Rei smiled without turning to her, his attention back on his lunch. “I’m glad. Then again, your Growth spec is slightly above average, so I’m not all that surprised.”
“Hey now! I hit D6 the week we started training!” Catcher was probably trying to pout, but his cheek-full of food somewhat ruined the effect. “Even us lowly average-Growthers are getting something out of this, you know?”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I don’t think I want to go looking too hard for it…” Viv said with a snicker.
As she and Catcher started to bicker amicably again, Rei let them be, his mind elsewhere as he considered their discussion. The Intra-School SCT…
As he was now, there wasn’t a User among the first years he thought he had a fair shot of going up against. Even the likes of Tad Emble—who had been a D0 when he’d been accepted to Galens—were still margins more powerful, and ever firmly out of Rei’s reach. His CAD-Rank was bad enough as it was—he was still “the E-Ranker” to some of the less amiable first years—but the real problem lay in the fact that his specs were actually skewed below even his E9, earned up from E7 over the course of 2 weeks hard work both in class and in the nightly after-dinner conditioning with Viv and Catcher. Ordinarily E9 would have put his specification around that rage, but his S-Ranked Growth had skewed all this numbers from the start.
Six weeks… he considered.
Regardless if Viv was right about the announcement, the Intra-School SCT would start in a month and a half. Maybe Rei would get lucky and have an extra day or so if he wasn’t in the first round of fights, but that was hardly a game changer…
You need to get stronger.
Valera Dent’s words reached him again, and he frowned as he chewed. 6 weeks. He had a 6 weeks to get to a point where he could stand on a field with the other first years without embarrassing himself.
But no… No. That wasn’t right. Was that all he wanted? Was that all he was seeking out of his time at Galens? To be just “good enough”? To be just strong enough to stand toe to toe with some of the other cadets?
No… No. That wasn’t enough.
He’d already told the captain that, in fact. He’d already told her that he wanted what she had had. That he wanted a legend like the one she’d left behind in the circuits when she’d volunteered for the front lines.
And what had she told him? Not to aim to be like her.
“‘Aim to be like the ones who beat me’,” Rei quoted under his breath, lifting his gaze to look at Viv.
She could qualify. She could. He was sure of it. Catcher too, in fact, though that would be more of a gamble.
And Rei had 6 weeks to reach them, and higher.
*****
By the time they finished their meals and left the mess hall, the storm had subsided just enough to make the walk to the Arena bearable. The true rain had turned to an uncomfortable spit, and so Rei, Viv, and Catcher were feeling more damp than wet when the black-and-grey walls of the massive building came into view. Even that didn’t bother them, though, because they were too busy looking around as they started along the white marble path.
“Whoa… Isn’t that Anatoli Sidorov?” Catcher asked, pointing at a muscular youth with shoulders that would have matched Michael Bretz’ for width, the red-on-green band looping his arm marking him as a second year.
“Yeah it is,” Rei whispered back, but he was looking past the massive boy to another, shorter figure a ways beyond him. “But look. That’s Christopher Lennon.”
“No way,” Catcher breathed, craning to see through the moving crowd.
On his other side Viv finally gave in.
“Who are you guys talking about?” she asked under her breath, looking around in an embarrassed sort of way, like a mother abashed by the behavior of her children. She had reason to, of course, given that they were no longer encircled by the familiar faces of the first years alone.
In a collective bow against the wind, the entire student body of the Galens Institute was in the process of making their steady way towards the Arena. Aside from red-on-green, there were also the blue armbands of third years, along with a few scattered white markings of staffers apparently intending to attend the special assembly as well. Though the older students didn’t look much different from the first years, Rei couldn’t help but feel smaller than ever among them, especially when he caught sight of a few familiar faces.
“Okay, Sidorov I get.” Catcher was frowning at Viv in distinct disappointment. “He was the champion of the first year bracket at Sectionals last year, and not everyone watches that. But Lennon is a legend! Come on! The guy is one of like five to have competed at the Collegiate Intersystems last year as a second year!”
