[Y159 - KZINTI STARBASE TRAINING CENTER]

". . . and furthermore, if I have to speak with either of you again, it will be on your way back to civilian life! Dismissed!"

Bristlewind and Firemane exit the Base Commander's office swiftly, taking only a brief moment to glare angrily at one another as the door slides shut behind them. The two quickly go their separate ways, heading for opposite sides of the donut-shaped orbital teaching facility.

Firemane fumes silently as he walks, Different face, same speech. If that worthless pile of gray fur would stay off my back, none of this would have happened. Nine months of his incessant interference and meddling in my stuff is more than any cat ought to endure. As if this base isn't enough of a hardship by itself.

He reflects on his time at the base, and wonders how he has persevered, and why. The two months spent working in zero gravity had been challenging. Then they had evacuated the atmosphere from the station, forcing the students to perform their duties in archaic pressure suits for another two months.

Of course, once the cadets were used to that, the Base Commander saw fit to return gravity at two times Kzinti standard, while keeping their atmosphere something less than Kzinti normal. Growing up on Hell's Marble had helped Firemane in that respect, due to its thinner than normal atmosphere. However, he could only guess what their next environmental trial would be.

"Cadet Firemane, report to shuttle bay two," the intercom announces, interrupting Firemane's walk down misery lane.

Moments later he enters the shuttle bay and is pleasantly surprised to see Admiral Rushwind approaching. He is not pleased for long. Rushwind marches up to him with a furious scowl etched across his face, and tears into Firemane with the force of a galactic ion storm. It takes most of Firemane's will to prevent him from backing away from his 'uncle.' After several minutes, Rushwind's tirade is interrupted by the Base Commander's arrival.

"Admiral, I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you."

"That's quite all right, Commander. My schedule was changed at the last moment, so I arrived early for my evaluation of the progress of our accelerated program. I thought I would use the extra time to discuss some minor matters with my nephew."

"I noticed. The performance reports are being completed as we speak. After you're through with Cadet Firemane would you like to have dinner?"

"That would be excellent. I should only be two or three hours."

The Base Commander stifles a purr while Firemane licks his nose three times in dread. "I'll be looking forward to it. By the way, there's a vacant ready-room through that door on the far wall."

"Thank you again," responds Rushwind as he places his powerful right arm around Firemane's shoulder before grabbing the small young cat by the scruff of his neck and practically carrying him across the shuttle bay.

When the doors slide shut behind them, Rushwind's demeanor changes abruptly. "So, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"Only that I called a truce and he broke it."

"He, being Cadet Bristlewind?"

"Yes, sir," Firemane responds.

"How?"

"As soon as we arrived, he started after my computer system again, but I've improved my personal security, so he still hasn't done any damage. Then about two weeks after we arrived, he started sabotaging my equipment, my schoolwork, anything and everything to cause me headaches -- including causing me headaches."

"Excuse me. Headaches?"

"I started getting migraines and the medicos said the environment was getting to me. I didn't believe it, and ran some tests of my own on my food and clothing and found out my uniforms were saturated with Trihesterine."

"Which will cause headaches in a K'tzellian Omniquad if it's exposed long enough."

"Precisely. Bristlewind was assigned to laundry detail at the time, so I gave my evidence to the laundry manager, and Bristlewind was placed on report and reassigned. The Trihesterine immediately disappeared from my uniforms."

"Reasonable evidence, but still circumstantial. So what did you do then?"

"I laced his personal stash of grombo's milk with Lecrothin."

"Ouch! How did he take it?"

"Not well. After he stopped scratching, we had our first free fall, knock down drag out fight. Things escalated from there. He did cease his attacks occasionally, but the moment I would jump over him in the student rankings I'd be the target of another disaster."

"I've been informed by the Base Commander there can be no more disasters."

"The Commander finished telling us the same thing just before you arrived."

"So what are you going to do if it starts again?"

"I'm not sure. I can stand by idly and let my performance be sabotaged into oblivion, or I can fight back with the same result. It appears to be a no-win scenario."

"So what are your supposed to do when faced with a no-win situation?"

