------------------------------------------------------ Six weeks later -------------------------------------------------

The first month and a half flew by. Riley and Auberje were thrown into classes with all the firsties, and their legend grew as it was spread by the other 3-4 firsties. They were singled out by professors, by the headmistress, by the other students. The 1-1 firsties refused to speak to them or acknowledge them. Except for one. Helos Bulger. Helos stared defiantly and angrily at Auberje every chance he could. Auberje could feel the palpable hatred. Like waves of x-ray radiation. It warmed his cheeks and threatened to poison his heart.

Riley saved him from that. “I know he bothers you Auberje, let it go. He’s just jealous and mad. Just like Marcus said, we are bound to find jealousy now.”

Riley was handling her newfound fame much better than he was. She had all the girls and most of the boys in 3-4s first year cohort following her every word. She was friends with them all, and they with her. Auberje was more aloof from the group. They viewed him with real awe.

He wished it was otherwise. He was having a hard time making a friend he could talk to. The children of 3-4 saw him as their natural leader and held him up to impossible standards. He was having to work twice as hard at school because of it. They would look to him to know the answer to every question and to always be eagerly there. He found it tough to keep up that level of excellence.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Marcus assigned him tasks with older students to force him to learn things the others would not learn for a year or more. Auberje felt it was quite unfair. He was being punished for being successful.

He was waiting for the second Greathing of the year to set things straight. He knew that if he performed poorly, the others would see him as a one time hero and let him be normal. Maybe they would call him a fluke, but at least that would sting less than the almost hero worship he had to contend with now. He nodded glumly to himself as he trudged through the hallways, eyes lowered and shoulders down in defeat.

“Boy, come here,” It was a stern deep voice that interrupted his thoughts. A voice he couldn't quite place.

He looked around. Seeing only a small shadowy figure to one end of the hall, he made his way to it. The figure stepped into the light of organic diodes. A twisted and scarred face, hands of metal. Blue icelight slipping from behind a ball of titanium and glass. Artificial lenses rotating in an otherwise empty eye socket. This was the Master at Arms Timothy Fangoli.

“Professor Fangoli?” He hoped it was a quick encounter, the man scared the living bejeezus out of Auberje. It wasn’t so much his twisted visage as his dark demeanor.

“I want to speak to you about the second Greathing, boy. You know it is later today?”

“Yes, sir,” Auberje swallowed his saliva. He could feel his heart beating swiftly.

“And I suppose you hope to lose honorably but quickly?”

Auberje gaped, how had he known.

Fangoli chuckled. His grisly face locking tightly on the small boy's innocence. “Yes, I thought as much. It won’t work, son. Not least because it is predictable. You have to do something out of the ordinary today. You have to perform well, again. And the entire time you are at Star Academy, you need to keep doing so. Sounds scary, huh?”

Auberje felt the tears coming unwanted. He clenched his fists at his sides, “I… I don’t think I can. I am just a boy.”

Fangoli shook his head once, in a dismissive action, “Just a boy? No, I think you are more than that. You are a human child. Capable of remarkable actions, incredible thoughts. Was it not a young Daimler Minion who fought the Confederation to a standstill and brought it under heel? He was only 3 years older than you when he was forced to kill his first man. Was he only a boy? Need I remind you of Sheffa Ghuzsa who at 7 ran 12 miles to save her mother? Or of Caran of Sleefa who piloted the Route of Humbleness on Mount St. Huew at the tender age of 11? Were they just girls?”

Auberje shook his head. Those were old tales. Stories his wet nurses had told him when he was first learning. “Those are just stories.”

“No lad, they are not. I know. I was there when Daimler slew his father Eric Minion. I lost my hands defending Daimler at Sung Si Nebula.

“You were at Sung Si Nebula?” Auberje tried to calculate the age of the man before him, “But then you would be over 300 years old?”

“True, one of the oldest men left alive. And I can assure you, Daimler was not just a boy. You have much greatness in you, but you cannot hide from it. Go out today and perform well. If you have to, use every one of the 12 chits, but do what you must.” The professor gripped his shoulders in cold cyborg hands, putting his face inches from Auberje’s, “Anything less is cowardice and slacking of duty. You can be thrown out of here for less. Do you understand, boy?”

