Free Barbarians at the Gates by Christopher Nuttall

toothbrushes. Now, the only time they saw the Assembly Hall was when they were mustered for inspection or when they listened to a guest lecturer. Some of the talks were interesting, touching on matters that were rarely covered at the Academy, while some were boring and tedious.
    As he looked around, he realized that the hall hadn’t been so crowded in years. Every fourth- and fifth-year cadet had been summoned. He caught sight of a few of his classmates and headed over to join them.
    “Attention on deck!”
    Roman stiffened automatically as the proctor called them to attention. A moment later, he caught sight of Commandant Leon Singh as the commander emerged from the side of the room and moved briskly to the stage. He had never seen the Commandant socially—cadets usually only saw the Commandant if they were about to be expelled from the Academy—and there were no shortages of rumors flying around about him, much less the small knife he wore at his belt. Singh apparently had special dispensation to wear the knife and turban along with his small, neatly-trimmed beard. Like most of the staff, Singh’s file was closed to the prying eyes of students.
    “At ease,” the Commandant said flatly. His Federation Standard was neat and precise, but there was a hint of another accent behind his words. “For those of you who haven’t figured it out”—his tone made it clear that he hoped that no cadet that stupid had survived the brutal winnowing of the Academy to date—”the Solar System was attacked. As yet, we do not know by whom, or why. We do know that you —the fifth-years, at least—will be graduating as soon as possible and will be going to war.”
    Roman swallowed. Death was a RockRat’s constant companion, one that could strike at any moment. The fragile environments RockRats created in asteroids could be destroyed easily, through carelessness, while it was also easy for enemy ships to blow them apart. He’d known from his earliest days that a single mistake could kill him and his family, yet...he’d never truly faced the prospect of his own mortality. Now...he was going to war?
    The prospect left him feeling unprepared, unready. It was tempting to believe that the war would be over before the exams were completed—providing they were even going to hold the exams at all, of course—and he officially graduated, but he knew that that was folly. Whatever had attacked the Federation, whoever they were, probably wasn’t willing to give up that easily.
    Suddenly, his worries over whether he would take a First or not seemed trivial.
    “Barring unforeseen circumstances, exams will be held as planned, a week from today,” the Commandant continued.
    Roman and the other cadets remained silent, but he could tell that a few of them were excited, perhaps hoping they’d not have to sit exams after all. Luna Academy’s exams were brutal.
    “I suggest that you all familiarize yourself with the rules and regulations for the exams—don’t just load them into your implant—and follow them to the letter,” Commandant Singh continued. “Ignorance will not be considered an acceptable excuse. Those of you who do have acceptable excuses must have them on file for the Academy Committee in three days. I shouldn’t have to tell you that failing to register any special excuse on time will result in it being disallowed.”
    His gaze swept over the assembled cadets. “These exams will determine your future as officers in the Federation Navy. The culmination of five years of work and study is about to begin. Are there any questions?”
    A fourth-year Roman barely knew stuck up his hand. “Sir,” he said, when the Commandant acknowledged him, “why are we holding the exams at all under these circumstances?”
    A low rustle ran around the chamber, but the Commandant seemed unbothered by the question.
    “You are too inexperienced to be called up at once, ideally,” he said, simply. “Besides, we need to show that this attack