A Princess of the Aerie Read Free Page B

breathed a sigh of relief; this wasn’t so bad. He would still be on the Maniples team, and if he was sentenced to perpetually
     take the course he most disliked, well, at least with all that exposure to it, he should be able to speck some detection-proof
     method of cheating.
    “Now those are the preconditions for your staying. About your Junior Task.” The Dean seemed to be glowing with joyous bonhomie,
     like one of the medieval gods— Buddha or Santa Claus or Satan, Jak could never keep them all straight. “You will take on an
     independent project to be graded by me. It must be a situation exactly like those you will encounter as a field operative:
     the directions must be vague, the goals not entirely clear, the situation one in which you have to interact extensively with
     people who are not Hive citizens and do not share our goals. It’s a shame that that little adventure of yours a couple of
     years ago— when you rescued Princess Shyf, put Psim Cofinalez in line to be Duke of Uranium, and acquired a number of cross-cultural
     friends, including one Rubahy—isn’t coming up now, because it would have been perfect. You have one week to tell me what your
     project will be. Questions?”
    “Er, well, none right away sir, but—”
    “Then goodbye, and good luck on that exam you have forty minutes from now. If you’re quick, you can probably review all the
     ethnographic material just before you go in.” The Dean winked so merrily that Jak might almost have mistaken it for friendly.
    Unable to think of anything else to say, Jak got up and airswam through the door, which closed behind him silently. An instant
     later he heard bellowing, joyful laughter. Jak resolved not to mention that to anyone. Already, his story would be disbelieved
     by every other student, when he got to the part where the Dean smiled.

C HAPTER 2
I Don’t Need You to Kill a Man
    S o apparently the first thing I have to do is come up with a project,” Jak said to his best tove Dujuv, as they sat down to
     share a platter of Whole Steamed Beefrats in a private booth in the Old China Cafe, their favorite booth in their favorite
     place of many years, in Entrepot, a vast shopping area tens of kilometers across, far down in the lower decks of the Hive,
     not far above the industrial service decks, so far down that the main floor was on the .76 grav deck. The Old China had a
     proletarian-jock tendency to big portions, heavy sauces, and strong flavors, especially to sweet-and-sours.
    Since his allowance was generous and his Uncle Sib was rich, Jak was probably among the Old China’s wealthiest customers.
     Not the wealthiest, though. That had to be Sesh.
    The greatest shock of Jak’s life had occurred two years ago when he had discovered that Sesh Kiroping, the girl who had been
     his sweet, amiable, pleasant demmy for his last years in gen school, was in reality Princess Shyf Karrinynya, or more formally,
     Her Utmost Grace the Princess Shyf, Eleventh of the Karrinynya Dynasty of the Kingdom of Greenworld, by the Blessed Choice
     of Mother Gaia. Greenworld, a vital ally to the Hive, was in the Aerie, the other giant space station in the solar system.
    Discovering Sesh’s real identity had led Jak, and later Duj, into wild adventures, caused Sesh to return to the Aerie, and
     gotten Jak and Dujuv into the PSA not as Hive citizens, but as special favors to the Duke of Uranium, Psim Cofinalez, one
     of the hundred or so most powerful people in the solar system.
    Jak thought of that adventure as the best weeks of his life, living like a hero in an intrigue-and-adventure viv: plots, rescues,
     counterplots, affairs with beautiful girls, high adventure with good toves. Since then he had mostly spent time in class,
     or socializing with Fnina, his current demmy, who had the looks of a model, the clash-splash-and-smash of a viv star, and
     the perspicacity of an unusually naive brick. She had been attracted to Jak by Mreek Sinda’s best-selling