"Change the situation."

"So, how do you plan to change it?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

"You should have plenty of time to think tomorrow, shouldn't you?"

"Oh, yeah. The survival run. That is tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yes, and you'll need plenty of rest if you expect to finish."

"Finish? I plan on winning!"

Rushwind eyes the red kit before him closely. "You've definitely got the arrogance to be a ship's Captain. Now if you can only develop the instincts, and attention to detail."

"I'll get there if they give me the chance."

"Maybe," Rushwind concedes as he prepares to leave. "Oh, one question. When you presented your Trihesterine evidence, did they test your uniform that was in the laundry that day?"

"Yes. It came up negative. He hadn't spiked it, yet, I suppose."

"So you suspect he contaminated your uniforms when he delivered them, then?"

"No. He didn't deliver them."

"But you share the same quarters. Surely . . . "

"No. The Quartermaster Department handles all deliveries, whether it makes sense or not."

"Yes. That's correct. Good thing he wasn't assigned to Quartermaster duty then. He'd have free run of the facilities to wreak havoc as he pleased with your belongings."

"Yeah, he would," Firemane agrees tentatively, waiting to see if Rushwind is driving at something. Rushwind only nods his head and exits, leaving Firemane a bit befuddled as to what his point was.

***

"Great cats, you have a great challenge before you today," the Physical Combat Instructor begins, clearly understating the situation. "You all know the layout of the course, and that there are two routes to take. I would strongly recommend against taking the path through Yellow Gorge. While it is the shortest path, it is by far the most dangerous. There have been fatalities. The Meirio Run is only a few kilometers more, but does have the addition of some wild Omniquads running about. But we have never had any students killed by these, only the occasional goring. I would also remind you that many of the plants and shrubs on the planet have medicinal value, and if you've studied your botany well, this information may be useful later in the day when you're feeling like you've been run over by a herd of stampeding Walomats."

Firemane and the other cadets wait patiently for the cat to finish his version of a pep talk, basking in the warmth of the morning sun of Cignus Delta IV. Having been on the station for so long, the feel of a real atmosphere around them and grass beneath them seems both comforting and alien.

Firemane is not the only cadet whose gaze is focused on the rocky, mountainous terrain behind the speaker, whom the cadets call their 'Physical Terrorist', albeit not if he's within earshot. The terrain that lays before them will be rough going, and will take its toll on the strongest of cats. Either course will take most of the twenty daylight hours to traverse -- or more. All know they face a major trial, but being the elite, each is confident of his own ability not only to finish the course, but to finish first.

". . . and then you may go," the Instructor concludes, bringing Firemane's attention back to the aging, ill-tempered cat.

Each cadet is checked to ensure none has any technological assistance. Only simple tools, such as knives and rope are allowed, though most of the cadets have brought only meager supplies of food and water and the clothes on their backs. When all have been checked, the PCI with no fanfare or hesitation says simply, "You may go."

Starchaser takes off at a sprint toward the first hill and most of the cadets sprint after him. Firemane and Bristlewind both take off at a leisurely trot, though they make a point to maintain a discreet distance between them. As they begin their climb up the small mountain, both pick their way carefully, putting little trust in the treacherous footing.

The sparse grass disappears almost immediately as the pack of enthusiastic cadets attack the course. There is little foliage near the path, only tangled masses of thorny bushes or exotic cacti. The predominant scenery consist of a seemingly endless monotony of red clay and rocks.

Though Firemane and Bristlewind fall to the rear of the pack, less than an hour after the start they come across the first casualty of the race. A small lavender cat sits casually on a smooth boulder, rubbing his left ankle and cursing profusely. When he spots Firemane and Bristlewind he tries to rise, but the pain from the fractured ankle forces him back onto his perch.

"You're about five minutes behind the last group," he offers as Firemane and Bristlewind continue up the slope. "Starchaser is way out in front, though. The dog tripped me when I tried to pass him. I almost think he was trying to break my ankle."

Bristlewind pants, "I know the feeling," instinctively rubbing his ribs, but doesn't hesitate as he moves past the invalid with Firemane close behind.

