"Hello to you too, " The woman said.

  She was a stocky, muscular blonde in a green boilersuit with the right sleeve ripped off to accommodate a shiny metal arm. Fee looked around the dorm. It was shaped like a bomb shelter with a low, curved ceiling. Pine benches were sticking out on either side of the wall.

  "Sorry," Fee said. "I was surprised to see you here."

  "Why are you surprised?"

  "It doesn't matter. Where are the beds?"

  "They're called Berths. They come later."

  "Later?"

  "Didn't ya read the website?" The Scots woman said. "They appear out of the walls every night aroun' nine. It stops us lying around like lazy bastuds."

  Fee had to avert her gaze to avoid staring at the metal arm—something the woman picked up on immediately.

  "S'alright, everyone stares." She said, giving it a flex. "Damn tractor fell on it."

  "Sorry to hear that."

  "Eh, could've been worse. So, wash yer name?"

  "Wash my name?"

  "Aye, yer name. What is it?"

  "Oh, I'm Fee Green."

  They shook hands.

  "Glad to meet ya." The woman said. "The name's Brin. Brin Wilson. Folks aroun' here call me 'Bloody Mary.' " She scratched the back of her head, "Dunno why I brought that up, I babble a lot when I meet new people. Nerves, I guess."

  "You didn't look that nervous in the canteen."

  "Ah, you saw that?" Brin said. "I don't mind being chatted up, but for the love of' God, say something other than a bloody list o' quotes. There's no more boring than some weapon reciting things y’already know."

  "What made you want to join?"

  Brin looked away, the twinkle in her eye dulled to something akin to reflection. It was too early for a life story, her tale of woe.

  "The usual," She said. "I like shooting the li'l bastuds."

  "Same here. I appear to be good at it."

  "What was y'screen name, again?"

  "I Fee'd myself," Fee said, feeling the faintest prickle of a blush. "Play on words...like pee'd."

  "I got it. Classy."

  "I wouldn't have done it if I knew it was an online competition."

  "Are ya some kinda Badger?" The woman said. "You musta have lived in a hole to have missed it."

  "Missed what?"

  "'Mendacium' is one of the biggest games of the year. It’s plastered everywhere on Soma." (A shortened term for Social Media).

  "I don't have internet."

  “Why not?”

  “The whole thing about cyber-bullying,” Fee said, shrugging. “I don’t want Psychos in my room.”

  "You're not one of those Emos, are ye?" Brin asked.

  "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

  "Still. Top ten, eh? I thought you'd be in a V.I.P lounge or some such."

  "That would have made everyone hate me even more." Fee said.

  "Even more?”

  "Mum is the Low Commander." Fee said. "Which makes Dad one of the people who created the project. You can understand why people are suspicious about how their only daughter made the top ten. I know I would be."

  "Aw yeah," Brin said. "I'm starting to see the resemblance."

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  "I get that a lot."

  "Believe it or not, your Mum is the only reason I'm still here."

  "Really?”

  Brin got to her feet. "When I was being tested for the controllers, I kept breaking them." She looked at her metal hand. "There was talk of me being disqualified, because ma grip was too strong."

  "How did you manage to play it at home?"

  "I have a custom-made controller. Pricey, but can take a lot.”

  "Nice."

  "Anyway, there I was with another broken controller and your Mum said: 'Yeah, you're too strong to be a pilot.' I was prepared to be dismissed when she asked: 'How do you feel about being a Gunner? We could use some arms in the turrets.' I couldae hugged her there an' then. What a mad lass."

  "Great." Fee said. "Now I have even more to live up to."

  "Ach, don't worry about all that. Jus' do yer best."

  Fee did a tour of the dorm and noticed something was missing.

  "There's no shower." She said.

  "Nope, just a sink and a bog."

  "Where do I wash?"

  "Down the hall with everyone else," Brin said.

  "Seriously?"

  "Lucky you, eh?"

  "Always check the website first," Fee said, under her breath.

  "Makes sense if ya think about it," Brin said. "If we can't face each other in the nude, how are we supposed to face our enemy in the sky?"

