‘You’re good,’ he said as they closed the range between them on the way to the exit. The match was being held in one of six arenas the school had for training purposes. This one was, supposedly, meant to mimic an urban environment, though it lacked buildings you could actually enter. It was a good thirty metres on each side, which was plenty of room for a ten-man match. ‘I haven’t seen you before, but are you really a first year?’
‘I am,’ Nava admitted, ‘though I have had some training prior to coming here.’
‘Obviously. I’m Francis Goretti Orlando, third-year combat stream.’
‘Nava Ward, first-year support stream.’
‘No way!’ Francis was a good fifteen centimetres taller than Nava and he looked down at her with a genuine expression of shock on his face. ‘What’s a girl with your talent doing in the support stream?’
A slight smile touched Nava’s lips. ‘Learning. There isn’t much this school can teach me about killing people, so I’m on the support stream, learning how to keep them alive.’
‘Well… damn. You’re going to join the club though, right? I mean, to keep your hand in. You don’t want to lose your edge while you’re learning to cast barrier spells.’
‘I’m considering it and for that reason. You’re a member?’
‘Yeah.’ Francis pulled himself up straighter. ‘I’m actually one of the best we have. Not the best, but I’m working on it.’
That was a little disappointing, but Nava decided saying so would be politically incorrect. ‘As I said, I’m considering joining. Perhaps we’ll get a rematch at some point soon.’
‘I’m looking forward to that.’
~~~
‘Who would do something like that?’ Melissa asked. She was sitting at Nava’s table, drinking coffee. Nava had managed to get her food situation sorted out by this point, but Melissa still had a habit of bringing coffee over anyway.
‘Take a shot at Tracey Spears?’ Nava looked thoughtful briefly. ‘Well, if I had to guess, someone who doesn’t like her policies.’
‘I don’t even know what her policies are.’
‘You need to get with the programme, Mel. We have to be responsible young adults and consider every candidate carefully.’
‘I just figured I’d vote for Mitsuko. She’s the only one I know, so…’
‘Hm. Well, if you had looked into Tracey Spears’ policies, you would have discovered that one of them is a prioritisation of the school’s budget toward the combat stream students.’
‘But… She can’t say that, can she? The student president doesn’t control the budget.’
‘No, but she can make the suggestion that she does. And if she becomes president, she will undoubtedly be bad for those of us in the support stream. It may be that someone has decided that her blatantly discriminatory viewpoint needs to be eliminated. However, I’m not sure that’s what’s happening.’
‘What do you mean?’
Nava took a drink from her mug and paused, considering her answer. ‘I don’t think this will be the last attempt on a candidate’s life. I don’t believe that Tracey Spears was the only intended target. Which is just one more thing that doesn’t make sense about whoever is doing this.’
235/2/3.
Another speech, another candidate, another venue. Courtney had announced that there would be no more outdoor meetings, so Ryan Fairhaven Corley was about to give a speech to the assembled students in one of the larger lecture theatres normally used by those attending the final two years of school. It was a tiered room with a stage and lectern at the front and curved rows of seats climbing up toward the rear.
At the rear, Nava sat near the middle with Melissa beside her. It was early and Melissa was not needed at the Flight Club stand for a couple of hours, so she had decided she would come along to see what a candidate other than Mitsuko had to say. Apparently, Nava’s little speech about responsibility and proper voting had sunk in. Or maybe she had nothing better to do.
‘So, what’s this guy like?’ Melissa asked while they waited for the last students to come in and for Ryan Fairhaven to get started.
‘Ryan Fairhaven? He is squarely middle-of-the-road. He’s a second year on the combat stream, but all the signs are that he believes in relative equality between the streams. He has no especially exciting ideas either. It’s likely that his tenure would be marked by no changes in anything.’ Nava was watching the stage. Kyle Maynard was standing there in his uniform looking very efficient and very guard-like. He was, Nava assumed, there to ensure that nothing like the event outside occurred here.
‘That’s Kyle Maynard, isn’t it?’ Melissa asked.
‘Yes.’
‘He’s really handsome, isn’t he?’
‘I suppose he is.’
Kyle was, in fact, objectively handsome. He was tall and powerfully built, which lent itself to his current role as watchman. His uniform – which had a gold collar to indicate his position in the SSF – stopped it being obvious, but he had a narrow waist to go with the broad chest and thighs which definitely filled out his slacks fully. He had dark-brown skin, a fairly broad nose, and full lips. His cheekbones were high, and his jaw was strong. His hair was a dark blonde, tousled-looking, and carefully trimmed. Not exactly a military cut, but it probably would have passed muster. He really did look very good in his military-inspired uniform.
‘Here comes Ryan Fairhaven,’ Nava observed.
Ryan was a fairly handsome man too, though he paled in contrast to his guardian. Paled was actually a good description since he was as pale as Kyle was dark. His hair was jet black which made his skin look paler, but both men kept their hair short. Ryan walked out to the lectern at the front of the stage as various images of him appeared on the display wall behind him. He smiled at the audience and waited for them to grow mostly silent. Then he began.
‘Ladies. Gentlemen.’ Short pause. ‘Fellow students.’ It was a statesmanlike beginning. Quite good for a start. Unfortunately, he did not get to say anything else.
Without warning, the
