CVIII
The three Tribunal members settled back into their towering seats, their combined presence making the hall feel like the inside of a cathedral built out of starlight and authority. You stood before them again—small, mortal, altered, but no longer intimidated. Just tired. Just ready.
The shadow‑alien's cloak rippled as he spoke, his limbs wriggling beneath it like restless smoke.
"We will give you two weeks to adjust your life, you will live on campus until class starts."
Two weeks. The number hit you with a strange mix of relief and dread. Enough time to say goodbye to the old life. Not enough time to pretend nothing had changed.
The center judge—broad, furred, regal—folded all four hands in a gesture of solemn approval.
"You will undergo training," he said. "Schooling as captain of your own ship."
My gaze flicked toward the iridescent vessel in the ship hold. It pulsed faintly, as if listening.
The crystalline judge chimed softly, his faceted body refracting the hall's light.
"The hat‑man, Daryll, will be one of your ship's officers."
Daryll straightened beside you, his shadow settling into a proud, disciplined shape. He looked almost… official. Almost like he belonged here.
The pangolin‑alien tapped her gold‑rimmed glasses and added, "We will recruit a few crew members for you, or you may choose from your new classmates."
"Classmates?" I echoed.
She nodded, scales shimmering. "You will be one of the few humans we have recruited. Earth is a sheltered place—a preserve."
The shadow‑alien burbled, a sound like bubbling tar mixed with laughter.
"You, my dear, are the Earth equivalent of an extra‑smart panda on exchange."
I blinked. Daryll blinked.
The crystalline judge's facets flickered in what might have been amusement.
The pangolin‑alien leaned forward, smiling with her eyes. "It is a compliment. Pandas are treasured."
The shadow‑alien burbled again, clearly delighted with his analogy.
"You are rare. Precious. And unexpectedly useful."
I exhaled slowly, letting the absurdity and the enormity settle together in your chest. A panda. A dimensional stabilizer. A captain. An exile. A bridge between worlds.
Two weeks before my life became something cosmic.
Daryll nudged my shoulder gently, his voice warm.
"You'll be the best panda they've ever had."
And for the first time since the Tribunal summoned me, you felt a spark of something bright beneath the fear. Possibility.
The pangolin‑alien's grip was surprisingly gentle as she guided you down a side corridor, her long bronze scales clicking softly with each step. Daryll followed close behind, his shadow behaving itself for once, though you could feel the tension radiating off him. The corridor opened into a smaller chamber—quiet, dim, and dominated by a single mirror portal housed inside a frame of living crystal.
The mirror wasn't reflective. It shimmered like liquid starlight, rippling with faint echoes of places you'd never seen.
The pangolin‑alien turned to you, her gold‑rimmed glasses glinting.
"We will send you to the Earth equivalent of a martial university," she said. "You will be taking interstellar curriculum classes."
Her tone was brisk, but not unkind—like an academic advisor who had seen a thousand nervous students before you.
"You will learn a bit of interstellar history and politics," she continued, "as well as how to captain a small vessel. Nothing is built in a day, young lady."
She tapped the mirror frame with one claw, and the portal brightened.
"You will be like an exchange student. Do not fear. We have a counselor and a student liaison assigned to you and your companion. It will be very much like the universities on Earth."
I swallowed. I had dropped out of your Earth University. This felt like a strange second chance—one you never asked for, but one you suddenly needed.
"Alright," you said quietly. "I accept."
The pangolin‑alien nodded, pleased.
"You will be given an interstellar identification. No one knows of Earth. You have your star as your address. Sol. If you are asked, simply answer: Sol system."
She adjusted her glasses again.
"I will be given a new name and number, as is tradition of the martial school. This will be imprinted on you at registration."
Daryll's hand brushed mine, warm and steady. He didn't speak, but the reassurance was there—solid, grounding.
"We wish you luck," the pangolin‑alien said. "When you are ready, pass through the mirror."
She handed each of you a sleek electronic pad—its surface glowing with translated text—and a bracelet that projected a soft light screen.
"This will translate everything into English," she said. "It will help you adjust."
