by P. S. Power
A knock came from the Top of the stairs.
“Diner!” Brenda sounded annoyed, probably that she had to say anything at all, but scent tends to rise, not sink, so how were they to know it was time?
Well a clock, but Tor didn't have anything like that on him. Burks grinned, a charming and almost happy thing.
“We'd best go then. If we take too long she'll throw the food down the stairs and we'll have to eat it off the floor.” Burks looked… tired suddenly, exhausted and far older than he should.
“Tomorrow we start the real training. Try to get some sleep after we eat.”
Chapter Five
They started the next morning with a run.
Tor had been running almost daily for the last few months, and irregularly before that, so at first he didn't think it would really be a problem. He changed his outfit to look like worn exercise browns, like an old and hard used school uniform and some running shoes, ones that had thin leather soles to approximate being bare footed, while giving him some actual protection in case of rocks or thorns. Burks took the lead, but it was his running path so it made sense, but soon the man was far ahead of him as Tor struggled to keep up, gasping for breath.
Burks didn't look back and didn't say anything, but the message from him was clear, Tor needed to toughen the heck up and do better fast. They were just running half of the normal distance today, about ten miles, but as each mile passed the Ancient got further and further ahead. Enough so that Tor realized after a bit that the guy wasn't just showing off, he was just running his regular pace for the distance…
Only he wasn't.
If he'd been really running, Tor would have easily been left far behind, lost in the twists and turns of the unfamiliar landscape. Sucking air harder than he had in a very long time from a practice run, he bore down, trying to keep up. Burks just sped up a little, hanging back just enough to keep the younger man from getting totally lost.
Crap.
Well, Tor considered as they finally stopped, in front of the light brown door of the hill-house, as Brenda called it, yet another reason to send in Burks instead of him. That and apparently he needed to do more running, and to it faster, even if it hurt.
The older man gave him a minute to recover before they started fighting practice, unarmed first. It was… humiliating to say the least. Not only couldn't Tor touch the man, but it was obvious he was moving in slow motion and letting Tor work full speed. After a bit Tor stood back, out of range and asked what he was missing.
Burks threw a punch, almost exactly like the first one Kolb had taught him.
“A full standard blow, it goes out, stops at the point of impact and gets retracted. About as strong as you can be with that motion, hitting in that direction.”
Then he punched again, doing it several times for Tor to see clearly. It was a little different.
“Partial retraction, the hands are held out, closer to the opponent. You have to be more aware of grabs, an arm dangling out is an invitation to take it. The blow is weaker, about eighty-six percent of the power, but the distance is cut in half, at the end you begin to retract at the point of contact, this weakens the blow about another five percent. But the time the action takes is only about forty percent of what a normal punch requires. If it's weaker you have to make a point of targeting sensitive areas.”
When the fist moved back a new blow began instantly.
“Note how I'm not leaving a waiting time before the next movement? That’s crucial. Almost everyone waits and pauses when a blow is withdrawn. It's an energy conservation technique and not a bad one, you find yourself waiting to see if what you did was enough, but it's so ingrained that almost no one ever thinks about it. The more adept the person the less they'll do it, but unless you consciously realize that it exists, it's very hard to get rid of in a personal fighting style, it's simply a part of our nature as humans. The same idea works for empty hand or weapons work, weapons are harder because of the larger inertia, but both take practice.”
Then he started striking at Tor playfully with two limbs at once, each blow skipping from where it would connect around in a partial circle to the next attack at a different place without hesitation. Sometimes a single kick filled a space, normally a very low one, aimed at the shin or knees.
Tor nodded.
“I see! Now I just need a thousand years to learn to coordinate like that and I'll be ready.” He let his voice go bright, but the movements were pure art and done by someone that had truly mastered them. Honestly it felt like a thousand years might be ambitious to tell the truth.
Burks winked.
“You get three days. I suggest you practice. This is a high energy and high endurance way to fight. If I were you I'd go running again and then practice until lunch. In the afternoon I have something else planned. Lunch is at noon here, just like school.”
Clearly dismissed, Tor started running again, as fast as he could, without throwing up. His gut ached and he wanted to complain about over training, except he knew that his endurance and recovery time was a lot better than an average persons. Burks had mentioned that months before. It didn't make him like running any better, but it meant he could push himself and not be hurt by it. Whee, what grand fun. He intended to go Ten miles, like they had earlier, but ended up going further, because he got lost on the winding path. Twice. When he got back to the door he started working against an imaginary target, trying to remember everything he'd been told. It was harder than it looked. Functionally the style didn't have blocking even, which should have made it all easier, the constant attacks making it nearly impossible unless you just happened to have a limb near an incoming blow. Was the barrage supposed to keep the other person off guard or was he just missing something?
Well, he'd get it, or not.
Three days wasn't a long time and he had work to do that evening if he could manage it. The disguise device. It may not make a difference in the end, but what if it was the exact thing they needed to be successful? Being Lazy could get them both killed.
