Helos crouched in the hallway. He was holding a small firearm, a submachine gun known as Ronan 11 before him, his eyes were on the hallway in front of the lift. The elevator doors kept opening but no one came out. He pushed the sweat from his eyes. Behind him were all but two of 1-1s firsties.

When the rules of engagement were given to 1-1, Lauren Xaviar, the head of 1-1, cashed in a chit. He wasn’t exactly sure how it worked, but he could see the idea. Lauren had done something for the Headmistress or in the headmistress's knowledge. Now she got to return the favor in Greathing. What she had wanted actually cost her two chits, but she had smiled as she paid.

1-1s firsties were teleported via a materializer to the center of the city to a room on the 7th floor. A room with two entrances, the one Helos covered, and one behind him, covered by the rest of the firsties. Two 1-1 ‘elders’ as they were called, 17 or 18-year-olds in their final years were crouched with Helos. Helos wished the 18-year-olds were Skullweavers but they had laughed at him when he suggested they were.

They explained how Skullweaver's didn't play at Greathing. The pair showed the firstie how to fire the gun he had. They showed the others next. Imploring the whole lot of them to not run at the first sign of 3-4. The last part was paramount. The whole operation hinged on the firsties of 1-1 being able to at least put up a fight.

As a tall black boy and a pair of smaller kids walked through the lift doors, Helos bellowed something incoherent, unintelligible anger. His finger squeezed down on the trigger. Thwump thwump, thwump. The gun bucked wildly trying to rise to the ceiling as round after deadly round spit from it. Helos’ shots grew wild, but the first two hit Ajax of 3-4-1 squarely in the chest. The two boys on either side of Helos poured more fire into him.

Ajax stepped in front of the two children as his last action, allowing them to turn, hight tailing back into the lift. The doors to the elevator closed.

“Helos, you did well. That’s your first kill. Since it isn’t a firstie, the Headmistress will be giving you a chit after this Greathing is over. If we win.” They clapped him on the back.

He nearly threw up. Fighting was intense. The pressure. The sounds. The anticipation. He found himself wishing for another chance to fight.

The 1-1s took up their spots again. They waited for the next assault. Showing their position with but a single kill wasn’t ideal according to the other boys. Helos felt elated. He wasn’t down and he had contributed something to his team's inevitable victory.

***

Auberje’s chest heaved. He held in the cry. Ajax was gone. Sure, he would be back later but he was gone for now. That left him, and Riley in the elevator car on a floor heavily defended by well-entrenched enemies.

Riley had the presence of mind to hit the up button and select the floor above the one they had tried for.

“Nicols, Jacket, somebody?” Auberje needed to know what to do.

A voice, stained and absent of affectation came across the wire, “yes, Auberje?”

“Ajax is down, we need directions.”

“Who got him, older or firstie?”

“Firstie, a boy I saw coming in with us.”

“Good, find a way to get him out, Auberje, think outside the box. We have two more squads of theirs pinned out here. I’m counting on you to keep those 1-1s occupied, and to STAY alive. Understood?”

Auberje swallowed looking at Riley. She nodded confidently mouthing, “You’ve got this” to him.

“Understood 3-4 commander.” No more communication. What were they going to do? Auberje checked his weapon. He thought about his favorite video game, Steel Front. Normally, he would come at an entrenched position laterally or vertically if he could in game. Sometimes blasting through the wall or burning a hole in a floor and shooting through it!

He knew exactly what they had to do. “I know what to do, Riley. Good choice of floors.” He gave her a thumbs up. She laughed.

“Lead on Auberje.”

He took them out of the lift doors, leaving them extremely cautiously, his gun up. He checked corners like he had been trained at CQC. He kept the gun up to his shoulders. The weight was unfamiliar but the controls totally within his scope of understanding. He swept the floor. “Do you think this is above their position?”

“Further in I think?” they both peered at their feet. The floor was tiled. The layout is completely different from the floor below. He checked his bag. It was a standard 3-4 backpack. Det Cord, grenades extra ammo, a handgun, a pair of 25-foot rope with a grappling hook powered by a rocket. Two small monocles, one IR and one heat-based.

