The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace

by Wilson, T. D.

  Sanchez slowly rose to his feet, slung his towel over his shoulders, and began to weave through the exercise equipment toward the mat and Maya. He was just about to step onto the mat, when Maya’s voice stopped him.

  “Please, Commander, remove your shoes before you step on the mat,” Maya said without opening her eyes.

  “How did you...” Sanchez started, but Maya only smiled. He sat down and removed his shoes, then walked onto the mat toward where Maya was sitting.

  “How were the tacos at lunch today, Commander?” Maya asked calmly.

  Sanchez looked slightly perplexed. He had eaten in his quarters this afternoon, and Maya was not in the mess when he passed through. He sat down on the mat across from Maya. “I’m sorry, but how in the world did you know that?”

  Maya tapped her nose. “Much of who we are is represented in our external expressions. Our voices, how we touch, our walk and even our temperament each tell a story. One of the most powerful is our scent. How we feel, what we eat, where we have been and what we are doing or plan to do are often manifested in our own scent. Physical exertion enhances and promotes it like a beacon in the wilderness,” Maya explained calmly, still with her eyes shut and face serene. “Animals back on Earth use their sense of smell for a variety of their day to day activities, including identifying their own, their enemies and their prey.” Maya raised her hand and slightly tapped the side of her forehead. “It’s all a matter of recognizing subtle differences and storing them in here.”

  “That’s incredible,” Sanchez said shaking his head in disbelief. “So, what else does my scent tell about me?” he asked with a slight grin.

  Maya opened her eyes and leveled them at Sanchez. “It’s a long list, you sure you wish to know?”

  Sanchez stared at her eyes. Their bright blue luminance felt almost heavy, but captivating at the same time. He felt warm, secure, as if they held a completed bond of trust. “Please, I want to know,” he said.

  Maya took a very slow and deep breath. “The basis of a human’s scent is centered in their character. For instance, your strength of character is powerful, as is your desire to win. You are courageous in times of danger, yet fear the unknown. Your courage leads you to face danger, but you often feel unprepared to meet the coming storm,” Maya stated, never taking her eyes off of his. She leaned forward and inspected his face. “You suffered great loss of family in your youth and thus developed a deep desire to prove yourself whenever possible.” Maya moved away from Sanchez and relaxed. “Am I close, Commander?”

  Almost lost in Maya’s explanation, Sanchez blurted out, “Sure.” Maya raised an eyebrow and Sanchez quickly collected himself. “I mean that’s a pretty good assessment.” Sanchez smiled broadly and Maya’s face took on a slightly puzzled look.

  Sanchez slapped his hands on his knees then sprang to his feet. “Speaking of assessments, Lieutenant, I’d like your opinion on my combat technique?”

  “Commander?” Maya asked calmly as she tilted her head slightly to the left.

  “I just went a few rounds with the Marines over there and barely started up a good sweat. I hear you’re pretty good, so I was hoping to gain a few pointers.” He extended her his hand. “That is if you have the time?”

  Maya stared at Sanchez’s hand then hopped to her feet from her cross legged sitting position. “Very well, Commander.” Maya said and assumed a very non aggressive stance. “I will do my best to critique your technique. I will take care not to injure you.” With a curt wave of her left hand, she beckoned him to start. “You may begin when ready.”

  Sanchez backed up a few steps and started to bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Maya, I’m a big guy, no need to hold back, I can take it.” He bounced twice more and ran toward Maya. He thought he would try the same opening move he had used on the Marine nearly ten minutes earlier. He closed on Maya, flared his initial jab then righted himself for a devastating reverse punch at her chest.

  Sanchez extended his right fist toward Maya and waited for the impact. Except Maya wasn’t there. As his arm moved forward, he felt a grip of pure steel on his elbow that jerked him forward. He turned his head to the right to find Maya and felt the contact of her foot with his right heel. The force of the blow forced his leg forward and upward. His left leg followed the right into the air, dropping Sanchez flat on his back, and his breath exploded from his lungs.

  Maya leaned over the Armstrong’s now prone XO from behind his head. “You telegraphed your punch as you cocked your shoulder.” She extended her hand down to him. “Shall we continue?” she asked.

  Sanchez sucked in some air and groaned, “Suuurre.” He took a few more controlled breaths, rolled onto his knees and used her hand to gain his feet. “Telegraphed, huh,” he said and Maya nodded in agreement. “Got it. How about this time you attack me first? Different perspective, perhaps a different result.”

  “Alright, Commander, I—”

  Sanchez interrupted her. “Maya, first of all. When we’re off duty, just drop the formality. Just call me Raf.”

  “Very well, Com...I mean, Raf,” Maya said with an almost evil looking grin. “If you are ready, I will begin.”

  Sanchez backed up a few steps and jostled his shoulders to keep loose. After a quick neck roll, he pointed to Maya to begin.

  Maya wasted no time, and in two quick strides closed the distance and delivered a quick punch toward his face. Sanchez blocked the punch to the side and sensing the opening executed a snap kick toward her exposed ribcage.

