Star Force: Origin Series Box Set (29-32)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  9th.

  And what, a minute ahead of the World Record? Nice work.

  Paul didn’t respond, but did see that Mathis-831 was the person on the other end of the telepathic connection as he and a group of four others rounded the turn onto the straightaway in 1x2x2 formation as they chased a much slower moving pacing sphere. His comment about the World Record was a joke, given that it was officially 12:14.83. Star Force personnel had been banned from record setting privileges and professional competition because they wouldn’t comply with anti-doping regulations that had grown to the point where the sports acted as if they owned the athletes…requiring daily testing along with a controlled travel schedule, all in the name of ‘fair play.’

  That wasn’t going to fly with the Archons at all, let alone the rest of Star Force. While the corporation had grown to immense size and scope, there were still detractors trying to stick it to them relentlessly and sports had been a familiar avenue of attack. Many of the nutritional enhancements that Star Force used had been labeled as ‘performance enhancing drugs’ and therefore banned, not including the ambrosia, which no one could get their hands on to analyze anyway, though they’d tried by bullying non-Archon Star Force personnel into blood tests to try and see what it was that they were ingesting.

  The few times they’d succeeded and caught some of the weaker minded individuals off guard at casual competitions had resulted in Blue Team raids to recover the samples, after which Star Force instituted a ‘no testing’ policy that flew directly in the face of the various sports organizations and tournaments, including the Olympics and System Games.

  Paul found it laughable how a bunch of administrative know-nothings sitting on some panel thought they got to decide what substances were ‘fair’ and what were ‘cheating.’ After all, calling something ‘performance enhancing’ was akin to saying ‘duh’ as far as sports were concerned. Enhancing your performance was the point of training, so if there was some supplement you were taking to give your body a boost, how in the galaxy was that cheating?

  Cheating was cutting the course or interfering with an opponent, not eating certain foods and boosting levels of chemicals that your body already produced. The drug nazis had existed all the way back when Paul was in high school and unfortunately had only gotten worse, with the officials jerking the athletes’ chains around, telling them what was and wasn’t acceptable to the point of stupidity.

  During high school Paul had looked up the definition of ‘drug’ in the dictionary after reading the list of substances that were not permitted in Indiana high school sports, and he was galled to find that it was a joke of a definition.

  Drug: A substance that has a physiological effect when ingested or otherwise introduced into the body.

  He immediately pointed out the hypocrisy to his coach, saying that included everything, including food, water, and even oxygen. His coach disagreed and gave him a speech full of nonsense, supporting the ban on performance enhancing drugs, with the only bit of coherency in it all being the idea of protecting the athletes from overdoses that could kill them.

  Paul had followed the rules back then, not wanting to lose his eligibility for competition, but looking back it was painfully obvious that the nonsense definition of a ‘drug’ was simply something the people in control used to exert their influence whenever and wherever they wanted. Gatorade, as Paul had also pointed out to his coach, was a substance ingested with the specific purpose of enhancing your performance…but no, that wasn’t deemed a ‘drug’ despite it fitting the ridiculous definition.

  Fortunately, within Star Force they had learned enough about biology to rid themselves of such nonsense. The Knights in particular had been instrumental in that, considering that their size and physiological enhancements were due specifically to a cocktail of V’kit’no’sat drugs that Vermaire had pushed Davis to let him use. Davis, as he’d told Paul at a later date, had been reluctant to do so, but eventually permitted one, then another, and another as the Black Knight successfully showed that they were not only safe, but remarkably beneficial.

  After that Star Force’s policy on ‘drugs’ disappeared, as did the term in their dictionary, though it still stuck in the living language. Medical staff used more specific terms, like supplement, additive, chemical, etc while some of the backwards populations on Earth and elsewhere still clung to the nonsense of ‘performance enhancing drugs,’ acting as if they were magic pills that gave you superpowers and thus an unfair advantage.

  Knowing something about superpowers, Paul was continually disgusted with occasional news reports coming from the Pro Track circuit on Earth. In truth it had become a bastion of defiance against Star Force, despite the laughable performances, with supporters making it financially viable despite the fact that Star Force’s colonies had a much larger circuit that held superior competition…as well as older individuals. The Earth track circuit, along with many other sports, had instituted a 50 year age limit to competition, deeming that if you were viable after that point it could only be the result of illegal enhancements.

  Stupidity, Paul had learned over the centuries, was something you could never completely stamp out. It grew like weeds, and some people, no matter how much you taught them, were always going to be dumber than a box of rocks…and for some reason they liked it that way, which was the real problem.

  Star Force had taught the populace so many things that there had been a substantial shift in culture back in the 2100s, with a divide forming between those who held to tradition for tradition’s sake and those who wanted to learn and improve. That rift was still present, but barely a shadow of its former self as new generations were born into a ‘world’ where 200 year old individuals were common and a host of other new things were present in society to combat the stupid traditions. Children grew up processing the reality of the world around them despite the competing influence of traditions…all the while the stupid adults eventually died out.