Auberje felt the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. This man sacred him. He nodded though. Slightly, so as not to connect their foreheads. He understood. He was a marked student. He was forced to act differently because he was different.

“Not just a boy…” Timothy Fangoli said as he moved away from the youth. Back into the shadows, then slinking away, he hid a smile. Let the boy think he was scary. He would watch him, keep him relatively safe. He had big plans for Auberje, as did the headmistress. Their plans would take time, but Auberje was their charge for the next 11 years. They had some time. Not much, but hopefully enough.

***

The afternoon ran by quickly. Auberje and 3-4 found themselves at the doors to the great arena. Some of the others had mentioned this was but one of 5 or 6 such rooms on the asteroid space station.

It was a six team Greathing match. Nothing like the first. Auberje was warned as much as he stepped out of the gate into the arena with the rest of 3-4. They were once more in their squads. No one was allowed to wager anything in this Greathing. Instead, there was a prize for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place teams.

Marcus kept the 3-4s in their squads, marching out in formation in the time honored drill formations. No one marched anywhere anymore but it was still something taught to military recruits on two thousand worlds.

They were dressing left when the headmistress spoke. “You see before you a great white canvas. In the next five minutes, it will transform into a hellish landscape. There will be 3000 white balloons and 1000 black ones. The black balloons will count as two points, the white as one. The goal is simple. Gather the most balloons, unpopped. That team wins. Popping balloons does not help your team, but it can hinder others. You have no modern tools, no modern weapons. You have 1 hour. You cannot use chits, you cannot call for help. You can only use what is in the arena. Periodically I will drop technology into the room. Fight for it, ignore it. The choices are yours.”

A timer appeared on everyone’s HUD. Counting down from 4:30 to zero. Marcus shook his head then switched to 3-4’s Company-wide channel, “Well, this is new. You heard the lady. We need to gather the balloons and pop those our opponents gather. I want to do this in two ways. Two squads are to run as far as possible into the arena. Head away from everyone else. Gather as much as you can. Don’t get caught and keep running. Concentrate on black balloons when possible. Another squad will search for tech drops and fight for them. The rest of us are going to grab as much as possible as close as possible. We will change strat as we see what the others do. Understood?”

Squad leaders replied in turn, “Yes, sir.” Their assignments displayed on their HUDs. Auberje and 3-4-1 were one of the running squads.

“How do we run with two firsties?” A fifth-year nicknamed Grunt asked. Spitting on the ground. He was a lanky boy with red hair and a hint of white in his temples at 12. Genetics were funny.

Ajax answered softly, “We carry them. We might need them later so we can’t leave them. I’ll take one of them, Riley I guess, Fremen can you take Auberje?”

“Yeah, come here, Auberje,” a big 17-year-old, muscles bulging from years of training and weightlifting put Auberje’s small frame on his back. They had no armor, no helms, no guns, no backpacks. Clothes and the HUD glasses, the same ones they wore almost constantly.

A small map of the arena suddenly updated in their HUDs. The countdown had reached 30 seconds. They could see the balloons all over the map and dozens of obstacles. Not sure what they were yet, they waited for their squad leader to pick a path through them.

“10 seconds… 9… 8... “ the countdown broke over them in a sonic wave. The noise ebbed, then the landscape in front of them shifted. Auberje had no better way to describe it. One second it was a flat huge white floored space. The next it was a moving, roiling sea of rocks and lava sprays. Huge balloons, small balloons, white and black appeared above the battlefield. Dozens of crates started to fall from the “sky.”

Engines slowed the crates, contrails of gray, and green light unnaturally fighting gravity. Marcus broke into their momentary pause, “Right folks, change of plans. Two of the crates are very close to us. We go to them first, maybe they will have gear we can use. Let’s get to it 3-4. Try to avoid the lava. Go for the smaller balloons.”

The 3-4 company, nearly 220 kids split into squads. They ran forward, like parties of drones, they sought out the landing sites of the two closest crates.