  "What does that have to do with anything? Our enemy won't be naked."

  "Oh man, how weird would that be? I'm just glad it's you. I couldae ended up with some chapped arse, who thought they were good to give me the time o' day."

  "I could still be that person."

  "Ha! Nah," Brin said. "Me and little you are are gonnae have a lotta fun together."

  "Little? You can't be more than..."

  "Twenty-two."

  "I hate my life," Fee said, sitting on the bench.

  "Oh no," Brin said, with an evil glint in her eye. "What comes next… that will make ya hate yer life."

  ***

  Over the next few months, Fee became accustomed to the daily routine of waking up to a four in the morning, followed by a hellish five mile slog through the belly of the space-station. Training exercises included fast-paced sparring sessions, dropping faster than she could stand. Every lunchtime, her body was on fire, and her bones felt second-hand. At first, the sudden shock of being ripped from her comfort zone got so bad, that she could barely eat. In time, being yelled at was all she knew. The lowest point of every week came in the form of the 'Suicide Run', a brutal, life-or-death trek through Canto Eight.

  Canto Eight was a fully grown forest that stretched for tens of miles in every direction and was indistinguishable from Earth's. It had been designed with steep inclines and high cliffs overlooking fast-flowing rivers. Being inside a vast studio, the conditions of the Forest could be altered from a control room. This meant any weather, from baking hot summers to snowy winters, could be created within minutes. Sometimes, if needed, Moonlight was used to simulate base-camp infiltration and night-time raids. This week was scheduled for rain. Fee almost felt ill, powering up the long, muddy trails. Dark patches of sweat had already formed on her light-grey top, as she used fallen trees to short cut steep ridges. Braving the hard, spiky burrs, she hurdled over knotted roots, which could have put her in traction for weeks. So many times she had found earned cuts and bruises through any number of falls, with no choice but the push on.

  Still, this was considered the easiest section.

  ***

  The rope swings were the worst part. Fee would often miss the other end of the chasm and plummet toward the rushing river. On this occasion, she found the opposing cliff, but slipped and grasped a thick root. Her lower half dangled above a sheer drop, scrambling to find purchase on a side held together with wet clumps of mud. With a clawing effort, she managed to heave herself up and carry on up the path. Fee dropped down from the high rock some time later and landed with a neat parachute roll. A voice to her left suddenly cried out, causing her to stall mid-run.

  "Nice move. Did ya Mum teach you that?"

  It was Errol Glass, the New Zealander from the top ten. He was perched on the top of a fallen oak, leaning against a dense thicket of trees. Fee pushed out a couple of breaths.

  "My Dad, actually."

  "And now he's dead, big respect," Errol said. "You know who else is dead? My brother. He didn't survive the Fire trials." Glass noted Fee's vacant expression. "Oh my God, you haven't even heard about it? “

  Fee glared at him, irritated that the warmth was starting to bleed off and let the cold in.

  "What the hell are you are talking about?"

  "The Fire trials. It's an endurance course; some make it, some don't. My brother didn't."

  "That's my fault, how?"

  "I never said it was your fault."

  "Well. I'm sorry for your loss, anyway."

  "I don't want your pity."

  "I don't care what you want." Fee said. "Like it or not, we are all in this together. So while you are wasting time brooding on your tragic back-story, I want to get through this Forest alive."

  "You don't get it, do you?" Errol said, jumping down. "You cheated. You gamed the system. It’s unfair to everyone else."

  "You're in the top ten as well, ya Numpty. What are you complaining about?"

  "I didn't have a parent who allowed me to jump the queue."

  "Then take it up with your superior."

  "Your Mum, you mean?" Errol said. "We all know how that's going to go, don't we?"

  "Whatever," Fee said. "Seeing how I am living rent-free in your head, I will gift this advice..." Picking up the pace, she left him behind. "Build a bridge and get over yourself. Survive long enough to hold a grudge."

  "This ain't over!” He said. “You don't BELONG HERE!"

  Fee was already gone, under the fronds of a giant plant.