“Wait,” Viv cut him off, her embarrassment vanishing as she caught sight of the dark-skinned figure in question, a smaller third year with short, grey dreadlocks just making the mouth of the Arena’s east entrance. “The Lasher? That’s him?”
“Yes!” Rei and Catcher both said together, half-exasperated, half-relieved.
“He’s incredible,” Rei continued. “He was the only second year in the top eight at the Astra Systems, and almost made it to the top fifty at the Championships ahead of a lot of third years. He’s a favorite to make the top sixteen this year! Oh, and over there there’s Wattana Jelani, who—!”
He and Catcher took turns gushing over the famous faces they saw all the way up into the Arena. Unlike most any other day they’d passed through the structure, the roof of the massive building was closed today, the great triangular plates sealing off the cavernous inside from the abuse of the summer storm. Under the bright glow of a hundred solar lights that illuminated the room as brightly as any sun, Rei and the others following the flow of the crowd towards the south end of the stands, which seemed to be the school’s standard assembly point. Despite their gathering number tripling the Commencement Ceremony’s attendance, among the massive seating designed to accommodate 150,000 people, the collected first, second, and third years still looked like nothing more than a drop of black-and-gold mixed with vibrantly colored hair against the white stone of the seats. The graduating classes had been separated to sit alongside each other in three separate sections, with the third years claiming the central seats, this time. Above this middle gallery the projected image of the red griffin on blue hovered large, while the red-on-green was suspended over the section west of it, and the red-on-grey to the east.
Reaching their area, Rei, Viv, and Catcher took to the stands and found a trio of seats all lined up just a row up from the walkway. They settled in, the physical projection of the supports allowing them to lean back as they continued to talk, their chatter joining the drone of the hundreds of other conversations happening all around them. Every so often someone would peer down into the Arena, where not a soul was present, the lack of officers and NOED indicators a testament to the fact that they had all already been at the Institution for a whole month.
“Oh, that’s Lana Archer.” Catcher was still fawning over the older students when he could. “She made it to the Systems last year. I’ve heard she’s inconsistent, but a serious danger when she’s in the zone. And that’s Shoko Komi. She’s supposedly too shy to do interviews or anything like that, but you seriously do not want to get on the wrong end of her—”
“Dude, do you ever breathe?”
As one the three of them looked around. Sense was grinning down from the seat over Rei’s right shoulder. Next to him, Kay gave a brief wave, while on her far side Leron Joy stared resolutely ahead, refusing to look in their direction. Rei returned Kay’s hello, but ignored Joy just as stiffly.
“Catcher will tell you breathing is overrated,” he addressed Sense instead with a chuckle.
“Highly,” Catcher started with what might have been a solemn sort of nod, except he stopped himself to look past their friends. “Rei. Your superfan has her eye on you again.”
Rei frowned, leaning sideways a little t
o follow Catcher’s eye around Sense’s head. Sure enough, Aria Laurent sat three rows above them, and the moment their eyes met she looked away quickly.
“What is up with her?” he asked himself, and before him Sense and Kay both turned to see what he was looking at.
“With whom?” the Lancer asked, her blue-and-red hair tied in a pair of tails under the back of her cap. “Laurent?”
“Yeah,” Viv answered, still watching the C-Ranker intently, as though hoping to catch the girl glancing their way again. “She’s been watching Rei like a hawk since the start of term.”
“Oh?” Kay said, turning to face them with one eyebrow raised. “Guess she’s sharper than the rest of us, then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viv asked slowly, blue eyes shifting to the Lancer.
Before Kay could answer, though, Sense leaned forward, pointing between their heads towards the Arena floor. “You’ll have to interrogate her later, unfortunately. Look.”
At the gesture, Rei, Viv, and Catcher all turned about again, just in time for a shout to ring across the conversation and chatter.