The afternoon session nearly made him laugh at the coincidence at first. It was all about what he'd need to do to look and act Austran. From their plethora of body and face tattoos to piercings and dyed hair for the young. Everyone over ten had something different about them, which worked in his favor, since people tried to do original things to themselves and make a “statement”. No matter what Tor came up with, it would be correct, as long as he didn't go without.
Then the use of makeup and materials was covered, how to change the shape of a face, the color or skin and hair and so on. It was almost exactly what he needed to know in order to make the device he had planned.
It wasn't a coincidence though. Burks just had the same idea he did. Oh, using make-up and props, but the idea was the same. Once you accounted for the fact the Tor was a builder and tried to get almost everything done that way instead of using other means. After they were done Tor grabbed an early dinner of stale bread and sharp cheese, and started working. It would have to be in the old fashioned way, pushing his pattern too far, too fast, at least if he wanted it done before they left.
If it was a problem for the Ancient that he disappeared Tor didn’t know about it, no one said anything. Not that Tor could have heard them if they did. He worked deep, and had the device ready by the next morning, though that meant skipping sleep.
It took time and the days repeated themselves, each a different crash course on Austra and every word shook his idea about what it meant to be human just a little. They were so different. Even the way they looked at other people was bizarre. Burks tried to explain fully, but it was just so hard for him to believe.
“Family means a lot less to them. Here, say with you, if a distant relative showed up and asked you for something, say to take them in, what would you do?” It wasn't a rhetorical question, but the answer was ridiculously obvious.
“Take them in. Obviously.”
“In Austra, if a close relative came and asked the
same thing, they'd be taken in less than half the time. A lot less. People generally wouldn't even think of asking. It costs more to have another person after all, which could require cutting back on personal luxuries.”
That didn't sit well with Tor at all, in fact he couldn't really imagine it as being true. At first it seemed an un-clever joke was being played on him, but Burks remained adamant.
“But,” Tor stammered, flabbergasted. “They're family. You have to help them. It's a rule!”
Burks nodded at the young version of himself slowly.
“Our rule, not theirs.”
That set Tor back for a few minutes. It was their place he was going to, so he had to adapt to them, not the other way around. Not that the plan was for him to run into the city there and do anything. His job was to provide devices and stay with the vehicle, so that they could escape when they needed to. There were tricky bits to it, like making a carriage work under water while leaving him air to breath, but it was doable. That or he'd suffocate and die.
Smiling to himself he got that the idea wasn't impossible, he just had to move air into the craft he was using and make sure it got out at the same speed. If it was done carefully and he didn't go too deep under water it should be fine. Burks agreed and told him not to go below thirty feet, though he didn't mention why exactly. The man was frustrating that way sometimes. It wasn't that he was hiding anything, but rather he just kept assuming that Tor already knew what he was saying for some reason.
“Um, Burks?”
“Yes Tor?”
“What's a robot?”
“It's… never mind, not important to what we’re doing right now.”
That basic conversation became so common that Tor almost stopped asking questions, but that didn't work either, because some of the things were relevant to what they were doing. The morning of the fourth day after their run, in which Tor felt like his lungs were tearing apart and he tasted iron and copper with each breath, deep in the tissue, Burks started beating him up.
At first Tor was tempted to just run away. But that wouldn't work any better than fighting would, maybe less. Tor tried to respond like he'd been practicing at least, which didn't do him a lot of good, but at least let him touch the Ancient a few times.
“Target vital points.” Burks said conversationally while his hands and feet blurred. It wasn't the speed of the movement, but that Tor couldn't track it all, like with the jugglers he'd seen a few months prior. They'd seemed super humanly fast, but the actual movements weren't at all. Grab and release, about once per half second. It was just too much to see. That's what Burks was doing to him and really, what he had to try to do in return.
For a while, nearly twenty seconds, he managed to do all right. True, he was moving at his best speed and Burks was still holding himself to less than half that, but it was something. Right up until he found himself suddenly laying on his back, a low and prickly weed under him, looking at the steel gray clouds above. Tor rolled, but not fast enough. When he hit the dirt, he'd paused. It was more than enough time for Burks to slowly move in and “kill” him.
Sigh. Well, he still had over a week to get better. It would take more work and attention. When he said this to his grandfather it just got a nod. Not happy or sad, not insulting his limited ability and definitely not praise. Just a slow and gentle movement of the head.
After that all they worked on was running and fighting, with weapons and without. Tor even had to learn several kinds of Austran devices just in case he was left unarmed in a pinch. All he'd have to do is disarm a guardsman and take what he had. Easy.
They went on training until the day before they left for the docks in Warden. That was the pick-up location. Of course their entire plan fell apart less than two minutes after the Captain came ashore to pick “Torrance Baker” up.
The Captain was a medium sized man, almost exactly six foot, taller than Tor, but not intimidating to Burks by any means. Without preamble the man held up a black box with a shiny gray screen and pointed it at the older man as he stood waiting to leave.
