by Drew Briney
And then there was that smile.
“Yeah, I’m game,” Blaze offered with a very deliberate attempt to use a contraction. Briefly, he felt like a rebel. Just as briefly, he thought that it was funny that he felt rebellious over such a small thing. In the past week, he had killed several men in combat – and while he only did so in defense of himself and others and while he mostly felt justified in what he had done, killing people seemed much more significant than using a contraction for the sole purpose of being playful with Evelia – but reprogramming his subconscious thought was another matter entirely.
Okay. Relax. If you resist, it will be harder for me to influence what you do and I’m just practicing so take it easy on me, okay?
Okay. He just thought the answer. He was trying to relax and wasn’t paying close attention to whether or not she really wanted an answer while giving these instructions. But his answer wasn’t silent.
I heard you, she exclaimed excitedly, yet silently. Blaze said nothing in return. He just smiled a bit to encourage her.
Put down your staff. The command made Blaze tense up a bit for two reasons. First of all, he had only barely noticed that he brought it into the room. Second, he wasn’t expecting to hear any words – for some reason, he only expected to have an impulse to do something.
Right, he heard Evelia speak to herself, I did that wrongly. Okay – how did that feel? … more like this …
While Blaze’s mind started to try to make sense of this little game, he put down his staff but then felt uncomfortable leaving it on the ground so he crossed his left foot over his right foot like he commonly did in practice, slightly pushing the staff over his right toes. As he did, his left foot crossed back to its normal position and Blaze kicked the staff into his right hand with his right foot.
“It worked!” Evelia emoted. “It really worked!”
Blaze looked at her with puzzlement evident in his eyes but then smiled and then winked at Evelia and then laughed.
“Wow! It’s really working,” she happily gloated while Blaze felt a little embarrassed for winking at her but then winked again.
“That’s cute,” Evelia laughed – and he winked again.
“Okay. Now, try to resist what I suggest to you,” she instructed.
“But you are not instructing anything,” Blaze complained.
“Really?” she answered in disbelief. “You are not hearing anything? You know I’m making you do that right?” she asked, a little unsure of herself.
Blaze blushed. That was enough answer for Evelia. Awesome, she thought to herself – but he didn’t hear that.
Off and on, between small morsels of conversation, Blaze found himself wandering about the room doing meaningless things, picking things up and putting them down, sitting down to relax, practicing portions of meditative martial art forms, and deliberately trying to ignore Evelia and whatever she might be trying to get him to do. After a while, it seemed pretty evident that whatever she was trying to do wasn’t working. But she needed to practice so he happily gave her the opportunity – for quite a while. All he had to do was resist her efforts by ignoring her and focusing on things that he wanted to do rather than things she might be suggesting. At least, that was what he thought.
Time passed quickly. The hour for breakfast came and went. More hours passed. Feeling pretty hungry, Blaze determined that he ought to suggest that they eat whatever meal had been sent to their rooms – they were undoubtedly waiting in the delivery bin next to their food coolers and warmers. Besides, he was feeling pretty sure that Evelia was wasting her time. This was just going to take more time for her to learn than she was expecting. For now, he was ready to eat breakfast – if not lunch. As he thought these things, he suddenly found himself spontaneously spinning towards Evelia, making his eyes cross, and then making a flamboyant bow towards her while holding his hand out for her to take. That was when he began to realize that he was very wrong about the influence she was exercising over him.
As she grabbed his hand, she pulled him up and excitedly gave him a hug.
“Okay, Blaze. I have an idea,” she began as she pulled herself back away from him. She paused, clearly concentrating and deep in thought. “You were resisting, right?” she asked hesitantly.
“I thought so …”
“Great,” she interrupted, recovering from her fleetingly failed confidence.
“Jerron should be coming in a few minutes. When he does, he will bring a number of guards. You need to initiate the cloaking functionality of your staff …”
“How did you know about that?” Blaze interjected. He never told anyone about this function – only Dr. Boyd – and he was sure that only the people who installed that feature would have known about it.
“We will talk about that later,” Evelia answered, suddenly embarrassed. She hadn’t ever seen the cloaking functionality engaged - but she had learned about the cloaking functionality from Blaze’s memories. “He will offer to let you participate in the tournaments starting this afternoon … you read the notices from the cube, right?” she asked, suddenly realizing Blaze might not have read the announcements she had seen the day before.
“Right,” he acknowledged.
“Okay. Agree to fight with a borrowed metal staff-spear sort of like yours regardless of the conditions that he asks so long as tournament progression is not altered.”
“Of course,” Blaze answered before Evelia was really finished talking. “I am anxious for a good simulator experience! I …”
“Okay,” she interrupted in turn, holding her hand out to stop him from speaking any further and flashing a smile so she didn’t come across as bossy. “But you need to request that I can come and go freely. Tell him that I am an artist and pose no threat to anyone. He should trust you ...”
Oh. I think they are close.
“Quick. Go back to your room, cloak your staff, and stay there!”