He took out the explosive cord and the grenades. Putting his gun to the side, he put the explosive rope in a small circle in one corner of the floor. He trailed it behind him. Laying it in three loops. He knew if they only did the one they would immediately get shot. They had to give the kids below some doubt as to their location. Then he took the cord from Riley’s backpack. He repeated his set up. Then nodded firmly to Riley and they took up positions above the soon to be holes. He hit the GUI button to detonate.

The smell of cordite, melting steel and concrete, a hiss and collapsing sound then 6 holes appeared on the floor. He could see the bewildered faces of 3 small children. They were further back than he had meant to be. The layouts were just too different. But it was more than enough to hurt 1-1.

He opened fire. The thwick thwick thwick of the 54r burning through the air. Riley’s handgun cracked again and again. The three kids went down hard. He motioned Riley back, pulling out two grenades and clicking them on. Greenlight pulsed from the ends of the spherical objects. He dropped them into the holes. Running away from the expected blasts. At first, nothing happened.

He shrugged to Riley as if to apologize for hitting the wrong button. As his shoulders fell back to normal a blast of hot air, smoke and sound filled the hallway from below. They heard the cries of anger.

Riley’s eyes were wide. “It took longer than in the games,” Auberje said, affecting nonchalance. He was shaking, he realized. The adrenaline, a part of his mind said, he knew about adrenaline. His mom used to take shots to keep “herself alive” he knew what happened afterward. It was a big up and a big down.

“We have to keep moving. They will come to find us and take us if they can.” Auberje led the way, setting a tripwire on the ground. He knew someone would come to take a look at what had happened. When they did, he wanted the trip grenade trap to get them. It was human nature.

He remembered his father talking about the effectiveness of the terrorist group Aguila. They were particularly brutal and smart. His father had said it was because they set up an ambush, then executed it and called in the authorities themselves. They then stayed and shot down the first responders. Then fled. That additional attack kept the populace in fear and the help came slower because of it. Even years after Aguila was gone, the police and fire rescue remembered the hurt.

He motioned to Riley, “Let’s go through these rooms and find one where we can cut a small hole in the wall. I want to be able to see into this room when more people come into it.”

“Understood, do you mean to shoot at them when they do?”

“Yes, I think we should try to?” He said it like it was a question.

“Yes, that makes sense to me. Hit them when they come up to look for us.”

“Exactly, it’s risky though.”

“Greathing seems like a bunch of risks. Let’s do it.” She took his hand, squeezing it. He grinned like the happiest boy on Earth. Turning, he walked quickly through a set of doors. He turned and locked them, placing a claymore that sensed movement in front of the closed door. The lock was a simple thing. A sliding piece of metal into a hole in the door frame.

He slipped a hand into his pocket. Pulling out a grenade, he set it to a button on his HUD. He placed it on a shelf near the door. “If the claymore doesn’t get them, let’s use this.” He passed the grenade control to her as well. The HUDs were similar to what he used at home. He was surprised at how readily he knew what to do with them. IT was a simple trick.

“How did you do that?”

He shrugged, “My mates and I used to play this game called Steel Front. You could do stuff like this in it.”

“Nice, I never did anything like that. I wasn’t allowed to play games.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“I’m sorry. I think it is going to come in handy now. Let’s make a peephole and look through it before they come up.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

They found a wall opposite the holes. Pulling a knife from his pack, he dug a small hole in the plaster wall. They should be able to shoot through it, he thought. He wasn’t sure what translated from game to real-world but he hoped wall shooting did.

***

Helos heard the Elder get off his comms. They had replied to the boy on the lift. “Can’t believe they have Nicols in charge over there. What the hell did they wager?”

“No idea, better tell the boss lady.”

“Agreed, Come in Mothership.”

“This is Mothership, speak Henry.”

“Nicols is leading the 3-4 effort.”

“I see, thank you for the information. If Yellow Jacket is in command, we have a tactical and strategic advantage. Everything safe on your end?”

“So far, so good. We just took out one bogey, two prizes upstairs.”

“Go get them.”

Looking from one to the other. The Elders considered that command. They could leave their charges and run upstairs and kill those two kids. But if something happened, they knew Mothership would be pissed. She was wagering a lot of chores on this fight. 1-1 wasn’t immune to morale issues.

“Understood. Sending Vail after them.”:

“And Helos. Take the kid. We can spare one loss.”