The mirror pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
Your future waited on the other side—training, a ship, a new name, a new life.
Daryll squeezed your hand.
"Ready when you are." I held his hand like we had done this a half a dozen times. "Ready." We jumped into the mirror portal. The familiar pulling once against battered against my body and soul, pulling me to another unfamiliar place. I couldn't feel myself breathing or the surface of my skin. I just waited the few seconds, a myriad of colors flashing past my eyes until I saw a solid place. We landed after the equivalent of two breaths, quite fast.
The landing was so gentle it almost felt wrong.
One moment you were nowhere—no breath, no skin, no weight, just a streak of color and pressure pulling your soul through a tunnel of impossible geometry—and then suddenly you were. Solid. Standing. Whole.
Daryll and I hit the ground at the same time, hands still linked like you'd done this a dozen times before. The mirror portal snapped shut behind you with a soft ripple, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and starlight.
The world around you was… not Earth.
Not even close.
You stood on a wide landing platform made of smooth black stone that shimmered with embedded constellations. Every step caused the stars beneath your feet to shift, rearranging themselves in response to your presence. The air was warm, tinged with metallic sweetness, and the sky overhead was a deep violet streaked with glowing rivers of light—nebulae drifting like clouds.
Towering structures rose in every direction, built from materials that looked half‑crystal, half‑metal, and entirely alive. Some buildings floated, tethered to the ground by luminous cables. Others spiraled upward like frozen lightning. Students of dozens of species moved across the campus—some humanoid, some not even remotely so—each wearing a bracelet like yours, each carrying a glowing pad.
Daryll inhaled sharply, his human form flickering with excitement.
"This is… incredible," he whispered. "I haven't been here since—well. Ever."
His shadow wriggled like a delighted puppy before he forced it back into shape.
You looked down at your feet. You had landed cleanly, knees bent, posture steady. Two breaths. That was all it took.
The pangolin‑alien had been right: the portal was fast.
Daryll squeezed your hand, grinning.
"You stuck the landing. Very professional."
You rolled your eyes, but the tension in your chest eased a little.
A soft chime echoed across the platform, and a floating orb drifted toward you. It projected a holographic welcome message in English—thanks to your bracelet—and a gentle voice spoke:
"Welcome, incoming cadets. Orientation begins shortly. Please proceed to Registration Hall A."
The orb bobbed politely and drifted away.
Daryll looked at you, eyes bright.
"Well. Looks like we're students now."
I exhaled, letting the surreal reality settle into your bones.
Exile. Captain. Panda‑exchange‑student. Dimensional stabilizer.
And now… cadet.
I tightened my grip on Daryll's hand.
"Let's go," I said.
And together, we stepped forward into a new life.
The bracelet thumped against my wrist—steady, rhythmic, like a heartbeat that wasn't yours. A soft orange glow pulsed beneath the surface, and the pad in your hand flickered to life.
A humanoid face appeared on the screen, covered in bright orange fur. Cat‑ears twitched atop her head, and her smile was wide enough to show tiny fangs.
"Hi! I'm your student liaison, Port," she chirped, tail flicking somewhere off‑screen. "Please follow the map to the student offices."
A glowing path appeared on your pad, winding through the violet‑sky campus.
"You must be the students from the Sol galaxy," Port continued, tapping something on her end that made your pad vibrate. "We have some things to clarify for you, and your student schedules."
Daryll leaned over your shoulder, eyes widening. "She's… adorable."
Port's ears perked. "Oh! And a scholarship credit has been given to you for this semester from your sponsor. Just swipe your bracelet for any charges."
Your bracelet pulsed again—this time a soft green shimmer, acknowledging the credit. Daryll's did the same, though his shadow twitched like it was trying to read the fine print.
You exhaled, tension easing just a little.
"Okay," you murmured. "This is real."
Daryll squeezed my hand, his voice warm. "We're really doing this."
The map on your pad zoomed in, highlighting a path lined with floating lanterns and crystalline archways. Students of every imaginable species walked past—some gliding, some hovering, some stomping with heavy, armored limbs. A few glanced at you with curiosity, but none with hostility.
