Blade Dancer

by S. L. Viehl

  We had been directed to take one of the restricted corridors to a lift, which rose silently into the upper

  level. When the door panels parted, we found out why the students called the area used for the final

  phase of training “the bubble.”

  Third level was enclosed by an enormous, transparent dome.

  Within the curving, transparent walls, individual and group training rooms had been built and stacked to

  provide each with a view of the sprawling arena below, and the icy, lifeless surface of Reytalon beyond

  the dome. Yet it wasn’t sight of the outside world that silenced us.

  A small army could have comfortably sparred within the enormous center quad. And a large army of

  color-banded trainees already milled around the base of its platform.

  “So many,” Galena said on a released breath.

  Kol studied the four-cornered platform. “They must practice in groups, or confront multiple opponents.”

  Above us, clusters of trainees began moving in and out of the session rooms, some descending from

  higher tiers on open lifts, others pacing the red-lined floors to watch what was happening below them.

  We seemed to be drawing the most attention, from the number of stares directed at us.

  “Uel has made arrangements for us to have our own space, after the regular sessions.” Kol inspected a

  trio of green bands murmuring as we passed. “No one is to be alone. From this point on, we stay

  together, or in pairs.”

  “Did you notice?” Nalek swept a hand from side to side. “There are no reds here but us.”

  “You are the first red bands to be advanced to the third level.” Dursano appeared in front of us, and

  gestured to a large room on the west side of the quad. “Follow me.”

  We weren’t given a tour this time, but a briefing. The third and final stage of training included similar

  classes to the ones we’d taken before, but this time we would battle other students rather than forms,

  drones, and laser targets.

  “We go totally live, then.” I looked through the viewer at the quad. “No more safeties.”

  Uel turned his shrouded face toward me. “You may still leave Reytalon, if you wish. We will provide

  transport to Joren for the seven of you.”

  “No.” That came from Galena, surprisingly enough. “We stay.”

  We were dismissed to begin our new targeting class, but I lagged behind for a moment. “Blade Master,

  may I have a private word with you?” He inclined his head, and I glanced at Renor, who was playing my

  shadow. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  When we were alone, I gestured to his obek-la. “Do you ever take that off?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” So it was talk to the mask. “I met a blade dancer on my way to Joren. He owns the Rilken gun

  runner Chraeser.”

  The Blade Master walked over to the console and cleared the viddisplay. “I know of him.”

  “He was the one who told me about Reytalon.” I paced, trying to choose words that would get me what I

  needed without offending Uel. “I need to find a human named Kieran. He was born on Terra but he spent

  most of his life out here, in space. The dancer said you knew him.”

  Uel kept his back to me and said nothing.

  “I really have to find him.” I didn’t like asking for help, but I didn’t like the idea of chasing a raider around

  the galaxy for the rest of my life, either. “When I graduate, will you help me locate him?”

  The Blade Master turned around, and although I couldn’t see his face I sensed he was completely

  focused on me. “Why do you wish to find this raider, Sajora?”

  “He’ll be my first professional kill.” Uel didn’t respond to that. “Do you know him? Will you help me?”

  “I admire your goal, but I cannot assist you.” He went to the door panel.

  “Just tell me where he is.”

  He left without replying.

  Renor escorted me to targeting class, where he was temporarily assigned as my sparring partner. The

  trainer told us we would be moved around until we ended up partnered with whoever best matched our

  abilities. I noticed Kol had been matched against Danea, and although they fought with lethal

  concentration, she couldn’t keep up with his speed, and he kept pulling his thrusts back at the last

  moment.

  “You are not concentrating,” Ren said after I missed him for the third time. “You leave too many openings

  in your guard, like so.” His blade flashed as he thrust it toward my midsection.

  What happened then was a revelation.

  Without thinking, I shifted my weight to my back leg and slid my lead foot back, curving my body to the

  side to create an empty space without retreating. At the same time, I used a reverse cut with my left-hand

  blade and hooked him by the wrist, slipping under his guard. With my right elbow, I caught the inside of

  his left arm and forced it out, carrying through until my right blade stopped an inch above his implant.

  All of that took about two and a half seconds. Pure reaction without thought—what all the second-level

  trainers had been harping about—was a lot like running for the zone, I realized. It was possible to fight

  without thinking about it.

  I let my gaze drift, and saw the Blade Master watching us. What’s he doing here?

  Ren sighed, but remained locked in position with me. “That was interesting.”

  “I could have killed you,” I said, feeling a little belated guilt.