The roommates continue together, ignoring each other, though never more than a few meters apart, and soon overtake another casualty, lying face down in the dust. Shortly after they disappear over the next rise, a shuttle lands and a pair of medicos get out and attend to the injured student before loading him onto the craft and taking flight.

Over the next ten hours Firemane and Bristlewind continue to overtake other competitors. Some are injured, some just exhausted and resting, and on two more occasions they find unconscious cadets lying face down in the arid dust. When they reach the junction where the path through the mountains splits, they can see a group of a dozen cadets packed together heading down into a deep valley below them. They have chosen the safest, but longest route through Meirio Run.

The roommates pause at the fork. They are nearly to the summit of the first mountain, though the terrain is just as barren here as the last several kilometers. A quick perusal of the tracks shows four cadets have taken the route through Yellow Gorge, though none are in sight. Firemane and Bristlewind can tell from their vantage point that the twelve contestants below have chosen to work as a group, taking turns leading the group, which will make them difficult to catch.

The two glare at each other, and without a word chose the route through Yellow Gorge, and move off after the unknown quartet ahead of them. It is not long before they come upon another contestant, a large, black cadet, face down in the dust, a small trickle of blood running from his nostrils. They pass the comatose cadet with only the soft scuffle of their feet and their controlled panting marring the silence of the mountains. Firemane is mildly surprised when he realizes it is 'Biter lying in the dust.

After another hour of their silent plodding along the red clay trail through the mountains, they pass two more unconscious cadets. They glance at each other questioningly, but neither voices his thoughts. Though they have no way of knowing, slowly, but surely, they begin reeling in Starchaser.

The sun is high in the sky and the temperature stiflingly hot as they come upon a mountain stream. A few thorny bushes interrupt the otherwise dreary, barren landscape they have been traversing for nearly twelve hours. Firemane stops and takes a seat beside the flowing water and pulls his protein tube from a tunic pocket. Bristlewind takes a seat five meters downstream and mirrors his red companion.

"Counting the twelve who took the Meirio Run, there are forty-six behind us," Bristlewind announces.

"I know," Firemane answers cooly.

"That leaves me, you, and Starchaser."

"I know."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Bristlewind spits irritably.

Firemane smiles, but resists the urge to say, "How to speak Terran Standard." Instead he answers, "Just why you won't let this thing between us die."

"I did," Bristlewind retorts. "You restarted it."

"You say I restarted it. I say you restarted it. One of us is lying," Firemane snorts.

"And it's you," they say in unison.

The two end their conversation before blows are struck and finish their break by lapping up some of the fresh mountain water. They retake the trail, each vowing silently that no matter what it takes, the other will not win.

The sun is slowly edging toward the horizon when they come upon another of the course's many inconveniences. The trail they have been following leads up to a narrow ledge, running about twenty meters over a gorge nearly a thousand meters deep. The face of the cliff is mostly jaundice in color, with veins of golden Pyrite spreading like a spiders web through the rock that glistens in the sunlight. Only an occasional thorny, greenish Y'ntaro bush breaks the monotony of the rocky terrain. It is obvious to the two cadets that the only way across the gorge is via the centimeters wide ledge before them.

After a brief pause, Bristlewind starts across the chasm, his sharp claws using the small cracks and crevices in the granite wall to hold on. When Bristlewind is half way across, Firemane edges out behind him. As Bristlewind slides his right paw toward a tiny toe hold, the hole his right claw is in gives away. He slips off the precipice, and the sound of his claws screeching against the sheer rock face echoes sickeningly, as he barely manages to grasp the tiny ledge as he slides down.

Knowing Bristlewind is a claw length from certain death, Firemane reluctantly starts to edge toward him to assist, but as he is reaching for an obvious claw hold his keen eyes spot a much too geometric crack in the rock. In that instant much becomes clear to him, first and foremost that he must not let Bristlewind die. He backs quickly off the ledge onto the path.

Bristlewind curses silently when Firemane backs away, not daring to speak aloud, lest he upset his precarious balance. He knows he is too far from either side of the gorge to risk a leap, even if he had enough of a toe hold to allow such an attempt. The dog is going to let me die.

