A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Thanks to Anla'shok, Rousdower, argent-snow, BotanyCameos, insolentBaker, and the two anonymous reviewers for their comments.

don't take a seat, don't stand aside

The war continues, spreading throughout Africa, leaving hundreds of thousands dead in its wake - but were it not for their computer-hacking skills, none of the trainees and champions would know that. Tired of the sanitized information the program is disseminating, Khan summons Midway, Masada, and Antietam, and hacks through the program's firewalls to reach the news sites. What they find is appalling. Every day the death count rises; every day more atrocities are reported; and every day, the great nations, the alliances, do nothing.

Masada, back from her sojourn at Langley for three days now, asks the question that's in all of their minds. "Wasn't this what the arena fights were supposed to stop?"

Khan turns away from the screen, unease churning in his stomach. The war, the suffering; yes, this is what the arena fights and the champion system were created to prevent. And yet, without a champion or a toehold in the arena, the African countries have no hope of resolving their conflicts that way. In fact, as he and the older trainees are starting to realize, this entire war was started to prevent exactly that.

When Masada came back from Langley, she was immediately integrated back into training, with double shifts to make up for lost time. To Khan's irritation, Alamo, the weakest of Balanchine's trainees, was chosen as her sparring partner, and as a result, it was two days before he saw her or talked to her. Finally, he took matters into his own hands, arranging a meeting between the two of them and Chalice. When he arrived at the specified place, he learned that Chalice had made some changes to the list of attendees; Midway, Antietam, and all of senior trainees were also there.

"Chalice," he started, trying to control his frustration, but then Masada stepped forward, tiny among Balanchine's hulking trainees, and told them what she had learned.

"It was the Sinai Confederacy," she said quietly. "When the analysts reviewed the tapes from the embassies that weren't destroyed, they saw some markings and serial numbers on the tanks that they matched to Russian tanks. The Russians sold the tanks matching those serial numbers to the Sinai Confederacy last year."

"But why?" Chalice demanded. "The Sinai Confederacy could care less about Africa."

"It's not about Africa," Masada said. "It was the EU. The EU wanted to oppose the Sinai Confederacy in North Africa, to control the oil reserves. But after Azrael's fight with Baikal, they got worried that Wyvern couldn't win against him, and they tried to do it under the table. They made a deal with the alliances in sub-Saharan Africa that, in exchange for the technology and money necessary to create a champion, the alliance would join the EU in opposing the Sinai Confederacy. Then they would split the revenue from the oil."

"Champion trading is illegal," Antietam said, speaking up for the first time.

"It happens all the time," Midway countered. "I heard that, since the Contras are too poor to come up with another champion, Russia is giving them one to be Mayari's partner in the doubles fights."

Khan turned to Masada. "That's why they did it?"

"Yes. It was a shot across the bow to the EU, telling them to stop meddling in Africa," Masada said. "And now that the whole continent is going to hell, no one can prove it was them. If we try, they can claim we faked the footage and turn the focus back on us by challenging us for defamation."

"And now there's no one left on the continent to oppose the Sinai Confederacy," Chalice breathed. "It's brilliant."

"What if we challenge them first?" Alamo suggested. "State that they're responsible for the war and challenge them. If we win, they hand over the documents that prove it."

Khan's frustration had been boiling for days; finally, it found an outlet. "That's idiotic," he snapped at Alamo. "There are no structures in place to force them to surrender the information; they could give us false documents and no one would be the wiser."

"Maybe the threat of you killing Azrael would be enough," Alamo said, refusing to back down.

This only incensed Khan further. "Maybe if it was your own life on the line, you wouldn't be so casual about issuing challenges!"

"Stop it!" Chalice intervened in the fight, stepping between them. "It's a moot point, because none of us have the authority to issue a challenge. Only the government can do that, and since the Sinai Confederacy is one of their trading partners, they'll never do anything about it."

"So nothing's going to happen?" Midway's sense of justice had apparently been offended. "They torpedoed a world power and they aren't going to pay for it?"

"They're making Africa pay in their place," Masada said, speaking up for the first time since she gave the information. "What are we going to do about that?"

Chalice shook her head. "Nothing yet. I want to know what's really happening in Africa."

"You mean we don't?" Khan said this at the same time as Midway did, and he glanced at Balanchine's trainee, uncomfortable with being in sync with him. Once he was sure Midway wasn't about to speak, he continued, "Is the program withholding information?"

"I don't know," Chalice repeated. "But I intend to find out."