  Maya moved with his block in an almost predesigned counter, spun to her right and caught Sanchez’s ankle in her left hand in mid-strike. Sanchez realized his vulnerability and tried to free himself with a tumble kick over his right leg. In a smooth transition, Maya allowed Sanchez to start his roll, but as he committed himself, she delivered an open hand strike to his calf muscle with her free hand before she let go of her grip. The strike sent an explosive sensation of pure fire up Sanchez’s lower leg. He completed the roll and landed in a very off-balance stance with a grimace on his face from the pain, but his back was now toward Maya.

  Sanchez turned around with a quick hop and landed gingerly on his right leg, just in time to catch Maya’s snap kick to his sternum that sent his one hundred and five kilogram frame backward. He landed hard in the center of the mat with a resounding thud.

  Sanchez lay on the mat for a few moments and watched the stars dance across his vision. “I’m going to feel that one tomorrow morning,” he groaned and struggled to sit up. Standing to his right with a look of concern was Maya.

  “Raf. Are you alright?” she asked.

  Sanchez held up his index finger and slowly made it to his feet. He tried to hide the expression of pain on his face, but he knew he couldn’t. “Okay,” he said as the throbbing in his chest subsided. “Let’s try a different way. Something a little less painful.”

  Maya helped him slowly walk to the edge of the mat. “I think I have an idea. My instructors called it constructive sparring. Two students would each perform an attack or defense, and the teachers would critique them at each interval. It was a very effective learning technique and less painful for the students involved. In this case, I want you to attack or defend, and I will tell you—”

  “Why I got my butt kicked?” Sanchez interrupted.

  “More of a critique of your technique and your plan for your next move,” Maya said as she simulated an attack, then a reaction to her opponents counter. “Your technique is good, Raf, but your overconfidence seems to cloud your sense of awareness. Skill can allow for many things, but awareness of an opponent’s next move is crucial in any form of hand-to-hand combat, as it is in ship combat. Correct?”

  Sanchez looked at Maya’s face and found her gaze again. He stared hard and deep into her eyes and the soreness in his leg and chest melted away. He slowly nodded in agreement to
her question then found himself sitting on the mat once again. Realizing where he was, Sanchez lifted his head toward Maya. “Okay. Before we start, I have to know something. I watched your workout earlier and truly, I have never seen anything like it.” Sanchez stood. “Now please don’t take offense, but what the hell are you?”

  Maya smiled. “You are definitely not the first to ask me that question, and I don’t mind answering.” Maya sat down on the edge of the mat, and Sanchez joined her. “My father was a great geneticist, and definitely not a mad man as many of the stories have portrayed him. His wife suffered from Altain’s disease.

  “Altain’s. Not sure I have heard of that one.”

  Sanchez listened intently to her explanation. Altain’s was an extremely rare genetic disorder that affects motor functions, not much different than Parkinson’s, but would hyper-accelerate them. Those afflicted would suffer complete neuro-failure and before Maya’s father’s work began, no cure had been found.

  There were no effective treatments to slow the disease and Julian Greywalker’s wife died before he could find a cure.

  Sanchez shook his head slightly. “So when did you and all the other kids meet Dr. Greywalker. Were you orphans?”

  “Actually, no. We were donated to him for his research.”

  Sanchez moved back a bit, and a scowl started to show on his face, “Donated? Your families gave you to him for research? That’s barbaric!”

  Maya’s voice hardened slightly. “No, Commander, you misunderstand. Altain’s disease was very rare, but there were several families affected by it. Those families looked into Dr. Greywalker’s search for a cure and donated embryos to him for his research. Each one of the embryos was tested and found to contain the unique genetic strains that could produce the condition.”

  Sanchez relaxed. He felt really stupid and self-righteous, but he could tell Maya didn’t seem affected by it. “That’s a big sacrifice. Why couldn’t susceptible children be examined and a cure found that way?”

  Maya placed her elbows on her knees, cupped her hands and rested her chin on them. “My father’s research had determined that the designs for a cure required a core sample group of potentially afflicted embryos that could be genetically modified in the same type of environment that spawned the condition. It took him two years to find a suitable remote laboratory on Mars and enough funding for the equipment required.”

  “So you were grown in incubators?” Sanchez asked.

  Maya nodded. “Yes, but our surroundings in each chamber were made to simulate a mother’s womb. The purpose was to provide a controlled environment for each of the children, so as they developed, it would be close to that of an actual pregnancy.” Maya opened her hands in front of her as she explained the process. “At each trimester, my father would make genetic adjustments to our DNA to combat the genetic defect. Once we were free of our birthing units, my father continued to adjust the genetic modifications until he had achieved a stable condition.”

  “Did he find the cure he was after?”

  “Yes and no,” Maya said softly. “His modifications not only cured the disease, but had a dramatic effect on all of us involved. The genetic binding that was required enhanced the hyper-neuro syndrome and made it a part of who we are, but the side effects were varied. Many experienced increased reaction speed, hyper-agility, increased strength, amplified senses and mental acuity. In each case, the common side effect was the color of our eyes and an enhanced lifespan.”

  “So each of you have those bright blues, huh?”

