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E lara couldn’t focus on anything else. The multihued world was more beautiful than any hologram or picture she had ever seen.
The long string of shuttles landed just as the warm orange sun peeked over the distant mountains of translucent crystal. An enormous prism projected a rainbow across the landscape. Every student aboard the train pressed themselves against the window to see the spectacular sunrise on the world they would soon be calling home.
Once they had landed, Elara grabbed her bag and pushed her way toward one of the train’s exits. She was finally about to step onto a new world. A proper new world this time, unlike that smelly swamp one she was already trying to forget. Knot followed behind her, surprisingly quiet in her footsteps. It took several minutes for every student to reach the door—though the path opened up a bit when Elara’s future classmates noticed the massive stone giant.
The train let the students off on a large, hovering, covered platform that looked like it was carved from an impossibly massive seashell. Except it wasn’t impossible. Not at all. Not on Paragon.
“It’s called the Brobdingnagian Buttercup,” Elara whispered excitedly to Knot. “It was bioengineered way back when the planet was first terraformed. This isn’t even as large as they grow!”
“And look!” she continued as she bumped her way past students. “You can see the ocean!” It was true. Through the semitransparent platform, they could see the watery depths below. The sea here was purple in color, deep and rich, with a crystalline quality.
She squinted. There were shapes in the water. Large and fast silhouettes swimming rapidly back and forth. She was about to point it out to Knot, when she realized that no one was moving anymore. Instead, all three hundred first-year students were staring straight into the air. And with a glance, Elara suddenly forgot all about the ocean and the train station.
High above them were the famous jellies of Paragon—vast floating animals with sweeping tendrils drifting lazily down. Each one was at least a hundred feet wide, though most of that was air. They were like living soap bubbles, each one a different variety of dancing pastel colors.
The docile jellies drifted far, far above in the bright sky, absorbing sunlight and refracting it, adding to the kaleidoscopic rainbow effect that was beaming all around the children.
Everything here was beautiful. Impossibly and perfectly beautiful.
It was exactly as Elara had always read. Paragon was the most beautiful planet ever conceived, designed and constructed by the most brilliant and artistic terraformers ever known. From the soft orange grass to the dense forest of onyx trees. In foliage, silicate- and carbon-based life blended seamlessly to form soft crystalline patterns. Closing your eyes, you could hear the distant sounds of woodland animals.
And the air! The air smelled just like freshly baked cookies. How was that even possible? Elara thought. She quickly decided that, at least for the moment, the “how” didn’t matter.
This was it. This was a terraformed world. The peak of beauty and height of function. A world that took the very best of nature and somehow made something more out of it.
“Students. Your attention, please.”
The voice was soft, yet it cut through the crowd like a knife. Floating above the round platform was a large glowing head. The hologram belonged to a member of the furry and catlike Rakeesta species. Elara recognized the woman immediately, and judging by the awestruck reaction of her classmates, so did everyone else. This was Headmistress Kyrsten Nebulina, winner of the Diamond Dragon Award, three-time holder of the Omnitarian Award of Universal Altruism, member of the Council of Affiliated Worlds, and writer of the most infamous piece of terraforming lore—the so-called Impossible Equation.
“I am Headmistress Nebulina,” she said, her voice carrying a slight purr. “Welcome, class of galactic year 09.BQ.92. It is my great pleasure to escort you all to your new home, our school—the Seven Systems School of Terraforming Sciences and Arts.”
A round of applause broke out among the crowd as the students stepped off the hovering platform and down a long and winding path. It was a wide road, and Elara found herself in the middle of the sea of students, unable to get a look at any of the vegetation.
A moment later she no longer cared. The path turned, and there it was: The school itself, a series of gleaming spires of marble and crystal, intertwined with massive organic buildings. Living trees blossomed into towering structures, all erupting from a surface of natural topaz.
Headmistress Nebulina addressed the crowd of first-year students as they proceeded toward the school grounds.
“Your first few days here will undoubtedly be ones of exploration, as I understand that for many of you, this journey has been long. However, there are some very important rules you all must understand.”
“One: You will not leave the campus without supervision. This is a strictly enforced rule, and failure to obey this rule will result in expulsion.” All the students seemed to take this very seriously, and Elara noticed the crowd grow quiet.
“Two: You will not utilize terraforming techniques or technologies without the express permission of an instructor.”
This rule seemed to be met with less importance, and Elara expected it would be broken quickly. She wouldn’t blame anyone personally. How could they not explore the skills they were being trained in?
“Three,” Nebulina continued. “Remember our school pledge. Recite it every day. It is the principal foundation by which all terraforming should be governed. It’s brief, and you can all learn it right now. Three simple words.”
Nebulina raised a furry hand, and a large glimmering holo-projection floated in the sky next to the headmistress. The air was emblazoned in electric blue letters.
“Do no harm,” the headmistress recited.
“Think about these words. Do no harm,” she repeated. “In terraforming, the power over life is in your hands. Every plant, every micro-cellular life-form, they are your responsibility. It is not enough to build new planets. We must make planets responsibly.”
Elara and everyone else nodded obediently.
“Now, students, in a moment we will reach the gates of the school. There you will be scanned and you will receive your schedules. Your accommodations have already been prepared, so you will be directed to the dormitories. Take these next two days to familiarize yourself with both campus and curriculum. Rest. Relax. And make yourself ready.”
With a wink and a smile, the giant, glimmering head of the Rakeesta concluded the orientation. “Remember, students,” she said with a wry smile, “your journey begins... now!”
And with that, the holographic head vanished, and behind it stood the massive gates of the school. Below, the road the children had been walking on was now composed of a radiant, alien crystal. It led to a set of wide obsidian steps that ended at the school’s administrative building.
With a lurch, the massive gates swung open wide. Elara smiled and started to climb.