Jim scooped his tablet up off his desk. He located a fresh notebook and slid a pen into the spine before adding it to his arm. The first classes of a new semester usually were not overly difficult, but he liked to be prepared all the same.

He shot a quick glance at his alarm clock as he hit the button to open his door. It was just after nine in the morning, a little over an hour into his first class. He was honestly surprised that the assembly had been kept so short. It was the first time since he had arrived that they had been dismissed in time to make use of their first class. Sometimes even the second class was a bust.

Jim's eyes scanned over the neat two hour time blocks on his schedule. He'd already memorized his new classes, but it never hurt to be certain. First class Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was bladed hand weapons with Señor D. Gato.

Jim caught back up with Braxton and Matt in the hallway. "Have either of you had a class with Mr. Gato before?"

"Not yet." Matt simply said.

"He's another one of the new teachers," Braxton answered. He tapped his radio for emphasis. "Almost half our teachers are new this year. Apparently they're expecting an abnormally large group of recruits next year and are trying to prepare accordingly. They've already got four times the usual number of kids in the pre-classes. I don't have many details, but they've been bringing back lots of recruits from nonintegrated systems. Half the planned senior missions are recruitment missions."

Matt frowned deeply. He lowered his voice as they walked, "I thought there were limits on how many recruits we could take from any one nonintegrated system at a time. Aren't we only supposed to have a presence strong enough to monitor and nothing more?"

He continued cautiously, "I noticed in our spaceship identification elective that a lot of the students were from worlds without travel, but I attributed that to the fact that they'd be more likely to take a class like that then someone who grew up with spaceships."

"The admiral and his family are from one of the nonintegrated planets, maybe he's behind the push?" Jim suggested curiously. "Would make sense with this new mail thing, too. I overheard Captain Amelia talking to mom. Apparently it used to be you couldn't get into a school like this without a military or political family. Even a recommendation like hers wasn't guaranteed to get someone in a few years ago. She said the admiral changed that."

"Explains how your softspot got in for sure," Braxton muttered. "Didn't he say his mom was in the force?"

Jim shoved him. "You said you'd be nicer to Sy."

"Sy's not here," Braxton pointed out, though he was smirking. "And I wasn't the one that brought his name up."

"We all knew who you meant, Braxton," Matt's patient voice interrupted them as he stepped between the bickering friends. "But you two are right. Something's up about this. Someone came to my planet specifically to see about recruits two years after I joined the pre academy. I know there were at least three girls from the other nearby towns that went to our sister school. My home is technically integrated, but we're monitoring a planet that isn't. What about you Braxton? You never said how you got in."

Braxton frowned. "I think Sy's lying to us."

Jim lunged for Braxton.

Matt caught him around the chest. "Both of you stop it! Braxton, what did you mean by that? Jim, relax! You two are impossible!"

"I don't think his family's in the military. Communications or maintenance, sure, but I think they're civilians. I've been putting it together for a while now. He'll reference his family being in the force, but he never mentions a rank, or even what ship they're on. He said he's got family here on the station, but none of the officers or teachers have his last name." Braxton kept a wary eye on Jim as he explained himself. "I think he's embarrassed and thinks he doesn't fit in. I mean, you've seen how he dresses. He always looks ready to attend a meeting or something. I think he's putting on a show to try and fit in."

"I thought you were above gossip," Jim muttered angrily. He could feel his fury burning in his stomach as he clenched his fists. "Who cares who Sy's related to? It's his right not to tell us anything."

"Yeah, but you know you're curious."

Jim deflated at Braxton's words. He looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "So what?"

Braxton reached past Matt to set his hand on Jim's shoulder. Matt tensed but allowed it. He stepped back so they could speak. Braxton squeezed Jim's shoulder gently. "So, I don't think you've got much room to judge me for trying to work it out. He's not really one of us-"

"Yes he is!" Jim snarled furiously.

"Woah! Okay, sure. He's one of us. All I was saying was that if he's going to lie to us, maybe he doesn't feel like he is." Braxton shrugged his shoulders casually. "I mean, we don't need to know how often he scratches his bum or anything, I just don't want you to put too much trust into someone that doesn't trust us."

