talents from every corner of the Accord. They had been told their whole lives that they were destined for greatness. The raw fact that simply being here wasn't enough, that they could still fail, was a whip of cold reality.
Dorian's jaw tightened. While others looked shocked or dismayed, his expression hardened into one of pure, unyielding determination. He saw his father's exhausted face, the grime of Mord Tida 3 etched into his skin. He felt the sunless gloom of the lower levels. He couldn't go back to that. He needed to be a Solar. The wealth, the power, the freedom, it was the only escape he could see.
Professor Hendrick continued his lecture, his voice returning to its usual monotone drone, but the damage was done. His words had stung, and the students were now listening not with the arrogance of the elite, but with the quiet fear of those who had just been reminded of how far they could fall.
…
The rest of the lecture passed in a haze. Professor Hendrick and his Compadre continued to detail the inner workings of various maintenance droids and protocol units, but the class's initial spark of elite confidence had been thoroughly extinguished. The air was thick with a newfound tension, the unspoken fear of failure now sitting in every chair.
When the class was finally dismissed, the students filed out in near silence. The usual postlecture chatter was replaced by quiet, contemplative expressions.
Juno fell into step beside Dorian as they walked out into the bright, open corridors of the academy. She nudged his shoulder, trying to break the somber mood.
"Well, he was a bucket of fun," she said with a forced cheerfulness. "I'm starting to think his Compadre is the one who's actually tenured."
Dorian didn't smile. He just stared ahead, his gaze fixed on the pristine architecture of the Ivory Tower. "He wasn't wrong, though."
Juno's playful expression softened into one of concern. "Hey, don't let him get to you. It's just a scare tactic. They do it to weed out the people who aren't serious."
"I am serious, Juno," Dorian said, his voice low and intense. "That's the problem. For you, this is one possible path. Your father is Alexei Park. Your family has connections, wealth. If you don't Awaken, you'll still be Juno Park, ship engineer, and you'll live a great life."
He stopped and turned to face her, his eyes holding a depth of seriousness she rarely saw. "If I don't Awaken, I'm just another body from the lower levels. My scholarship ends. My family... they're counting on this. It's not just a career path for me. It's everything."
Juno looked taken aback, the full weight of his reality settling upon her. She had always known his family wasn't wealthy, but she had never fully grasped the precariousness of his position.
"You'll Awaken, Dorian," she said softly, but with conviction. "You're the smartest person I know. You work harder than anyone. Of course you will."
Dorian offered a small, tired smile. He appreciated her faith in him, but he knew the truth. Awakening wasn't a prize for hard work or intelligence. It was a lottery, a biological fluke that no one understood.
"I hope you're right," he said, the simple words carrying the immense burden of his hopes and fears.
They parted ways at the main concourse. Juno headed towards the advanced engineering labs, while Dorian made his way back to the transport station. As the ship pulled away from Aethelgard and began its descent towards the shadowed bulk of Nexus Prime, Dorian pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the viewport. Professor Hendrick's words echoed in his mind. The more certain your life trajectory will be if you do not become a Solar. Certain, yes. A certain life of grinding poverty in the dark, just like his father's. He closed his eyes, his resolve hardening like steel. Failure was not an option.
…
Dorian settled in for the long ride home. He glanced around at the other passengers. A few older students from Nexus Prime were scattered amongst the seats, their uniforms bearing the insignia of higher semesters. He locked eyes with one of them, a stern looking young man, and gave a slight, respectful nod. The student's gaze flickered over him for a second before dismissing him entirely, turning back to the glowing screen of his heliopad.
Dorian pulled out his own device. He briefly reviewed the day's lecture on Compadres, but the contents were sparse and he quickly grew bored. Instead, he opened Stellarcast. The video and streaming platform was heavily filtered through Accord regulations, of course, but it was still entertaining nonetheless.
He navigated to one of his subscribed channels: Ewron Life. The channel was run by a man named Ewron, a resident of Obelia II, a lush planet in a neighboring system dedicated entirely to agriculture. Dorian always found the videos relaxing. The ambient sounds of farming, the chirping of alien insects, and the gentle hum of technology meticulously blended with nature helped calm his perpetually racing thoughts. The channel had a unique aesthetic, a kind of solarpunk where gleaming tech worked in harmony with the natural world. Ewron had uploaded a new video about building a new coop for his flock of avian livestock. Dorian smiled and settled back to watch, the peaceful sounds of a distant, sunnier world filling his ears.
The transport eventually arrived at the upper levels of Nexus Prime. One by one, the other students disembarked, disappearing into the clean, well lit platforms of the privileged tiers. Soon, he was the only one left. He sighed, the quiet hiss of the transport's recycled air suddenly feeling very loud.