“Yes, Mothership.”

“You heard the lady, you’re with me Helos. Let’s go.” They stood up and walked to the lift doors. Hitting the button for up. They had seen the elevator get off at the floor above theirs. They waited patiently for the lift to come back, crouched on either side of the doors. Elder Mist covered the door from their original position. Vail and Helos were on either side of the sliding door.

The elevator chirp rang out. A hollow explosion sounded from behind them, the trio whirled as a spray of bullets took three of the 8 firsties crouched in position behind them. Helos wasn't sure where the shots came from until the grenades dropped down.

Ceiling, right. He trained his gun on it. Vail waved him back and entered the empty elevator, pulling Helos in after him. They hit the button for up. Vail repeatedly stabbed the closed doors circle with an angry pointer finger. Mist ran toward the undetonated grenades, throwing himself on them. A flash and a shout and a moment later Mist was gone as were 5 of the 8 firsties.

That left just Helos and 3 others. Not even half the original nine. He and Vail took the next floor aggressively, the doors opened, Vail poured fire into the opening. Nothing moved. The hallway was filled with smoke and debris. They moved swiftly through. Vail taking point. A door at the end of the hallway was shut. Vail chucked a sticky bomb at it. It stuck to the door.

He hit “boom” on the communal HUD. The door breacher exploded and a second explosion followed, this one toward them. Vail cursed.

“They were expecting us. Be careful, and look for peepholes. Someone up here is a pro.”

Helos looked from side to side, then saw it. “There!” He pointed his gun in the direction of the hole in the wall.

Auberje opened up at the same time as Helos. Helos was hampered by seeing only a wall with a single small hole. Auberje had no such handicap. He knew exactly where his enemies were. So did Riley. Shot after shot hit Vail and Helos. They went down in a crumpled pair of locked armor. Then were dematerialized to a holding room.

Vail slammed his hand into the wall. Their guns were gone, their armor was still there but no longer powered and no connection to a HUD. They were surrounded by other dead and angry 1-1s.

Helos tasted defeat. It was the first time. It was not a pleasant feeling. The pit in the stomach, the pain between the ears, right behind the eyes. He knew he did not want to make a habit of it.

Vail and Mist were silent, sullen. They were not as fine losers as they were pretenders. Helos filed it away in his mind. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, they were not used to such emotions and events either. Uncontrolled emotion was a problem. His father had drilled him on schooling his thoughts. Loose emotions cost money.

***

Auberje and Riley raced from their hiding spot behind the hole ridden wall. Scorched marks and laser lines cut up the gypsum walls. He heard crying below him. “Someone is still alive down there. Want to take them out?” 

Riley nodded, smiling. So far, things had been a lot easier than she was expecting. “Yes, let’s.” 

They walked the short distance to the holes in the floor. Auberje got down on his hands and knees, crawling silently toward the opening. It was just like pressing CTRL-Z, he thought. Going prone was a useful strategy in his games, so too in real life, at least he hoped. 

He switched his gun to full auto, moving forward, safety off. As he reached the holes, he saw two small children in the corner. Both of them were rocking back and forth tears coming out of their helmets where their necks met the thin elastic straps. Auberje opened fire. Ruthlessly eliminating both of the firsties. 

Classmates or not, he was here to make 3-4-1 proud. He had to do right by Ajax. He stood, dusting himself off. It was a futile gesture but a human one. He was coated in black dust from the smoke and debris of his grenades. 

He heard a voice over comms, a voice he wasn’t expecting. 

“Hello Auberje, I am the Headmistress. You are hereby granted 10 chits. As is the right of every First year, you receive one chit per kill in your first Greathing match. You are also given the status of MVP of this Greathing round. You will receive a promotion from Cadet to Rank 1.  Some privileges are now being unlocked. This will set you apart and make you a target. So don’t get too excited. Prepare to be debriefed.”

Auberje’s mouth hung slack. He wasn’t even sure if half of what the Headmistress was saying, but if he heard her right, the round was over and he had earned 12 chits. “Uh… uh… thank you, Headmistress.” 

Riley gave him a thumbs-up, and then they were dematerialized. The warping effect of the teleporter was of limited value for non-organics. It was also impossibly short-ranged for societies that would travel across the known galaxy in a matter of seconds. 

