Perfect Acting

The second Orson wrapped up, the crowd flipped out. Nervous chatter spread fast, and a few kids broke, darting toward the instructors with desperate pleas.

"You hauled out a warship just to throw us into a jump?"

"Oh man, I'm gonna hurl and we haven't even moved!"

"Is this some messed-up freshman prank?"

Lena didn't get why everyone was losing it. People were falling apart all around her, and Violet was nowhere in sight.

She started to step away, but a pale face popped up in front of her.

Round glasses sat on a small, freaked-out girl—weird in a time when bad eyes got fixed faster than a scraped knee.

Lena's eyes lingered for a second before she moved to dip out. Then the girl grabbed her sleeve.

"Your mental power's got to be high, right? S?" Her voice wobbled.

Lena thought about brushing her off but held back. "Nope, just B."

The girl's eyes went wide. "Then why are you so calm right now…?"

Before she could finish, a massive boom shook the ship. The Sneaker-N3 roared awake from Gungnir's plaza, yanking a bunch of stunned freshmen straight into space.

Back at the gate, Draven stared at his Alioth buddy, jaw dropped. "Gungnir's nuts borrowed the Sneaker-N3 from you guys for boot camp?"

The guy lit a cigarette and slapped Draven's shoulder. "We just got the word today, bro. Some hyperspace crash course. Chill—no one's kicking the bucket."

"Hyperspace crash course?" Draven's gut sank.

He flashed back to his first jump—senior year, after four years of mental power training.

Even then, it'd slammed him hard. He and his roommate had to hold each other up just to stay off the deck.

"Those maniacs… how am I not supposed to freak out?" He ripped off his cap, running a hand through his hair. The Sneaker-N3 was already a dot in the sky.

His buddy laughed. "Man, you're such a sister nut. Violet's A+—she's good. Come on, let's get a beer." He tugged Draven away from the gate.

Meanwhile, the Sneaker-N3 punched through orbit.

Most kids were still spinning when Orson's voice sliced through again.

"Prepare for hyperspace."

The ones holding out hope it was a fake-out? Toast. Panic kicked into overdrive. The instructors weren't playing.

Yellow-green lights flashed through the cabin, strobing hard. The hull shook with that pre-jump growl.

The girl hanging onto Lena's sleeve clamped down tighter, nails biting in.

Then it slammed them. The ship jolted like it'd dropped into some weird nowhere. Fully sealed—no windows, no screens, just blank metal walls.

The instructors didn't let them peek outside, and that cranked the fear up to max.

Lena caught a light buzz in her ears, no big deal. But around her, kids were choking, hitting the floor.

The girl next to her crumpled, face screwed up in pain. She held onto Lena like she was the last thing keeping her standing.

The air got heavy, like breathing molasses. Most of them couldn't get a lungful, wheezing like they'd been tossed out an airlock.

Everything felt fine to Lena. She glanced around—kids puking, dropping like flies—and couldn't wrap her head around why they were losing it.

Then her eyes met Zane's. He stood a few feet away, cool as ice, not a flicker of strain.

They were both shocked, by each other.

Zane hesitated and opened his mouth, "You…"

Before he could say it out, Lena's mind snapped back to the glasses-girl clutching her sleeve.

The girl asked if she was Class-S—which must be why she wasn't fazed now. It clicked.

High mental power shielded you from hyperspace's gut-punch. That's why Zane was standing tall while everyone else ate the floor.

Trouble was, her official rating was Class-B. Chilling here like it was no big deal? That'd set off alarms.

She made a call. Ignoring Zane's sharp look, she faked a wobbly sway and went down—aiming for a spot that wasn't a vomit puddle.

Meanwhile, up in the cockpit, the instructors crowded around the screens, picking apart the wreckage of their first test.

"Admiral Nebulon's grandson," Zeon said, tapping Zane's image. "S+ mental power. Kid's a monster."

Zane picking Gungnir was the school's jackpot this year.

Every recruiter from the Empire's academies had been all over the Nebulon family, drooling over the S+ wunderkind, placing bets on his choice.

Most assumed he'd stick with Admiral Nebulon's Mjölnir—made sense. But they'd still scrambled for the off-chance he'd go rogue.

Then Zane chose Gungnir—the one school that didn't beg for him. The galaxy's collective jaw hit the floor. Why pick a washed-up academy?

Zeon still couldn't figure it out. But whatever—Zane was here now. No point in overanalyzing.

Gungnir had the only S+ freshman across the six major schools. This was their best rookie lineup in years, no question.

"And her—Kathy Woods, from the Fourth System," Orson said, pointing at a long-haired girl standing steady as a rock. "Class-S mental power."

Zeon nodded. She wasn't fazed either. Her file was simple: grew up in the Fourth System's sticks—rough, no-frills life, no handouts. No big family name, no strings to pull.

Class-S or not, she'd probably hit mecha soldier status someday, but climbing the military ranks without a heavyweight in her corner? Good luck.

Gungnir's recruiters had dangled shiny promises to reel her in.

Zeon saw her and Zane as the kick Gungnir needed to climb out of the gutter.

"This group's got some strong A+ kids too," Orson said, nodding at a blonde with a high ponytail—Violet—on the screen. "Admiral Cross' daughter. Chip off the old block, huh?"

Zeon smirked, liking what he saw. Then it hit him. "Hold up—didn't Cross's other adoptee sign up too? Command track, Class-B mental power?"

Orson, who'd memorized every freshman's file like a machine, zoomed in on the screen and pointed next to Zane. "She's out…"

Zeon arched an eyebrow. "Both from the Cross family—how's the difference this big?"

"She's on the command track, mental power's just Class-B," Orson said. "Grew up out at Starhold Outpost—tough place. Only got back a couple days ago, and they say she's always been weak. Fainting fits the profile."

Zeon let out a snort, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Weak and she's at a military academy?"

Orson grinned, shaking his head. "Her big brother in the military twisted some arms—called in a favor with Admiral Cross. No getting out of that."

Every year, the higher-ups shoved their problem kids into the big academies. Gungnir used to dodge that mess, but not anymore. They were scraping by and needed Admiral Cross' pull.

Zeon didn't bother answering, just flicked his gaze off the screen.

A robotic ping broke the moment: "Hyperspace jump complete."

The jump was done—thirty seconds, max. To the recruits, it'd dragged on like an hour of hell.

Violet was still standing, but the dizziness had slammed her. It lightened up after the jump, and she caught bits of talk—someone had gone down. A bad vibe hit her hard.

Not Lena.

She pushed through the crowd to a cluster of staring kids and saw her—Lena, sprawled on the floor.

Violet rushed over, pulling her up. She whipped her head toward Zane, still chilling nearby. "What happened to her?"

Zane stood there, speechless.

Lena cut in before he could drop the real story, "waking" with a slow, dazed blink.

"I'm good." She patted Violet's shoulder and dragged herself up.

Her eyes locked with Zane's again—same vibe as that tense moment in the Cross Residence garden. She stared him down, steady as ever.

No rule said passing out couldn't have a little buildup, right? Lena thought her act was perfect.