CHAPTER 1
Jendra
I had been dreading the field trip to Magisteria for months. Not because I feared what I might find there—I had studied enough Magisterian history to know their patriarchal customs were archaic and absurd—but because I knew my classmates would embarrass themselves. Worse, they would embarrass Hippolyta with their grasping ambition to become part of the Federation’s machinery at any price.
When the morning finally came, I walked up the ramp of the sleek transport vessel with my head held high, my bag clutched in one hand. As the transport lifted off from Hippolyta City’s spaceport, the other eleven girls from my cohort chattered nervously or stared out the viewport at our beautiful planet receding below. From my seat near the back I tried to ignore Brequa’s breathless excitement two rows ahead.
“I can’t believe we’re actually going,” she whispered to the girl beside her, loud enough for half the cabin to hear. “We’ve read so much about their culture, and their… you know, theirleaders.”
Her seatmate tittered. Ah, yes, the Magisterianleaders: the royal house and their cronies, polygamous noblemen who found having both wives and concubines perfectly acceptable—ideal, even, as long as those wives and concubines went along with the Magisterian way.
I rolled my eyes and pulled out my datapad, determined to review my notes on Hippolytan governance models. I would need every argument at my disposal if, as I had heard might happen, our overlords decided I had skills they needed and didn’t care to honor my own desires. In that case, from what I had read, I would need to demonstrate that my value to Hippolyta—our separate and ‘almost equal’ world—would be greater than my value to the Federation as a whole.
It felt a bit arrogant, of course, to assume that the Magisterians would seize on my talents that way. But my favorite teacher, Ms. Opalin, had warned me explicitly.You need to be ready, she had told me.You have a mind practically designed for diplomacy. They’ll try to convince you that you don’t understand yourself as well as you think you do.
Ms. Haspor, our chaperone, stood at the front of the cabin once we’d cleared Hippolyta’s atmosphere. She represented the absolute opposite of Ms. Opalin as far as I could tell. Ms. Haspor was a stern woman in her forties, her gray-streaked hair pulled back severely. She had lived on Magisteria for a decade before returning to teach, which represented only the beginning of the things that made her suspect in my opinion.
“Girls,” she began, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. “I know some of you have… complicated feelings about this trip. But I want you to understand something from the outset: this is an opportunity. A privilege, even.”
I felt my jaw clench.
“I know you’ve studied Magisteria, either with Ms. Opalin or with me. It’s important that you have those lessons in mind today, however, and so I wish to review their most important points, in order to put you all—including Ms. Opalin’s students—in the proper frame of mind.”
She looked pointedly at me for a moment.Shit, I thought,I didn’t realize I’d developed a reputation. I had a moment’s dismay, but then a little thrill of hope rose in me—surely the Magisterians wouldn’t want a young woman with that kind of attitude.
Ms. Haspor’s eyes returned to the group as a whole as she continued.
“The history of Magisteria is the history of our modern galaxy,” she orated, as if addressing the Planetary Assembly. “Three hundred years ago, miners on the world to which we’re traveling now discovered gravitium deposits deep beneath the surface. Within fifty years, they had developed the gravitium drive—the technology that makes faster-than-light travel possible. The Magisterian Federation grew from a single planet to a dominant interstellar power.”
Mabola was taking notes, her amber eyes focused with that clinical intensity she brought to everything. She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow, as if challenging me to object to Ms. Haspor’s lecture.
“Of course, not everyone accepted Magisterian leadership willingly,” Ms. Haspor said. “Our own Hippolyta represented a loyal opposition almost from the beginning of the Federation. More recently, the Vionian revolt nearly tore the Federationapart only a decade ago. But Magisteria’s control over gravitium production has allowed them—us, really, for Hippolyta is and always will be Magisteria’s sister world—to prevail. Today, the Vionian Empire is no more than a stubborn, doomed resistance, and the Federation’s influence is unmatched.”
“And their influence is what, exactly?” I heard myself ask. “Forcing half the population into submission?”
Ms. Haspor’s gaze found mine, sharp and disapproving. “Their influence, Jendra, is what allows Hippolyta to exist as a sovereign world. Our leaders swore loyalty to the Magisterian crown in exchange for our autonomy. And part of that agreement includes this: young women from Hippolyta who prove their aptitude may enter the Magisterian military or civil service. Many have done so with great success.”
“Success at betraying everything Hippolyta stands for,” I muttered, but Ms. Haspor had already turned away. The rest of the journey passed relatively quickly. It was the first time in space for all of us, of course. With the exception of our one jump, though, when the stars all changed in an instant, it didn’t seem to me much more diverting than a video. When we made the jump and saw the bright white surface of Magisteria, covered with ice to a depth of two kilometers, even I had to admit to myself that the experience had a certain coolness—and then I winced at my mental pun.
As the transport began to descend, I listened to the increasingly nervous speculation from my classmates. Brequa practically vibrated with anticipation. Mabola remained coolly observant, occasionally jotting notes in her personal journal. I spent the time mentally rehearsing every argument against Magisterian customs I had ever learned.
When I caught a glimpse of the hole in the ice that gave access to Magisteria’s spaceport, and the way it seemed to be getting larger with every passing second, my heart was pounding despite my determination to remain calm. We filed off the transport into a gleaming corridor that smelled of recycled air, but purified and imbued with a pleasant, vegetal scent.
Two officials in crisp purple uniforms were waiting for us. Both men, naturally. The taller one consulted a datapad while the other surveyed us with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Welcome, girls of Hippolyta,” the tall one said. “You’re all looking lovely today. Ms. Haspor, they look like a fine group.”
Girls.Lovely.I gritted my teeth.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” our chaperone answered primly, her bright smile making me a little queasy.
“You know the way, Ms. Haspor,” the other man said. “Your tour will start in a few minutes, as soon as you have the girls prepared.”
Ms. Haspor led us through a maze of corridors that took us from the spaceport into what seemed an adjacent reception facility. Everything seemed adorned with evidence of Magisterian pride: rich purple wallpaper and deep blue carpets seemed to extend into infinity. To my surprise, Ms. Haspor led us into what seemed like a large coat room with benches along the walls and cubbies with hooks inside.
“Alright, girls, here’s the part I know you’re feeling a bit nervous about, if you’ve talked to older students about this field trip,” our chaperone told us. “You’re going to go ahead and remove your clothing and hang your things in the cubbies.”
I had indeed heard about this part of the field trip from older girls in my dormitory, but I had thought they were just trying to scare me. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at Ms. Haspor.