  “I know.” Finally his cheek glittered. “Do it again.”

  The trainer, a wide-bodied alien who left his ruddy-skinned head uncovered, appeared beside us. “A

  lateral inside response to the female’s move may have saved your glassy hide. And you.” He gave me the

  once-over. “You have found the blade in yourself, and yourself in the blade, have you not?”

  It described what I felt better than I could have, so I nodded.

  “You will be paired with another.” He gestured for us to move apart, then pointed to Kol and Danea.

  “Trade partners—yellow hair, oppose the crystal one.”

  We switched, and for the first time I became acutely aware of one fact—besides the one time on Joren,

  Kol and I had never really sparred with each other. Not with blades.

  The trainer made it worse by instructing us to assume position on the exhibition platform, at the front of

  the class. “You may demonstrate the various lateral closes for these others. Outside and inside, in

  osu-tån.”

  I walked up to the platform and faced my ClanBrother. “I spoke to Uel about Kieran,” I told him in a low

  voice.

  “A target attacks you,” the trainer said. “Your response is first outside lateral form, avoid, control, hold.

  Execute.”

  At the command, Kol stepped forward and thrust his blade toward my rib cage. “What did he say?” he

  murmured.

  I stepped out to the left, just enough to let his blade pass by me so I could clamp his forearm between

  mine and my body. “He knows him, but he won’t help me.”

  Kol countered my pin by bringing his left blade up toward my throat. “It is possible they are comrades.”

  “Maybe.” I lifted my chin up and back while I parried with my right blade, forcing his left hand away from

  my face. “The moment I said Kieran, I had his full attention.”

  The trainer stepped onto the platform. “Stop. Resume attack position.”

  We lowered our blades and stepped away from each other.

  “The instinctive reaction to the pin and bl
ocked hook will be to step back,” the trainer said. “Respond to

  the retreat with an immediate attack, and you complete the kill.”

  “But neither of them retreated,” someone said. “If the target responds as they do, there is no space, and

  no opportunity to strike.”

  “An excellent point—yet one must yield, even if it is only to exhaustion.” The trainer turned to us. “You

  will spar on exhibit until one of you retreats.”

  As soon as he left the platform, we stepped forward and went at it again. Like me, Kol tried to stay as

  close as possible, eliminating any distance for maneuvering. We fought for control of each other’s blades,

  gaining it one moment only to lose it the next. We went through all of the lateral outside forms, then the

  inside techniques, until it became apparent neither of us would yield to the other.

  I knew I’d be the one to lose. Kol was much bigger and stronger, and the sheer physical stress of

  enduring each impact while countering his moves was starting to wear me down. Still, I didn’t want to

  lose to him, to be the one the trainer pointed to as the failure. Not in front of the Blade Master, who was

  still watching us.

  No, I thought, recalling other times I’d caught glimpses of him watching, when Kol hadn’t been present.

  He’s watching me.

  That realization seemed to push me through fatigue into the same strange, detached place I discovered

  sparring with Ren.

  Having watched him fight all these weeks let me anticipate most of Kol’s moves. He had an aggressive,

  devious personal style that depended as much on strength behind the blade as the element of surprise in

  front of it. He seemed to be reading my mind, too, for he answered my moves with uncanny speed.

  Time dwindled and disappeared as we danced, always close, our blades moving in perfect

  synchronization. We were breathless and covered with sweat when the trainer finally called a halt to the

  match.

  “This will continue tomorrow. You are dismissed for meal interval.”

  I frowned as I sheathed my blades—it felt as if we’d just gotten started—and then I saw the wall panel

  and blinked.

  Either someone had advanced the chronometer, or Kol and I had been sparring for two hours.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “NO PATHS CROSS WITHOUT PURPOSE.”

  —Tarek Varena, ClanJoren

  Everyone remained noticeably quiet as we sat down to eat our flavorless meal. Kol seemed preoccupied

  by his thoughts, but the rest of the clan kept sneaking suspicious looks at both of us and each other.

  “Something wrong?” I finally asked. “Other than the food, I mean?”

  “That exhibition match,” Nalek said. “The way you and Kol sparred—I have never seen the like.”

  “Yeah, so?” I finished my stew and grabbed what resembled an apple from the fresh cart. “It’s not like

  we rehearsed it.”

  Osrea made a rude sound. “There was nothing natural about it. No one fights that way, not against each

  other.”

  “Kol would have prevailed,” Danea said.