The distances involved here were minuscule. Especially when compared to the power consumption required. It was like a neat party trick that one second cousin always felt was worth doing. Eventually, the novelty wore off. 

Auberje and Riley emerged from nowhere to a big room. 3-4 was on one side, 1-1 on the other. The two teams looked at each other, stunned, for a moment. Then 3-4 let up a great whoop as they saw their colors on the stage. 

The voice of the headmistress split the room. Silence fell swiftly.

“3-4 wins the first Greathing match of the year. Congratulations. Rank 1 Auberje de Brock is the MVP. He and his companion Riley Belle took out the entire Firstie class of 1-1, well before the mists were able to. Your wagers were entered, and 1-1 has lost. Their punishment will be described to them at a later date.”

This raised a number of eyebrows from 3-4. It was unusual to not find out what the other side lost. It was considered motivation. 

The headmistress continued, “On the other hand, 3-4 is granted their wish. 1 week worth of hours per 3-4 member on the ship the Imperium. Food duty immunity for 30 days. Nicols is awarded 1 chit for his first win. Auberje is given 12, two for MVP, one each for the 10 enemy combatants eliminated in his first round. There is now a downloadable file called ‘Outcomes and Lessons’ in each of your files. Please refer to this as there is any number of tactical and strategic lessons to be drawn from today's Greathing competition.”

A pair of professors dressed in referee armor, black with white helmets and grey chevrons walked in through the side doors. Over one of their armor speakers, a man’s voice boomed, “Dismissed.” 

The 3-4s picked up Auberje and carried him from the room in a rush of whoops and hoots. They were ecstatic. The 1-1s trudged more slowly the other way. Heading up to their lux quarters. 

Auberje found himself the center of the celebrations. As a 7-year-old, he wasn’t sure how to feel about dozens of people walking around clapping him on the shoulder and talking about him in a much more familiar way than he would have liked. The blonde boy with the deep blue eyes came over last, dragging Nicols, followed by Flight Leader Miriam. Auberje’s squadmates of 3-4-1 were lounging around him. They were his honor guard according to Ajax.

“Auberje,” the blonde boy began, “I am 3-4 Commander General Marcus Allens. I want to thank you. You  have done right but us today.” He smiled warmly, “Hell, you’ve done something we didn't dream of. You defeated 1-1 by humiliating them. Now that’s something we can get truly excited about.” 

“Err, thank you, Commander General,” Auberje said awkwardly. 

Marcus waved a hand dismissively, “none of that now. We are here to thank you. Right, Nicols?”

Nicols stepped forward. His hesitation dropped off him. He shrugged off Marcus’ guiding hand. “Yes, I want to thank you Auberje. You did something tonight which has great consequences for me. You’ve given me a victory which is rare in my year. I don’t know where you learned to fight like that but keep it up. We could use more like you. And you too Riley! I don't mean to leave you out.”

Flight Leader Miriam stepped forward, “In the event of great heroism in Greathing or in the course of Academy duties, 3-4 gives out a prestigious medal.” She took out a small pair of metal starbursts, “The Star of Honor we call it. Only 9 3-4s have ever received it in their first year. None on the first day. Today, we add 2 more to their number. Riley Belle and Auberje de Brock, thank you and be honored. From now on, you will be referred to as the Honor Twins.”

Marcus looked at them sternly, “I am painting wide hopes on the two of you. And targets. Jealousy, hate. You will not understand the consequences of this award any more than you will of giving Nicols a win. It doesn't matter. Our honor as 3-4s demands we show you the respect you earned today. No 7 year old is expected to act as you have. No 7-year-olds.” He held both of their gazes.

“Thank you, sir,” Riley said first as she rose to take the starburst award from Miriam. The entire 3-4 complement was standing around watching them.

Auberje swallowed hard, stepping up and taking his from Miriam as well. Ajax started clapping behind him. Auberje held himself forward, standing stiffly. Again, unused to praise. He found it awkward but it also tickled at his fancy. Something inside him soaked up all the love and praise as if it were a thirsty man in the desert at an Oasis. 

He pumped his fist into the air, medal in hand. A great cheer rose from the crowd. “Riley and Auberje! Auberje, Auberje!”