Just as his strength is wearing thin, he is surprised by the familiar sight of a uniform sleeve as the gray synthetic material flaps lazily across his left claw. His tenuous grip failing already, Bristlewind does the only thing he can -- he lets go of the ledge and grabs the tunic sleeve. He is pleasantly surprised to find himself swinging back toward the near edge of the gorge and braces himself for the impact with the canyon wall.

He becomes conscious of a blood curdling howl as he hits the rock wall. The jarring impact of his left shoulder against the wall of the ravine sends a searing jolt throughout his body, running from the shoulder through his arm and exploding in a excruciating spasm in his left wrist. His grip loosens and the sound of ripping fabric fights through the waves of agony to his waning consciousness as he struggles to maintain his tenuous grip.

He shakes his head clear and begins hoisting himself up the makeshift rope, his claws digging easily into the coarse material, though each movement of his shoulder gives new meaning to the term misery. He drags himself, exhausted, onto solid ground and pauses to catch his breath.

Panting heavily, he looks up at the sound of a whimpering cat. He sees Firemane sprawled face down, completely naked. He sees that his red enemy had shredded his uniform and tied the pieces together to form the cord that has just saved his life. He then sees the reason for Firemane's scream and present whimpering. A Y'ntaro bush lies just in front of Firemane's prone form, the 'rope' secured tightly around Firemane's right rear claw. Bristlewind realizes the only anchor Firemane had to grasp near the gorge was the thorny bush still held tightly with both claws.

Bristlewind crawls over to Firemane and sees the blood oozing from multiple punctures caused by the two-inch spikes. Carefully, Bristlewind pries his roommates paws from the bush, then pulls a knife from his tunic and as gently as possible, removes the thorns still protruding from Firemane's lacerated paws. Firemane screams at the torture as Bristlewind tends to him, but offers no resistance. As each thorn is removed, Firemane silently pleads for The Fates to grant him the serenity of unconsciousness, but the small, red cadet is still conscious when the final thorn is removed.

With the thorns out, Bristlewind digs up the roots of the bush and slices the pulpy stem open, squeezing the milky fluid inside onto Firemane's wounds. Both cats close their eyes and hold their breath, shying from the pungent odor of the salve, but its medicinal effects are miraculous and immediate, and the odor restores some of the alertness both have lost.

"Thank you," Bristlewind says, fanning the lingering fumes away from his face with his right claw.

"Same here," Firemane coughs. "That ledge was sabotaged."

"What?" Bristlewind asks, massaging his sore left shoulder.

"I noticed some chisel marks near some good claw holds."

"Starchaser?" Bristlewind asks with calm certainty.

"Yeah. And something my uncle said to me suddenly makes sense. I think he's the one responsible for keeping us at each others' throats, too. He's been assigned to Quartermaster duty most of the year, which gave him the perfect opportunity to sabotage eithor of us as he pleased, and make it look like we were doing it to each other."

Panting, the gray cat pauses, digesting this new theory. The memory of the Multi-Games final and his broken ribs gives him all the confirmation he needs. "That dog," Bristlewind fumes. "Come on, let's run him down."

"Go ahead. There's no way I can make it across with my claws in this shape. The pain is gone, but my hands are numb."

Bristlewind realizes Firemane is correct and gazes at the tiny ledge. He spots another Y'ntaro bush on the far side of the ravine and has an idea.

Ten minutes later both cats stand on the far side of the gorge, Bristlewind wrapping Firemane's claws in the remnants of what had been his uniform.

"Do you think anyone will believe you carried me across that gorge piggyback?" asks Firemane.

"I doubt it. I wonder what they'll say when we both show up out of uniform."

Firemane gazes at the gray 'rope' spanning the gorge, anchored to Y'ntaro bushes at each end. "Your bridge was a good idea." he says.

"I know," Bristlewind responds. "Let's go."

The two begin the chase anew, picking up their pace to make up the time lost at the gorge. Heading down hill, finally, less effort is required, though the footing remains treacherous. They keep a lookout for more of Starchaser's treachery, and avoid two booby-traps left by their devious adversary.

