Star Warrior

by Isaac Hooke

  “But what about that trick you taught me?” Tane said. “With the hilt? Using it as a choke point to tamp down on the Essence flowing through me.”

  “That trick doesn’t work with a starship,” Lyra said. “The Essence levels involved are simply too great. Yes, you can tamp down to an extent. And in fact you have to when you’re setting up a distortion tunnel, to properly select the destination, but the forces you’re dealing with are still incredible. It’s very easy to destroy yourself: all it takes is for your concentration to lapse just a millisecond.”

  “Doesn’t sound like fun,” Tane said.

  “Jump specialists and Essence gunners certainly have their work cut out for them,” Lyra said. “Which is why I personally try to avoid jump chambers as often as I can. Though sometimes, like for this mission, it’s impossible to avoid. Other Volur love taking control of jump chambers and Essence throwers. Myself, I’ve never enjoyed the feeling of impending doom, nor the eight hours downtime that follows. In any case, my part is done for now. Jed will resume your training from here. At least for a while.”

  Tane kept running his sword at the reduced power levels, which allowed him to spar with Jed, whose Essence-Imbued steel could resist the blade intensity. It did take some fine-tuning on Tane’s part until he hit upon a power level that was low enough not to destroy Jed’s sword, yet strong enough to prevent it from passing right through.

  The Bander’s long blade was silver in color, but because of the blue runes inscribed all along the surface, it seemed to pulse with a blue energy. That pulsing proved slightly distracting during their sparring, and Jed often purposely flashed those runes to blind him.

  Tane wanted to do the same thing with his own sword, but was worried he’d destroy the Bander’s weapon if he poured any more power into his blade.

  Jed taught him some tricks, so that soon Tane had a rudimentary understanding of how to use the weapon in combat beyond simply randomly slashing and jabbing. Tane did all of his sparring from the first person perspective, as it was too difficult to coordinate his body from the third person view of Essence Sight, especially with his body sometimes blocking his view of Jed.

  The Bander introduced Tane to the concept of sword forms, and had him practice a routine called Dotting The T that involved slashing horizontally, vertically, and then jabbing. Jed would block each of the hits, and then the Bander would perform the routine on Tane in turn, allowing him a chance to parry the impacts.

  “I doubt very highly we’ll be facing any dwellers equipped with swords,” Jed said. “But it’s always good to learn the basics.”

  Next Jed had Tane practice deflection training. Jed removed the bounding walls that formed one side of the training area, and placed them behind Tane to reinforce the area there. When that was done, the Bander emerged from the partially enclosed training area and walked the narrow aisle between the shipyard’s different landing pads until he was a hundred meters away. Jed suddenly turned around and began firing his Essence-Imbued plasma pistol at Tane.

  Though Tane had his energy shield activated, Jed was aiming slightly in front of him so that the shots would land upon the bulkheads behind Tane rather than draining the shield. It probably hadn’t been necessary to reinforce the walls there with extra bulkheads, because Jed had dialed down the power levels of his pistol to the point that any damage was negligible, with each impact causing only superficial burns to the metal.

  Tane attempted to deflect the shots. When he successfully batted away an incoming bolt, the plasma dissipated almost immediately thanks to the lower power setting of Jed’s weapon, preventing the ricochets from damaging the nearby ships that towered above the bounding walls of the training area.

  When Tane began to deflect the bolts with some level of proficiency, Jed started firing directly at Tane. It only took five of those lower power shots to bring Tane’s shield down to zero, so after four shots Jed would once more aim in front of Tane until the shield recharged. When it did, Jed resumed the direct attacks again. After a few hours of practice, with the necessary rest periods, Tane was able to deflect about one direct shot in three. Sometimes two out of three when he was on a lucky streak.

  He practiced from both the third person perspective and first person, switching between the two by drawing in and releasing the imaginary lifeline as he had done while training with Lyra. Each view had pros and cons, but he found that he favored the external perspective slightly because it allowed him a bigger take on the overall battle space.

