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James didn't often join the others in the commander's mess. He preferred spending his time with his army, as just another kid away from home. He never particularly wanted the job of commander, and especially didn't think he deserved it. He'd allowed his army to drop in the standings, which was virtually taboo. All in all, he was an enigma. But there were advantages to spending time with the other commanders. Alliances were made, secrets were shared. James was too new at his job to have built any kind of reputation beyond what the board stats read, and he hadn't had much occasion to socialize with the other leaders. He knew most of them from the battleroom, shared a few classes with some, but he wouldn't call any his friend.
The one thing James found more valuable than any other among the voices in the commander's mess was news about I.F. tricks. Battle School was run by the International Fleet, as a means of preparing commanders against the expected third invasion of the Formics. Most of the residents of the academy quickly forgot this truth as they became absorbed in The Game. The best commanders, however, did not; and they were always on the lookout for ways the I.F. was manipulating both The Game and the students. Considering what they had done to Phoenix over the past months, his top priority was keeping them from having the advantage of surprise.
He grabbed his tray and sat at an unoccupied table, and listened to the usual complaints about the cafeteria food and service.
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Alistair entered the Commander's mess, lazily looking around the room at the various others that had gathered. It was in moments like this that he really remembered that, despite it all, all of the soldiers at the battle school, even the commanders, were all really just kids. This room may contain the elite students at the battle school, and therefore all of the potential future commanders of the International Fleet, but they were all still children, and this room was, in essence, just like any other cafeteria. There were cliques of different commanders, there was terrible food, and, as always, there were outcasts. It was one of these that caught Alistair's eye as he entered the room. He recognized the colors on the boy's uniform almost instantly, and was able to deduce from them that he was James Hawthorne, the current commander of Phoenix army. He was sitting alone at a table near the back of the room, and though Alistair had no real reason to want to interact with him, he quickly found himself sitting across from him. He couldn't help it, he was just curious about the boy. After all, Phoenix had been Alistair's first army, and as long as he could remember it had flourished in the standings, but now they seemed to have caught a rough patch. They had fallen several places since Hawthorne had taken over, but as far as Alistair could tell there hadn't really been any change in the army's efficiency. Phoenix was still a good army, and as far as Alistair could tell Hawthorne was a good commander, but something wasn't right with the army. Maybe if he talked with this boy, Alistair would be able to figure out what was holding Phoenix back. Of course, that wasn't Alistair's only motivation, or his main one, and he knew it. The truth of it all was that, after all of these years of watching one lonely boy after another enter this school, he'd gotten tired of the sight of outcasts. No one should ever feel utterly alone, especially in a place like this, and Alistair thought he almost owed it to everyone else in the Battle School to reduce the number of social outcasts. "Oy," Alistair said, trying to get James' attention, "Hey, you're James Hawthorne, right?"
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"Good morning, Alistair," James replied. He didn't know him except from afar, but knew enough about his commanding style and official record that he felt introductions would be redundant. "Thanks foh the company. Ahm not muchuva tawker, though."
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"That's fine by me," Alistair said, grinning, "I just hate to see anyone sitting alone." For a moment he decided to let the conversation drop, taking a few minutes to ingest what passed for food here. As always, Alistair tried to make out some sort of distinct flavor in the food. As always, he failed spectacularly. Tired of that, he decided to try to engage James again. "So, not to sound nosy or anything, but how are things with Phoenix army these days?" He asked, "I mean, obviously you guys have dropped in the standings, but that's not really here nor there. I hope you don't mind, but as a former Phoenix myself I kind of like to keep tabs on the army." He didn't even really know why he did this, he had to admit. He hadn't been a Phoenix in several years, and only a handful of the soldiers he had known in the army were still part of it. If anything, Phoenix was just another team, and he should treat them as such, but he still felt connected, and he wanted to know what was going on with them. More than that, he wanted James' perspective on what was going on in his army. After all, the best Alistair had heard about the internal affairs of the army were rumors, and he knew very well how unreliable those could be.
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"The I.F. played us hard, really tried to screw with our heads, ya know? But we have good kids; weah strong. Phoenix is risin', so ya bettah watch out." James said the last with a grin, perhaps revealing that to him, the game was competitive sport, but not the idol it was to many in the room.
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Alistair returned the grin. "I'll keep it in mind," He said, "But watch out, because Hornet's the rising power in the school right now, and I ain't plannin' on givin' up that position because of a few nice words from my former army's new commander." He liked James already, that much he knew. He was smart, and confident, and he was not a slave to the game. All of these were great traits for a commander to have. He gave a sigh of relief, aware of the fact that Phoenix was in good hands. As that thought crossed his mind, he realized that while Phoenix may be in good hands, he wasn't sure how reliable the one's he'd left Hornet in for the morning were. He stood then, giving a wave to James. "I've gotta' get going now," He said, "Take care of yourself, okay?"
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"You too. And Alistair, remember who the enemy is." James didn't have anywhere to be, so he decided to stay and see if anyone else would stop by. Being commander didn't have a whole lot of immediate perks, but there were two right here: a somewhat quieter place to sit, and caffeinated beverages. Coffee was too bitter for him, but there was some sweet tea that he liked. If they couldn't do food right, at least the drinks were halfway decent.
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