And so Chalice took the lead, carving out a block of time within the schedules under the guise of "arena tactics" and combining the hacking skills of the eldest trainees and Khan to break through the program's firewalls. Now, though, they have the information they wanted, and not a clue about what to do with it. It wears on them. Balanchine's trainees are uniformly enraged at what they see as the Sinai Confederacy undermining the champion system. As far as Khan can tell, Masada's frustration stems from the massive civilian casualties, and Chalice is angry because of the inability of the so-called world powers to do anything about what is happening in Africa. For Khan's part, he is angry about all of the above, and confused, too; why, when the great alliances of the world will fight over tiny islands in the Pacific Ocean, will they ignore the suffering of an entire continent?

It is wrong. Khan does not claim to be a moral authority, but letting so many die simply because there is no reward for saving them is wrong. It's the first time that Khan considers the possibility that those in charge are not the ones who should be there.

Whenever they have a spare moment, they gather in the designated room and search. No one is quite sure what they're looking for, but doing something, even if it's scrolling endlessly through the news sites, feels better than doing nothing. On the third day, Khan finds himself sharing the room with Midway and Antietam. Midway, the weakest hacker among the senior trainees, is staring blankly at a video of a massacre in Uganda, while Khan himself is searching through satellite footage in an attempt to catch troop movements within the Sinai Confederacy. Antietam, on the other hand, is hunched over his terminal and typing intently.

Khan spins his chair around and looks at him. "What are you doing?"

Antietam doesn't respond. His fingers fly across the keys, and as Khan watches, the computer screen begins to display long lines of code. Khan studies it, trying to determine what it is, but Antietam's head is blocking a large portion of the pertinent information, and he gets up from his chair and leans over the other trainee's shoulder for a better look. He repeats his question for good measure. "What are you doing? What is that?"

"I think -" Antietam breaks off as a new line of coding appears on the screen. "I think it's the thread one of the militias is using. Somewhere in Kenya, I think."

"Who's on the other end of it?" Khan says. "Who are they communicating with?"

Antietam keeps typing. "The answering signal's coming from Cairo."

"Can you block it?"

"Yeah," Antietam says. His fingers still on the keyboard. "I think we should ask Chalice. Chalice will know what this means."

It seems obvious to Khan what this means; the Sinai Confederacy is communicating with the militias in Africa, using them to cripple any government that would stand against them. He's tempted to push Antietam out of the way and cut off the signal himself, but he knows that if he were truly gifted as a hacker, he would have been the one to find the signal, and he retreats. Instead he turns to Midway and shakes the other man's shoulder. Midway tears his eyes away from the screen. "What?"

"Go get Chalice. Now."

Perhaps he recognizes that Khan is in no mood to argue, because Midway gets up and exits the room without a word. Khan returns his attention to the screen, watching new lines of code appear. "What are they saying?"

"They're talking about a shipment of weapons. Where and when it's going to be delivered." Antietam leans back in his chair. There's a slight, proud smile on his face. "You know, instead of cutting it off, we should modify it. Change something about the delivery and set it up so it's an ambush."

Against his will, Khan is impressed. "We don't have a military presence to carry out the ambush."

"We don't have to. Just notify the government in Kenya about it and they'll take care of it for us," Antietam says. He glances sideways at Khan, and he must notice the surprised look on Khan's face. "What's going on in there? Have you figured it out?"

"Figured what out?"

"Why I'm still in the program," Antietam says. "Admit it. You must've wondered why I haven't washed out by now."

Rather than admitting it, Khan says, "They kept you because you're a hacker."

"Because I'm the best hacker alive today," Antietam says simply. "You know that AI they had in Russia, the one they said was smarter than any human in the world? For my final exam, they had me try to hack into it. I scrambled it so bad that it was spitting out fake codes for a month." He shrugs. "I may not ever see the inside of an arena, but give me a computer and a place to sit and I can break any firewall in the world."

Khan nods, but his mind is elsewhere. On the face of it, the rationale for keeping Antietam alive makes sense, but when Khan thinks about it, it makes no sense at all. The program was created simply to churn out combatants for the arena; a hacker like Antietam would be useless for that purpose. Why would Singh use the program's resources to keep Antietam instead of transferring them to a trainee who might actually succeed in the arena?

Chalice enters the room, followed by Midway, Alamo, and a badly beaten-up Masada. "What's going on?"

Khan has the same question, but about a different subject. He stands up and crosses to Masada. Her nose is bleeding, her lip is split, and the left side of her face is swelling rapidly. "Are you all right?" Then, to Chalice, "What happened to her?"

"Not now, Khan," Chalice says. She's leaning over Antietam's shoulder and studying the screen. "Explain this to me."

Antietam, who has most likely never had an interaction with Chalice that didn't involve being shouted at for something, shoots a panicked look at Khan. Khan finds himself in the unique position of attempting to help one of Balanchine's trainees. "Go ahead. Explain it. And tell her your idea."

