Ah, chapter 5. I remember it well. Enjoy yourself, while I go over it and edit away…

Chapter 5

Pan sat in the cockpit of a type III Ulysses shuttle, soaring through the upper atmosphere over Chikyu-sei. Her fingers were a blur as she entered various flight patterns and countered wind-resistance, easily avoiding the myriad tall towers that littered the large pilot-training field. Of course, the entire thing was only a simulation, but it helped rookies hone their skills as well as any asteroid field would. The main screen in front of Pan displayed another tower, leaning at a slant and blocking her path.

"Shoot! I didn't see that one coming!" She pulled the shuttle up hard, setting the new coordinates efficiently, and barely avoided a head-on collision. "Man, I really need to watch what I'm doing. A collision'll bring my grade down in a majorly bad way!" She slowed the speed of the vessel after noticing that the air around her was atomizing. The program had ended. She opened the exit hatch and jumped out.

"Nice recovery," a tall, blonde-haired guy stated, twisting his pretty-boy mouth into what had to be the most obnoxious attempt at gentility ever recorded. He obviously thought he was the cat's pajamas. He grinned narcissistically, smoothing his hair and straightening his plain gray uniform with square, uncalloused hands attached to relatively muscular arms. Pan quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, not wanting to raise the moron's hopes. He had his uses, if ever she needed a doorstop, so she kept on his good side, although it was exceedingly difficult at times. A short, squat chick with a purple afro and an eight-pound tub of green makeup smeared on her eyelids looked at him adoringly, reaching out to him like a man in a desert dying of thirst would reach out to an oasis. She also obviously thought that he was the cat's pajamas. Pan moved over to the simulation control panel, waiting for her professor to finish with his calculations and reviews of her performance.

She had now been studying at the CSSF Academy for a year and a half, and knew her way around adequately. Piloting was her major; she had enjoyed her first few classes immensely and was shooting a piloting position when she graduated. Due to maternal influences, she had decided to minor in tactical weaponry, learning to control and resourcefully implement ship's weapons. She also took some electives, among them Ship Operations, Hand-to-Hand Combat Forms, Brig Enforcement, and Historical Contexts.

In her spare time (which would have been longer had she any influence) she trained in one of the many gyms on campus, keeping up her proficiency with various weapons. It was during one such training session, sparring with a couple other good fighters, that she had learned more about Bra's brother.

&&&&&&&&&&&&Huzzah! Another FLASHBACK-TYPE THING!&&&&&&&&&&&&

Crack! Pan brought the end of her quarterstaff swiftly into her opponent's jaw. The sound was sickening, but the blow did its job, felling the heavyset human with ease. Pan wiped the sweat of exertion off her brow, flipping her tight, intricate black braid over her shoulder. "Sorry, Brikul, but I win again." She turned around. "Computer, remove pain constraints." Brikul gasped with exhaustion, glad that he was no longer unconscious with a lump on his cheek. It was amazing how the holodeck could simulate a headache so well.

"That's okay, Pan. You deserve it. You really are something, you know that? You should go out for the yearly tournament or something, you could almost win!" He rubbed his neck, feeling the pain of sore muscles even though the Pan-inflicted wounds were gone.

Pan raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, almost? I couldn't win it?" She put on her best puppy-dog face. Brikul laughed.

"Very good, Pan. I dunno, but I think you'd be hard pressed to get the first place trophy in that competition." He wandered over to the side of the room, grabbing a white towel and mopping his dripping face. He was probably one of the ugliest guys Pan had ever met, what with his bulbous nose and beady eyes, but she considered him a good friend. He listened well, for a man.

"Yeah, I mean, I tried last year and the year before, but it just isn't possible," Mapiik, a wild-haired man with a scarred face, stated. He always reminded her of a surfer with his carefree tone and "cool" haircut. "And I'm one of the greatest fighters around!" Pan snorted loudly, and then, noticing that the other two were silently staring at her, spoke her mind.

"What is this? Is there some unbeatable force that no student within these walls could ever hope to defeat or something?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Actually, yeah." Mapiik smiled sympathetically. "There is. There exists within these very walls a fighter so strong, so skilled, so completely awe-inspiring, so…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point. Who is this 'wonder-fighter?' Do I know him?"