Raising an eyebrow at Evelia as he was turning away from her, he reminded her: “He might wonder why you are dressed like that Evelia …”
“Oh!” she quietly exclaimed. “ What should I do? I’m not sure how well I can do mind suggestions with more clothes – they impede the energy flow …”
But there was no time to find out.
“Evelia,” the door’s intercom was speaking. “We need to speak with you.”
As Evelia watched the door close behind Blaze, she answered, “Intercom. Just a minute, I’m not quite dressed” as she reached into a bin and slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms that vaguely matched what she was already wearing. Within a few moments, she was absorbing energy around the room into her body to help her relax and confidently sauntering towards the door, mentally preparing herself for what was coming.
“Open,” she ordered the door.
JERRON WALKED INTO BLAZE’S ROOM, flanked by Vardn and four other guards, each brandishing some pretty heavy duty guns and an adequate dose of caution in their eyes. Blaze mentally noted that each of them bore a small black star near their team insignia – excepting Vardn who continued to wear a grey star. Blaze silently reminded himself to check the database to see what the stars signified.
Sensing fear from the guards whom Blaze recognized as men who had fought by his side in the battlefield, he invited them to sit down: “Have a seat,” he offered, walking with his back to them and knowing that as soldiers in a potentially hostile environment, they should refuse. But the offer may help them relax a bit, he thought.
“Blaze,” Jerron began, completely ignoring the offer, “I want you to know that you are only being held in your chambers as a precautionary measure. Because of the appearance of possible treason, your life would be in danger if you were to roam the ship freely. As soon as you are absolved of any guilt at the hearings, your rank will be immediately reinstated. ”
Blaze was initially shocked that Jerron could have considered Blaze naïve enough to believe such a ploy but then he was more fully shocked when he considered that Evelia may have
influenced Jerron’s thinking. If she was behind this, Blaze was extremely impressed. If she wasn’t behind this, Blaze was as confused as confused gets.
He said nothing in return.
Despite intense focus and concentration, the guards appeared to be every bit as confused over Jerron’s statements as Blaze did – although this was their second time hearing him make that proclamation today.
“Are you aware that tournaments begin today?” Jerron asked in such an innocent fashion that Blaze nearly laughed.
“Of course,” Blaze responded, “I could not have missed the announcement. Were I a thousand light years away, I would be interested in the tournament.”
“Good,” Jerron interjected. “All tournament weapons are provided by the guild. What do you choose?”
“Metal staff, spear tip,” Blaze intuitively responded. “Two small blades with sheaths for each leg and another placed across the left breast.” He had been in tournaments before – these were standard issue.
“Done. Your first fight is in slightly less than one half hour unless the first fight goes long,” Jerron offered to Blaze’s surprise. He wondered if he had read the schedule incorrectly or if time with Evelia had simply passed by quickly - shouldn’t the tournament be starting a few hours from now? Apparently sensing Blaze’s surprise, Jerron added. “The first few fights are among the ‘W’ bracket competitors and are among some of the best fighters from the various Orders so we decided to give them each a little more time to fight and a little more time to recover between rounds. You will be among the first to fight in the “W” bracket. Vardn is your first opponent. For your safety, we need to escort you to the Weapon Mastery Guild’s main hall where the simulator is currently located.” Not asking whether or not that might be okay with Blaze, Jerron approached him with a metallic band that roughly resembled a figure eight. Opening the cuffs, Jerron held them out for Blaze to place his hands within the cuffs and waited. Blaze paused only momentarily, passingly worrying that this might be a ploy to further restrict his freedom before determining to trust Evelias’ instructions earlier that morning. Once his wrists were secured within the cuffs, Blaze felt a strong burst of energy from the cuffs as their strong magnetic field engaged the metals so that they could not be separated.
“Great. Let’s go then,” the soldier grumbled.
“Can anyone watch the tournament?” Blaze questioned, remembering his tacit promise to get Evelia freed from her room.
“Of course – half of the crew will be watching,” Jerron answered with a somewhat mocking laughter.
“Then Evelia can come?” Blaze ventured again.
“She is a prisoner,” Jerron answered. Blaze couldn’t help but to notice the glaring contradiction of attitude in Jerron’s instructions and felt encouraged about Evelia’s abilities to control this situation.
“Really?” Blaze whimsically retorted in as playful a manner as he could feign. After leaving a deliberately pregnant pause, he added. “She is an artist, a historian. Does she seem a threat to you?”
While Vardn and the other soldier’s scowled a bit at Blaze’s casual mockery of their protocol, Jerron’s response sounded more like a ventriloquist’s puppet.
“True enough. Vance, go tell Evelia she can freely travel throughout the ship so long as she attends all of Blaze’s hearings.”
Despite his military background and training, Vance failed to hide his surprise – he responded as expected anyway. “Yes sir,” he chimed while turning on his heels and exiting the room.
Wow, Blaze congratulated himself, that was easier than I could have hoped for.