3-4-1 hit the further of the two just as it landed. The crate came to a grinding halt, engines disappearing. The sides of the big box fell and revealed a dozen single-wheeled electric motorbikes.

“Unicorns!” Ajax and the others ran for them. Auberje found himself behind Fremen’s thick form on a small one-wheeled bike. The electric hub motor purred as Fremen accelerated. A pair of swords on the side of the Unicorn drew Auberje’s attention. He had no idea how to fence or sword fight, but he thought he might be able to poke a hole in a balloon or two.

He announced as much over the radio to 3-4-1. “We have two swords, maybe for balloon popping?”

“Same here,” a chorus of similar replies. It seemed each bike was equipped for combat.

“Marcus is sending us out again, we are to race to the biggest clump of black balloons we can find. Someone who isn’t driving pick it out.”

Auberje and Riley were the only passengers without bikes. He looked quickly at the minimap on his HUD. There, he stabbed at it with an eyelash and the small waypoint dot lit up a clump of 2 dozen black dots.

“Right, let’s go, people. We have our target.”

They zipped toward the concentration of black balloons. The computer drew out a rough map but multiple times they had to backtrack as spouts of lava covered whole sections of the arena with thick black rock which burned and smoked.

Auberje mapped out alternatives as fast as the computer and his eyes could find them. Riley added suggestions whenever she saw something he didn’t.

They were two dozen yards from the cluster when a howling noise above them made everyone look up. A huge beast, dragon-like, wings the size of cars came swooping toward them.

“Chimera! Split up,” the order came quickly.

“What the hell is that thing?” Auberje asked, gritting his teeth at the sudden torque. Fremen was changing directions as quickly as the Unicorn would allow.

Splitting from the rest of the squad, he was angling to come up behind the beast. Why though? At first, Auberje, couldn’t fathom the reason.

“Oh no,” he realized what Fremen intended with sudden finality. He was certain he was right. “Do you think it will work?”

“Not sure, kid, but we are going to try it. And by we, I mean you.”

Auberje nodded, pulling one of the swords from its side sheath. It was big for him, basket-hilted with an edge of arcing plasma. It was impossibly light for its length. He worried it would have no effect on the great beast.

As the chimera came in for a kill, a bike with two people… “Riley and Ajax!” Auberje shouted over All Squad.

“I know, I can’t shake it,” Ajax replied, voice tense and scared, “I think we are going to buy it.”

“No! We need twenty seconds. Hold on,” Fremen gunned the Unicorn. Battery draining at prodigious rates, motor whining so loudly it drowned out everything else. He hit a button then slammed the brakes. Emergency brake, Auberje realized as he lifted off the bike, flying up, up and falling down, down.

The seconds of upward momentum drove him forward and over the chimera. The winged beast had two small heads and a beating heart… wait... this thing was a machine? Or a cyborg? Auberje wasn’t sure but he could see the heart from above. A whirring, spinning mass of light and matter. A Coplin engine. He positioned the blade, swinging for the power couplers connecting the beating heart with the rest of the beast. Sword tip penetrated, throwing off his landing. He managed to slice fast and deep before being thrown off the monster.

A patch of lava rushed up to meet him. Well, he thought, at least I saved Riley. He held onto the sword looking for a place to throw it, hoping his companions could use it even after he bought it. He should not have worried so. The chimera fell next to him, plowing into him and sending him flying a dozen feet further. He slammed into a tower like rock structure.

His wind left him in a rush. He coughed, trying to regain oxygen. Gases flowed into him with a ragged breath. He felt sick but he stood, dazed. Around him a pair of tall strings rose up, black balloons attached to them. He grabbed both, cutting the knots tying them to the rock structure. They pulled him upward. He was too light to hold onto them and remain grounded.

Ajax and Riley came racing to him. Riley leapt and fell from her seat behind Ajax, she grabbed the left boot Auberje wore, pulling him swiftly to the ground. Ajax grabbed the balloon ropes. He attached them to the small basket at the back of the Unicorn’s seat. He shook Auberje by the shoulders. “Damn fine move, Auberje, damn fine.”