“OFFICER ON THE FIELD.”
As one, 384 cadets stopped talking and took to their feet, saluting in the direction of the Arena. The silence was so abrupt and absolute that one could actually hear the clip of leather boots over projection plating as six figures made their way across the field. When they reached the center of the Dueling ring, they about-faced, and at once the steel beneath their feet glowed white.
A couple of seconds later, the officers were on level with the bottom row of the stands, the red griffin having once more grown to extend itself against the perfect surface of the suspended hologram.
“At ease, cadets,” Valera Dent’s amplified voice rang across the quite, one of two among the figures to have stood forward from the other four. “Take your seats.”
There was a clattering of noise as the students of every year did as they were instructed.
“You’ve been gathered here today at the cost of your training afternoon for an important announcement,” the captain continued, her brown eyes sweeping slowly over the stands under the brim of her cap. “It has been a month since term started, in which time I have had the great pleasure of seeing most among you make excellent improvements not only in your strength and ability as Users, but in your pride and attentiveness as cadets of the Intersystem Collective Military. Let me first take a moment to congratulate you on that, and say out loud how proud I am of every one of you and your efforts.”
She paused as some murmured appreciations broke out in the crowd, letting the interruption settle before continuing.
“I think—therefore—that none of you will be taken aback when I tell you that soon, the focus of your training will shift a little, particularly among the first years. It is time to start preparing you for a true Simulated Combat Tournament.”
While none of the other graduating years looked remotely surprised by this, the cadets around Rei and the others were distinctly more enthusiastic of this announcement.
“I told you!” Viv hissed, punching Rei in the arm before reaching across him to do the same to Cather. “I told you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Catcher answered her with a smirk, not looking away from Dent as he rubbed his shoulder. “Now hush. I want to hear this.”
“In six weeks’ time, the first round of the Galens Institute Intra-School SCT will take place.” Valera Dent had continued on, ignoring the first years’ collective excitement. “It will run the first seven weeks of your second quarter. As you all know, however, I am not the officer in charge of the tournament, so I will leave the explanations to someone more qualified.” She stepped back with a gesture towards the other figure who had been standing beside her, an older man in the same regulars she sported. “For those of you who do not know him, allow me to present Major Dyrk Reese, who will be handling all brackets and arbitration for this event.”
“Thank you, captain,” the major said politely, and as he took center attention Rei recognized the man with a frown. Head shaved and with deep set eyes, Dyrk Reese was the very officer who’d looked to disapprove of his participation in the demonstration match at the Commencement.
Suddenly, Rei got a bad feeling.
“As your Chief Combat Officer has just stated, my name is Major Dyrk Reese, and I am the coordinator and principle arbiter of the Galens’ simulated combat tournaments, including the Intra-Schools. Most of you are already familiar with this event, but I will nonetheless explain it for the benefit of our first years.” Reese turned to face the east section, and Rei saw his dark gaze scanning the young cadets intensely. “The Intra-School SCT is a double-elimination tournament all students are required to participate in, which will end when sixteen qualifiers have been selected from each year to represent this academy in Sector 9’s sectional tournament. In the second week of October, you will receive a notification of the time and date of your first match, all of which will happen here, on the floor of the Arena proper.” Reese lifted both hands slightly to indicate the massive Wargame space that extended north of the raised platform he and the other officers stood upon. “After that, your pairings will be assigned again several days in advance, and are dependent on the outcome of each of your bouts. Every cadet will at the very least have two fights, which will only occur if you lose both of your initial matches. Should you go undefeated, four matches—” he held up a hand, and Rei had his NOED zoom in on the man to make out four fingers held up above a CAD made of grey and green steel with pale yellow vysetrium “—will be all you need to participate. Should you lose, however, you may have up to seven matches over the seven weeks if you still intend to qualify.”
