The Black Stars (11 page)

Mason and Tom found the lesson interesting, though without context Mason didn't really know what Grubare was talking about. The rest of the lesson finished without incident, mainly because Mason was able to keep his mouth shut the entire time. Still, Grubare's eyes found him often, as if searching for some reason to scold. It was only at the end of the class that Grubare said, “Make sure your belts are operational. Tomorrow we will be in the gravity room, and we will see if you can continue your training here at this school.”

Jiric and Risperdel exchanged worried looks.

Mason expected more classes throughout the day, but at lunch Po told him everything after this would be “physical” in nature. Meaning combat. Mason felt his blood quicken at the word. He was ready to show the Rhadgast what he could do.

“They're going to test us,” Tom said beside him. “See what the humans are made of.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Mason said.

Tom ignored him. “Oh look, they're testing us now.”

A group of four Stones were walking toward them from across the refectory, which was at the very top of the dome, on the side overlooking the valley. One entire wall was curved glass that ended at the top of the dome. From this high up, Mason could see deep into the valley and the mountains beyond.

The lead Stone reached the table and said nothing.

“Hello,” Mason said. Perhaps they just wanted to greet the school's newest rhadjen. Perhaps they wanted to be Mason's new best friend.

“Go sit down, Juneful,” Lore said calmly.
Juneful.
Was he from the same royal family as Reckful?

She wasn't exactly defending them, but Mason appreciated the gesture.

“You're going to get
all
of us in trouble,” Jiric added.

Mason caught Risperdel's eye, and she rolled hers. “Just be cool,” she whispered. Mason nodded.

“You're on the Blood side now?” Juneful said to Lore, after taking five seconds to process her statement. He was clearly the leader of the four. His hair was long and black and flowed free. Mason was already imagining a series of defensive moves if Juneful attacked. Having long hair was a stupid choice, tactically. Mason could grab a handful of it, and from there the fight would be in his control. But maybe long hair had some kind of ceremonial significance. Or the Rhadgast were cocky enough to just not care.

Juneful seemed to notice Mason scanning all of his weak points, his pressure points. His eyes narrowed.

“Is there something you wanted?” Mason said. He'd been dealing with bullies his entire life and was a little sad to find out they were no different here. Tremist bullies were just as clever as the slow-witted muscle-bound morons he had dealt with at Academy I and II. He began to wonder what the true differences were between Tremist and humans.

Juneful didn't seem to know what to say. Po was staring at Mason intently from across the table—the whole team was—but Mason kept his eyes on Juneful. His three boys were behind him, safely. They were followers. They were no threat.

“I suggest you go back to your table,” Mason said. “I know you're curious about what humans can do, but I don't think you want to find out right now, in front of all your friends.”

Juneful's mouth opened in shock, just a tiny bit. “What about you, human?” he said to Tom, no doubt ignoring Mason until his dull, aggressive brain could figure out the correct response. “Do you need your boyfriend here to protect you?”

“No,” Tom replied. “But I like to let him because it makes him feel better, and because he doesn't mind dealing with scum.”

Mason laughed. He couldn't help it; it was the perfect thing to say. Had he not laughed, Juneful would've probably sat right back down. But he did laugh, and it felt good to laugh again. It felt good that Tom felt good enough to crack a joke. So Mason laughed, but he never lost his readiness.

As he watched, the gloves hidden inside Juneful's robe slipped down over his hands. During school hours, no student was allowed to have his or her gloves over their hands unless they were in a combat-oriented class. Mason didn't know the punishment for violating that rule, and he didn't want to find out.

There was a tray of food in front of Mason. Juneful's hand darted down toward the edge of it, and Mason anticipated he would try to flip it into Mason's face. Mason did not want this to happen for a number of reasons, including that the food here was somehow worse than the sludge they served on ESC spacecraft. The refectory had better food available—he'd seen strange and colorful fruits and vegetables being served to the older students—but he and his team got various protein-based gelatins. It would make quite a mess and ruin the robes he'd gone through hell to earn. So Mason grabbed Juneful's luscious locks and yanked down just as Juneful was starting to lift the tray with his fingers. Juneful's face smacked into the tray with a wet splat. Some of the gelatins flecked Mason's robe anyway, but it wasn't nearly as bad. As Juneful was bouncing up, Mason shoved him one-handed into his three friends, who all toppled onto their butts.

