String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [103]
Kathryn had always despised the rigid and uncomfortable testing facilities where Academy cadets reported quarterly for technical examinations. This was due in equal parts to the design and purpose of the rooms where the examinations were given. The inevitable anxiety that knotted within her each time she crossed the threshold to that room all but consumed her, no matter how well prepared she was for her tests.
Long benches with low desktops circled two-thirds of the room, arena-style. The distance between the cadet’s seat and individual workspace was calculated to the specifications of each cadet’s weight and body structure to provide maximum ergonomic support during the long and rigorous exams. Nonetheless, as the exams stretched into the sixth and, in some cases, seventh hour, Kathryn, like most of her fellow students, found herself hunched over, head resting on the desktop as she struggled to pry something resembling a coherent response from her lethargic and uncooperative brain.
Resigning herself to the task before her, Kathryn sat at attention and waited for the proctor to distribute the examination padds. An irritating creaking noise was coming from behind the podium where the proctor usually stood to announce the test section, and the room was filled to capacity with eager faces, but as Kathryn searched in vain for the source of the creaking, she realized that she did not recognize anyone else in the room. She toyed briefly with the possibility that she was in the wrong room. Perhaps she had found her way into a first-or second-year examination.
At that moment she realized that she had no business being here. She had graduated from the Academy years ago.
Creak… creak…
That sound again. There was a slow, soothing rhythm to it, which did little to mitigate its grating tone.
Creak… creak… creak…
Kathryn rose from her station and craned her neck to look past the rather tall humanoid seated in front of her, but was unable to see beyond the podium to the source of the sound. She searched in vain for the small comm button embedded in each station to alert the proctor to the fact that a student had completed a section or required assistance. Frustrated, she was about to simply make her way down to the exit aisle when a padd and small holographic image of a Class-M planet appeared before her. Similar items materialized at each station, and rather than disrupt the others, she chose to resume her seat.
Though she was certain that she wasn’t supposed to be taking this test, her curiosity got the better of her and she picked up the padd and began to read over its contents.
The series of equations that streamed across the padd were relatively simple. These were calculations that provided for the planet’s density, gravity, and composition. With a sigh she decided that this had to be a first-year exam. But as she continued to read she saw that each successive equation was more complex than the last. The equations suggested that the planet was infinitely more than any single planet could possibly be. In its present form it existed, theoretically at least, in not three but seven different dimensions.
Eight.
No… nine…
Creak… creak…
Scrolling to the bottom of the padd, she struggled to wrap her mind around the nature of the question being posed in the exam. As she didn’t recognize the construction of most of the algorithms before her, this was an almost impossible task.
A subtle radiance caught her attention. Turning to her right, she saw that the cadet seated next to her had placed his hands around the holographic planet before him. Glancing at his padd, she watched the equations shift automatically as the planet grew brighter and brighter. Moments later she had to avert