When he finally stepped out at his station in the lower levels, he was greeted by the soft, steady drumming of water on metal. Today was the scheduled artificial rain, a weekly event to wash the accumulated grime from the city's surfaces. Waiting for him just inside the station's overhang were Lyra, Marcus, and Leo.
The scene struck him with a sudden, powerful pang of memory. A small family unit, huddled together, waiting in the rain. Satsuki and Mei waiting for their father at the bus stop.
Leo's optical sensor flashed impatiently. "You should have been here fifteen minutes ago. My projections accounted for a standard transit time."
Dorian smiled, walking over and lifting Marcus into his arms. "Well, you should have told the Accord hyperspace lane officer to hurry then."
"That is not a logistical possibility when my operational matrix is located here on Nexus Prime," Leo replied, its tone impeccably logical and completely sassy.
"Then let's go," Dorian said, shifting Marcus onto his hip. "Or else I'll sell your charging port."
Dorian held Lyra's hand and they started the walk home. Marcus, giggling, held a wide umbrella over both himself and Dorian. Lyra, clad in a bright yellow raincoat, broke away from them, gleefully splashing in the puddles that formed in the uneven street.
Leo hovered anxiously after her, issuing a series of polite but firm directives about the dangers of waterborne contaminants and the statistical probability of slipping. It was a perfect, wholesome scene, a small island of warmth in the cold, rainy dark.
…
Dinner was a special occasion. It was the only time a lower income household like theirs could afford a real meal.
For Lyra and Marcus, it was the highlight of their day, a moment of genuine culinary delight. For Dorian, it was a way to get by, a brief, fleeting connection to a life he once knew. It was not a gourmet meal by his past life's standards, but it was real food, something he used to enjoy at any given moment. In this life, three real meals a day was an impossible dream.
But Dorian, with his wealth of forgotten knowledge, always made something special. Even Leo, with its vast Accord database, had no record of the dishes Dorian would sometimes create from their meager ingredients. Tonight, he placed a bowl in front of each of his siblings. Pasta aglio e olio. Its simple nature, just noodles with garlic and oil, made it a perfect choice.
"Thank you, brother Dorian!" Lyra shouted, her eyes wide with appreciation.
"Thank you, brother!" Marcus echoed, already grabbing his fork.
Dorian smiled and ruffled both of their heads.
Leo's optical sensor blinked. "Marcus, your mathematics homework requires completion. Lyra, you have a pending review of stellar cartography."
"Boo, stop being a buzzkillington, Leo," Dorian said without looking up from his own plate.
"Buzzkillington is not a recognized word in my lexicon," the Compadre replied coolly. "Therefore, I am unable to be offended by it."
Dorian laughed and began to eat. As the family settled into their meal, Dorian sighed and chuckled softly. Lyra and Marcus were both happily eating, their gazes fixed on the small heliopads propped up beside their plates, streaming cartoons.
Suddenly, Leo's hovering form turned towards the door. "Welcome back, Master John."
John Kepler, their father, had arrived. He looked worn, the fatigue of interstellar travel and hard labor etched onto his face. Before Dorian could even stand, Marcus and Lyra were a blur of motion. They shot up from their chairs and ran to him, crashing into his legs in a flurry of ecstatic hugs.
"Dad! You're back!" Lyra cried, her voice muffled against the rough fabric of his work trousers.
John's tired face broke into a wide, genuine smile. He knelt, scooping both of them into his arms. "I missed you two troublemakers." The reunion was pure, uncomplicated joy.
As John stood, his eyes met Dorian's across the room. The boisterous energy of the moment seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet, awkward tension. An unspoken distance hung in the air between them.
"Dorian," John said simply. His voice was rough.
"Father," Dorian replied, his tone polite but formal. He stood from the table and picked up a clean plate. "Here. We just began our dinner."
The meal continued, livelier now with John's presence. Lyra and Marcus chattered endlessly, telling him about their school, their friends, and all the things they had done in the weeks he was away. John listened intently, laughing at their stories and asking questions, soaking in the family life he missed so dearly on Mord Tida. He tried to connect with Dorian, asking about the academy, but the conversation was stilted.
Finally, as the meal wound down, John looked at his oldest son. "The scholarship stipend," he started, his voice a little hesitant. "That will be coming in soon, right?"
Dorian met his father's gaze. There was no malice in the question, only the weary pragmatism of a man who was always thinking about the next bill.
"Yeah, I know," Dorian replied, his voice flat. "It's four days from now."