The Shetland tournament had been a bitter disappointment. Codi rammed her training gear back into its pack with unnecessary savagery, because she had nothing else to take out her frustrations on. In terms of pure performance, on paper it looked alright, but it felt like a failure.

In the individual bouts she finished fourth – respectable for any other human being in colonised space – not good enough for her. Chris O'Leary had topped the table, just, sneaking past Dustin Morto after beating Ripple in the semi-final. Codi smouldered at the thought of her own semi-final with the Atlantic Academy colossus where she'd come out on the losing side of an impact rating. Anyone else would have told her that fourth was pretty good. She was in there, mixing it up with the best fighters Earth had to offer, but she wasn't winning. Winning was what Battlecast wanted from her.

To make matters worse, the capture-the-flag arm of the contest ended up being a total debacle. A team from Everest managed to pull off a surprise win in the final to take the top spot, but by that stage the Battlecast teams had already been knocked out of the competition. Their best contingent finished fifth. Codi and her group plummeted to a dismal eighth after failing to get any coherent rhythm or effective tactic.

The paired bouts probably provided her only solace of the torrid trip to the stormy northern isle. While she and Gareth hadn't achieved a whole lot, finishing tenth at the final count, she'd been expecting far worse. Added to that, Chris and Ripple romped home to seal Battlecast's dominance in two out of the three disciplines.

Oh, and she'd pissed off her coach.

She and Thradd exchanged some choice words after the first capture-the-flag defeat, but things didn't end there. As the tournament wore on his abrasive approach compounded her own frustration and in the end they'd finished up barely speaking to each other.

Codi never thought she'd be wishing to have her old instructor back, but right this second she would have given an arm and a leg to have Drake Vasco in the room with her. The old warhorse had been abrasive in his own way, but he'd been breaking in a rookie. Codi wasn't a rookie anymore and Thradd's brand of brusque, harsh rhetoric was already testing her (admittedly small) reserves of patience to the limit.

"Damn it all," she muttered under her breath, jamming the last of her tournament gear into the back and running her finger down the zip. It auto-sealed under touch and she slung it over one shoulder. It's early days, she reminded herself. So the first practice tournament under Battlecast colours hadn't gone perfectly. They had months until the real competition to sort themselves out.

But even that thought didn't stave off the feeling of resignation lying heavily on her shoulders.

Then someone knocked on her door. Her jaw tightened. She had a feeling she knew who might come calling at this early hour and there was no-one on that list that she wanted to speak to. Willing herself to stay calm, she sighed and opened the door. The white panel slid to one side, to reveal Kye, arms folded, toothy grin beaming.

"Morning," he said simply.

"Morning," she replied stepping out into the corridor and letting the door slide shut behind her. "I was just leaving."

"Nice to see you too."

"Sorry." She gave him a rueful smile. "I'm not in for a very warm reception when I get back to Battlecast."

He looked at her quizzically. "Why's that?"

"Coaching troubles."

"Ah, still the biggest smart-mouth in the tournament, eh? What's got them all wound up this time?"

"Oh, the usual." Codi shrugged. "It's fine. I'll deal with it. How'd you get on?"

"Still the whipping boys," he admitted, but his smile barely flickered. "But we've got a long way to go. Y'never know – maybe at the Gauntlet I might get someone to give your lot a run for their money." He gestured over his shoulder with one thumb. "Can't stay long – my shuttle's shipping out in fifteen and I, y'know, I wanted to see you. Probably won't get the chance until the next tournament."

"Yeah." She frowned. "This sucks."

"Well, I had an idea about that." He gave her a knowing wink. "I know the Battlecast contract has you locked up – mine does too – but there are ways around it." Kye reached into the pocket of his black hooded top and extracted a small metallic object from it. "Coaching has its privileges. Stick this into your mobile-beam and you can send messages on a direct line to my personal ID."

Codi's eyes lit up and she eagerly extended a hand. Kye, however, held the chip back for just a moment.

"You got to understand," he continued. "We can't use it all the time or the tech skimmers will notice it on the daily logs. But, if you do need some friendly advice between now and Mars, you'll know where to reach me."

She nodded and he allowed her to pick the sliver of metal out of his hand. A little bit of warmth started seeping through the apprehension that currently hung in her mind.

"Thanks, Kye. This...well, I might need it at this rate." Codi slipped the chip into her pocket. Then, after taking a quick glance left and right to make sure they were alone, she rocked forward on her tiptoes and planted kiss on his lips. "See you in three weeks."

*

The shuttle ride back to the academy was a tense affair. While the younger, newer members of the group hummed and buzzed with energy and conversation, the mood among the veterans was considerably more sombre. While on paper their results impressed, perfection was the buzzword in the eyes of the coaches and academy financers. They weren't quite there yet

The sight of the monolithic bulk of the academy ordinarily filled Codi with a sense of belonging, but as the shuttle descended to the private landing dock she only felt foreboding. A fairly unpleasant encounter was almost certainly awaiting her when she entered it today.

She glanced around at the faces of her compatriots. Chris seemed happy enough – and why not? – he'd stamped his mark on the contest and with his cumbersome bulk he didn't need to worry about the capture-the-flag debacle. Ripple, as usual, betrayed no trace of her emotions, her face an expressionless mask. Codi made a mental note to one day ask the other girl how in the hell she managed to keep such a reign on her emotions. However, Gareth looked deep in thought. Whether he was thinking, brooding or sulking, it was hard to tell, but he looked anything but relaxed.

Then something occurred to her. While none of others had exactly spoken to back her up, neither had they disagreed when she told Thradd exactly what she thought of his coaching method during the tournament. Maybe they felt the same? Without asking them outright it would be hard to know, but if she could get them on her side, perhaps her clash with the coaches wouldn't be so terrible.