  There was still a sliver that tried to isolate themselves from reality in order to preserve their traditions, and unfortunately Earth’s sports federations had fallen into that category, claiming to be the only bastions of ‘clean’ competition and preaching to those who wanted to find an axe to grind against Star Force.

  As such, they’d become sort of a philosophical enemy of the Archons who, if they chose, could have wiped the floor in every sports competition in existence with little effort…and there were many ‘regulars’ within Star Force’s ranks who could do the same, not to mention colonists who’d achieved self-sufficiency and grown to impressive skill levels, of which many competed in Star Force’s sports leagues and tournaments.

  On occasion an Archon would step out of a sanctum and into one of the competitions, just to give the public an idea of what they were capable of or to give the dominant players a greater challenge. Most of them relished the challenge of getting to face an Archon, and the viewer numbers for those competitions skyrocketed, far higher than the Olympics or System Games had ever managed.

  Paul had only done so twice, both times of which had been running, and like today he hadn’t prepped as he once had back in high school, which normally would have required at least 1 easy or rest day before competition. Archons didn’t take easy days, for they didn’t want to lose their streak of workouts, so Paul’s drops into the public competitions had always carried with them a level of fatigue, as had this 5k attempt. He knew he could go faster rested, but that wasn’t the point…improving was, and the quickest way to improve was to keep the workouts flowing.

  He didn’t usually go for a personal record in his runs, so today was a bit of a special challenge. Getting under 11:00 had been his goal, and it was a full 18 second improvement over his previous best. It also pushed his prerequisite score for that piece of his overall level up to ranger 94, but then again he’d always been stronger in running than other areas, and it was the overall completion that tallied their ranks.

  Paul walked off the track to clear room for the o
thers and deactivated his time from the display, clearing the space as the others reset to more favorable positions so the active runners could note their progress if they wanted. He got a few other congratulations on his way over to the edge, then he stopped to rest a bit as his legs were thoroughly complaining. That he welcomed, because it would give him another chance to train his Sesspik skill with a long nap, after which he’d head back out for an afternoon training session.

  So it was with a happy discomfort that Paul eventually left the track and walked over to the small cafeteria/kitchen in the sanctum and helped himself to a stack of wafers and cookies laden with the ‘performance enhancing drug’ the Archons were infamous for using.

  Paul considered that as he ate, recognizing the stupidity of it once again after that remark about beating the World Record. Truth be told, using supplements and chemicals in training was more troublesome than helpful, because the body operated with a delicately controlled internal balance. Injecting additional testosterone, Human growth hormone, or any of the other substances your body already produced would cause an imbalance. Most people, back in the day, had assumed that imbalance would boost your body’s performance…but what it really did was unbalance you, and while you might gain an advantage in one area you’d lose in others, not to mention the advantage gained was usually unstable.

  Paul had eventually learned from his own training and discussions with the other Archons, as well as reading the research logs of Wilson and other trainers, that proper supplementation required giving your body what it needed and letting it choose the dosage levels, rather than having some doctor guess as to the proper amounts. If you needed more testosterone, your body would produce more, so give your body the building blocks for the testosterone and let the body build what it needed, in the precise amount, rather than trying to do so ‘manually.’

  The ambrosia Paul was busily eating was just that…building blocks for the body to use. The ambrosia itself was fuel, highly compact and refined fuel that the body would happily deconstruct and put to use in other compounds and chemicals it would manufacture internally. Nearly all of Star Force’s supplements, Archon and civilian alike, were based on fuel rather than chemicals, with a few small exceptions, like caffeine. Those supplements would enhance training, and from enhanced training you would gain enhanced ‘performance,’ but if you went with a largely chemical route you’d unbalance yourself to varying degrees, which in the long run would actually cause a decline in performance.

  Which was why banning ‘drugs’ was pointless. If they hurt your body’s balance, and therefore caused negative effects, they were a disadvantage…and if in the rare case that didn’t occur, good for you. Improving was the whole point, and if the ‘drugs’ really were helping you to do that then have at it, the faster and stronger a person gets, the better. But what people didn’t see, or maybe they didn’t want to see, was that without proper training, no amount of ‘drugs’ was going to make you fast or strong. All the ‘cheats’ out there were still training their asses off, and that’s what caused them to improve temporarily…before the imbalance caught up with them and they began to decline.

  Greg had pointed that out to the Earth sports federations a century ago at their request, and Paul had been impressed with how eloquently he’d laid out the obvious for them. They hadn’t thought the Archons would respond when invited, and had been somewhat dumbfounded when not only had one come, but a trailblazer at that. Still, despite the fact that billions of people had heard that speech, there was a percentage of them that still refused to accept the fact that ‘drugs’ were a myth, and that if you used chemical enhancement there was nothing wrong with that, so long as you didn’t screw with your internal balance, which was almost impossible to do, meaning the ‘dopers’ were essentially cutting their own throats and killing their longevity.