Brikul spoke up. "Nah, probably not, seeing as how he doesn't really move with your crowd." Pan huffed impatiently. "Okay, okay. I don't really see how you don't know about him; he's a local celebrity. His name is Trunks Briefs, and he's the son of Bulma Briefs and Vegeta, heir to a fortune, and the best fighter in the Academy. His father is handing him a command when he graduates. I mean, it's only the Armada, a low-class Law-Enforcement jobbie, but still. I'd like a command when I leave! Life isn't fair." He sat on a bench and continued wiping sweat from his body.

"Trunks? I recognize that name…" Pan frowned in thought.

"Of course you do. Everybody knows who Trunks Briefs is. It's impossible not to." Pan waved Brikul's comment away, concentrating on a conversation she had heard a year and a half ago, a conversation she had had with her best friend before she left the Argo.

Bra was Trunks' sister? Bra was the daughter of the most envied couple on Chikyu-sei? Her best friend was a celebrity? Pan continued to muse wonderingly, ignoring the two boys beside her, not noticing that they had slipped off, leaving her to her bubble world.

&&&&&&&&END OF YET ANOTHER BELOVED FLASHBACK-TYPE THING&&&&&&&

"Well, Pan, you did a fairly good job flying. However, you did neglect to notice the most obvious obstacle the program incorporates – the fallen tower, or "low bridge," as we like to call it. I know that failure may have been due to a momentary lapse in concentration, but you of all people know that such a moment of vulnerability can lead to your death. This being the first time you have let your guard down, I will not detract magnanimously from your average. I suggest, though, that you attempt to suppress any future mistakes." He nodded, satisfied that he had finished all speaking that was required, and turned to his work yet again, instantly absorbed. Pan smiled in gratitude and turned to her classmates, both of whom were currently admiring ego-boy's bicep.

"Get over yourself, Galtu." Galtu tore his gaze regretfully from his bacon-esque arm and looked at Pan as if she were a slab of meat in a butcher's window. He was almost drooling, for Pete's sake!

"Hey, beautiful," Galtu began (after he had managed to shut his gaping jaw, that is), "how's about you and me go somewhere? What you think, baby? Is that a groovy plan or what?" He laughed (well, sort of; it was more like a muted gurgle that started deep in his throat and then burst forth with all the coherence and gregarious-ness of a dying cow giving birth to a chicken) and sauntered, trademark lopsided grin on his face, over to the side of the room. He obviously did so in consideration for Pan's well-being, for from the way he was standing she would be able to admire his 'perfect' pectorals. Pan snorted, raised an eyebrow, and proceeded to exit the room by the speediest means possible.

As she passed by, Galtu dared to reach behind him to smack her behind. He never learned. Pan stopped short, confusing the bloke to the point of immobilization, and inspected his position. His left hand was wavering from strain, pointing towards where her bottom region would have been, shivering as if slapped. Pan sighed. The moron had attempted the same stupid move for the past six weeks. No imagination. "Oh, Galtu?" he jumped at her tone.

"Y-y-yes my sweet?" Would he ever learn? He turned around, half expecting a passionate kiss, half realizing what he was about to experience. Pan brought her hand up quickly, clenching it into a fist and sending it straight into his lower jaw. He crumpled as if a ten-ton weight had been dropped directly onto his pretty head. He wouldn't ever win the tournament, that's for sure. She left Galtu to his fumbling admirer, nodding to her oblivious teacher, and skipping in satisfaction.

Pan had recently entered the fabled Academy tournament, having finished most of her finals and realizing she had time to train. She had taken advantage of every free hour, shifting from gym to holodeck, never letting her body rest until it wouldn't have gone on if she had threatened self-mutilation. Unsurprisingly, she was now heading towards the broadsword section of the athletic department.

This department was situated within a large, one-story building with extra levels continuing down into the damp earth, providing a cool haven in which heavy training sessions were ideal. No extra air-conditioning was required, which made the Academy board VERY happy. Flat, obsidian stones of irregular shape were fitted along the outer walls like a puzzle, held together by a metallic, gritty material. The doors were mirrors, only every time Pan approached them, she could see a reflection of everything but herself. It brought about a macabre air, making her feel both ghostlike and unimportant. This was the psychological mindset Pan needed. She welcomed the strange senses she felt here; she embraced them.

Pan stared at her nonexistent image for a while and then entered the edifice, preparing to train with all her soul.

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Ah, the 5th chapter has been edited. I feel so accomplished. Aren't you proud? Review!