Yuki was posing in the mirror. In half an hour—29 minutes, actually—they were supposed to run the most dreaded gauntlet of every SFA semester. They would be pitted against Ace and Spade, as per usual. Ace would probably sweep away the competition and somehow apologize for it. Spade would probably push Verse and then say a petty one-liner about the lack of rules in a warzone. Or something like that. By the fourth year together, 2-B was rather predictable.

Verse was in denial. Yuki was posing in the mirror. She’d styled her hair, all smiles. A fraction of that optimism would make life a lot better, Verse thought. They sighed inwardly. Two more months until they were free.

“Yuki, we have to go,” Verse pleaded. “We’re going to be late.”

Yuki twirled, rather unconcerned. “We have thirty minutes,” she giggled.

“Now it’s 28.”

Yuki finally stopped admiring herself. “Fine,” she conceded. With a final adjustment to her hair, she followed Verse outside. Two bags were left abandoned on the floor. They wouldn’t be needed for the Aptitude test. Verse shivered at the very name.

The dorm room opened into a shared living space for class 2-B, complete with a couch and television and a kitchenette to the side. It was a popular hangout area for late nights and rainy days, like the day prior, when Verse had admittedly spent four hours after school writing in blissful solitude. Balloons and other birthday décor still adorned the walls from the previous day, courtesy of the girls. They looked as though they were bought in the children’s aisle. Upon further consideration, Verse realized they were definitely bought in the children’s aisle; the numbers of one “Happy 12th Birthday” sign were hung backwards to make “21th.” But Yuki seemed to like them.

“We’re gonna be the first ones there, you know,” Yuki said as they passed the doors of their classmates’ rooms. “I bet Luca’s not even awake yet.”

Both concerns were valid.

They left the 2-B quarters. It was connected by a long hallway to similar spaces for other classes. They were bordered by 2-A and 2-C, naturally. At the end of the hall was an exterior door; they were on the ground floor. It was slightly warmer outside than it had been yesterday. The earth was moist from the rain, dew drops glistening under a young sun. They kept to the cemented path that connected the dorm buildings. A small grove of trees sheltered the intersection between the dormitory wing and the central courtyard. Red and green leaves sprinkled the pathway, stripped from the trees in the rain. The courtyard was pleasantly quiet. There was over an hour before Friday classes started, except for testing. Along with the soft buzzing of insects in the trees, sparse early-risers provided the only background static.

The dorms were on the western end of campus, a full 180-degrees from the East Reserve. They followed the path across the center of the lawn that brought them around the library tower. It was a sixteen minute walk in total; b8:48 by their arrival. The temperature immediately dropped by half on the first step through the East Reserve door, courtesy of a blaring air conditioning. Verse and Yuki took an elevator to the third floor in silence. They found the 2-B locker room, connected to the testing facility. The right wall of the larger chamber was lined with bleachers where Vector and Camie were waiting, along with Professor Moff. Verse and Yuki weren’t unreasonably early after all. They each retrieved their special shoes from their lockers and joined the girls on the bleachers.

“Good morning, Professor,” Verse greeted as they sat down.

Moff sighed and gave a tired wave. Beside him was a cart carrying four training rifles, two red and two blue. On top of the cart was a laptop.

It was quiet among them. Vector stretched in her seat. Yuki bobbled back and forth anxiously. The pre-Aptitude anticipation period was not the time for small talk.

Ten minutes passed. Then ten more, until it was b9:13. The four missing students remained missing.

Moff sighed again. “We’re missing half of the class. This is fine. Yuki runs first, anyway.” He cleared his throat and started the testing spiel, reading off the pink paper he’d brought. “The Legion Force Aptitude test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that...” Moff suddenly threw the paper to the side and grumbled, “You’ve done this seven times already. You know the rules. We’ll start with the solo runs, then move to partner comp. Assuming the class shows up, of course. Yuki. On the court.”

Yuki hurriedly strapped on her skates and dropped down from the bleachers onto the hardwood floor. She took a blue rifle from the cart, rolling up to the start of the track. Moff tapped at the laptop; a timer appeared on the wide screen across the room, paused at zero. They exchanged an affirming look. There was a loud beep, and the timer started, and Yuki raced down the track.

Without stopping, she fired at the first suspended target. A small projectile smacked it in the center. The target lit up blue. She kept moving, kept shooting at the next three targets—blue, blue, blue. They alternated between the left and right sides of the track, and two were directly above. Yuki hit the first five of the targets on the straight. She fired at the sixth, but it didn’t light up; she missed. Every target she skipped would add five seconds to her time. She kept going; her overall time counted for more than a single skipped target. Yuki turned into the curve, hugging the outer wall. Three targets hung on the opposite side, these ones moving vertically. She quickly fired at each—blue, blue. The third missed. Yuki moved past it and accelerated out of the curve.