Matt made sure to put himself between the feuding boys again. "I'm sure Sy has his own reasons for keeping information to himself, even if it's just pride. Braxton, you still haven't told us much about where you came from."

Braxton shrugged. "Nothing much to tell. Where I came from doesn't deserve a moment's thought. Only good thing that place made is Fikky, and as soon as I make enough money, I'm marrying her and getting her out of there."

"Point is," Matt pressed, "we don't ask you about it. I expect you to give Sy the same respect."

Braxton snorted. "Not my fault I want to keep my friends safe. You know I gave Jim three degrees when he asked you out."

"The third degree," Matt corrected.

"Not on my planet." Braxton slung his arm around Matt. "Point is," he mimicked his friend for emphasis, "I've already set a standard, you can't get mad when I live up to it."

"That's not how that works," Jim muttered. "And Sy didn't ask anyone out. So your standard doesn't apply."

Braxton grinned. "Oh look, class. What convenient timing." He squeezed Matt's shoulders, his impish smile only widening. "Ooooh, bladed weapons are the best, they're better than all the rest."

Matt groaned. "I know you're only being terrible to annoy me."

"Swords and knives and all the rest," Braxton sang temptingly as he led them into the gymnasium.

"You just said 'all the rest'."

"To slash and stab and fight the best,"

"Braxton, please, this is painful!"

"But I think slicing is the best."

Jim took pity on Matt when he whimpered. Cutting Braxton off he picked up the next verse of the song. "We're here to learn an elegant style,

So come and pick from the arsonal,

Our selection of weapons is versatile,"

With a dramatic flare Jim flung open the weapon's closet. Pointing out various weapons he continued, "We have xiphos and broadswords and cutlass and dao,

Here's a sickle, a hatchet, a trident? Uh, that one I don't know." Jim shook off his momentary lapse as their classmates surged forward to take various weapons for themselves.

Braxton jumped in quickly. He snatched a handful of weapons from a barrel and tossed them into the awaiting hands of his classmates.

"Grab a sword, grab a shield,

fight each other til you yield,

Swords for slicing, knives for dicing

Here's a spear, go stab with it,

What's your favorite? Let me hear it,"

In the background a classmate slashed the air with his curved blade. "Katana!"

"Daggers!" A boy spun backwards without warning and threw two small blades across the room. They embedded side by side in the dead center of a dartboard.

"Frying pan!" Varian beamed.

"I like axes!" A red head with a beard and a weird hat with horns popped up behind him, each hand clutching an aforementioned weapon.

"When did we get a viking?" Jim asked in confusion. Matt shrugged.

A red coated knife was thrust into the air. Braxton sang his next line as he lowered it to show his friends "Someone's bleeding, it's getting bloody."

Matt visibly winced. Braxton winked at him. As his friend smiled ruefully the cyborg tossed aside his ketchup covered blade and continued. "Swing your sword, move your shield,

Form your ranks, this is a battlefield!

Pay attention I'll only do this once,

Watch as I eviscerate this dunce." Stalkinew tossed him a sword. They bowed to each other, took positions and crossed blades.

"En guarde, advance."

"Beat, beat, beat, lunge!"

"Parry!"

"Recover, retreat."

"Point in line, fleche!"

"Guard, riposte."

"Feint."

"Stop hit!"

"Point!" His cry punctuated by a shrill blast from the whistle around his neck, Varian leapt between the two boys. A black and white cap sat on his head, the brim tipped off to the side so it wouldn't crush his bangs.

Matt ignored them all as he walked past classmates in formation, swords at the ready. His hands were clasped behind his back, his voice low and thoughtful.

"An elegant style of fighting you say,

The grace and beauty of taking a life,

The soft gentle sigh of death,

And a light that leaves their eyes,

The sweet sleep of their final resting place

A more poetic, romantic way to die.

When you're face to face may the best man win,

No longer an enemy without a face,

Just somebody's brother, best friend, or son.

But the power, the thrill, the blood rush, the drive,

Some say they have never felt more alive."

Behind him his sword wielding classmates clashed with a band of axe swinging students. Warcries filled the air as the unexpected viking led the charge. Matt spun towards them, his arms flung out wide. "This is war!"