  Greg had also pointed out that such foolish attempts yielded competitive results because Earth’s sports federations had such weak competition. He wisely, and boldly, pointed out that, had the few ‘dopers’ that had been caught in the Earth federations been competing in the Star Force leagues they wouldn’t have been able to win anything, because those who had achieved self-sufficiency and trained themselves up to a high level over the decades were beyond their reach. Doping yourself up with chemicals couldn’t compete with years of training and improvement, so if you had a strong field of competition you wouldn’t have ‘dopers’ succeeding in the first place.

  The sports summit he’d been invited to had taken a turn downhill after that speech, which Paul found hilarious. Half of the people present or viewing started to voice their doubts in the ‘traditional’ model of drug regulations after that and the traditionalists nearly had a heart attack dealing with the aftermath…of which saw many of the athletes in the Earth federations switch competitive leagues and come over to the Star Force side, taking their fans with them.

  As Paul started to feel the ambrosia working its way into his legs and a bit of energy returning he finished off what he guessed would be the appropriate amount of doses, knowing that his body would suck what it needed out of his bloodstream and leave the rest there to sit…and give him a headache if he took too much, but it wouldn’t affect his chemical balance, given that it was fuel, not chemicals that he was ingesting.

  He took a moment to reflect on the past few years of psionics development within Star Force, realizing that the desire for chemical enhancement hadn’t really manifested along with these new abilities. That was surprising, really, because the medtechs were always looking for some advantage outside of pure training to offer, and with the brain being thrown into play he’d have guessed they’d come up with…or rather found in the database…many different chemicals that could affect the new tissue growths and how they interacted with the rest of the body.

  But rather than suggest the use of injections, the medtechs had simply identified the chemicals that could have an effect on the psionics as a sort of ‘heads up’ to the Archons so that they would be aware of what could happen. That, as far as Paul was concerned, was proof that even their own egg heads had finally accepted the importance of training and letting the body make its own upgrades, rather than manually attempting to do so with chemical or physical augmentations…though the V’kit’no’sat had become skilled in doing just that and Star Force medtechs had always been trying to rise to their level, distant as it was.

  “Training rules,” Paul said to the empty room as he snagged a couple of carb-heavy chewy sticks and headed in the direction of his quarters. Impressive as the ambrosia was, it still couldn’t replace food, and that short, but intense run had left him rather hungry.

  He finished the forearm-length foodstuffs before he got back, then grabbed a quick shower before settling down on top of his bed in a static pose and trying to kick himself into a healing trance before he nodded off to sleep…getting all of 15 seconds into his rest before his earpiece chirped from the nearby table.

  “Uh,” he said, deciding to get it given that he wasn’t that far into the trance. Had it come a minute later he would have just ignored it.

  “Yes,” he answered after slipping it on.

  “Did you just run a sub 11:00?” a female voice asked.

  Paul didn’t recognize it at first, so he touched a small button on the earpiece and a hologram appeared in front of his left eye with the ID of the caller…Jillian-402.

  “Surprised?” Paul asked, walking back over to the bed and laying down, starting the Sesspik cycle in his legs.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be,” she rebuked herself. “How tired are you?”

  “What’s up?”

  “You up for another dunk in the fish tank later?”

  “How much later…I’m about to start on a nap.”

  “Three hours.”

  Paul blinked his eyes, already starting to feel sleepy. That 5k had taken more out of him than even his dead legs had attested. “I can do that if it’s a quick match. I need to get a pretty long train
ing session in this afternoon.”

  “After that run?”

  “Yes,” he said as if it should have been a no brainer.

  “Well, we’re going to be there a while, but it’d help if we could add you to the mix for at least a couple head to heads.”

  “A couple it is, minimum,” Paul promised his fellow Saber.

  “Thanks. The Ninja Monkeys have gotten a bit cocky since Eran got here, and we need to give them a good smackdown.”

  “I’m in…so long as I get the red one.”

  “I’ll get there early and save it for you, Speedy,” she said, referring to a particular submersible…the underwater counterpart to the mongoose. “Sleep well.”

  “Night,” Paul answered sarcastically, switching off his earpiece so that any incoming calls wouldn’t chirp, then he set his mind into Sesspik mode and got his whole body healing at an accelerated rate, eating into his post-run micro-damage while drawing on the food and ambrosia in his stomach. Best of both worlds.

  He let himself drift off, never fully going to sleep as he held the trance, and held it for the better part of an hour before his concentration slipped and he finally nodded off for a good twenty minute powernap.

  10

  June 29, 2412

  Solar System

  Earth

  The 97th thud shot out from the wall of the chamber from Paul’s left side, visible immediately in his spherical sight, but slowing it before it hit his seated form was difficult. His total ‘pushing’ power was still limited, and his energy reserves were nearing depletion, but he managed to slow and then stop the soft projectile before it could smack into the side of his head.

  It came within four inches, then moved back off a ways in Paul’s telekinetic grip before being released and rolling off to the edge of the chamber.

  “Three to go…hold it together,” Paul told himself, watching in mind’s eye for the next thud, which was expected sometime within 6-12 seconds. That amount of time wasn’t enough for his mental power reserves to recharge…not even close, but it did give him a moment to refocus between each projectile, making this test about power and endurance, not reaction speed.