Null sat in the competitor area, waiting for the next stage of the competition. The room was filled with energy. The cadets of various factions moved in clusters, engaging in conversation, adjusting gear, or simply sizing up the competition.

Null and Infy were quietly observing, their mental link active, analysing everything.

“Every single one of them has some kind of enhancement,” Infy noted. “Advanced AI integration, genetic modifications, cybernetic augmentations… I’m pretty sure some of them are using experimental tech too.”

“Expected,” Null replied.

Infy, however, was less than pleased.

“If I had known we could bring personal equipment, we could have built a copy of our suit.”

Null agreed, though he wasn’t as bothered by the missed opportunity. He knew they could compete with the equipment. His focus had shifted, he was fascinated by something else.

The uniforms and the behaviour of those wearing them.

The competitors were split by colour-coded factions, and their behaviour was just as distinct as their attire.

Earth’s dark blue cadets stuck together in tight formations, their posture and discipline flawless. Every movement was precise, their conversations brief and measured. They commanded respect just by the way they carried themselves.

Lunar’s light blue competitors were the opposite. They were laughing, relaxed, and constantly joking with one another. Null couldn’t understand it. How could they be so at ease? Were they not taking this seriously?

Mars’ grey and red cadets were the most militaristic, their movements rigid, their eyes sharp. Every interaction carried a level of authority. They respected each other rank. Discipline was clearly embedded in their training.

Jupiter’s yellow-clad cadets wore their uniforms correctly, but their attitudes were too casual, almost lazy. They leaned against walls, hands in pockets, as if they weren’t even concerned about the competition. Null wasn’t sure what to make of them.

The Outer System’s black-clad competitors were different. They kept to the shadows, avoiding attention, their body language screaming paranoia and secrecy. It is like they believed themselves to be second-class citizens of the solar system.

“They act like different species,” Null noted.

Infy agreed. “They were raised differently, trained differently. Their instincts will reflect that.”

Null continued watching, eyes scanning every movement, every habit, every flaw.

The alarm chimed it was the sign that they were about to release the grouping for the next three events. The chatter and general noise stopped as all around, cadets moved toward the large digital board displaying the newly assigned teams. No names. No ranks. Just sets of competitor numbers.

The first challenge was clear. You had to find your team.

Numbers were assigned by the organizers and stored in the ID tags given at entry. Each competitor knew their number but they had no way of knowing their teammates until someone called them out.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The room erupted into noise as competitors shouted out numbers, trying to piece together their squads. Some formed up instantly, their members quick to recognise each other. Others struggled, wandering aimlessly, repeating numbers in frustration.

Null and Infy, however, did nothing.

They could have hacked the database or scanned the ID tags with their enhanced vision. They didn’t. Instead, they simply sat down with their eyes closed and waited.

Time passed. The shouting continued. Teams were forming all around them.

Then, finally—

A group of four was still searching, calling out the last number they needed.

Null’s number.

He raised a hand and waved.

As he approached, the team sized him up—their expressions shifting when they realized how small and young he was compared to the others.

Before they could question it, he made a show of turning on his communicator.

“Hello. My name is Null.”

The communicator spoke aloud in a neutral, synthetic voice. He could have used the normal setting but he was also sizing up his teammates and didn’t want to give them any information.

“I am mute, so I will be communicating like this.”

Silence. A beat of hesitation.

Then, one of them a broad-shouldered Martian cadet gave a sharp nod. “Alright, works for me.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances but ultimately shrugged it off.

They had bigger concerns.

Null didn’t have to wonder who the Martian cadet was as he had been watching him through Zero’s surveillance for the past few weeks. Chris Jameson. Lisa’s son. This entire setup was obvious, but Null wasn’t worried. If anything, he was curious. He had hoped to make friends with him over the course of the next month.

He surveyed the remaining team members, rapidly assessing each individual. Another Martian cadet, this time female, stood beside Chris. She was broad-shouldered and carried herself with the distinct posture of someone who had undergone Super Soldier conditioning. Null recognised the subtle signs with the overdeveloped muscle structure, the near-perfect posture, and the slight tension in her hands indicating joint reinforcement. The Super Soldier program always left its marks. He had no doubt she was Tactical Support and most likely picked it as her secondary role.

The next teammate was a lanky young man dressed in yellow, clearly from Jupiter Moons Mining Corporation. Null didn’t need to guess his role with his AI-linked equipment and the well-worn toolkit strapped to his thigh screamed Combat Engineer. The boy already had a relaxed stance, as if he were barely concerned about the challenge ahead.

The final member of the squad was a meek-looking girl in black, trying to keep herself unnoticed. She was smaller than the others, closer to Null’s size, though he doubted she was actually as young as she appeared. This was the senior division, after all. She had attempted to hide behind Chris more than once, a nervous habit that suggested she was more comfortable behind a console than in a fight. A Technical Specialist, most likely from the Kuiper Belt Mining Corporation.

Now Null was certain. This wasn’t a random team assignment. Someone had deliberately chosen this combination. The only question was why.

Chris, apparently having received an information package from the organisers, took charge of the introductions. His voice was firm, carrying the natural confidence of someone trained for command. “Alright, let’s do introductions.”

He straightened his shoulders before beginning. “I’m Chris Jameson, officer candidate and squad leader.” He glanced at the other Martian, who gave a sharp nod and introduced herself.

“Jania Anders. Super Soldier. Combat specialist.”

“Sorry Jania, it appears you are to be our Tactical Support”

That was when everyone turned their eyes to Null. Chris frowned slightly, glancing at his slate as if double-checking the information.

“Yes, it seems that Null is our Combat Specialist.”

A brief silence followed. No one said anything, but Null could see the disbelief in their expressions. He was small, young, and completely unarmed which was not exactly the image of a front-line fighter. Chris evidently hadn’t expected it either, but he moved on without comment.

“Max Willis, Combat Engineer, Jupiter Moons.” The lanky boy in yellow adjusted his visor as he spoke with a casual tone.

The last member hesitated before speaking in a quiet voice. “Zeph. Technical Specialist. Kuiper Belt.”

Null processed the new information, his mind piecing together the structure of their team. A Martian leader. A Martian Super Soldier. A Jovian Engineer. A Kuiper Belt Tech Specialist. And then him.

He couldn’t wait for the events to start,