Six stationary targets remained. She hit each of them as she flew down the returning straight; she sped into the second turn, seeming just a little out-of-control as she swept over the finishing line. The timer stopped. Yuki pressed her heels down to stop herself, leaving slight marks in her path.

“Yuki, don’t scratch the floor,” Moff sighed, typing into the laptop. “51 seconds, plus two targets skipped. 61 seconds. Score of 1.639.”

Yuki handed Moff her rifle. “Yay!” she cheered through heavy breaths. “Perfectly average!”

“Get some water. Verse, on the court.”

Moff reloaded the rifle as Yuki rolled away to the hall. She turned around to give Verse a thumbs-up with a smile. Verse climbed down from the bleachers. They adjusted their skates while Moff tapped the laptop. The target lights went out, and the timer reset to zero.

There was a shout from the hall.

“I’m here!” Luca screamed, shuffling into the room on skates. Mali trailed behind her, blank-faced, seeming rather unconcerned.

Moff sighed again. “Great. Only missing one-fourth of the class now. I’m not even gonna ask. Just sit down—Verse. Court.”

As Luca and Mali climbed into the bleachers, Verse hurried to Moff. With a deep breath, they took the rifle. Vector was watching; so was Yuki from the water fountain by the hall. That was a manageable audience. Not even Moff looked all that invested. They stopped at the line, shifting the rifle in their hands. It was lighter than a real gun. Seven times, they reminded themself. What was one more? The professor looked on expectantly. Verse nodded.

The beep sounded. Verse took off.

The first straight was fast; not top speed, but close. Close to what Yuki took. They shot the first six targets in order. Six blue targets lit. They slowed to a more controlled pace into the turn, also tracing the outer wall. Three moving targets. They relaxed and aimed carefully. Three blue targets lit. Coming out of the turn, Verse trained the rifle on the very last stationary target, across the second straight. One distant blue target. Five left in-between.

They fired at the first and missed. A brief flash of panic struck; they braked slightly as they quickly spun back to hit again.  It would probably be more efficient to take a single loss. But Verse was, for whatever reason, determined to hit them all. They returned forward, focused on the remaining targets ahead. Four targets, blue. With a final push, they sped past the sixth lit target to cross the line.

Verse caught themself on the wall.

“63 seconds,” Moff announced. “1.587. That’s 0.97 Standard Yukis. Get some water.”

Perfectly average. Verse could live with that. They returned the rifle and rolled into the hallway where Yuki waited. She gave them a high-five with a smile.

“Now is the time I would monotonously call, ‘Spade, on the court,’” Moff continued. “Spade never showed up. That’s fine. We’re late, anyway.”

As if on cue, two more classmates casually approached from the hall, completing the class roster. Moff stared intensely. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

Ace abruptly stopped at the doorway. “Oh, shit, is it not 10:00 call time?” he asked.

“It’s nine,” Moff snapped. “Says so on the paper.”

Beside Ace, Spade checked his wristwatch and flashed a smile.  “It’s... kind of 9, sir, is it not? I find this quite the overreaction,” he said casually. His comfortable status as the Blanc name’s heir was audibly reflected by a frustrating charisma in his breathy voice, only exacerbated by a foreign accent. The affluent Blanc casino-empire was on Choran, the Legion’s capitol at the heart of the Common Realm galaxy.

“It’s 9:47.”

“Exactly, sir. Nine.”

Moff muttered something under his breath, aggressively tapping at the laptop. Louder, he said, “We’re on a schedule here. Skipping Spade. Ace, on the court.”

Yuki rolled back into the main room, cutting in front of Spade and Ace. “What? How is that fair?” she shot incredulously.

“Sounds like a ‘Spade’ problem to me,” Moff shrugged. “Yuki, get back to the bleachers. You too, Verse—Ace, court.”

Yuki sighed, returning to her spot below Camie on the bleachers, and Verse hesitantly followed. Spade similarly shrugged, flipped his hair, and joined them on the bleachers. He sat beside Vector, saving a safe distance for Ace in-between. Vector and Verse exchanged a look; she seemed quietly amused.

“Nice shot,” Vector said, leaning forward to Verse.

“Well. Now Ace is about to show off,” they muttered back.

The timer beeped. Ace flew down the track far faster than Yuki or Ace. From the straight, he sniped the three moving targets, then spun back to hit the six stationary. Without breaking pace, he sped through the turn into the second straight, hitting the last six targets as he passed by. Not even a minute later, he was back at the start.

That would be team Yuki-and-Verse’s competition.