Everything stopped.

Juneful blinked goop from his eyes.

As every Stone in the refectory stood up from their tables.

“Now you've done it,” Po said, stretching his arms and yawning. He seemed resigned to their fates.

“You with me?” Mason asked Tom quietly.

Tom sighed. “That was ill-advised, but I guess we've done stupider things. Of course I'm with you.”

“Okay, then,” Mason said, and stood up, letting his own gloves slip down over his hands. “Who's first?” he called to the room.

“Sit down,” a voice said behind him.

Mason looked over his shoulder to find Reckful frowning down at him. “I don't think tactically that would—”

“Sit
down,
” Reckful said. He put his hand on Mason's shoulder and pushed him into his seat. Mason instantly transformed his gloves into bracers.

“What is the meaning of this?”
roared a voice from the other end of the refectory. It was the head of the Stones, Master Rayasu. He stormed into the empty space between the tables, his robes flaring out around him, violet eyes blazing in a way that had to be artificial. Mason saw Grubare, who still wore nothing to signify if he was Blood or Stone, standing in the corner, watching. His gromsh perched on his shoulder, staring at Mason with at least one of its eyes.

“A little altercation, that's all,” Reckful said.

“Altercation?”
Master Rayasu said it like he'd never heard of the word before.

Reckful seemed prepared with a response. “Well, I'm sure these four didn't come over to our newest students and say hello, only to have Mason and Tom dump food on them and push them on the floor from a seated position. I can't imagine one human, unprovoked, doing that to four Stones … can you?”

“How dare you…” Master Rayasu said to Reckful.

“Master Rayasu,” Reckful said, not cowering before the leader of the Stones, “would you kindly ask your students to sit down?”

All the Stones in the refectory were still standing. Mason could suddenly feel his pulse in his ears and neck. If this had been an ESC cafeteria, the instructors would've ended the fight and sent all offending parties to the brig, where the details may or may not be uncovered. Here it seemed like the two instructors were about to tear each other apart.

Po stood up. “Sir, Juneful was about to smash the tray into Mason's face. Mason was just faster.”

“He's right,” Lore said. “I warned them. I told you to sit down, Juneful.” Mason had a feeling she wasn't defending him so much as she was embarrassed by the Stones.

Once Lore spoke, Master Rayasu frowned, some of the anger draining from his face. It seemed that a Stone speaking against another Stone settled the matter, at least with everyone watching. “I see,” he said.

Master Rayasu looked down at Juneful, who appeared to be waiting for permission to move. Bluish-green food dripped off the end of his chin into his lap. “Stand up. You embarrass every Stone.” With that, Master Rayasu stalked away.

Juneful stood up along with his friends, but there was a new look in his eye. It wasn't the simple boredom that drives most bullies to bully. This was something new, something dangerous and calculated. Mason had just made fools out of them in front of the entire refectory, nearly a hundred rhadjen, who would no doubt spread the news throughout the school by end of day.

Reckful audibly breathed a sigh of relief.

Mason twisted around to look up at him. “I'm really sorry. They were going to ruin my robes.”

Reckful sighed again. “Robes can be cleaned, you know. You realize this is still your first day of classes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Reckful didn't say goodbye, he just left, following after Master Rayasu. Mason imagined them having some knock-down, drag-out Rhadgast fight in the hallways, away from the students. Wall-to wall-lightning, and all that. He wondered who would win in that situation.

When Mason turned back to the table, everyone was staring at him and Tom again.

“Do you know what you've done?” Lore said. “Juneful isn't dumb. He won't forget.”

“Neither will I,” Mason said.

Lore snorted through her nose, as if to say
You have no idea what you're talking about.

