YEAR: 25

Braheton City, Central Tharsis, Mars

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Alex stood in the corner of the gymnasium, occupying a place well back from where Ric was conducting the final exam of his fighting class. The twelve students, all of them male and all but one smaller than Ric, seemed eager to test their mettle—or wood, as that was what the dummy swords were made of. Ric had soundly defeated every one of them so far, but that didn't seem to dampen their enthusiasm. Alex smiled, remembering Ric's despair as he realized his teaching skills were not so magical as to produce master swordsmen out of ordinary college students. "I don't know how Darius ever taught us. They don't listen to a word I say. All they wish to do is swing the weapons around like drunken Space Pirates extras!" As Alex watched each student driven over the circular laser boundary Ric had set up on the floor, he wondered if any of them would pass the class.

Ric helped the latest victim to his feet and called a break. Despite the last forty-five minutes of exercise, he was barely breaking a sweat. This didn't surprise Alex, who after nearly three months knew well Ric's fitness routine. Alex swam for exercise on an on-again, off-again basis, but the activity did not approach the borderline obsession of Ric's training regimen, nor would he want it to—in light of his father's recent revelations, he had enough trouble disciplining his mind without worrying about his body on top of it.

As Ric approached, he shook the hair out of his eyes and gave Alex a grateful smile. "You're so late I thought you'd forgotten. I'm glad you're here. It's no the same without a friend to watch. Back home I've got Darius and Tay to keep me humble."

Alex laughed at the notion of a humble Ric. "One of the gridlines went down and my cab got stuck circling in traffic. I ended up having to set down and take the M instead."

"Are you all right, then?"

"Lots of flailing and running was involved. But yeah, I'm okay." Although getting stuck hovering over city streets wasn't at the top of his favorites list, the anxiety over aircars he'd brought with him at the beginning of the school year had petered out. The remote possibility of car failure seemed less tangible at this point than the hard fact he was being watched by at least three different people.

Ric gave him an if-you-say-so look, then held up the wooden sword he carried. "Are you sure you're no wishing to try it?"

"I don't think so. I've seen enough to know I'd end up on the floor."

Ric glanced back at the students and grinned. "It doesn't stop them, does it now?"

"They don't live with you. I'd never hear the end of it."

"True. But still, you'd likely do better than that lot. Look at Kim Phillips, he's managed to cut himself with a blunt-edged dummy sword. Darius would have tossed him weeks ago."

"I admit I can see why you don't use the real thing. The sanitation department probably doesn't have a protocol for severed limbs."

"Ho-ha. Your wit is unsurpassed."

Alex suppressed a grin. "I thought it was funny."

"Are you laughing at your own joke? You're just like Tay. Actually, I'll be using my claymore with Ravelo. Watch for him. He's had some fencing training and can handle himself quite well."

Alex immediately spotted Ravelo among the students due to his relative restraint; the others did indeed appear to fancy themselves Space Pirates. "You'd better get back over there. They look ready to final exam each other."

"I wouldn't put it past that bunch of rowdies. Straight from Normandy, Daddo would say."

Alex settled back to watch as Ric resumed the class, entertained despite the mediocre performances of the students. Ric's charisma lent a theatrical air to the proceedings that was sorely lacking from the G-ball practice on the other side of the gymnasium. Ric, he had to acknowledge, was a positive influence on him. The talk they'd had about his father and sister had gone a good way towards mitigating the guilt he'd been hanging onto, kick starting a healing process that should have begun months earlier. In addition, he'd eased into his role as Lin's teaching assistant and found it both less intimidating and more rewarding than he'd anticipated; it had helped him form friendships with several other students and professors, so that he felt he fit into the science school better now. Besides the mystery that Ben had dumped in his lap, things were going well.

The clang of real blades announced that Ric had engaged Ravelo, who was indeed better than the previous challengers. He moved gracefully, although he seemed more timid than Ric, who handled the sword as though it were a part of him. Alex winced as the weapons flashed in the air, expecting bloodshed any moment. The other students, apparently with the same thought, hung back farther than usual. After minutes of close sparring, Ric dispatched his opponent with such sudden ease that Alex deduced he'd made the match longer just for the fun of it.

