Riley rubbed his face.

‘Another fifteen shitting minutes. I want my ship now.’

But the shakiness in his voice was obvious, and the words finished with a rising note tending toward a squeak. When Lianna put her hand on his shoulder, he blushed.

Carl blinked. She was his best friend, sort of, with long conversations and him treating her as an equal. It was only at night, alone, that he had dreamed other kinds of thought, but the thing was that none of them could come true, not with his impending humiliation.

And she was the instructors’ favourite, destined for a proud future, already favoured with access to certain restricted sections of the Logos Library. Meanwhile he was the quirky one with odd views, so often out of step with his classmates, self-sufficient and possibly too stubborn.

‘Oh,’ said Lianna. ‘There’s Eleanor. Come on, you three.’

Riley and Soo Lin followed her, with Carl trailing. But he was the first to stop, realizing what Eleanor was up to. By the time the others reached her, the air around Eleanor was filled with sliding shards of glass-like nothingness, spiralling through rotations that could not occur in realspace.

‘So she’s impatient,’ said Riley. ‘Do we blame her?’

Now only a shivering distortion remained, as Eleanor was outside normal timeflow, sidestepping the least-action geodesic, experiencing the tense remaining minutes in a few subjective seconds.

Riley looked envious. Carl wished he’d thought of Eleanor’s ruse himself; but he didn’t think he could summon the concentration, not now.

So they passed the remaining time in the normal way, with nervous murmurs here and there among the waiting candidates. Finally, Eleanor rotated back into normal timeflow and smiled at her friends.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Was I the only one to—?’

=Pilot Candidates, move out.=

‘I think you were,’ answered Lianna. ‘And we’re jealous as hell.’

‘That makes me feel better.’

Jostling, they lined up four abreast, before the massive sealed archway. Then the great doors began to open, furling back into a myriad polygons, revealing a shining walkway that led down to the magnificence of Borges Boulevard: the most notable thoroughfare in Labyrinth, contained within the city bounds yet infinite in length.

Then they began to walk out, all one hundred and seventy-three of them, every one of them scared. Even the downramp, short though it was, felt infinite as they descended its length and finally, in formation, stood on the boulevard proper, gleaming sidewalks and rails on either side, and then a drop, for Borges Boulevard ran on mountain-high buttresses in this part of the city. Far overhead, the city’s ceiling was a complex mosaic of dwellings and the city’s own physical self; while off to one side floated several tiers of spectator seats, currently occupied by several thousand Pilots who had specifically arranged their schedules so they could be in Labyrinth at this time.

As if Graduation were not intrinsically bad enough, the Pilot Candidates were beneath the gaze of those who had passed the test with ease.

How do they feel?

Perhaps the mature Pilots did not really see their younger counterparts. Possibly what happened inside their heads was merely vivid memory, as their minds took them back to their own triumphs, to the nova-burst of elation when they met their ships for the first time. For these were the true winners: the Pilots who lived for voyaging.

I can’t do this.

But of course he had to.

Beside him, Lianna’s face was shining with pride and excitement, her obsidian black-on-black eyes filled with the certainty that today was going to be the most notable day of her life.

Mine too.

Not in the same way, however.

Fuck it.

Sickness was building up inside him. However much he had trembled and dreaded this moment earlier, being in the moment was so much worse.

Then the massed Pilot Candidates began to walk on, heading toward judgement, to the end of their cosy years in Labyrinth, the beginning of real adulthood.

Not long now.

Call it a walk of shame.

There was a rhythm to their walk, as the candidates marched in time - left, right, left, right, fail-ure, fail-ure - while the tiers of watching Pilots hovered over them, and the worst thing was - Gods, no - the observers included Carl’s parents, though he had begged them to stay away.

A watery haze of shame and stress filled his vision. Hadn’t Dad already apologized for his commitments in the Halberg Nebula, and Mum for being with him on board?

I can’t endure it.

Could he simply break formation and run?

No, I can’t.

‘Relax.’ Lianna had fallen in step beside him. ‘You’ll be all right.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Yes, you will.’

He could have argued but that would be stupid. Everything hurt. Commander Gould was a monster, forcing him to go through this.

After an unreckonable time spent marching on that gleaming surface, they exited Borges Boulevard, and descended to a wide platform that overlooked a bluish chasm. On the far side was the cliff-like Great Shield, an outer wall of Ascension Annexe.

Along the titanic wall, scallop shapes were arranged in rows, each a doorway that was tiny-looking from here, but in reality huge.

=Make ready.=

They spread out along the platform, all hundred and seventy-three of them, separated by psychological more than physical distance: they were each on their own.

For this was it: Graduation.

He remembered his childhood on Molsin, the wonder of its sky-cities and the harshness of its underworld and acid seas, followed by the youthful return to his birthplace. Rediscovering Labyrinth had been a joy. And then the growing sense of purpose, the learning and the internalization of discipline, the notion of his destiny in life. A cascade of memories tumbled through him, making him want to cry.

This is impossible.

High up on the Great Shield, one of the scallop-doors moved.

Too late. I can’t run now.

Graduation was starting, and he would simply have to endure. All he could do was watch as a white frosty ribbon-path extended from the scallop-door like a vast serpent, snaking its way through the air toward the platform, toward him and the other waiting candidates.

It touched, and shivered into stillness.

=Pilot Candidate Ruís Alfredo, step forward.=

A slight-looking candidate advanced a pace, stopped, then continued to the platform’s edge where the ribbon-path began.

=Rise and be judged.=

One more step and he was on the path. Though it remained in place as a bridge, its surface began to flow, carrying Alfredo over the beautiful abyss - the Labyrinthine structures far below were a marvel - upward to the Great Shield, high up where the scallop-door was retracting.

Off to one side, a huge holo grew, displaying Alfredo’s progress for the watching Pilots, showing him in close-up. They could see the fear and wonder on his face as he stepped through the opened door, entered a great pale hangar, then froze below the beautiful thing that hung there.

The ship was luscious purple and rich cobalt blue, and its lines were strong; but no one applauded yet.

Tiny beneath the ship, Alfredo advanced. Finally he reached up to touch her hull - her under-surface hung close - with tentative fingers.

The ship’s hull shivered, and Alfredo bowed his head.

Then a carry-tendril snaked down, wrapped around his waist, and bore him upwards, all the way to the top of the ship, where it lowered him through the dorsal opening, into the Pilot’s cabin, on to the control couch he was born to occupy.