Once upon a time, Captain Marvel had a nemesis named Yon-Rogg. He was one of those alien world-conquerors that crop up in comics every summer. I think he's dead now. I don't care.

Nal breath caught in his throat. He knew he had to breathe soon, but he'd be damned if he'd give Tro-Vonn the satisfaction of winning.

"Faster, damn your hide," shouted Tro-Vonn the sports master from the side of the track. "If this were an on-foot chase, you'd be dead by now, Rogg!"

Nal-Rogg wanted to pay no heed. It was the same shouting he did every sports period. However, this time he'd been kept back. Nal was beginning to hate the sports master. True, the Ji-Rom Academy was supposed to be spartan, but Nal had reached the limits of his good manners.

A messager on Tro-Vonn's belt went off, and he looked down to read it. "Maggot! It sems that a visitor to the school wants a word with you! Showers, then report to the lobby!"

Nal-Rogg turned to go, but stopped. If he didn't ask now, he never would. "Sir?"

"Yes Maggot? Do you want another run afterwards?"

"Sir, why do you give me such a hard time?"

There was a pause, and then the sports master grinned. "I have been waiting two months for you to say that. Why? First ask yourself this: why would any space-going race subject its young to these conditions?"

Nal had heard this question before, when his family had decided to send him here. "To forge hard, capable future citizens - "

"Yes. But we don't need future citizens, Maggot. We'll need future leaders. Leaders who won't give up in the face of anything. Now I had you pegged from the second you walked through that door. You've got the spark. You've got the family connections to get you where its needed. Alll you need is the drive to use it. And that's why I'm riding your ass more than the other students."

Nal looked at his sports master in a new light. "Sir, I - "

Tro-Vonn put his hand up. "Much as I've enjoyed this moment of illumination, the fact remains that you have a visitor. I'm not your father, I'm not your chattel, but I am your teacher AND I WILL FLAY YOU IF YOU'RE NOT OFF THIS TRACK IN UNDER TEN SECONDS!"

Less than twenty minutes later, Nal ran into the lobby and saluted Proctor Hak, the head teacher of the Academy. "Sir! Cadet Nal-Rogg, reporting as requested!"

"At ease, Cadet Rogg," said the Proctor, gesturing to a blue-skinned man on his right. "Our guest has... an unusual request. Under normal circumstances, I would not ask you to listen to him, but certain... elements within the government are pressuring me."

"Sir?"

"Perhaps I should explain myself," said the visitor. "I am the Grandmaster, an Elder of the Universe. Your Academy trains youn aristocratic Kree for eventual enrollment into the Kree Accuser Corps, is that right?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The Accuser Corps was the closest thing the Kree had to a judicial system. Each member was empowered to capture, arrest, imprison, convict, and sentence within the bounds of the Kree Penal Code. Each member was also equipped with enough hardware to destroy a spaceship.

"Yes. And in the course of each year at the Academy, a portion of the pass mark is awarded for work experience in the field, so to speak."

"This is true, sir."

The Proctor interrupted. "The Grandmaster wishes to retain your services for some special project of his. In exchange for your co-operation, he will assist the government in the war effort."

Nal was shocked. The Annihilation War had been all over the newsfeeds, but the fact that the government needed outside help was highly disturbing to his pride. "Sir, what margin of free will do I have in this - "

"None, said the Proctor. "I apologise, Cadet Rogg, I do know that cadets usually choose their own assignments, but I am being pressured in no uncertain terms to accept this offer."

The Grandmaster spoke up. "I should add that in exchange for your co-operation, I will also owe a substansial boon to yourself, Cadet. I am not without resouces."

Nal thought for a few seconds. There didn't seem to be a choice. "Then I shall accept, sir."

"Excellent!" said the Proctor, taking the boy's hand firmly in his two hands. Nal felt a small package being pressed into his hand, but said nothing.

While the Grandmaster was thanking the Proctor, Nal looked at the package. It was a small scanner array, of the kind used by Evidence Recovery Accusers. Around it was a note in the Proctor's handwriting: "Find out what you can. Miss nothing."