One by one and two by two the guests had finally gotten up and gone back to their barracks. The warden had gone to bed. The dishes had been cleared and washed, and everything put back in order. Finally, Hasmau was thoroughly reprimanded for his lack of attention during the party.
Now, Jacob, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, stepped into a karate stance. It was the first time in more than three years. He remembered the thrill of the match, and he knew he was good at it. His instructor had told him so. He turned slightly sideways and quickly kicked his leg out and back performing a sidekick. He jumped and turned counterclockwise in the air with his foot kicking out and back before he hit the ground, performing the roundhouse.
He loved the sport of karate in spite of the fact that throughout most of the Galaxy situ had taken over where karate left off, making it almost obsolete. On Jacob's home planet, Altos, situ was the hand-to-hand combat of choice, but karate was still practiced. There were karate clubs here and there. There were a few tournaments. There were even championship matches with the winner being highly acclaimed and looked up to.
At the age of seven he became excited when he and his friends were talking about it in school. He started hanging out with a neighbor two doors down—an older man, Saul, who had once been a karate champion. Saul took him under his tutelage and taught him everything he knew. By the time Jacob was thirteen Saul told him he had the fastest movements and kicks he had ever seen.
Still standing in front of the mirror Jacob's left thigh raised parallel to the ground. His foot shot out and snapped back performing the front kick. He was just as fast with either foot. He thought back and remembered his father, Jonah, chastising him when he found out Jacob had become involved in the sport. "Why can't you be like your older brother, Edward," he would say. "Now there's a boy who's going to make something of himself. There's a boy who's going to follow in family tradition and be great at it."
And his brother Edward was worse than his father. "What are you? A stupid namsey pansey. You wanna be a sissy. You'll be a dead sissy when a situ man breaks you over his knee. And then your master will be dead too. And you will have disgraced our family name."
Jacob couldn't understand why everything had to be exactly as tradition dictated. Just because his grandfather used situ—did he have to do the same? His father thought so.
Jacob had come from a long line of menservants—as far back as the family tree extended, for at least a hundred generations. And it was his father’s wish,—no, not a wish, a demand that his two sons follow in the family tradition.
And so he would, but was he going to quit karate? No. After several confrontations with his father, Jacob started sneaking to practice and tournaments. He would use every spare moment of his time at school doing his homework, and after school sneak off to his karate classes. Later, he would tell his parents he was at the library doing his homework.
By the time he was eighteen he was considered one of the best in his hometown, population of two million, but he never participated in any championship matches because of the chance his father might find out.
Jacob looked into the mirror and did a few more kicks and then several mock punches and a judo throw. I've still got it, he thought as he watched his moves in reflected harmony.
He remembered when his father found out he was still participating karate. He was a senior in college studying to follow in his father's footsteps as a manservant. He was taking a karate class, which, of course, he told no one. But his father came to school one day to tell him of a position opening up for a manservant at a very wealthy estate. He could still see the shock on his father's face when he walked through the door and saw his son in a karate stance—ready to match with an opponent.
They got into it right then, yelling and screaming at each other. It appeared to the spectators that they soon might be watching a real karate match. But the two of them finally stopped yelling and just glared at each other—father and son in a heated dispute.
The conflict was never resolved and that was the last time he had ever spoken to his father. After graduation he decided to go off planet to get as far away from his problems as possible, which meant he had to get away from his father’s chastisement and his degrading comments on his ability to be a superior manservant. He knew he was running away, and later he found out that there is truth in the statement that you can never run away from your problems. There will always be new ones. You have to learn how to deal with them. You have to learn that happiness is a state of mind and that you can have it when ever you want it. You will always have problems. But you need to confront them. Resolve them if you can. Keep yourself in a good state of mind. And keep on kicking.
Now he was sorry he hadn't made up with his father and taken that job. Many were the times when he thought he could have said, "Look father, I have learned Situ even as you asked. Karate is just an extracurricular activity which may help me if ever I need to defend my master."
They could have made up and surely his father could have gotten him this greatly sought after and prestigious job, which would have enhanced the family reputation. But no, he had to go running away, slinking off into space, to some obscure little planet by the name of Ar, simply because he was angry with his father and not man enough nor wise enough to stand up to this small problem, this small bump in the road of life.
Instead, when he came across the ad that the warden had run looking for a manservant, Jacob immediately put in an application, and ironically enough, since there were many applicants, it was his experience in karate that got him the job. He was the only one who put 'Will travel. Trained in hat, cane, phasor, karate, and situ' on his applications and for some reason it greatly pleased the warden. (Now he knew why. The warden was continually afraid for his life.)
He never thought he would be serving a man, actually a slob, whom he detested as much as this one. Fortunately, he had less than one galactic year left on his contract and then he was going to go home and apologize. He missed his mother, father, and brother.
But until then he would do the best job he could, and he knew that meant protecting the warden's life, even dying for him if he had to.
Chapter Forty-seven
The Aeolian Master Book One Revival Page 66