Chapter 80

  Open Tryouts

  “Today, we open our doors and our floors to every student here today. Everyone with a wish, will, or intent to try out can and will be given a shot. Those that make it through this process are gunning for your spot, for your position. They all want what you have, and they are willing to push themselves further and farther than ever to get your spot. And I’m going to let them, that is, unless you show me you have what it takes to be a member of this team,” Coach Shimms stated, giving what she hoped would be a fiery speech to her scholarship students.

  The more she spoke, the more emotion she could see rolling off her lineup.

  As usual she gave the speech, fully intending for her ladies to demolish every opponent who dared to challenge these hand selected students for their spots. Of course, coach Shimms also made sure to pad her roster with two free spots, just in case any of these walk-ons impressed her.

  Mainly though, this was a way to evaluate her current roster. She wanted to see who they were, what fired them up, and what to expect from them as time went on.

  Just as expected, everyone was fired up after hearing her comments. Everyone but the one Freshman that still looked as cool and calm as the first time she saw recordings of her.

  At first glance, it was easy to see why everyone else shied away from her.

  The talent and fundamentals were there, but the fire wasn’t.

  While all the other students could seem to dig deeper, to pull at rage and anger to fire them up and propel them forward. This girl never did that.

  Instead, she just remained even keeled throughout, never going emotionally too high or too low. Like a machine she just worked everything to rhythmic perfection. That was what had likely cost her a lot of scholarship opportunities, for she was clearly the motor of a Championship contending team. A team that lost, but only due to severely corrupt officiating, and the fact that their coach was actually ejected midway through the game for arguing with the seemingly corrupt officials.

  An investigation had been made into the referees, and while nothing official had been noted, those same referees were unceremoniously let go.

  Their bad officiating got under everyone’s skin, everyone but hers.

  Yes, she did have emotions, but she never let emotions get to her. This was partly why Coach Shimms chose today to push her newest class of students to their maximum.

  This was a test, a crucible. One that should hopefully do two things. First, it should prove to the students that make the roster that they do in fact deserve the spot they have earned. Second, this should be a good wakeup call to show how their spot can be taken at any moment by someone waiting in the wings.

  With that, Coach Shimms decided that enough was enough and it was time to start putting all of the students trying out, against her own starters. The first and easiest way to weed out the weak, was through calisthenics, if these students who were trying out could not even pass the basics of conditioning, then they had no reason to be on the team.

  ***

  (Misha Tulley)

  Everything about college was mildly off putting, to say the least.

  At first, everything felt the same. Things even appeared to be the same, but they were different, slightly bigger. Life moved just a bit faster and slower.

  Her teammates were fast, all Tier IIIs or better, but their fundamentals were lacking. Seeing them, Misha knew she could easily knock them all the way down to the basics, where they would have a solid Tier I rating, but that would likely mean they would fail this trial.

  That option was tempting, as many of the Seniors were particularly harsh to the newer students. Thinking that either they would wash out or be replaced by many of the incoming students.

  Scuffle, shirk, squeak.

  The sound of new shoes sliding against the recently waxed floors could be heard echoing around the practice gymnasium.

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  “Come on, you don’t even care for the game,” a walk on heckled Misha as she easily poked the ball free and began trying to gain control over the loose ball.

  Misha for her part just stayed quiet, opting not to trash talk as the other girls put it. Part of this was the fact that nothing these people said or did bothered her. She had after all been on a ship that had hundreds of people yelling at her at one point or another. People who were in charge of her, but had no reason to be there.

  This was where her hardened resolve was formed, for as long as she put her head down, learned, and improved she would stay on. Those others, the ones that couldn’t adapt, change, or improve, those were the people that were cut.

  With this precedent in mind, Misha pushed herself.

  “Why are you even here,” another student heckled. This girl was older, and from what Misha had picked up, she had tried multiple times to be a walk-on player, and nearly made it every time. That was why she seemed particularly pushy this time, she was older, meaning she had more time to gain strength and skills. Worse, she was clearly a Warrior Class of Tier III. While this was the same Tier rating as Misha, their skillsets and strengths were at vastly different levels.

  That said, the question was a profound one.

  Why was Misha here, playing Basketball. A game, something meant to waste time and hopefully burn off a bit of excess energy, nothing more. Yet, the more she moved and performed the game, a game that was completely outside of her standard skill set, the more she enjoyed the sensation.

  It took her a while to figure out why she was inexpertly drawn to this odd sport.

  There were no fundamental truths of the world posed in it, while movements over time could be considered a form of movement art, it was still something that ultimately served little purpose once the moment was over.