The sun approaches the horizon as they near the foot of the mountain. The foliage is slightly more plentiful, though it consists almost entirely of brown, dried grass and squat thorny bushes. Firemane spots some movement below and points it out to Bristlewind. They estimate how long it will take to catch Starchaser using the main trail, and realize there is not enough time to catch him before he reaches the finish line.

Firemane motions for Bristlewind to stop and peers down the almost sheer face of the cliff they are on. "Our only chance is for you to go down the face."

"You saved my life an hour ago, and now you're trying to kill me," Bristlewind squawks in disbelief.

"It's only about three hundred meters that way. The trail is probably a couple of kilometers. It's our only chance."

"You keep saying 'Our'," Bristlewind notes.

"The way I see it, until we put Starchaser in his place, we're a team."

Bristlewind eyes the small red Kzinti closely, weighing the import of what he has just said. "I like that. I've had a score to settle with him for some time now."

"Then it's settled?"

"No. But it will be before the day is done," Bristlewind vows. He stops rubbing his shoulder and unconsciously prods the ribs broken a year ago.

"I'd go too, but with these paws . . . " Firemane starts.

"I understand. Unwrap your bandages. Some of that Y'ntaro sap may do my shoulder some good," Bristlewind interrupts.

Firemane removes the blood-stained, once gray fragments of his uniform and hands them to Bristlewind. The shaggy, gray cat rubs his sore shoulder with the bandages gingerly, staining his coat with Firemane's blood. After a moment he flicks an ear.

"Hey, that stuff really does work."

"But if your shoulder is numb . . . "

"Don't worry, Red. I'll be holding on with my claws, not my shoulder. I'll see you at the finish line."

Moments later Bristlewind is scrambling down the face of the mountain, praying he will reach the bottom safely. While Bristlewind descends vertically, Firemane continues down the mountain path, picking his pace up another notch, even though he knows he has no chance of catching Starchaser. "Unless, of course, Bristlewind and he tangle with each other," he says aloud and steps his pace up a bit more.

***

Less than a kilometer from his objective, Starchaser strides confidently along the dusty floor of the valley on a narrow path leading away from the mountain. Though tired, grimy, and thirsty, a growing feeling of triumph wells up within him, No one's ever led the "Trials of Cignus" from start to finish, he thinks, . . . until now.

He halts for a moment, bending and resting with his paws on his knees. He reaches down and massages his right calf muscle, trying to ease the cramping that has been bothering him for the past two hours. As he pauses, his sensitive ears hear the swish of the gentle breeze mixed with his quiet panting, and he feels the rapid beat of his heart. He then notices the soft scrape of footsteps on the rocky path behind him.

Turning, he stares in disbelief at the frazzled gray form of Bristlewind approaching. Bristlewind smiles and quickens his pace. Seeing no other cadets, Starchaser assumes a defensive stance as the gray cadet nears.

Bristlewind notices Starchaser's posture and slows his approach, eyeing his orange opponent warily. Five meters from him, he stops and speaks, "So, do we fight here for the crown or race to the finish line?"

Feeling the twinge of his right leg cramping, Starchaser knows he cannot win any foot race. "Let's settle it now," he dares, bringing up his last reserves of energy in an attempt to sound menacing. Bristlewind circles warily, subtly favoring his right leg and the knee he twisted slightly during his descent down the face of the mountain.

Starchaser leaps and the two cats go down -- rolling in the suffocating dust, each trying to gain an advantage. However, having been instructed in personal combat for the past two years by the same teachers, both use the same maneuvers, while each knows the appropriate counter-moves, so the fight drags on for some time. The combat wears heavily on the two already exhausted combatants until both lie in the dirt, gasping for breath in the swirling cloud of dust they have raised.