  At the end of his session, Tane was rewarded with a notification on his HUD.

  New skill learned.

  Essence Energy Sword. Level 0.

  “What!” Tane said. “Come on.”

  “What is it, Farmer?” Jed asked patiently.

  “I’ve been training all day and all I get is level zero?”

  Jed shrugged. “Be patient. Remember, levels are based on the average ratings of everyone else possessing a certain skill. From what I’ve seen of other Volur, who train for years to learn proper sword technique, you are indeed level zero. You’ve barely scratched the surface of what it means to wield an energy sword. You only know one sword form. You can deflect one direct shot in three, sometimes two out of three when you’re on a winning streak.”

  “You know, between you and me, I think I’m just going to buy the necessary skill upgrades,” Tane said.

  “Good luck,” Jed said. “It’ll cost you a small fortune.”

  Tane finished with Jed, ate a liquid lunch aboard the Red Grizzly, napped for half an hour, and then Lyra took over his training for the rest of that day.

  “So what Essence skills do you know?” Lyra asked right away.

  “I have Air Current and Persistent Flame,” he said. “Both level zero. I also have a hologram containing the design for Essence Missile, but I haven’t been able to create it, yet.”

  Lyra nodded. “Essence Missile will be more useful, I think. We’ll start with that. Send me the hologram you have.”

  Tane did so.

  “Yes,” Lyra said. “This is right. The key is in the Leaves. They are the most difficult part. The main Branches are easier, since you only have to shove out from single points to achieve them, but the Leaves have to be extended from multiple points. I want you to create a single Branch from the root, and immediately create the first Leave you see on the hologram. When you’ve mastered it, move on to the next Leave, and the next, until you’ve memorized them all. Then try to create the full hologram, placing the memorized Leaves on the appropriate branches.”

  Tane did as she asked. He found that when he gripped the haft of the energy sword in hand, even when it wasn’t activated, it gave him a +5 boost to Intelligence, and with that boost, he was able to memorize each Leave faster than he ever thought possible. When he had all the Leaves down pat, which took about an hour and a half, including rest periods, he went back to creating the bare Branchwork, and when he had that memorized, he started adding the Leaves. It took at least fifty tries, spread out over the next three hours, but at the end of it he was finally able to reproduce the Essence Missile from the hologram. When he released it, a bolt of pure energy appeared in front of him, drilling a hole into the wall the size of a fist, and knocking it over to boot. The wall smashed into the layer behind it, sending them both tumbling over.

  “What’s the advantage of this over Essence bolts produced by my energy sword?” Tane asked.

  “Essence Missile has much more stopping power,” Lyra said. “Especially at the higher levels. And even if an opponent’s armor absorbs the damage, they’ll still be pushed back. You can also fire more than one at a time when you get good, creating three, four, or even five at once, fanning them out in a deadly dispersion pattern in any direction around you. It makes for a lethal combination when used with your sword.”

  Tane rested a few more moments, and then tried to create the Essence Missile again. He failed the next several attempts, but then got it again. Over the next hour, incl
uding rest periods, he began to achieve some success, creating the Essence Missile one time out of every three.

  He received a notification on his HUD when he got his proficiency up to two times out of three.

  New skill learned.

  Essence Missile. Level 0.

  “Well, I guess that’s better than nothing,” Tane said to himself.

  He continued to practice the missile and gained a point of Endurance by the time the first day was done, leaving him at fourteen in that department, or twenty-one with the Essence Energy Sword equipped.

  That night, Tane lay in his quarters, utterly spent. He could hear Jed’s calm breathing coming from the top bunk above him. Earlier, the Bander had stripped off his armor and placed it inside a storage pouch at his waist.

  Though he was exhausted, Tane found it difficult to sleep. The neurons of his brain were still firing rapidly, constantly replaying the day’s events over in his head, from Sinive’s kidnapping by the aliens to his training at the hands of Lyra and Jed. It was all a blur.