BLAZE STOOD ON ONE EDGE of the simulator, casually rotating a short sword in each hand to warm up his wrists and performing a few kinetic stretches to help him warm up. Tournament authorities claimed that they had no metallic staffs and suggested that this was an anomaly unique to Blaze’s Order but he didn’t believe them. Bo staff had been a standard weapon in every form of martial arts for thousands of years and the only way to make them ultimately effective against sword fighting was to make them impervious to cutting actions. At the least, that required a fat hard wood staff. Typically, it meant that the staff would be made out of titanium because that metal was so light and flexible. At best, those metal staffs would be crowned with a spear tip to allow bladed attack as well. To not have any of these weapons available was simply beyond credibility. Someone is rigging the tournament, Blaze concluded without even really thinking over the situation.
Blaze looked towards the other corner of the simulator. Vardn was holding a sword that nearly resembled a kitana in one hand and a long knife in the other hand. While critiquing the pilot’s stance, Blaze heard the encouraging words Good luck! in his mind. Somehow, he intuitively knew where the voice came from and looked into the stands to see Evelia smiling at him. Thanks, he offered in return as he began to intuitively analyze Vardn’s stances, foot movements, and weight distribution as he transitioned between kata. The instant Blaze commenced to categorize Vardn’s fighting style, the terrain began building up within the simulator.
Void of anything exotic, the simulator produced some sludgy textured soil amidst a relatively flat area peppered with several puddles of water – terrain that roughly mirrored the area Blaze had disliked while traveling to the native’s village. He couldn’t help but to notice the uncanny similarity of this simulation with an area that Blaze specifically found difficult to traverse. One second it left your foot stuck in the mud, the next it found you involuntarily slipping to the ground. Rats! he quietly cursed in frustration. Of any simulation imaginable, this was the terrain he liked the least because it inevitably created elements of chance and luck rather than leaving the contest to a question of skill alone. And based upon Vardn’s amateurish movements, Blaze considered that this was no mistake made by whoever was in charge of creating the simulations. All of a sudden, Blaze wished Jim was here and felt a pang in his heart as he remembered and missed his lifelong friend.
A seasoned warrior, Blaze transformed his grief into determination and resolve. This is just a game, he reminded himself, trying to relax and not take this tournament too seriously. One with consequences, he corrected himself and considered that there were probably three hundred of his crewmen watching this fight – despite the fact that the schedule had changed on short notice. Focus. Be aware of your surroundings. Liquid misdirection. Six moves. He didn’t make that decision on purpose. It just came to him – and now it was his goal. He needed to defeat Vardn in no more than six moves.
More for theatrical effect than anything else, Blaze ran toward Vardn with a thunderous battle cry. If he had any hope that it would startle his opponent, he wasn’t disappointed. However, Vardn was not the only one who was startled – Blaze lost his footing and slid the last five feet or so as if he was sliding into home plate. It appeared deliberate but because of the error, the young warrior had to block an improvised golf-esque swing attack on his way sliding past Vardn. Blast it! Blaze cursed to himself. Five moves left.
As Blaze slowed down, his foot hit a small bank of mud that helped him quickly regain his footing. Spinning and taking a small cover step, he loosed a knife from its sheath wrapped onto the leg that was extended and threw the blade at Vardn’s midsection. Twisting and stepping away from the blade, Vardn lost his footing as well and landed on a knee, allowing the blade to deeply impale his left shoulder.
Now standing, Blaze held high ground and exulted as he had no intention of losing his advantage. Only a couple feet away from his opponent, he was more careful about his footing than before but made haste as he closed the distance.
Four, three, two, Blaze counted as he furiously threw strikes at his opponent, ignoring his foot that was deeply sinking into the mud. There would be no easy escape if anything went poorly. It didn’t matter. One! he inwardly exulted as he firmly held the blade of his right sword against Vardn’s throat, drawing only a small amount of blood as he did so.
“Game,” Vardn conceded.
Round one over. Too easy.
BLAZE TRANSITIONED BETWEEN PACING and moving through various short stick and short sword katas in a waiting room. Round one had been almost disappointingly easy. Part of him enjoyed coming out on top; part of him craved a real challenge; that left him only marginally satisfied with round one. And being so poorly matched up for his first fight, Blaze felt disappointed over the prospects of the next round as well. Perhaps, he gloomily considered, the best fighters from the other Orders died in the battle with the natives. He hoped that wasn’t true but he also knew that this was a real possibility: even prodigious weapons training was insufficient to prepare someone for defending themselves against long range arrows and relatively invisible flying mutant creatures.
The door to his waiting room opened. A thin framed man wearing a black star near his team insignia only partially entered the room before making his announcement. “Jerron won his first round; you will fight him in fifteen minutes.” The man slinked behind the door, disappearing as unceremoniously as he came, leaving Blaze alone to confront more conflicted emotions.
He knew this had been a possibility. He had seen the tournament seeding. He was somewhat prepared mentally. To some degree, Blaze didn’t care who his opponent was. In the simulator, everything was sport - it was nothing more than a game. He had summarily killed a number of his good friends in the simulator and walked away afterwards, arm around their shoulders, congratulating them on their improvements, and laughing on their way to lunch. But in his youth, he had also experienced a few grudge matches so he understood how feelings could be used to enhance your performance … and how they could hasten your downfall.