Preparing to continue the battle, Bristlewind winces as his knee turns the wrong way, making him aware of the throbbing anguish that haunts his every move. Eyeing Starchaser warily, trying to see if the orange cadet is aware of his problem, Bristlewind notices the bulging muscles in Starchaser's leg and realizes why, despite his own bad knee, he has not succumbed to his foe. Slowly regaining his feet, careful not to put too much weight on his tender joint, Bristlewind begins to circle Starchaser as the orange cat also rises. Bristlewind circles his enemy just long enough to place Starchaser between him and the mountains. He is about to turn and bolt for the finish line, when in the growing darkness he spots the silhouette of a cat approaching from behind Starchaser. He bares his teeth menacingly.

Starchaser is unaware of the reason for Bristlewind's smile, but is disquieted just the same. Bristlewind begins backing slowly away, and only then does Starchaser realize he is moving, albeit slowly, toward the finish line. Starchaser follows cautiously, waiting and praying for Bristlewind to stumble.

Bristlewind speaks. "You can't win, you mangy excuse for a Kzinti. I know you tried to sabotage the trail to eliminate your competition, and your pitiful traps didn't work. You've got no allies this time to do your dirty work, dog."

"What dirty work?" asks Starchaser, feigning ignorance.

"My ribs, you jackal!" shouts Bristlewind, becoming increasingly agitated. "I watched the recording of the Multi-Games finals, and it was no accident that put me out of action. The video even showed you smile when you threw the damned disc! Don't try to deny it, scum. You're not fit to be called a Lyran."

The last words incense Starchaser. He lets out a blood curdling howl and takes one step forward when he is suddenly struck from behind, landing face down on the path and swallowing a mouthful of dirt in the process. Spitting the dust out, he looks up to see Bristlewind helping Firemane to his feet.

"How?" Starchaser asks.

"Teamwork," Bristlewind responds as he and Firemane turn and begin moving off toward the finish line.

Despite the increasing pain in his leg, Starchaser grits his teeth, and somehow finds the strength to rise. Fighting back the tears of his suffering, caused by the knotting muscles in his legs, he hobbles after the others. He is too far back to hear the conversation between the roommates.

"It took you long enough, Red."

"I had to skirt another trap. Besides, I figured you would have already taken him out."

"Sprained my knee coming down. He probably would have beaten me, but he's got serious leg cramps."

"I can identify."

"You too?"

"I pushed myself after we split up, just in case you two tangled. Seems that I guessed right, but it was a bad idea."

"No. Very good idea. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did."

"Thanks for covering my approach. You're not a bad actor."

"Who was acting?"

The two glance back and are a bit surprised to see Starchaser in chase, about thirty meters behind. They pick up their pace and the gap widens. Three hundred meters ahead they can make out a small contingent of cats waiting at the finish line. Bristlewind collapses.

"Come on, get up," Firemane urges.

"No. You go on. My leg's shot."

Firemane ignores Bristlewind protestations and helps him up. With their arms around each others' shoulders the two new friends shuffle toward their goal with Starchaser closing in. In an almost comical fashion Firemane and Bristlewind fall over the finish line together, naked, dirty, and purring cheerfully as Starchaser limps in barely ten meters behind them.

Most of the other contestants are present, having been transported here after surrendering to the course. They cheer heartily as the two ragged cats lie panting in the dust. The Physical Combat Instructor shakes his head in disbelief, muttering, "In all my years never, ever has their been a tie."

***

"Well, Firemane. You seem to have overcome your difficulties with regards to Bristlewind quite admirably."

Firemane flicks an ear at Rushwind's understatement as he packs the few belongings he will take with him on the shuttle scheduled to leave in just over an hour. "More than that, Uncle. We're friends now. But I'm sure you've been aware of that almost since the moment I was. You practically told me Starchaser was behind our conflict three months ago, right before the Trials of Cignus. It's become obvious to me that you've known what's been going on from the beginning. In fact, you probably know the last time I went to the lavatory."

"About ten minutes before I got here," Rushwind replies nonchalantly.

Firemane pauses in his packing to stare at Rushwind in disbelief.

"I passed Bristlewind in the corridor. He told me you were indisposed," Rushwind explains.

Firemane returns to his packing, shaking his head. "What's our final year going to be like, sir?"