“Not… my… idea,” Auberje managed between ragged gasps.

“Yeah, don’t thank him, Ajax, that was all me,” Fremen’s voice sounded incredulous like he had not expected it to work, or for Auberje to survive, “Kid’s got the luck of the devil.”

“Truly,” squad leader’s voice split in, “well done, but no time to celebrate, get those balloons and every other you can find. We need to secure a victory here. 3-4 is getting smashed back near start. Apparently 4-9 and 11-2 are targeting us. Seems they have an alliance.

Angry mutters greeted this. 3-4 being double-teamed angered the crew. Marcus’ voice cracked over company radios, “3-4, 3-4 rally on 3-4-1 all survivors fall back now, now, now.”

The sound of Unicorns drawing closer greeted 3-4-1. They could see the IFF signatures as they approached. Friendly faces, but tired, and a lot fewer than they had started with 10 minutes ago. Auberje gawked. Riley sniffled. They were down to half their normal strength and he and Riley were the only firsties left. Most of the rest were the older boys and girls. Marcus and Miriam and Nicols were all still alive.

“Okay, here’s the plan: I want two squads to take Unicorns and collect all the black balloons we can. I want them brought here. Everyone else, take up defensive positions around this structure. We are going to defend our hoard here. We are two few to keep breaking up. If I see opportunities to hurt the teamers, we will take them. Otherwise, this is it.”

“Miriam and I have a suggestion, boss,” Nicols broke in, swiping an image into the HUDs of the company. It was of the dead Chimera. It was slowly cooking in the lava. Why don’t we strap every balloon we have to the corpse and put Auberje and Riley on it. We can float it up. Then we use some of the popped balloon rope we brought from the start area to tether the floating corpse. If we get attacked too heavily we cut the rope, Auberje and Riley float up and out of reach. If we need to, we send more balloons floating up to them.”

Riley wide-eyed shook her head, “You want us to float upon a dead monster?”

“Yes, sure, why not?” Nicols turned to her with eyes that held very little compassion. He saw her pitiful face, softening his expression, “Don’t worry we will be right below you.”

“That has to be one of the dumbest plans I’ve ever heard, Nicols, but… I like it,” an older girl, brown hair down to her breasts, thick and curly, said to him. Her eyes were wide with wonder. She shook a fist at him in mock anger, “I wish I had come up with it.”

Marcus looked at the group around him, “Very well, it seems harebrained enough it might just work. Make it happen people.”

Dozens of balloons were pulled over, attached to the monsters neck and legs. Slowly, inch by painful inch, the beast rose. “We need more balloons, Unicorn riders go get them. The rest of you spread out. Auberje and Riley, ride the chimera.”

Auberje was ushered onto the scaly back of the big monster. He checked the power connectors again, definitely cut. Cleanly true, but cut. He was surprised he was allowed to keep the sword. He thought someone else would need it but they had plenty for the survivors.

Riley looked at him, “You okay with this?”

He shrugged, “I can’t say any of this makes sense to me. I’m 7 years old. This is crazy.” She nodded at that.

“Let’s sit and wait, I guess,” and that's exactly what they did.

Slowly, dozens of balloons became fifty, then 75. The chimera rose up five feet then ten. Large ropes held the ever-growing balloons. Auberje and Riley were now constantly attaching new balloons from a looped rope the older kids kept sending up to them. Ajax and Nicols were down below, their Unicorn’s given to Marcus and Whaler, the older girl with the dark hair.

Auberje was fairly certain he and Riley were going to get eliminated up here on the beast. “Headmistress, will you make us hit the ground if we fall and die? Or will you dematerialize us first?”

“I won’t tell you, Auberje, where would the fun be in spoiling the surprise. Suffice to know that you will not die in this arena. No student ever has. You won’t be the first,” the headmistress spoke softly to him, through his channel only, he realized.

He was surprised she had replied, “Do we have to be physically touching the ropes for them to be claimed as ours?” He gestured to the balloons tied to the chimera.

