"Hostile fighters, dead ahead!" Maurin Landar, second-year cadet in the Imperial Naval Academy on Hullis IV, stiffened in his chair. According to the briefing they'd been given, they weren't supposed to encounter any enemies for another five minutes. Meaning the instructors were screwing with them again. Meaning pretty much anything could happen, and knowing Colonel Vallens, whatever happened would be the most disastrous thing possible. Sarin Calahan, wing leader for the exercise, spoke again. "Landar, Brightman, take point and assess hostile armaments." "3..." "2..." "1..." "Mark." * * * * * * * * *