Antietam takes a deep breath, sits on his hands, and hurries through an explanation of the communication he's intercepted. On Chalice's face, Khan sees the same confusion that he must have worn, as his mentor attempts to recalibrate her opinion of the trainee. "Will that work?"

"I can change the message," Antietam says. "I can block the one coming out of Cairo and make a few adjustments before it reaches the militia."

"Will the senders be aware of the change?"

"No," Antietam answers. "In fact, I can forward the message to the Kenyan army without whoever sent it finding out."

"Even if we send it, we can't be sure that the Kenyan military will act on the message," Masada says thickly, wiping at her still-bleeding nose.

"They're at the end of their rope. They'll act on anything at this point," Chalice says. She leans forward, studying the screen. "Go ahead, Antietam. Let's see how well you can imitate a Sinai Confederacy commander."

As Antietam types, Khan taps Chalice's shoulder. "It's too bad we can't trap whoever's transporting the weapons. We could implicate the Sinai Confederacy for the attacks."

"We can't," Chalice says. "We're breaking international law right now by tampering with a sovereign power's communications. If we bring the information to light we're just as culpable as they are."

"Messing with communications shouldn't be on par with starting a war," Midway interjects.

Chalice sighs. "The system is imperfect. But it works. That's all that matters."

"It doesn't work well enough," Midway mutters, and for once, Khan is inclined to agree with him.

"I've got the fake message," Antietam says.

Chalice beckons all of them over to scan the message for errors. It passes inspection from everyone except Alamo, but since Alamo is not known for his grasp of international relations, they discount his advice. They wait with bated breath as Antietam sends the message, and once it's done, Antietam sits back in his chair. "Now what?"

"Now we wait and see," Chalice says.

Waiting, Khan decides, is the worst part of the whole endeavor. Although Antietam confirms that the fake message has been sent and received, and that it has been forwarded to the Kenyan military, there is no activity. After half an hour of waiting, Chalice loses her patience with them and sends all except Antietam back to their normal duties.

"I'll call you on your communicators as soon as something happens," she insists, shooing them out the door and shutting it unceremoniously behind them.

Khan finds himself out in the hall with Midway, Alamo, and Masada. In the past half an hour, Masada's condition has deteriorated; her face is a mask of blood and her left eye is swollen shut. Khan addresses Balanchine's trainees, waving a hand at Masada. "What happened?"

Alamo looks sheepish. "Chalice thought Masada was doing okay with me at twenty-five percent, so she had me edge it up to fifty."

In a flash, Khan remembers that Alamo is Masada's designated training partner. "And you beat her up?"

"She won, actually," Alamo says, looking even more embarrassed than before.

Khan looks from Masada, who looks like she's been in a brawl, to Alamo, who is completely unmarked. "What?"

"She kicked him in the balls and then stepped on his throat when he fell over," Midway says. "I saw it. It was funny."

The situation slowly starts to come together in Khan's mind. Like arena battles, trainee bouts are fought to surrender, or until one opponent is down for a count of twenty. Even with the damage she incurred, all Masada would have to do to win would be to gain the upper hand just long enough that Alamo began to fear for his life. In order to avoid injury, however, Alamo would have had to be in control of the fight until the very last minute, and Khan now has enough experience in the arena to know that this is not a good way to win.

He studies Masada more carefully. Yes, she's sustained a series of blows to the head, but her body seems undamaged, and her eyes (what he can see of them, anyway) are clear. It will be best if Balanchine's trainees did not hear the question he plans to ask Masada, and so he suggests that she should visit the infirmary to make sure she does not have a concussion, and offers to escort her there. When they're out of earshot of Midway and Alamo, Khan asks, "Did you allow Alamo to hit you?"

"Of course," Masada says. Now that he can focus on her, Khan sees why she's been so quiet; her jaw is swollen, too. "It was the only way to get him to drop his guard."

"You cannot do that," Khan says. "In the arena, Masada, your opponent will not be fighting at twenty-five or fifty percent. A blow to the head could kill you - just one, Masada! You must be more careful. Rely on your training -"

"I don't have enough training to rely on," Masada says. "I haven't been here long enough. Everyone I face will be better trained than I am. I have to win however I can."

"And how well do you think you'll be able to win if you're in this state?" Khan gestures at her face. When she looks away and keeps walking, he catches her by her shoulder, and then by her chin, forcing her to look at him. At this, she makes a sharp noise of pain and jerks free.

Khan doesn't pull his hand back fast enough, and Masada grips his wrist and twists it sharply. He steps back, but she steps forward, harnessing the momentum to hit him hard in the chest. For a second, the air is driven from his lungs, and as he struggles to take a deep breath, her hand flies out and strikes the side of his face.