“No, you see the numbers on the lower part of the balloons?”

He looked up at the balloons, mostly black ones, studying the bottom of them. Ah, 3-4, he saw it now. Inked on to each balloon were the numbers of his company.

“Thank you, headmistress,” he said thoughtfully. Nodding toward the roof of the room, as if she lived up there, not in some control room deep in another part of the Academy.

A soft chuckle greeted his gesture of thanks, “You are welcome, Auberje, take care for the fight is not over.”

He noticed the clock in the middle of the field had changed from 0 to 45. They were 3/4s of the way done. He could see groups gathering other balloons, many tieing them to rock pillars, and defending their little hoards. None looked as big as his collection.

He looked around the field, surveying father with his HUDs magnification. He noticed a cloud of dust heading their way. “Warning below, I think I see something.” He pinged the direction they were coming from. A pair of 3-4 Unicorn riders in the direction marked swore loudly over comms, “We have enemies inbound command. We are coming in hot. Pursuit is overwhelming.”

Ajax and Nicols ran from their spot below where they were tieing more balloons to the guide ropes for delivery to Auberje and Riley. They took up defensive positions with the 30 or so other Unicorn-less 3-4s. Swords out, ready for modern medieval combat.

Auberje watched horrified as the enemy arrived, 50 riders, then sixty, then 70. Many of the bikes were double loaded. Over a hundred students, most armed with swords, some with just their fists. Three crews by the colors and numbers. He doubted the 3-4 fighters would last long. The rest of 3-4 less than 30 riders total were grouping on Marcus, preparing to come en masse to the aid of their outnumbered companions. “Cut the chimera loose, Nicols. Let the kids fly.”

“No!” Riley called out but not over comms. She knew better. Over the last few weeks, as they trained as groups, it was instilled in every firstie, comms were for commanders and warnings, not complaints. It was a hard lesson to learn but it was deemed essential.

He gripped her hand in his, trying to comfort her as they started to rise up, the guide ropes were cut. Nicols and Ajax waved to them, then turned back to the fight to come. The chimera drifted upward slowly. Air circulation acting as wind, they were drifting slightly “east” and upward. The cardinal directions were arbitrary but they were marked on his HUD.

Auberje felt helpless as he watched his friends start to engage with a charging rush of 11-2s, 13-1s, and 4-9s. The crush of the charging foes pushed the thin line of 3-4s back toward the tower of rock. They fought with it at their back for a time but it was obvious all was lost. Marcus spoke over the company channel, “Sorry folks, I think it’s better to let you be eliminated and us to gather all the balloons we can. Only 6 minutes left.”

“It’s alright, sir,” Ajax spoke through gritted teeth. Perspiration mixed with ash blotting his dark skin, “I think we are better off that way. Hope we did you proud.” He gave a great shout leaping into the blades of his enemies, swinging wildly. For a second, from Auberje and Riley’s vantage, it looked as though Ajax and the six remaining 3-4s would make it through the mass of remaining combatants. Then Ajax took a sword to the side. He fell and was instantly transported away. The rest of the 3-4s fell swiftly after.

From his position, Auberje could count the remaining enemies. They were numbering some 45 students. Down from 75. Even outnumbered 2.5 to 1 the 3-4s had taken 1 for 1. He was proud. He shared the image from his HUD with Marcus. “Thanks, Auberje and Riley. Stay safe up there. Only 3 minutes remaining in this hellish Greathing.”

Marcus led his remaining 3-4s in circular patterns, picking up as many balloons as possible. The group of 45 united Unicorn riders started to fight amongst themselves as the time dwindled down to nothing. A white haired beauty on a Unicorn marked in the grey and green of the 11-2s took down 5 of the 4-9s and raced off toward a stand of ten black balloons. She started to pluck them up one by one until a 13-1 stabbed her in the back and grabbed at the balloon tethers as they started to drift upward, unrestrained by knots or hands.

Auberje laughed as most of them slipped out of the 4-9s hands drifting upward and out of his reach.

A chime rang out. The Greathing was over. Auberje and Riley hugged. They had survived a second time.