  “Maybe.” I took a bite of the near-apple and instantly spit it out. It tasted more like a persimmon crossed

  with a lemon. “Maybe not.”

  Renor wiped his glittering face, which turned his napkin into a handful of shreds. “You moved without

  warning, and yet you each knew each other’s tactics.”

  Galena’s iridescent eyes moved from my face to Kol’s. “Perhaps they can read each other’s thoughts.”

  “Psychic fighting. Right.” I laughed. “Look, we’ve just watched each other spar long enough to know how

  we’re going to move. We’ve paid attention; that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  “There is an alternative explanation, but…” Nalek made an embarrassed gesture.

  “No.” Kol abruptly emerged from his reverie and joined the conversation. “It is as Sajora says. We have

  grown familiar with each other’s fighting style.”

  Everyone went back to eating without another word.

  When we left to return to our next session, I fell in beside Kol, who was lagging behind the others. “Mind

  telling me what that was all about?”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  Again with the Jorenian attitude. “Don’t play stupid alien with me; I know better. Nalek’s other

  explanation—what, exactly, was he talking about?”

  Kol made a gesture that joined both hands briefly. “He suggests we share a warrior’s bond.”

  We passed through the door panel for stealth training and found ourselves stepping onto an icy,

  windswept plateau, remarkably similar to Reytalon’s surface conditions. Only this world had a giant sun

  that veiled everything with blazing blue light.

  “Welcome to Akkabarr.” A trainer tossed us a couple of white fur parkas and trousers lined with soft,

  dense wool. “Don these garments and assume positions behind the drift ridges on the north side of the

  simulation.”

  “What’s our objective?” I asked. “Besides turning into big icicles?”

  “Kill the enemy and stay alive.” The trainer walked off.

  As we put on the cold weather gear, I shivered and squinted at Kol through the whirling snow. “Tell me

  about this warrior’s bond thing.”

  “A Choice made during battle, formed without conscious intent. We are not at war.” He jerked the front

  of his parka closed. “Even at such times, it happens but rarely.”

  “I see.” No, I didn’t, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. I’d have to corner Nalek and get

  another battle/love lesson later. I noticed some robed forms materializing to the south of us. “Looks like

  the trainer’s getting ready to initiate the sim.”

  “Hurry.” He gave me a push, and we ran toward the high banks of snow.

  Flying crystals, as fine as diamond grit, nearly blinded me as we raced against the cutting wind to take up

  our positions. Everyone was huddled together on the blue ice behind the drifts, cringing from the

  snow-laden gusts and glaring light.

  “Adjust your footgear straps, and be cautious with your blade grips,” Kol said. “Blister fluid freezes in

  these temperatures.”

  “What about frostbite?” I said through chattering teeth.

  “You only feel pain after it thaws.”

  As we watched the advancing rows of simulated Akkabarran warriors, our parkas froze on our bodies,

  making them into stiff, icy boxes that hindered movement. I lost all sense of smell, and could almost feel

  my heart slow as it struggled to pump blood to my freezing extremities. If we didn’t get moving, in a few

  minutes we’d all be dropping with acute hypothermia.

  I glanced up and saw a recessed space in the snow. A window of some kind—and the Blade Master

  stood on the other side of it, looking down at me.

  What the hell does he want?

  The other students began retreating to steeper slopes, trying to scale the icy ramparts to evade the

  Akkabarrans. Several were shot on the way and fell to the ice, stunned and writhing.

  “We get stabbed and shot?” I muttered. “This is new.”

  “There is no escape. We must go out on the pack ice,” Kol said, reading my mind. “Use ground cover

  until we can flank them from the east and west.”

  “What ground cover?” I took a peek at the enemy, who were only a few hundred meters away. They

  were armed with pulse rifles and curved spears. “They’re going to spot us the minute we step
out into the

  open.”

  “They will not, if we do this.” Nalek took off his parka, turning it inside out. Unlike the weather-repellent

  white exterior fur, the warm blue lining blended with the snow.

  Osrea grimaced as he did the same. “We shall freeze before we’re hit.”

  A light went on inside my head. “If we kill all the sims, the trainer has to end the session. It’s not just

  surviving the cold; it’s timing the attack. We wait too long, they’ll split up and take longer to eliminate.”

  “I agree; we must be swift.” Kol split us into two groups, with Renor, Galena, and I taking the west flank.

  “Do not allow them past you, but drive them toward the center. We will meet there. Keep your faces

  down and your voices low. Use gestures when possible.”