It felt like a lead weight had settled in her stomach when the shuttle landed. Standing up, she shouldered her kit bag and followed the flow of fighters down the boarding ramp and into the main academy structure again. Ignoring the general rumble of conversation, she wove through the throng and made her way to her billet within the academy. To wait.

Although Codi had been expecting the summons to Bronagh Llewellyn's office, she still felt her stomach turn when it actually came. She really had no idea what to expect – technically after her altercation with Gareth earlier in the year she was treading a thin line with regard to the Battlecast rules. Hopefully this wouldn't be used as an excuse to add another black mark to her record.

Striding through the Battlecast halls, by the time she reached Bronagh's office she had managed to run the emotional gamut from apprehension to anger, and felt ready and willing to lay into the instructors for their own shortcomings. However, when she rounded the final bend she found, to her surprise, that four other individuals were already waiting. It was the rest of her flag team. She caught a couple of scowls, but before any words could be exchanged the door to the head instructor's domain opened silently.

"You may come in now," said the voice from within.

Codi barely broke stride, stepping through the aperture and into the lion's den. She might have been surprised that the others were here too, but she knew full well this little display was for her benefit. So she took her place in the centre of the line facing the head instructor directly as the others filed out to the left and right. Codi clasped her hands behind her back, stood with her feet shoulder width apart, and looked Bronagh Llewellyn in the eye.

"So, do you want to start or should I?" she said flatly.

Bronagh smiled icily. "I think I'll start. I think you all know why you're here. Your conduct both on and off the court as a team in the Shetland practice tournament was not up to our standards." Her words came out measured and sharp, each syllable carefully weighted to accent her meaning. "Now leaving aside your lack of performance as a team in the arena, there are issues of insubordination that must be addressed."

"That was Codi," Prissa Alder piped up instantly. "She was the one back-chatting Thradd!"

"You're a team," Bronagh countered smoothly. "The blame resides with you all. While Miss James might have been the most vocal, it hasn't escaped my notice that none of you seemed to disagree with her assessment."

"That's because she was right."

Codi blinked in surprise and looked down the line at the speaker. Gareth stood in the same relaxed stance but held and expression of iron conviction. She felt a surge of gratitude flood through her at his timely intervention.

"Excuse me?" Bronagh turned her piercing stare upon him. He swallowed hard, but continued on.

"Codi was right to speak up. No-one here is denying that we need to do better, but getting insulted by our own coach at the end of a match is not going to help us. It really is that simple."

"Really?" Bronagh's icy smile faded into a thin, contemptuous line. "Are you telling me that you're all so thin-skinned that a single innocuous remark from one of our most respected instructors is enough to hurt your feelings?"

Gareth squirmed awkwardly under her stare. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean..." the frustration was beginning to show on his face as Bronagh twisted his words back on him. "I mean that we can take a few insults but we could do with some encouragement now and again."

Bronagh let out an exasperated sigh. "Thradd Winters has a unique style of coaching and it is proven to work. The fact that some of you find it hard to handle is your own problem. I haven't brought you here to have a debate about who was right and who was wrong. You're here because you need to understand your place in the order of things.

"Regarding the coaches at this academy, your personal opinions are, to be blunt, irrelevant. You are here do what they say. You do not insult them. You do not disrespect them. You follow their instructions to the letter. You all signed contracts to that effect. It is that simple. Do you understand me?"

Two of the five fighters instantly answered in the affirmative. Codi stood defiantly, clenching her hands tightly behind her back, buoyed by the fact that both Gareth and Ripple were doing the same. While Ripple's face stayed in its usual impassive state, her silence spoke volumes.

And a flash of anger shot across Bronagh Llewellyn's face.

That was enough for now, Codi thought. She took a steadying breath and stepped forward out of the line.

"You've made your point," she said, keeping her voice level. "Yes, we signed contracts. Yes, we should not disrespect the instructors, but we deserve respect too. You need us as much as we need you. If you can understand that and meet us half way rather than trying to run some kind of dictatorship, then we can all move on with our lives."

"So you're telling me the terms now?" Bronagh asked.

"Look, we all know that I'm the reason this little disagreement is happening. If you're going to dish out punishments then they should be reserved for me." Codi ignored the shiver of unease that even saying those words sent through her body and soldiered on. "All we're – all I'm asking – is that you and the instructors understand why we feel like this. I do respect Thradd. He's a good coach, but I meant what I said to him."

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched out over them as Bronagh relaxed back into her seat. Her eyes passed over each of the unfortunate group in turn, but Codi took some solace in the fact that the head instructor looked fairly calm, all things considered. She chanced a glance down the line at Gareth. He caught her eye; gave a tiny nod of encouragement.

"Very well," Bronagh said at last, her voice calm and confident. "You make a...reasonable case. I'll note your concerns and take no further action on this incident. In return, all of you will be model students – no insults, no back-chat and no insubordination toward any of the instructors. If everything progresses satisfactorily to the conclusion of the Mars pre-tournament, then I believe we can all put this unfortunate disagreement behind us." She nodded to them. "Alright, you can go."

It felt like someone had lifted an anvil off her shoulders. Codi waited until they were out in the corridor before exhaling the breath she'd been holding in one tremendous rush. Hands on hips, she turned her eyes skywards in relief. When she collected her thoughts and returned her gaze to its normal level. She found Gareth looking at her, hands shoved into his pockets.

"I'll hand it to you," he said. "You know how to talk your way out of a tough spot."

"It's not the first time I've had to do something like that," she answered with a wry smile. "But thanks for backing me up in there."

Gareth nodded. "I know you and I don't see eye to eye on plenty of things, but in there you were right on the money." He extended a hand, his face earnest. "Whatever else we're butting heads about, when it comes to the arena, I've got your back."