  Maya smiled. “Yes, all of us share this trait. My father called it a blessing. He said if he ever lost us in a crowd, we would be easy to find. Not that we ever went out.” Maya chuckled at that part and seemed to enjoy remembering that part of her father’s life, but the smile faded. The whole situation was alien to Maya. She kept her feelings, her very being guarded, and only showed her strict professional side. After all this time around other people, including her service time in the EDF, she was still unsure of how the rest of humanity would truly accept her as Maya Greywalker, the genetically altered “daughter” of Dr. Julian Greywalker. For now, Lieutenant Greywalker, Chief Security Officer, was all she presented, and it had allowed her to find a place in society. But she felt Sanchez was different. Her senses and her instincts both told her that he was someone she could trust. It was just enough for Maya to let down her guard and share with someone else how she felt.

  Maya explained to Sanchez the accident that destroyed the lab just before her father was to begin the final stages of his experiments. The explosion and toxic gas that filled the lab took the life of her father and most of her siblings. Only she and two of her brothers managed to survive. Trapped in a sealed room, she watched three of her family run down the hall toward her, but they were overcome nearly twenty feet from the door. She stood helpless as she saw them gasp for breath, their lungs burning. They thrashed in fury to reach the door, but it was too late. Within a matter of seconds, the closest members of her family had fallen to the ground, their blue eyes looking upward, totally lifeless.

  Sanchez was stunned. Maya’s explanation was filled with such pain. He felt like a complete jerk for putting her through the memory, but her face was serene save for a few tears just beginning to form in her eyes. “I’m sorry Maya. I shouldn’t have brought this up. I didn’t know.”

  Maya batted away the tears from her eyes and re-tied her hair, “It’s alright, Commander,” she said with a hint of melancholy. “I have not spoken of this in a long time. It is good to share it. Keeping something like this bottled up for too long often brings up moments of emotional distress. Thank you.”

  Sanchez smiled a big toothy grin at her. “You’re welcome.” He stood and helped Maya to her feet. “Alright sensei, I’ve got about thirty minutes before my next duty cycle,” he said jokingly. “How about we do this constructive butt kicking thing, huh?”

  Maya, the sadness now gone, returned the smile and moved onto the mat. “I’d like that, Raf. Let’s begin.”

  For the next ten minutes, Sanchez went through a series of opening attacks, and each time Maya would execute a defense. As she promised, they stopped after one move, and she showed him different methods to continue the attack or an alternative to his initial assault. The pair switched roles with Maya on the offensive, and Sanchez attempting to counter her. The second series was a little more difficult for Sanchez, as the first few attacks made it through to his rib cage, but Maya took the time to show him what he had done wrong, and how to correct and anticipate the next attack.

  Their sparring concluded with a free flowing series of strikes and blocks from each other. The sequence lasted for a full three minutes and ended with Maya catching Sanchez’s right wrist after a failed punched to left side of her face. Sanchez stopped his attack and looked at her again in amazement. “What’s wrong?”

  Maya shook her head and tapped his forearm. “This arm continues to telegraph your high strikes. Step through it again.”

  Sanchez repeated the punch and held it still at the final apex. He moved his eyes to watch Maya as she moved around him for a better vantage point.

  “It’s your elbow,” Maya explained as she held his left arm up in comparison to his right. “Each time it is raised above your chest it moves differently than your left. Probably a side effect of that broken arm you suffered in that bike accident when you were twelve.”

  Sanchez’s face took on a look of disbelief and dropped his arms. “My what? How the hell did you know that?”

  “It’s in your file, Commander,” Maya said flatly.

  “Whoa. Just wait a damn minute. You read my file?” Sanchez said hotly.

  “As the ship’s Chief Security Officer, I am required by regulation to review each personnel file of the Command staff, and any other member of the crew I feel requires evaluation.”

  “So how m
any have you read?”

  “All of them, Commander,” Maya said very calmly as she watched Sanchez’s reaction to the news.

  Sanchez’s jaw dropped. “You’ve read the file for each member of the crew? You’ve been here what, four days? You must be joking.”

  “In contrast to what many people think about my father’s children, we are not automatons. I understand humor in all its forms, and I am most definitely not joking.” Maya walked to the end of the mat and grabbed her towel. “I promised the captain a full security assessment of the crew and Command staff aboard this vessel. That assessment began when I first stepped on board. I have reviewed each of the standard personnel files, and I have already begun to observe many of the crew to formulate a social security environment. And since my duty has infringed onto your fragile sense of privacy, I think this conversation is over.”

  Maya turned to leave, but Sanchez ran over to her. “Wait. Please, I’m sorry. I overacted, and I let my ego get in the way.” Maya stopped, slowly turned around and regarded him again with those bright blue eyes. “You’re right, you had every right to review my records, and I shouldn’t have taken offense to that.”

  Maya continued to stare at him. Sanchez began to feel a bit unnerved, but he broke the tension with another question. “So that whole scent thing, was that real or did you get some of that from my file?”

  “I gave you my honest assessment, nothing more.”

  “Good,” he replied with another coy smile. “Well then, if you permit me, I would like to make this up to you.”

  Maya raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips, clearly in anticipation. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Popcorn.”

  “What does popcorn have to do with this?”