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

After lunch, Mason was disappointed to find out that first-time rhadjen had to undergo stringent health and stamina evaluations. Mason and Tom spent three hours running and jumping while wearing biofeedback harnesses. They were of course in excellent physical condition, thanks to the ESC. Over the last few months Mason had noticed an increase in his muscle mass and strength. They finished the final test, dripping with sweat, and were told that they were cleared for combat exercises.

That night was the weekly free-for-all, held in a room above the Inner Chamber. The room was a perfect replica of a forest, much like the one Mason and Tom had traveled through, minus the strangling vines. These trees had bright red and purple leaves, and branches that appeared flat and sharp, like they were made from swords rather than wood. The perimeter of the room was thick with trees planted in what felt like real soil under Mason's feet. The trees became sparser toward the middle of the room, where there were only a few trunks that could be used defensively.

The rules were simple:

1. Any rhadjen of any age can enter the free-for-all.

2. You have to turn down the power of your gloves as low as possible, so you can only stun, not maim or kill.

3. Falling down equals disqualification.

4. Last rhadjen standing wins.

There was no actual prize for winning besides bragging rights, but that was enough to get plenty of teams involved.

Po pulled Mason and Tom aside as the participating rhadjen filtered through the trees. The room was immensely tall, and some chose to scale the jagged branches. Mason watched as they disappeared into the leaves.

“Hey,” Po said, grabbing his attention again. “I think you should sit this week out. Juneful is already gunning for you, and I'm sure everyone else is, too. Because, you know, humans.” He shrugged.

This was not surprising.

Mason looked at Tom. Tom looked at Mason.

“We've decided not fighting would show weakness, which would invite further harassment,” Tom said.

“What he said,” Mason added.

A slow grin spread across Po's face. “Fine with me. I've been wanting to see you guys in action, anyway.” Po licked his lips, eyes narrowing. “What say we call a truce until only the three of us remain?”

“Sounds good to us,” Mason said.

A stiff, artificial breeze blew through the trees. It ruffled Mason's hair.

Po smiled. “The game has begun.” He slinked backward, disappearing around the trunk of a tree.

Without speaking, Mason and Tom did the same, moving to the perimeter of the room. They didn't even have to discuss tactics: six-plus years in the ESC had prepared them, and they already knew how to work as a team.

“You know how to use those things?” Mason said, jerking his chin at Tom's gloves.

“… In theory. They're not big on instruction here.”

“Stay close,” Mason said.

From the center of the room, Mason heard the initial sounds of combat: sizzling blasts of low-voltage electricity, a yell, a thump, the cracking of a tree branch, the scrape of fabric against fabric or skin. Mason and Tom hunkered down in the shadows, waiting it out. Every few seconds, a buzzer would sound, which Mason assumed meant someone was knocked out.

This was confirmed a second later, when a Blood charged them from the right. He should've had Mason and Tom cold—his gloves were already sparking with red light—but Mason and Tom dived out of the way, circling around the trunks and coming at the Blood from behind. The Blood got a single lance of electricity off, but Mason swiped his hand in front of his own face, as if catching a ball. Mason's glove fired a tendril that met with the Blood's, and both streams of electricity veered sideways, cracking into a nearby tree trunk. Before the Blood could fire another shot, Tom stepped forward, dropping into a low stance with one foot forward and firing twin blasts from both palms. The Blood yelped and fell back on his butt, furrowing the soil.

Mason expected the Blood to be angry, but he actually smiled. “Not bad—
look out!
”

Mason spun, dropping instinctively, getting his hands up in time to meet several fingers of electricity with his outstretched palms.

The fingers wound together, thickening, replicating, until a semisolid wall of light formed between the combatants. Mason didn't know how many were on the other side. His hands were instantly too hot for comfort, and he felt pressure against his palms, nearly driving him back. He'd been in this situation before with Merrin, atop the cube as it was transforming into the planet-sized gate. That time they'd been fighting full Rhadgast who were trying to kill them, so this should've been easy.