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tucked her feet under the sharp edge of the chair and smoothed her straight beige skirt over her legs, then nodded consent for the doors to be opened.
    The third-years entered first, calm and controlled, with heads held high. They walked not in a straight line but with a sense of purpose, each to his or her own place, without hesitation or hurry. They were seated within moments. Dr. Livinski smiled at the familiar faces, those of young men and women almost ready to take on active roles in the Alliance.
    The same could not be said for the second-years, who arrived in a semblance of a brigade with too many captains and several loose cannons. One young woman tried to tell each person where to sit while a taller male classmate argued with her. Both scowled at a student wearing a pop-up watch and a pair of fluorescent AV goggles. A handful of stragglers burst in late, and Dr. Livinski found herself wondering which members of the class would buckle down to handle the advanced work of the second year and which ones she would have to send home with a letter of regret.
    The disorder of the juniors, however, was nothing next to that of the first-years. The new pupils arrived in an awkward mass of gangly arms and legs, heads turning this way and that, voices raised in excitement. Instead of seating themselves quickly in the empty benches at the front of the room, they chose to scramble over one another in attempts to find seats farther back. Then, having reached the empty spots, they changed their minds, shuffling here and there and switching positions.
    With no hope of recognizing any of the new students amid the turmoil, Dr. Livinski resigned herself to a longer wait and made her way briskly to the podium.
    The chaos subsided as she began to speak, her deep voice powering its way to the back of the room. “This is the five thousand twenty-first year of Academy 7.” She let the words hang in the air. “To participate in this school is not a privilege. It is a challenge requiring hard work and commitment, nothing less. If you succeed in graduating, you will mark yourselves as the future of the Alliance.”
    A change swept over her listeners. Sprawled legs crept inward. The goggles vanished under a bench, and gazes zeroed in where they belonged.
    She launched into the climax of the speech. “Members of the first-year class, in the rare chance that you have not heard, I must make one fact quite clear. Fifty first-years are chosen to join Academy 7 each year, but the greatest number of slots open for the junior class is twenty-five. And let me assure you, that number is by no means guaranteed. Whether or not you return will be determined entirely by me.”
    A heavy quiet descended, the weight of her words settling down over the new pupils. She waited, letting the moment stretch and expand until the silence itself became part of the challenge. Then she added, “I shall now introduce each one of you. Please stand when I call your name.”
    The students did as they were told. Neither of the two Dr. Livinski wanted to see did anything exceptional. Aerin popped up then rapidly down as if trying to disappear, and Dane, who could not help but garner attention, stood and sat while holding his gaze locked on the wall, as though he hoped his curious audience might lose interest if he ignored them. Dr. Livinski severely doubted the offspring of Gregory Madousin or Antony Renning had any chance of blending in.

Chapter Four
    CLOSE ENCOUNTERS
    ACADEMIA’S SUN HAD BARELY CLEARED THE HORIZON when Dane stumbled up the stairs for his first class. The world was still a blur, and he nearly wrenched his ankle on the Great Hall’s uneven steps before reaching the third floor. He frowned at the tightly crammed classroom and rows of already-seated students, checked the timepiece on his wrist—not late—and wove through the old-fashioned desks to an empty chair.
    It rocked forward, trying to spit him back out. He scowled at the bent chair leg and scanned