  Worse, it had nothing to do with her specialty of talking to machines. There was nothing mechanical about this sport, aside from the exterior lighting, and the scoreboard there was nothing that could be impacted by the skill that had defined her for nearly a millennium.

  Then thinking about it further, Misha slowly began to understand why this game was so important to her, it was the first thing that showed she was more than an engineer. An engineer who was forced to live, die, and be reborn for the purpose of performing one menial task, keep the flagship of her fleet running.

  Now though, this game it was something else, and she was something else through this game. With the game, she could show another talent she could be good at, if she just applied herself. This was something that proved that she was more than just an engineer.

  For these reasons, and so many more, Misha now found herself playing this game. Playing the game and being given a free education to do so.

  The education was also important, for it was yet another way that Misha could form and shape her own destiny, the way she wanted.

  This was why she pushed herself.

  She remained silent, letting her play and movements do her talking for her.

  Out here, on the court, it was like floating through space.

  Only once in her life, had she felt the horror and complete freedom of her consciousness floating freely in space. It was simultaneously the scariest moment, and most exhilarating moment of her life. That time when she was expelled from the hull of her ship, and forced to find this world to tether her psyche to.

  Relating that moment of freedom and weightlessness to now was not tough for Misha. Instead, she used it to form parallels.

  Out here, on the court, she could be weightless, all alone, with nothing but her own movements directing her forward. The lights shining down on the floor, those were just stars that shone one for eternity. The people blocking her, that was just space debris floating aimlessly in space, trying to hinder her, but ultimately unable to stop her completely.

  Out here, she was able to truly find herself.

  ***

  (Darcy Renolds)

  Campus life was so odd.

  Everything seemed to thrum with energy. Just being here, she felt more alive and energetic than she had, possibly ever.

  Just breathing in, she could almost see and begin to feel the flow of energy that her father and mother had both hinted about. These were the feelings she would slowly come to depend on, while she began to awaken her latent potential.

  This was part of most older Universities, the fact that they drew in legacies, that is students who had multiple family members who all previously awakened.

  The awakening of students left a residual trace of energy, that over time slowly built up and would form first pools, then lakes, and eventually what some would refer to as laylines of power.

  Yet, despite the name, these lines were never actually lines. That is, they didn’t go straight from one spot directly to another, with no impediments to their progress.

  Instead, these laylines roamed freely, slowly snaking outwards into the wild, before finally stopping where the energy began to die off or be absorbed into the nearby soil.

  This was also why most older universities tended to have trees and natural wilderness nearby, this was a natural byproduct of pooling layline energy.

  These were all facts that Darcy had been told, but had never fully experienced, until she got here.

  Now that she was here, she could feel the difference. She could feel the pull of why Universities were the perfect cover for Magi.

  Also, it was clear that many junior mages all came here, likely for the very same reason that Darcy herself now did. That is, to awaken and find more like her.

  There was an unnatural and inexplainable bond that seemed to form between her and other students. Everyone seemed nicer, more real, and somehow more vibrant than anyone at her High School ever did. Well, anyone other than a few. The number one person that always stood out, despite how low key and even keeled she tended to keep herself was Misha.

  Misha was subsequently the only reason why she found herself on the University of Tennessee to begin with.

  It should also be noted that Misha was now the reason why Darcy found herself crammed into what was effectively a metal oven. For Misha was apparently playing a scrimmage game against people trying to earn a spot on the team, as such they played here, in the women’s auxiliary gym.

  If Darcy thought women got the hand-me-downs and old property of the men’s team, then the practice squad, which Misha now found herself a part of, had it far worse. The building didn’t even have air conditioning. That or if it did, the coach purposefully left it off, to help make the players work just that much harder.

  Had it been for anyone else, Darcy herself would have gone outside to cool off. Yes, on a brisk 97 degree day, it was cooler outside than it was in the heat box of a gym she now found herself.

  Still, Misha was playing, which meant, there was a distraction.

  Better still, Misha was in her silent killer mode. This was the mode where she was the most focused, not talking, not going to verbal sparring with other players. Instead, she just out played everyone. Her arms and legs were constantly moving, she forced defenders away through the use of her long elbows. She also was seemingly unbreakable wall on defense.

  Darcy didn’t even like basketball.

  At least, she thought she didn’t like basketball, until she saw her play.

  In fact, it made no sense why she would find any of this entertaining at all. Yet, she the more Darcy watched, the more she found herself getting caught up in the moment of everything.

  It wasn’t until Darcy tried to watch a few professional games that she realized how special Misha was. For only now that she was awakening to her talents, only now could she see the way that the others she went against were monsters.

  All while Misha appeared to be a blossoming mage like herself.

  Alexa Thyme 3: Making A Name went live on Audible today.