Decker woke up in a familiar sick bay. It seemed like not even a second had passed since he passed out. He sat up immediately.
"What happened? Where's Ophelia?"
The Lodge Mistress was sitting in a chair just across from his bed.
"She's fine. She'll be waking up in a similar sick bay on another ship 200,000 clicks off the starboard bow."
"What about Kel and Zaire?" asked Decker.
"As far as I know the other Aspirants are still on Hyperborea. There's just under a standard month left in the trial."
Decker felt his face. He realized his beard was gone. He was in a new body. He had died. He failed the trial.
He thought he would have been devastated but it seemed so unimportant now. Nobody was permanently dead. Nobody had an infinite number of copies of themselves being experimented on and/or tortured in simulations for all eternity. If all that cost him was his chance to join these weirdos that was a good trade in Decker's book.
It sure had been a wild ride though.
On the other hand Decker couldn't help but feel responsible for Ophelia washing out. If he hadn't talked her into helping him she would have aced that ridiculous trial. If he got to see her in person again he would apologize.
"So I guess Ophelia and I failed then?" said Decker.
"When did I say that?" asked the Lodge Mistress.
"Well you didn't have to," said Decker. "I died right? Wasn't that the test?"
"You should know better than to take anything we tell you during your evaluation process at face value, Squire Decker," said the Lodge Mistress.
Decker's eyes widened. He realized he still had all his new senses. That should have been a dead giveaway.
"The purpose of the trial is not to see if you can survive in harsh conditions. It is to see whether you can hold to the ideals of your lodge in a situation where survival is on the line," she continued. "You were being monitored the entire time you were down there. We saw you keep your word even to your extreme detriment. We saw you make friends out of potential enemies. We saw you find clever solutions to situations you couldn't overcome with force. We even saw you willing to put your life on the line when others were in danger. You only just barely passed the survival element but that's only one piece of the evaluation puzzle. You made it halfway at least."
"What about Ophelia?" asked Decker. "Did she pass as well?"
"That's not my call," said the Lodge Mistress. "She's with the Violet Motley. I will not embarrass myself by trying to predict the criteria by which they choose their members. She will if she impressed them."
Decker exhaled in relief. Ophelia knew what she was doing. If Decker had managed to pass he was sure she had as well.
"What about the aliens?" he asked. "Were they even real or was that all part of the evaluation too?"
"They were real enough to kill you, weren't they?"
"You are being deliberately inscrutable."
"It's not by accident," said the Lodge Mistress, "I always choose my words very carefully."
Decker suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"How long do I have to stay in the sick bay?" he asked.
"You can leave now if you like. It was just a routine mind upload. We've had the body ready since before you left for Hyperborea," said the Lodge Mistress. "I'll show you to your new quarters. I think you'll prefer them to your old ones. More roomy. Have something to eat, clean yourself up, and get some sleep because you take your oaths tomorrow morning. This is also your last opportunity to drop out with honor so think very hard about whether this life is for you."
* * *
From afar the observation deck of the Sic Semper Tyrannis looked like a shiny bulge on the head of the ship. The dome was entirely the creation of concentric layers of transparent force-fields. It could be sealed off perfectly from the rest of the ship and, if depowered, simply ceased to exist.
Huge and elaborate dragon tapestries, each an individual masterwork of art, covered every centimeter of the force-walls, leaving only the dome's ceiling open to the stars. The room was dominated by a central stage which had a dragon holo-statue on each side.
A black carpet cut an obvious path through the room and up the stairs leading to the stage. All along suited and cloaked rangers stood at attention. Filling in the space behind them was dozens of other rangers, at least a hundred, some wearing suits others wearing all kinds of different clothes. All wore identical green cloaks clasped with a black dragon insignia.
Decker knew there was going to be a ceremony but didn't really remember what was involved. The weird Neutronium Dragon etiquette book wasn't exactly the one that was getting most of his focus when he was trying to study at a million o'clock at night while simultaneously trying not to slip away into death.
This though, this was a lot to take in. He hadn't expected all this. It couldn't possibly all be for him, could it?
Decker walked along the path that had obviously been lain out for him, through the row of still-standing rangers. Decker had never seen anything like it, not in the real world.
The Lodge Mistress was waiting for him center stage. She wore green-gilded black ceremonial robes and a dragon-clasped cloak. A sheathed sword hung at her side. She indicated where Decker should stand with a nod of her head.
"Today you attest to unbreakable oaths. Listen to each question I ask of you and consider it as though for the first time," said the Lodge Mistress.
Decker understood. All he could think to do was nod.
"Do you swear to carry arms in the name of the protection of the human race, and all other intelligent species who dwell with peace within human space?" asked the Lodge Mistress.
"I do so swear," said Decker.
"Do you swear you will give your life, if necessary, to guard those under your protection?"
"I do so swear."
"Do you promise you will abandon all personal and familial interests, all political and genetic biases, and instead swear your sole allegiance to the human species, the Corps, and your lodge, in that order?"
"I do so swear."
"Do you swear to treat the honor of the Neutronium Dragons as your own personal honor, and to uphold our ideals unto the point of death?"
"I do so swear."
"Name them," said the Lodge Mistress.
"Honor, duty and courage," said Decker.
"Kneel," she said, and Decker did so.
The Lodge Mistress looked down at Decker, her eyes aflame with gravitas. Decker had always thought being in 'awe' of another human was only used as a metaphor, but now he knew better. He was awed by the presence of this woman who seemed to look directly into his soul.
"You must be the torch bearer, bringer of light to the dark unknown places. You must be the diplomat, exemplar of the better angels of your species. You must be the knight, protector of the life and dignity of the weak."
The Lodge Mistress held aloft a gleaming sword from old Earth, painstakingly restored to the same strength and sharpness as the day it was forged and then entropy locked. It was nearly ageless. Older than the Three Rings Cooperative, older than the singularity, older than human space travel. It was a relic of the unfathomably ancient prisoners of gravity who once looked up at the stars and could only guess at the destiny they represented.
She brought it down on Decker's shoulder with surprising speed and power, but also strict control. It stopped just shy of cutting him.
"In the name of the Aerospace Ranger Corps I now bestow upon you the title of Squire."
Moving the sword over his head the Lodge Mistress touched Decker's other shoulder and then returned the sword to its sheath in one fluid movement.
The assembled rangers applauded as Decker stood back up. The Lodge Mistress wrapped a green cloak around him and clasped it with a black dragon deathward.
Decker hadn't felt it back in the sick bay, not really. Now he did. He was a squire now. He was a member of A.R.C.