“Ah! Hello Count Lairdgren. I'm here for your grandson I believe? Is he about by any chance?” The man wasn't being smarmy, but seemed genuine and professional, even having just obviously caught them out like that. It was clear he was military, but that their military was less prone to yelling than the Noram one was. One of their Captains would be hitting someone by now. After a bit of back and forth the Count gestured for him to come out, in order to leave.
It was less than satisfactory all things considered.
The device somehow knew the difference, it could be height, weight, the slight difference in their build or even the difference in their field pattern. Tor was eighteen, Burks three thousand and muckity. It made a difference, even under all the similarities. The Austran device wasn't buying their plan at all.
Stupid Austran science device.
“Oh, here I am.” Tor said dismally, looking at the man with a rueful grin.
“I was hoping you'd take him instead. This whole things is… Well, I'm too young to marry, or be put to death, you know? Figured you might miss the difference.” Every man for himself, that was the Austran way, but had he gotten the idea right? Really, who would sell out their own grandfather like that?
The Captain chuckled.
“Well, that's not my part in this. I just need to get you from here to there. Ready to go then?”
Tor shrugged and grabbed his little bag of toiletries. He could at least die with clean teeth. Burks smiled, then winked at him, as if it was the plan all along or at least what would most likely have happened regardless, which may have been the case. For all Tor knew the gadget the man dressed in the all white uniform complete with white funny hat, was used every day over there. What would have been the point though? Letting him worry less?
Well, if that was the case, Tor appreciated it. At least he'd been able to sleep and keep food down. He gave Burks a nod.
“Well, off to die now Gramps. Tell everyone thanks for nothing. Remember to feed my pet fish for me. It likes ocean food best. If I don’t end up dead, I expect it to be there alive and well when I come looking for it.” The last bit was code, if mentioning the ocean like that could be taken as clever at all. Hopefully Burks got the idea. Take his place and wait in the ocean as Tor was supposed to have done.
He looked surly, or tried to, as he stomped up the slanted wooden board to the door in the side of the boat. It was funny looking and an ugly blue gray, but big. Nearly as big as the one he'd made for the Afrak trip. At the top of the, they weren't really steps he decided… ramp? At the top of that thing, another man came and passed a device over him carefully. Tor figured they'd take all his amulets, even his back-ups, but they didn't. The new man just turned to the other and spoke calmly.
“No weapons detected.” The voice held strong certainty. Tor wondered what to make of it, hoping the man might have been sent by Denno to facilitate things, his heart falling when the Captain redid the whole search.
“Agreed, clean.” The man held out his hand to shake, a country type thing, so Tor automatically returned it. As soon as he did Tor realized that he was probably about to be clapped in irons, but it was just a firm handshake instead, no twisting his arms back or grabbing him.
“Welcome aboard sir. This isn't a luxury craft, but we do have an exercise facility and some light entertainments if you wish to use them. Let me show you to your room. This way please?” The tone and manner was courteous, but the man behind him openly held a weapon. It was one of the kinds he'd practiced with earlier in the week. It sent out jolt of electricity that was carried on a beam of light. It was more complicated than that, but that's how Burks explain it to him. He knew they worked though, having one used on him twice before.
The shield he wore would stop it cold, but no need to give that away yet. For that matter, Tor ignored it as if he didn't know what it was. The less able they thought him the better.
The trip was decently boring,
but at least it wasn't a cage. The room was tiny compared to the other big ships he'd been on, but then, Tor had made those personally, so it probably didn't count. His room was ten by ten, had a bed, a sink and a toilet, next to a writing surface that folded out of the wall. Most of the time he just sat on the deck. On day five he worked out what was going on with the apparent freedom. He wasn't trapped by the water, he was supposed to be held hostage by the murder of thousands of his people if he left.
Ah.
That or the Austrans just hadn't been paying attention. He could fly after all.
The bombs were bowel loosening in theory, huge nuclear devices that used magic to create a vast and poisonous explosion. At first Burks had tried to explain that it wasn't magic, because it didn't use the direct field of a person to created it, just physical action, but the end result was bad regardless and it kicked out magic level effects while it happened, reorganizing space on the fundamental level and ordering information away from the central point. That was really all magic was Tor had argued, reordering base information, with Burks agreeing after a few minutes. It was the first argument with the older man Tor had won. That wasn't saying much, since all the other arguments had been fake, and Tor had thrown them.
In reality the nuclear devices didn't scare Tor too much, because of one single fact. Glost didn't have them. He might think he did, but Denno Brown, the Austran Ancient said otherwise. True he might be lying and the whole thing was a convoluted Tor trap, but if that was the case, why set up a rescue? They could have really just told Tor and even Burks, that they had to come or else, and they wouldn't have had a choice. In the end his one life wasn't worth thousands. That kind of scenario didn't leave him a lot of options.