Standing on Yetic’s and Neca’s thighs, I address Serpent barracks as its captain. “We lost one of our own last night on a mission I authorized and led.”
The common room falls quiet except for the few cadets emerging late from their dorms.
After a pause of several seconds, I continue, “Zorrah, cadet 775, and I left the barracks after lights out to gather critical intelligence in regards to the last minute tournament scheduled for today. The two of us obtained that intelligence the moment before a security measure inflicted a lethal electrical shock to Zorrah.”
I close my eyes and allow my genuine emotions to sell the minor alterations to the story. “The discovery for which Zorrah gave her life changes everything. The combat chamber, it turns out, is not an impartial stage set with scenery. It is not simply the container in which we fight. It is operated and manipulated by a member of the administration.”
“Manipulated how?” A familiar voice near the opening of Serpent 8 asks the relevant question.
“Thank you for that, Brutah.” I use the interruption as an opportunity to smile. A few snickers ripple throughout the otherwise rapt group of 390 cadets. “The manipulations include everything from shielding to energy distribution. The operator can create storms or any other form of EM disturbance.”
A gasp of disbelief erupts across the room.
I cut it short. “It seems the administration has determined Serpent barracks to be the most competent and therefore most dangerous barracks in the academy. During yesterday’s combat training between Serpent 6 and Jaguar 4 the administration pulled out multiple stops in an effort to deal Serpent its first loss in two weeks. They failed.”
I smirk and allow a scattering of hoots and trademark Serpent hisses before continuing, “It was because of these unreconcilable discrepancies that I and the rest of my leadership decided to investigate. The totality of these experiences has taught me something important.”
“Preach it!” The words reverberate from the general vicinity of Serpent 1 and 2.
I smile and nod. “Alright, I will.” I look to the ceiling and breathe deeply as if gathering strength from the distant and forgotten sun. “We think we’re the best.” A few cadets respond with timid agreement. “The administration thinks we’re the best.” The voices grow in number and volume. “I know we’re the best.” The clatter grows louder until I slash my arms through the air, demanding complete silence.
“It’s time we prove it, until there is no one left to argue otherwise. Today we change the rules. I’m tired, like I know the rest of you are tired, of trying to abide by a set of invisible and unspoken rules. The only way to know what the rules are here in Masa Academy is to make them. From here on out, that’s what we’ll do!”
A few fists pump in the air. The rest of the cadets stare at each other in confusion. I’ve taken them to the edge of releasing their bridled emotions, but the hint of outright rebellion is too much.
“What about the loyalty test, I hear you mumble to each other. Only the best survive. Only a few are chosen. We are the best!” I thunder the words. “We are the chosen!” I pound their skulls with the power of my will.
“Not just a few of us. Not just Serpent 6 or Serpent 1 or Serpent 8.” I jab my finger in the direction of each dorm as spittle flies from my lips. “No single 49 is enough.”
“Remember,” I shake my head and lower my voice until I feel the cadets in the back squeezing forward to hear every word, “I’m not suggesting we break the rules. Up until now we’ve only been parroting rumor and hearsay.” Gradually, I raise my volume. “There isn’t one among us who even knows what the loyalty test is.”
I close my eyes and look inside for the right words to conclude. I think of Olin and his disgust of all things Masa. I think of how he enlisted anyway, because I thought it best for both of us. “Well starting today, there is a new loyalty test. We are going to envision it. We are going to implement it. And we’re going to pass it with flying colors—all 391 of us.”
For the first time during the speech, I look to those closest to me. I try to read what Olin and Yetic and Cera think of my using Zorrah to rally the troops. I even look at Neca. The direct eye contact seems to wake each of them from a trance. I realize they had been listening—waiting for me to explain my plans for the tournament—just like everyone else.
Without further hesitation, I plow into the matter. “As you all know, today’s tournament is to take place via two rounds. During the first round, each barracks is to battle internally until a 49 emerges for the second round during which that 49 will be pitted against the surviving 49 from each of the other four barracks. Sound about right?”
Affirmations roll across the commons.
“Until now, we have interpreted this to mean we should fight each other until only forty-nine Serpents remain. The other four barracks will do exactly that. Serpent will not. Today, all 391 of us will win by battling once instead of twice.”
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