  As he lay there in the pitch black room, he attempted to clear his mind using the technique he’d learned from the nanotech memories, but it didn’t help. Next he tried something that used to work for him—listening to his own breathing. It was somewhat calming at first, and Tane actually started to fall asleep, but when Jed unintentionally let off a loud snort the noise snapped Tane completely awake.

  Living on the farm, Tane had always had a room to himself. It was still hard to get used to the idea of sharing his quarters with someone.

  As he listened to Jed’s distracting breathing, his mind returned to the day’s training.

  Tane used to feel so intimidated by the Bander, but after sparring with him, he realized Jed was actually a fairly cool guy. If somewhat standoffish. There was so much he didn’t know about the man. Jed was like this big, dark puzzle. Tane decided he would start asking the man questions about himself whenever even the smallest things came to mind.

  As soon as he had that thought, something immediately came to mind. And he suddenly felt shy about asking it.

  Well, I can’t sleep, so hell with it.

  “You know, there’s something I’ve been wondering about you,” Tane said. It felt easier to talk to the Bander like this in the darkness, without seeing the man’s face, or his judging, penetrating eyes. And it definitely felt way less intimidating. “Why do you prefer the top bunk? Usually people like the bottom bunk because it’s easier to get off the bed, and you don’t feel like you’ll fall off if you roll over. But not you. You’re always insisting on taking the top. Why?”

  “Higher ground,” Jed said simply.

  “Oh. That actually makes some sense. Sort of.” Tane lay in quietude for a moment, once more listening to their shared breathing.

  “Do you ever wonder why we’re alive?” Tane asked on a whim.

  “Yes,” Jed replied immediately.

  Tane waited, but Jed wasn’t any more forthcoming.

  “And what conclusion do you come up with?” Tane pressed.

  “To serve,” Jed said.

  A man of few words.

  Tane sighed, then closed his eyes. As he began to drift off to sleep, Jed’s gruff voice woke him.

  “I grew up in a Xandar slave farm,” Jed said. “I was essentially strapped to the thick spokes of a giant wheel with several other boys, and we turned that heavy wheel all day, every day. I never did find out what the purpose of the wheel was. Whether it powered something or did anything of actual use, or was merely a means to keep us occupied, I had no idea. The slavers did feed us well, at least. And injected us with nanotech to control our testosterone levels, which, in combination with the work provided by turning that heavy wheel, sculpted our bodies into prime specimens of humanity.

  “And maybe that right there was the sole purpose of the wheel: to shape us for the sale while keeping our minds mostly a blank slate, ready for chipping. Despite the food and injections, only half the boys tied to that wheel reached adulthood, the others succumbing to accidents. Disease. Exhaustion. So the wheel also served the purpose of pruning us.

  “Every day, sixteen hours a day, pushing that wheel. Knowing nothing but the broad spoke underneath your callused palms, the dirt underneath your callused feet, and the back of the youth pushing the next spoke in front of you. Your consciousness contracts to a tiny island, and the only relief you find is in imagination. I created whole worlds in my mind. Imagined I was the king of an empire. The admiral of a fleet. Sometimes I pretended I had been captured, and that my men would be coming to save me. Though the daydream that recurred most often during those early years, sometimes several times a day, was imagining breaking free of my oppressors, killing them all, and then leading the other slaves to freedom. It never came to pass. I did try to escape, once, but the punishment the slavers inflicted, killing the only friend I ever had in that place, broke me utterly.

  “Eventually even my imagination failed me, and all I knew was the feel of exhausted muscles, the build up of lactic acid. I experienced no emotions of any kind. Not love. Not hate. Not revenge. I merely existed. From one day to the next. It’s unimaginable what that’s like. Twenty years of turning that wheel, my mind an empty shell. Twenty years!”

  He paused, his breathing coming in ragged, angry gasps.