Khan has enough of his wits left about him to realize that he needs to get away from her before she can attack him again, and he backs off down the hallway. But Masada is not in any state to attack him again. She's standing still, touching at her jaw and wincing. The side of Khan's face throbs with a dull ache, and he mimics Masada's motion, searching his jaw for loose teeth. He finds none, but he has no doubt that if she had wanted to, Masada could have knocked several of them out.

"Now we're even," Masada says coldly.

Khan straightens up, cursing himself. Twice, now, this has happened twice; and still he fails to learn that despite Masada's inexperience, despite her smaller size, she cannot be discounted as an opponent. Not only that, she is meant to be his equal, and if he continues to treat her like an errant trainee, she will continue to fight him, and they will fail as a pair in the arena. Khan knows he is not good with people. But his constant missteps with Masada are becoming a concern.

"I apologize," he starts. "That was inappropriate."

Masada has angled herself away from him, presenting a smaller target. Obviously, her training is beginning to leave an impression. "I didn't take you for someone who enjoys causing pain, Khan."

"I don't enjoy it," Khan says, stung. "I didn't intend to hurt you."

He'd meant only to force her to look at him, to force her to pay attention to the vital information he was giving her. He'd failed to realize that touching her already-swollen face would hurt. "Did you intend to hurt me?"

"I was defending myself."

"No," Khan says. "Defending yourself was the strike to my chest. The second one was retaliation." He pauses, wondering if he should say this, if it's even correct given the circumstances. "You're learning."

"Good."

He crosses his arms, wondering what his next move should be. Finally, he settles on, "You ought to go to the infirmary."

"So should you," Masada says. "Your face is swelling up like a balloon."

Khan touches his face again and winces. She's right. "I hope you didn't hit me with all your strength," he comments.

"Not even close," she says. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Khan shakes his head and immediately regrets it. "No. It was the right response." He extends a hand to her. "Come. If your jaw is broken, you do not want to wait before going to the infirmary."

Neither of them has a broken jaw, and Masada does not have a concussion. Still, the doctors are unwilling to let them return to their duties, and they are waiting in the infirmary with ice packs strapped to their faces when their communicators go off. Ignoring the protests from the attendants, Khan discards his ice pack and leaps to his feet, gesturing to Masada. "They've heard. Let's go."

She follows him without complaint, and they join a growing tide of trainees making their way down to the communications room. In addition to Midway and his cohorts, Khan notices that several of Singh's oldest and most promising trainees have joined as well. They are too young to have been given battle names, still identified only by the last two digits of their ID tattoo; it takes Khan a minute to recall who they are. "17? What are you doing here?"

"Chalice called us, too, sir. I don't know what's happening," says the girl, bowing her head in deference. She looks over Khan's shoulder and does a double take. "Masada, what happened to your face?"

Khan notes the shift in address from himself to Masada. While she may be persona non grata among Balanchine's trainees, Singh's students have apparently accepted her as one of their own. Masada shrugs and shifts the ice pack to the other side of her face. "Training bout with Alamo. Nothing serious."

They are at the tail end of the group headed for the communications room. By the time they reach it, it is packed full of trainees, but the others part the way to let Khan and Masada through. Antietam sits at the computer, and Chalice perches at the desk beside him.

"What is it?" Khan asks. A smile is tugging at Chalice's lips, threatening to break loose, and Antietam looks as though he's going to burst with pride. "Good news?"

"The best," Chalice says. "The Kenyan army has routed the militia."

Midway lets out a cheer, which is echoed by other trainees, but Chalice hushes them and Antietam picks up the thread of the story. "That's not all. The army took over a communications base and they're coordinating with other countries to keep after the militias."

"What's happening?" 17 asks as the other trainees dissolve into celebration. Midway turns to her and begins to explain the situation. Khan is momentarily struck dumb by the odd sight of a trainee of Balanchine's and a trainee of Singh's sharing a civil conversation.

"What now?" Masada says to Chalice, and he turns back toward them.

Chalice shrugs. "It's a victory. It would be foolish for us to hope that this will end the conflict, but hopefully the countries will begin to fight back."

"They don't have to do it alone," Masada says quietly.

She crosses her arms and looks at Chalice. Chalice looks back, studying her trainee's face for something Khan cannot fathom. Evidently she finds it, because Chalice reaches over, pats Masada once on the shoulder, and nods. "They won't be alone," she vows, and for the first time since they returned from Kinshasa, Khan sees his battle partner smile.

Khan looks around at the room, at Balanchine's trainees and Singh's mixing freely, at Masada taking her place beside Chalice, at the decoded transmissions from the victorious Kenyan army scrolling across the screen of Antietam's computer. They have accomplished something, he decides. Through Antietam's skills, Masada's keen eyes, Chalice's intelligence, Midway's sense of right and wrong, and Khan's own bullheaded determination, they have managed to do something good.

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