The simulated battle ragged through the gymnasium, boys collapsing with swords and axes clutched in their hands as they lost their matches. Some leaped up on various equipment strewn throughout the room, prancing through the gymnasium as they battled their bouncing foes. A few even took to the skies, wings flapping as they chased those swinging on ropes from the ceiling.

Jim glanced over at Braxton, an eyebrow raised curiously. "Do you think we should worry that we haven't seen the teacher yet?"

"Nah," Braxton waved it off. "He'll show up after the song's done."

"Hey guys, look what I made!" Varian shouted from the driver's seat of a large machine. On one side swords thrust and slashed. On the other spun heavy axes. The whole contraption was covered in a mashup of various shields. The moving weapon rattled and puffed it's way into the center of the battle field.

"Is it supposed to be smoking?" Jim asked apprehensively.

"No-o-o-o." Varian's answer bounced in time with his destructive ride. He pulled some levers and turned a dial. One of his axes broke off and went spinning through the air.

"She's going to blow!" Braxton bellowed.

All around him boys scrambled up off the ground and sheltered under mats and behind training dummies and a random potted plant. Varian dove out of his seat and ducked behind the supply chest.

The machine rattled, shook, and billowed smoke. The equipment started to jiggle across the floor from the vibrations. The windows clattered in their shutters. The war machine exploded, parts flying across the room.

The floor smoked gently as boys poked their heads out from their hiding places to survey the damage.

Matt stepped out from where he had sheltered with Braxton and Jim. His eyes roamed the classroom as he sang quietly to himself. "A more elegant style of fighting indeed."

Braxton set a hand on Matt's shoulder. Matt grinned over at him. A low rumbling purr filled the air around them. Jim started to laugh. "You guys didn't tell me you could purr!"

Braxton glanced at Matt. "I'm just human. Matt?"

Matt shook his head. "Well I can't purr." They both turned to Varian. Varian was staring up at something just behind the three of them. Slowly the three boys turned towards the source of the purring.

A familiar orange cat laid casually on the weapon's cupboard. "I appreciate the enthusiasm I see in my classroom," his silky voice more than filled the room. "I see that this shall prove to be an honorable undertaking!" He leaped from the top of the cupboard with a neat flip. Landing in the center of the still smoking floor he bowed to his students.

"I am Diablo Gato! But you may call me Puss," he flashed Jim and Braxton a knowing smile. "In boots!"

The class was silent as the boys stared at the small cat before them. Puss seemed unfazed by the reaction. "I see by your silence that my reputation precedes me. Fear not jóvenes! I am here to impart my knowledge upon you, not to use my skills against you."

He clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way through the rumpled youth. "Your earlier display was most impressive. Much enthusiasm, some knowledge, a decent foundation. I see that many of you are partially trained in more than just the sword."

The cat spun towards a boy still clutching his axe. "Have you many lessons with your blade?"

"Uh, to be honest, sir," the boy replied awkwardly, "I just picked it up and followed what everyone else was doing."

"Bah." Puss waved him off. "Enthusiasm without foundation will get you places, but mostly the land of the dead. Go. Put away your weapons and fix the room. Last year you learned the foundation of a sword. This year we shall hone your skills and shall introduce the knife! Among other things," he added absently.

At his command the boys started to clean up the room. Weapons were returned to their rightful places in the cupboard, training dummies were picked up and straightened into their proper positions. Soot was swept off the floor, though traces of it still speckled the walls, ceiling, and students.

Puss licked one of his paws as he waited for the boys to settle into formation before him. When they were appropriately situated to his satisfaction he hopped up onto the supply chest. "Welcome to your second year of bladed combat! As you may know, Senorita was unexpectedly unable to return to teach this year. I am aware this has caused an unfortunate lack of instruction last semester. But fear not! I shall ensure your education is not lacking! You have practiced your drills, yes?" He watched the heads nodding around the room. "Bueno!"

The cat hopped down again, the lid of the chest flipping open with the force of his jump. From inside he pulled a stack of papers. "As we have not much time today, you need only complete this paper so I might see your practical knowledge. Tomorrow, we fight!"

"Sir?" A boy in the back tentatively raised his hand. "We don't have class with you until wednesday."

Puss paused a moment before perking back up. "Wednesday, we fight!"