He opened his eyes and stretched on the long couch. Phantom sensations tingled along his limbs as the boost sheaths abandoned the biologic’s wing nerves. After riding the pterodactyl’s neurology for three hours, he felt faintly resentful his human body couldn’t actually soar through the sky. His subconscious was busy convincing him he was made out of lead.

The training mission control room was a wide circle, with two tiered levels surrounding a central hologram stage. The couches were on the topmost level, where operatives commanded the various artificial creatures that would soon be stalking the poor innocent clanmates—a threat scenario designed to trigger the instinctive teamwork they’d trained for all their lives.

The graduation exercise had been refined considerably in the four years since Dellian had crash-landed after his island resort holiday. The introduction phase was more gradual to avoid suspicion; the period the exercise was conducted over had been lengthened, allowing a broad range of talents to be brought out and utilized. And the area itself was given a much greater level of scrutiny beforehand, eliminating unforeseen problems like cougars suddenly cropping up and wrecking everything.

Dellian sat up and looked over at the next couch where Xante was lying. His friend was still riding his own pterodactyl, eyes closed, limb muscles twitching at random. Most of the twenty couches were currently unoccupied. The threat action wasn’t due to be ramped up until later that evening, when darkness closed over the deserted city.

On the tier below, the training masters were busy monitoring their pupils, listening and watching. Dellian’s overflight had certainly stirred things up, bestowing a sense of urgency lacking until now. He watched the watchers for a while. Tilliana was a section leader now, although the majority of the instructors were the clan’s tutors, evaluating their protégés, with Fareana, this yeargroup’s mentor, directing the overall setup. Over the years since Dellian’s graduation, the boys who’d been boosted were gradually taking over the animal rider duties. This was his third graduation exercise, allowing him to put his combat training to practical use.

It was strange. He felt like he was looking into the past, seeing Alexandre in Fareana’s place, with himself and his yearmates performing on the visual stage, while the training masters made sarcastic and amusing comments among themselves at the antics of the hapless trainees. And now he was one of the puppeteers. It was a sensation he could feel his cohort picking up on and puzzling—mainly because he wasn’t entirely sure of his own emotions at the development.

“Taking a break,” Dellian told Fareana, and received a quick nod of permission. He left the control room and went through a portal out into Eastmal’s riverside park.

The city was now the capital of Juloss, mainly by default; it was the only inhabited city left on the planet. Located 4,000 kilometers north of the Immerle estate, it had a temperate climate Dellian rather enjoyed after growing up exclusively in the tropics. Living there gave him a somewhat melancholy glimpse into what life on the world had been like before the traveler generation ships portaled out, taking everyone else with them. Not that he was resentful, he told himself every day he walked through the busy streets.