Free The Methuselan Circuit by Christopher L. Anderson

President has decreed that use of a lie detector in non-judicial matters is an invasion of privacy.” She stopped, as if considering what she could say and what she couldn’t. At length, she told them to take the test. “It is not the same test you’ve taken previously. This test will gauge what you want to get out of the Academy. When you graduate you will take the same test. The comparisons are interesting and quite useful for all concerned. You may commence.”
     
    As the first question appeared on the visiplate, Alexander noticed that a stasis field surrounded him so that he couldn’t hear any of the cadets around him and they couldn’t hear him.
     
    “Good morning cadet Wolfe. Tell me, why did you want to go to the Academy?”
     
    “To serve and become a Citizen,” he said.
     
    “What frightens you the most about the Academy?”
     
    “I’m afraid I won’t be do so well at sports, no it’s not so much that,” he said, trying as best he could to tell the truth of it even if the lie detector was off—which he didn’t quite believe. “I think I’m afraid of failure.”
     
    There were more questions like that, some personal and some general. It took about fifteen minutes and the stasis field dissolved. When everyone had taken the test Admiral Hinohosa passed the podium to Centurion Fjallheim, a tall red headed man with a large mustache and an impossibly square jaw. He wore the scarlet and gold of the Legions.
     
    He looked as if he could tear a man in two, and Alexander wouldn’t be surprised if he had done it for real. “I am Centurion Fjallheim, and I will referee the competition between the flights. There are twenty-six flights of forty cadets each, Alpha through Zulu.” He stepped off the podium and began to pace around it, his large hands clasped behind his back. “You will compete in academics, in leadership drills, in combat drills, in disciplinary statistics and in sports. In other words, you will compete at everything. You will drive each other to be better than you could ever be by yourselves. That’s the point to all this, and history tells us that it works. So don’t think we’re doing this because we enjoy watching you suffer just like we did when we were cadets!”
     
    He smiled and allowed a moment for the nervous laughter to dissipate.
     
    “At the end of the year the first place flight will get their names inscribed on the Academy Station itself—for all to see for as long as our civilization lasts.” He paused, and it felt like he looked at every single cadet. “The flight that finishes last will have the honor of repeating the year. If they finish last again every member of the flight is expelled. Do I make myself clear?”
     
    “Yes sir!”
     
    “Look at yourselves, look within yourselves,” he told them forcefully. “Forty of you will be standing at the pinnacle of glory at the end of the year; however, forty of you will be cowering in shame. Think of which way you want to apply yourself!” He stepped aside, and his voice boomed forth. “Cadets of class 2207, I present the Commandant of the Space Academy, Fleet Admiral Sten Augesburcke IV, Atten-tion!”
     
    Admiral Augesburcke wore the sable and silver of the Fleet. The trim of his uniform was silver and he wore four slashes of silver on the left sleeve of his tunic. He stepped forward and after surveying the group of cadets for a moment, like a farmer surveying a field of young wheat, he started to climb the stairs between the rows of seats.
     
    His eyes were fixed on Alexander.
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 8: Academia in Space
     
     
     
    Admiral Augesburcke stopped opposite Alexander, looking down on him with sparkling blue eyes that barely peeked out from beneath his bushy white brows. He clasped his hands behind his back and cocked his head to the side.
     
    “Cadet Alexander Wolfe!”
     
    Alexander leapt to attention as if bitten by a spider. “Sir, yes sir!” Alexander said instinctively, as if