The major paused at this point, glancing over his shoulder to one of the four lesser officers waiting in an attentive line behind him and Valera Dent. At once the woman’s NOED flared, and below the suspended platform the Team Battle circle lit up in green, and a moment later the entirety of the rest of the Wartime field beyond it blazed blue.
“As our older students are already aware,” Reese continued on as—once again—only the first years gasped in awe at the sight of the entire Arena floor set alight, “the Intra-Schools are not judged only on bracket results. After the top sixteen qualifiers from each year are decided, myself and Captain Dent will make a selection of three cadets from every class. Each of these individuals will be tasked with forming a six-person squad, at least three of whom—including the squad-leader—must be individual Sectional qualifiers.”
He stopped again, and this time Rei could tell it was with deliberate intent. All around him the first years were suddenly truly abuzz, this announcement apparently very much news to a vast majority of them.
“Wait… Does that mean we can still go to Sectionals even if we don’t make top sixteen?” Behind Rei, Sense sounded floored.
“Yeah.” Rei half-turned to answer over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Dyrk Reese. “You also get to compete in the Dueling brackets if you get selected by a squad-leader.”
“What?”
It was, surprisingly, Leron Joy who spoke up then, his demand coming in a hiss of disbelief. Rei actually turned in the other direction to meet the boy’s gaze, managing to keep his frown at a minimum.
“Look it up. There have even been some cases of non-qualifiers winning the SCTs, even if it’s rare.”
“It’s truuuue,” Catcher chimed in right on time in a sing-song voice. “Look up Emilia Soból. She ended up winning the Centauri System Collegiate SCTs in 2378 after not qualifying for her local Sectionals except for as a squad-member.”
“They’re not lying.” Kay came to their assistance, her eyes alight as she did as Catcher suggested. “There are others, too. Even on Astra. A couple years ago someone made it to the Intersystems after not qualifying.”
“How did we not know about this?!” Joy demanded heatedly.
“Because if you lose in your school’s tourname
nt, you’re not usually likely to do well enough at Sectionals to make mention of it,” Rei answered plainly, turning to face the Arena again as Dyrk Reese started up once more.
“Yes, that does always get a few people excited,” the aging man said without humor. “Starting at Sectionals, Team Battle and Wargame formats will begin to take precedent over individual Dueling matches. With this in mind, I encourage you to not only consider the implications of training your own capabilities, but also the reflection of your conditioning efforts in the eyes of your fellow cadets. While you yourself may not qualify, if you can prove able and team-oriented, you might have a place on a qualifier’s squad.” He looked over his shoulder at Dent, who picked up for him at once.
“On the front lines, squads may be assigned based on who is available, but given the nature of CAD-warfare the ISCM will always attempt to deploy its Users with a group-combat in mind. This means that individuals who have already been shown to work well alongside each other will often be prioritized. Many combat teams enter the war effort together, and are kept together.” She brought a hand to the gold buttons of her chest. “When I joined, I was placed in a five-man team that consisted entirely of classmates and former professionals I’d fought with in the circuits even years prior.” She dropped her hand, looking steadily across the rows of the first years. “The bonds you make here at Galens may well extend beyond the walls of this Institute. Take care to remember that. Your friends now could be your comrades-in-arms in the future, whether on the battlefield beyond Sirius, or in the SCTs.”
As soon as she was done, Reese started up again. “As I hope all of you are aware, baring extraordinary circumstances, first year cadets are also bracketed separately from the rest of the tournament, and are essentially treated as a separate event. You will therefore be facing off against what similarly ranked students other schools can offer, so I would remind you that you all bear the symbol of the Galens Institute on your arms. For those of you who are our future squad-leaders, that responsibility weighs particularly heavily, and consider it carefully when making your team selections come the time. You will be allowed free selection—so long as those you approach agree to participate—but bear in mind that the results of Team Battle and Wargame matches reflect more severely on this school than the results of your individual combats.”
Iron Prince: A Progression Sci-Fi Epic (Warformed: Stormweaver Book 1) Page 37