The exam finished, the students gathered their things and made for the showers. Ric again thanked Alex, who got the feeling his coming meant more than he would have guessed. He suspected that Ric had developed a small case of homesickness. Unlike some of their peers who considered returning home a necessary evil, Ric nurtured a single-minded devotion to his home planet and the people there. Alex, who felt at home in any good-sized city, didn't understand this passion but could respect it. His mother had felt the same way about her native Spain.

"I'm needing a shower," said Ric. Halfway through the second part of the class he'd finally started sweating. "Don't bother waiting for me. I've got some choring to do, you know. I'll meet you back at the room in a short while."

"Okay, then. I think the sword fighting brings out your accent. It's about twice as thick as it was this morning."

Ric raised an eyebrow. "Is it now, lad? I'd no noticed meself. I suppose it's only natural, aye?"

"Now you sound like a leprechaun," said Alex, laughing. "A drunk one."

"Get out of here and fold my laundry," Ric said, straight-faced. "I left it on the bed for you since you always berate my folding skills."

"Not a chance." Alex headed for the exit and called over his shoulder as he left. "See you in a short while, lad."

A short while later, Ric arrived in their room and dropped his locator on the desk in front of Alex, who was trying to arrange the sequence for the lab exam he had to administer that night for Lin. "Guess what that is?" said Ric in agitated tones as text popped into the air in front of Alex's face. The Kepler University logo floated at the top.

"Your grades." He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Ric studying.

"No. It's the roster for my fighting class next semester. Look who's picked it up as an elective."

"Not Reenie," he said, trying—and failing—to imagine her holding a broadsword.

"Worse. It's that bastard Rafe."

"The G-ball guy?"

"The very one. The man's a glutton for punishment, I tell you."

"Maybe he's had some training. Maybe he's genuinely interested. You never know." Alex had never met Rafe, but the man seemed mild enough from his appearances on the Kepler Feed representing the G-ball team. Once, he'd even mentioned his "former teammate, Alaric" in polite terms, which had resulted in a memorable tirade from Ric that ended with his locator in need of repair after sustaining wall-related injuries. Ric grabbed the loke back now, casting him a wounded look.

"Et tu, Alex?"

"I'm just saying."

"Trust me. He has one motive, and it's revenge. I spent enough time reviewing his game plans that I should know."

"Well, it's not like he has any chance of beating you in a sword fight."

"No, but perhaps he plans to bring his G-ball. That no-good, cowardly skunk…" Ric spun off into a character assassination that took a full minute to peter out. The loke at least was spared this time. "All I'm saying," he concluded, "is you can't be taking that man at face value. There's a reason his fiancée left him."

"You mean your charm wasn't the primary motivator for her decision?"

A slow grin spread across Ric's face. "Not my charm, precisely. There was another wee reason as well."

Alex suppressed the urge to laugh. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

"Please, I thought you'd given up chastity. Didn't you just have a date a few nights ago?"

"It was a date. At a restaurant. We didn't have sex on the table. Anyway, it didn't work out. I don't think I'm ready yet."

"You're twenty years old. You should always be ready." But Ric dropped the subject, pulling a holochip from his pocket. "This is for you. Merry Christmas."

Alex took it from him and frowned down at it. He had no holodisk since his father had nuked his. "What is it? I can't play it."

Ric pulled open one of his desk drawers, revealing three vintage holodisks of various makes, all high-end. "Take your pick."

Alex chose the one that looked like it would cost the least to replace—just in case—and inserted the chip. He felt a lump in his throat as the contents of the chip popped into view. His family holos, restored. "How did you do this? I thought they were ruined. I threw the holodisk away."

"I snuck it out of the trash. I know a lady who can get data off almost anything. The chip your father sent was destroyed, of course, but she was able to retrieve some of the original contents of the disk. They're no complete. Some things will be missing. But it's better than nothing, aye?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely. "Much better than nothing. I don't know how to thank you."

"No thank yous necessary. You can have that disk too. I've got about ten of them between here and home."

"Thanks." He didn't try to refuse, knowing Ric wouldn't take no for an answer. "I'm afraid I didn't get you anything. I'll buy you dinner, how's that?"

"I've got a better idea. Come eat downstairs with me for free, and when you're rich you can treat me to Oshiro's."

Alex laughed. "I'll never be that rich."

"Repeat after me," said Ric as he opened the door. "Positive thinking."

Alex sighed, knowing Ric was right, trying to take it to heart. "Okay. Positive thinking." But he had a feeling he'd need more than positive thinking to get through whatever Ben Sharma had left for him to sort out.