  “Lyra was the one who saved me from the slavers,” Jed continued. “She was passing through the system, and on a whim visited one of the slave markets. I happened to be on auction that day. She bought me, took me in. Saw something in me I didn’t see in myself. Though I appeared strong on the outside, a monster of a man back then, inside I was weak and utterly broken, not to mention prone to violence and streaks of cruelty. Lyra… fixed me, for want of a better word. She had me chipped, and then injected me with nanotech to give me memories of a childhood that should have been mine. She showed me what it was like to live a normal life. To be treated as a normal human being. And when I was ready, she set me free.

  “I wandered the galaxy for a time, trying to find my way. Seeking vengeance, I eventually returned to the slave outpost and found the Xandar there living in retirement. They had given up slaving. I didn’t care. I butchered them all. But killing the Xandar bought me no peace. So I wandered further.

  “I found temporary love. Temporary peace. Learned I was once a prince, sent away as a small child by an overzealous brother who had my undefended transport ship conveniently attacked by slavers. I could have returned to my homeworld and reclaimed my crown, but I chose to give that all up. I understood that vengeance, ambition, the lust for power, none of that would give me rest. And all of it was meaningless in the overall scheme of things.

  “So I traveled the stars once more. But I still felt restless. Incomplete. Until finally I went back to the woman who had rescued me, and I begged her to allow me to become her protector for life. Her Bander. When she accepted, I embraced the role with all of my being and never looked back.”

  “Wow,” Tane said. He was stunned into speechlessness by the tale. “Just wow. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  “You’re welcome, Farmer,” Jed said. “I hope you understand now why I told you the point of existence is to serve. At least for me. It has given me my peace.”

  “I think I do understand,” Tane said. “Either way, I’ll never look at you the same again.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Jed said.

  “Good,” Tane said. “What a hard life. The sacrifices you made. Lyra must really mean a lot to you, for you to return to her and become what you are.”

  “I love her,” Jed stated.

  “Are you...” Tane let the question hang.

  “No,” Jed said. “Not that kind of love. Like a sister. A mother, even.”

  “Oh,” Tane said. “Well. I’m glad you finally had someone to fill that role, given your childhood.”

  “As am I,” Jed said. “She has made mistakes in this life. And continues to make them. But in the end she tries to do the righ
t thing. Always remember that, no matter what you think of her.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Tane said. “Though it almost sounds like you’re trying to defend her. For some harm she hasn’t yet done to me.”

  Jed didn’t answer.

  Tane shrugged it off. He was probably reading too much into Jed’s words in the dark.

  Tane closed his eyes and sleep finally came.

  TANE SLEPT EXTREMELY WELL, thanks to his exhaustion the day before, and the next morning he sparred with Jed once again. The Bander made no mention of the conversation they had had the night before, and acted as if it had never occurred. Probably a good thing. Tane didn’t want to be treated any better, or any worse, for knowing what he did about the Bander’s past.

  When the morning session was done, in the afternoon Tane practiced Essence Missile alone.

  At supper that evening he met the two temps Nebb had hired to replace Sinive. They were crowded in beside the long table that ate up most of the free space in the tiny compartment that served as the wardroom.

  The first was a man so portly, it must have been difficult for him to get around the tight passageways of the ship. He barely fit behind the table as it was, the edge digging into his bulging chest. The second was a skinny man with a huge Adam’s apple.

  “Meet Sour Grapes and Bad Apple,” Nebb said. “The interim jump specialists.”

  “Actually, the name’s Gregory Marlboro,” the one named Sour Grapes said.

  “And I’m Brody Brodericks,” the other said.

  “I can see why you’re Bad Apple,” Tane told the skinny Brody. “But you?” He nodded toward Gregory. “Sour Grapes?”

  “I don’t get it, either,” the bulky man said.

  “Oh really?” Nebb said. He looked at Tane. “Sour Grapes here was one of the original bidders at the auction where I picked up the Red Grizzly. I outbid him and several others in the end, of course. Probably a good thing. Look at where he is now… still working the odd jump job, whatever he can take really.”