The sea was restless. A mighty storm made the air rumble. The massive USS Enterprise cut through tall waves like a ten kilometer long knife. Thunder echoed in the distance, but the occasional flash of lighting would hit the rods on the ship, lighting the dark sky.
Wind whistled through the crack in the door as it opened and closed. A student entered the room. As big as a gorilla, he could barely be called a boy, but he was not a man either. He looked towards the center of the room where three more boys were sitting at a round table. In front of the window, on the other side of the room, a fifth lad stared outside as the rain bombarded the glass like machinegun fire.
"Howdy, Billy," said one of the boys at the table. He looked plain with the exception of a huge smile on his face and a strange cowboy hat on his head. "Whatcha doin'? You 'ere tuh play?"
"Yeah," the large boy answered. "Nothing better to do with this weather."
"It was so dry the trees were bribin' the dogs. A toad choker is welcome now and then," the first boy said, adjusting his hat.
"Yeah, whatever you say, Cowboy."
"Billy Bull! Hehe, we've been waiting for you, man!" another boy said. "Siddown, Bulldog! Let's get this party started!" Bill sat at the table. He could barely fit in the chair, a problem he often encountered since his growth spurt. "Shuffle the cards, Ace!" the second boy ordered, a grin on his face, but Ace didn't listen. He stood as if paralyzed, staring into his cards, saying nothing – the perfect poker face.
"Whoa, slow down, Harbinger," Cowboy interrupted. "This ain't my first rodeo! The round ain't over and we all know I'm gonna win. Pay up first!"
"Aw, man! No fair!" Harbinger complained.
"We all know you're tighter than bark on a tree, but it's time to paint your butt white and run with the antelope."
"Man, speak American, not that strange Texan you keep spitting!" Harbinger threw his card on the table – a single pair. Still quiet, the Ace showed his hand too. Full house – three kings and two queens. "Damn, Ace! Not bad!" Harbinger cried. "You lost, Cowboy!"
"Just because a chicken has wings doesn't mean it can fly," Cowboy said. "Y'all got nothin' on me. Ha!" The boy slapped his cards on the table, revealing his hand – four of a kind, a whole four aces. "Who's the ace now?"
Having not said a single thing the whole round, Ace finally burst. "Fuck!" A heavy frown weighted his face. "Piece of shit!" For a good two minutes he cursed, nothing else but foul words leaving his mouth while Cowboy gathered all the chips on the table.
"I'm feeling lucky this time!" Harbinger said. "Cut the cards, Ace!"
"Fuck off, asshole. Cut 'em yourself!" the boy hissed. He lit a cigar. Ace was normally a very quiet guy, so quiet that rumors started spreading about him having pissed off the mafia and gotten his tongue cut off. The truth was that as a chronic smoker and foul mouth, half of the things coming out of him were curses and the other half smoke. Harbinger started shuffling the deck, unfazed by his friend's aggressive talk. Everyone was used to getting that kind of treatment from Ace when he was angry – everyone but their captain. Not even Ace dared curse at him.
"Why didn't you fold with that hand, Harbinger?" Bulldog asked.
"You know his engine's runnin' but ain't nobody driving," said Cowboy and started laughing. Harbinger pouted.
"You hurt my feelings, man!" Harbinger cried. He took a look at his cards. "Alright! Waddaya got?"
"Uh huh. Y'all are big hats with no cattle."
"Top is late," a booming voice echoed through the room. The boy at the window had turned around and was walking towards the table.
"Cap's probably on the phone with that Saunders chick," Harbinger said. "He sure loves flirting with her."
"Wouldn't blame him. Dang that girl's a looker," said Cowboy. "And she's got tongue enough for 10 rows of teeth. Yep, she's sure'nuff a keeper."
"The match with Eton is imminent and Wellington is a dangerous opponent. Top must take it seriously."
"Eh, I've heard about him. He thinks the sun come up just to hear him crow. Calm down, Command." Jack Drake, known as 'Command' to his Sensha-dou comrades was Roosevelt's chief tactician. He had a surprisingly deep voice for a boy his size. He was fairly tall, but scrawny, and didn't inspire much strength, yet his gaze was that of a warrior, focused and intimidating and his voice was booming, like that of a baritone.
"We must be prudent!" Command's voice echoed once more through the room. He turned his back to the table and walked towards the window. "The Federation opened Pandora's Box when they let us in – a mistake on their part. We lost the opportunity to crush their best teams. Eton stole it from us and now they aim for the first place." Command turned towards his teammates. "They had their chance! We'll put an end to this… give them a show of force… and watch them buckle."