"More of the same, but you'll have more responsibilities. You'll all be commanding the other cadets who made it through second year. You've got a lot to learn about command still, but I suspect without you and Bristlewind at each other's throat, you'll both do well. Your first lesson in command will probably be the hardest for you to deal with. You can't do everything yourself. You've got to rely on the abilities of the officers and crew members under you, but you'll learn that in time. Of course, when you do, you'll wonder why you didn't listen to me in the first place."

"I think I've learned enough to at least remember your advice now, even if I don't learn it right off. I'll pass on your words of wisdom to Bristlewind."

"Not competing anymore?"

"Counter-productive. After clearing up matters with Starchaser, we realized that we're not here to gain individual honors. We're here to help the Empire, and we found we produce better results when we work as a team rather than as competing individuals."

"Yes. I had heard that you've passed on this camaraderie to your fellow cadets. The final scores for this class are the highest in Institute history, and you and Bristlewind top the heap. The other bureaucrats are trying to figure out what we can do to reproduce the same results with the next class."

"What did you suggest?"

"I told them all they needed to do was recruit two genius prodigies and convince them to work as a team."

"What'd they say?"

"Let's just say they weren't thrilled with my lack of support. But it's nearly time for you to go, and I'm afraid this will be the last I see of you for some time."

"Oh?"

"I've been asked to do Space Acclimation Cruise evaluations on the class ahead of you."

"Space Acclimation?"

"Yes. The final month or two of schooling consists of a non-combat cruise aboard whatever vessels happen to be running about the central systems. Mostly freighters, but there's an occasional new frigate just off the assembly line that we'll put a few cadets onto, just to see how they react to actually flying around the cosmos."

"I've already had experience working on a freighter. Does that mean I'm exempt?"

"Not a chance. At the end of the tour, you'll be evaluated by an official representative of the military establishment, like myself. It's the final test before you're given your actual fleet assignment."

"How do they hand out fleet assignments anyway?"

"There's a bidding system that's rather complex, but basically each ship's Captain bids on personnel based on which departments need additional personnel. The more senior the Captain, the greater chance he has of landing a choice cadet."

"So, why don't all the best cadets end up on Command Cruisers?"

Rushwind purrs, "Because CC Captains are bright enough to draft their replacements from experienced officers who've served on destroyers and light cruisers. No matter how bright the student, there is no substitute for experience -- and CC Captains would prefer not to have some wet-behind-the-ears kit inadvertently blow the ship up because he's unfamiliar with an otherwise routine procedure."

Firemane nods, "That makes sense."

"I'm sure you know the Top Cadet would be the most coveted graduate from each class and the higher your final ranking the greater your chance of getting a 'choice' assignment. However, we make sure not to put all the good cadets on one vessel or the bad ones for that matter. I suspect you and Bristlewind will be highly sought after by many equally senior Captains. In the end, someone may make a deal to get one of you."

"A deal?"

"Yes, if a CL Captain gets first pick for Top Cadet, he might select one of you, then offer you to a destroyer Captain for some more experienced personnel," Rushwind explains.

Firemane frowns, "I hope I don't get traded down to a freighter."

Rushwind purrs again. "That is highly unlikely, though occasionally a high graduate will end up on a frigate. So, if you had the chance to choose, what assignment would you pick?"

"Command of a BC," Firemane states emphatically.

Rushwind purrs in response to the young cat's exuberance, noting Firemane's choice of the newest ship class in the fleet. "Not an option. There are occasionally spots open on Light Cruisers, but you don't move up to a full cruiser until you've had some actual combat experience. And you don't move up to command until you've had at least five years experience."

"Never?"

"Never!"

Firemane's wrist chronometer chirps, interrupting the conversation. "Seems that it is time to go, Uncle. I hope you have fun evaluating your cadets," Firemane says, picking up his duffel bag and motions for Rushwind to go first.

The two exit the cabin, and a few moments later the computer is satisfied that the room is empty, and shuts off the light.

***

"Come in, Commander Ringrider," the Supreme Commander waves impatiently.

The tiger-striped Intelligence Analyst hurries into the spacious office, quickly taking the seat his superior motions to.

"So, what is so important that you request a personal audience?"