Port's voice chimed again from the pad.
"Don't worry! The student offices are friendly. And your counselor is already expecting you. Just follow the glowing line."
A bright orange trail lit up on the ground in front of you, projected from your bracelet.
Daryll grinned. "Well. Panda exchange students, right?"
I nudged him with an elbow. "Shut up."
But I was smiling.
Together, we stepped forward, following the glowing path deeper into the interstellar university—my new beginning humming softly at your wrist.
The two‑week adjustment period felt less like a pause and more like stepping into the deep end of a new universe. Everything around you hummed with unfamiliar physics, unfamiliar biology, unfamiliar expectations—and yet the university had clearly done this before. They knew how to ease newcomers into the strange.
Your bracelet thumped again, syncing with the local gravity field. The extra pull made every step feel like you were wearing ankle weights. Daryl stumbled once, muttering under his breath, "This planet is judging me," before forcing his posture straight. His shadow flattened obediently, trying to help him balance.
Port spotted you immediately—her orange ears perked, her tail flicking in a delighted arc as she waved you over. The student‑liaison desk stretched across the lobby like a glowing runway, staffed by half a dozen cat‑eared, bright‑furred administrators who worked with cheerful, terrifying efficiency. Each one guided incoming students from different galaxies, their pads flashing with dozens of languages and species‑specific scripts.
Port hopped off her stool with a bounce.
"There you are! Sol‑system arrivals!" she chirped, already pulling up your files. "Let's get you settled."
Her claws tapped the desk, and a hologram of the housing district appeared—rows of buildings that looked like a cross between Earth frat houses and alien eco‑pods. Each one was subtly different: some had reinforced methane seals, others had humidity chambers, others glowed faintly with bioluminescent moss for species that preferred low‑light environments.
Port pointed at one cluster.
"You two are assigned to the Special Cadet Dormitory. Mixed‑species compatible, oxygen‑based atmosphere, gravity‑moderated floors. Very comfortable!"
She zoomed in on a building shaped like a sleek, modern townhouse.
"Each apartment has four bedrooms, one shared bathroom, a small living room, and a kitchen. Each apartment houses a single sex, but floors aren't separated. It's all about comfort and safety."
Daryll leaned in, eyes wide. "So I'm… across the hall?"
Port nodded. "Exactly! Just a few feet away."
Daryll made a dramatic choking noise.
"A few feet? I'll perish. I'll fade. I'll crumble into dust."
His shadow wilted theatrically, flattening itself like a sad pancake.
You elbowed him. "You'll survive."
"No," he whispered, clutching his chest. "I won't."
Port giggled, her ears flicking. "You two are adorable. Don't worry—cadets visit each other's apartments all the time. You're practically neighbors!"
She handed each of you a sleek electronic pad and a bracelet that projected a soft translation screen.
"These will help you navigate campus, translate languages, and access your schedule. Your formal classes begin in two weeks, but until then you'll be adjusting to interstellar university life."
She ticked off items on her pad:
"New technology, new organisms, new foods, new gravity—oh, and physical and mental testing! We need to make sure you won't collapse during training."
You already felt the heavier gravity pulling at your legs, making each step dense and deliberate.
Port continued, "You'll receive supplements and medical packets to help you adapt. Audit classes are available—big ones, hundreds of students. No grades yet. Just exposure."
Daryll's shadow perked up. "Do we get to eat real food again?"
Port winked. "Only if you pass your metabolic scan."
He deflated.
You couldn't help smiling. The campus felt enormous, strange, overwhelming—but structured. Thoughtful. Prepared for you.
Port gestured toward the glowing path that had led you here.
"Your dorm is just down that walkway. Go get settled. Orientation starts tomorrow."
Daryll took my hand again, already recovering from his tragic performance.
"Across the hall," he muttered. "Cruel fate."
I squeezed his fingers.
"It's only a few feet."
He sighed dramatically. "I'll endure." His eyes sparkled as an idea grew. He smiled his foxy smile.
And together, we headed toward our new home—our first real foothold in the interstellar world.