Ringrider hesitates, gathering his thoughts. "It's Windbreaker, sir."

The Supreme Commander scowls at the Intelligence Analyst. "That's a name I never expected, or particularly wanted to hear again. This had better be good."

"It is, sir. I know that when Rushwind first disappeared back in Y150 we lost touch with him for . . . too long. But, at the time, Windbreaker was extremely inexperienced, and when his go-between was elliminated, he just didn't have the resources to re-establish a secure channel of communication."

"So you've stated. Repeatedly," the Supreme Commander growls. "However, he was also unable to inform us when Rushwind DID come out of retirement. And that was after five years of experience!"

"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, when Rushwind went into hiding, NONE of our operatives knew where he was. While the lack of good data was unfortunate, Windbreaker has been of use in several other areas. And he did confirm the Admiral's return to the Kzinti Military Institute."

"That is all fine and good, Commander. But why bring him up now?"

"Due to a number of other factors that are unimportant at this time, Windbreaker's chance of advancement on a main fleet ship is severely limited. However, he has managed to transfer onto a different career path that may make him invaluable to Operation Headhunter."

The Supreme Commander's ears stand up at mention of the plan. "You're still running Headhunter? The budget for that was cancelled years ago."

"Yes, sir. However, I've used . . . alternate funding to keep the infrastructure in place on my own initiative. I know it's not . . . "

"No need to explain or apologize, Commander. I cannot fault you for your enthusiasm. So, what are your plans for Windbreaker?"

Ringrider relaxes slightly. "I want to put Windbreaker as our lead covert-op in charge of Operation Headhunter."

"Putting someone in charge of an op that does not exist would seem rather difficult."

"Yes, sir. I know that, which is why I'm here today," Ringrider nods. "It will probably take three to five years for him to assemble and place his assets. There is a built-in red herring, so the op could continue for some time before the Kzinti figure it out. And since he now has almost ten years of seniority, he should be able to set up patsies quite easily without risking exposing himself.

"We have very few operatives with that much experience. I'm certain your superiors within the Intel branch will have other, more immediate assignments for him."

"Yes, sir. However, since Headhunter is a long-term op, it should not interfere with any other assignments -- at least, not until Headhunter goes active."

"And when do you expect that to be?" The Supreme Commander strokes his chin, assesing Ringrider carefully.

"If all goes perfectly, perhaps as early as Y161. Though, truthfully, things rarely go precisely as planned. A realistic estimate would be some time in late Y162."

"But, you can't start running a long term op without approval of your immediate Supervisors, who shut down Headhunter long ago. So, you elect to step on your superiors' tails by coming to me. Why should I help an officer who ignores the chain of command?"

Ringrider tenses, knowing he has reached the critical point in their discussion. "Sir, some department heads are more concerned with keeping their positions than in defeating our enemies. Headhunter is a long-term op with a marginal chance of success, at best. To openly approve such a plan would be a great risk to a Department Head, growing old and fat. I have no chance of getting approval or funding for a previously cancelled project, sir. But, there is also another concern I have. A greater one."

"And that would be?"

"Spies, sir. We've got many moles in Kzin space, and it would be utter foolishness to believe the same is not true in reverse. For this op to work, only Windbreaker and myself need to know its true scope. As long as that remains true, there is a real chance for success. But, if Headhunter ever shows up in an official Covert Budget Report, or . . . "

"Say no more, Commander. You have your approval. And I'll even give you a bonus. You continue using your alternate funding, but when the time is right, if all the pieces do come together, I'll divert funds from my private accounts to assist you."

Ringrider is stunned.

The Supreme Commander continues, "However, you better be very good at keeping this secret, because if you get called on the carpet, I will deny this conversation ever took place."

Ringrider blinks. He has gotten the Supreme Commander's consent, only to be left hanging in the wind. He realizes that the project is now not just his idea, but essentially, the Supreme Commander has ordered him to proceed, but with no official orders or proof that the op exists. Ringrider takes a deep breath. "I bet you don't get officers breaching the chain of command twice, do you, sir?

The Supreme Commander purrs. "No, Commander, I don't."