by C H Gideon
Maddox raised his hands in amusement. “It might be best if we trained them for the stresses and impacts of combat first,” the general suggested to Ka'nak.
The fighter nodded, but he wasn’t quite ready to give up on the lesson.
He had been tossed into the pits at an early age and had learned to fight under the cruelest of teachers: life itself.
His survival had come at a cost, and Ka’nak felt the Telluride needed some of that fear and adrenaline to draw them out of the servitor stupor that had been all they’d ever known.
You could not make warriors out of comfortable people. They needed to hunger and feel the blood screaming through their veins, their hearts pumping, or they would never rise above themselves.
Sure, practice was a necessary evil in combat. You fought the way you trained, he remembered hearing his old pit master advise him.
And it was true.
Fighting was as much reacting as it was programming; a warrior studying a move until it becomes instinctive and part of a greater whole. Once that move was ingrained, the warrior could manipulate its motions in the midst of combat and make it even more effective based on what he’d gleaned from his opponent.
The Telluride, however, were simply too fresh to incorporate the moves he’d shown them into something more.
They were stepping forward and enacting the moves in the order Ka’nak and Maddox had trained, unable to think beyond that basic concept. As such, they would continue to mimic each other and clack body parts until one of them figured that out.
Ka’nak wondered how long that would take as he waved the Telluride back to the line once more.
“Again,” he shouted, and to his delight, the servants did not hesitate.
They moved forward and clashed again, the group falling back once more after the next move in the limited arsenal they knew.
Except, one of the Telluride adapted, one named San Balu, foregoing the third move for the first. His opponent’s blow whistled past his face—an elbow meant to be thrown up close, but it was nowhere near its target. San Belu grinned at the missed attack and fired a punch straight down the pipe.
It connected with the other Telluride’s chin with a brutal clack and sent the male stumbling backward. His legs gave out beneath him, and the Telluride flopped on his butt with a grunt. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he stared up at the male who’d hit him, no recognition in his fogged brain. San Balu smiled and examined his fist as if he was amazed at what he’d managed.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Ka’nak shouted, jumping into the air and pumping a fist. “That’s adaptation, adjusting mid-combat to counter what your opponent is trying to do.”
Maddox went over and helped the stunned Telluride to his feet. He led him off to the side to recover as another took his place, joining the line and making ready.
“Now, get your heads straight and let’s try that again,” Ka’nak told the Telluride, who looked less interested in the process now that they’d seen one of their own be struck down.
Yet, Ka’nak could see the glimmer in the eyes of a few of the males, and it thrilled him to witness the light turning on. The concept of combat was foreign to the Telluride, but the Telluride were smart, and he could see them processing what their companion had done. San Balu had led the way, and Ka’nak could see the door opening in the minds of some of the others.
Maybe they would make true warriors after all.
“Fight!” Ka’nak called.
Jiya had decided on the way out of town that she would try to teach the Telluride the survival skills she’d learned early in life despite her royal upbringing.
She’d been made to spend many a night outdoors, surviving off the streets and the woods neighboring her father’s palace.
Well, she hadn’t exactly been forced, seeing as how she’d run away of her own accord when she could have stayed home in a warm house with plenty of food, but that wasn’t Jiya’s desire.
She had resented her father’s control of her life and rebelled at every opportunity. Sure, she could have had anything she wanted thanks to her father, but she wanted to make it on her own.
And she had, for the most part.
Survival was never easy when you had to learn it on your own. She planned to make the process more comfortable for the Telluride.
“This looks like a good spot,” she announced, surveying the thick wilderness a short distance outside of town. A creek burbled somewhere at their backs, hidden by the trees, its sound soothing. Jiya stopped and closed her eyes to take in nature, something those who lived in starships had a great appreciation for.
Plus, the peace of nature was welcome after riotous colors in the Telluride sector.
The dozen aliens who had joined her stared wide-eyed. Jiya lamented the fact that none of the Grindlovians had chosen to join them, but she could understand their reluctance. They weren’t designed for roughing it like the Telluride people were.
Still, she’d doubted that even one of the colorful aliens had ever wandered this far from their homes at any point in their lives. The constant questions about the trees and plants and insects only confirmed that.
She chuckled as they asked, and though the specifics of the planet were as foreign to Jiya as they were to the others, she at least had her connection to the Superdreadnought Reynolds and his databases.
“That’s a pulip,” she told one of the Telluride who’d asked about a soft yellow flower that grew rampant in the high grass. “It’s a pollinating flower for insects.”
The mass of raised eyebrows told her she was in for a long night.
“Don’t worry about it,” she told them. “It’s not dangerous or anything, and it’s also not edible.” She thought back to their area of town and grinned. “Think of it as nature’s art.”
The crowd smiled at that. Jiya accepted the challenge to connect with the Telluride. She liked them, but they were babes in the woods.
“It’s to look at, enjoy, and inspire, but it serves little more purpose than that, as far as we’re concerned.”
A few of the Telluride went over and examined the flower more closely, running their fingers gently over it, admiring it without causing harm.
Jiya felt a bloom of pride at seeing it. These people understood art and beauty and cherished it. They didn’t immediately swarm in and try to pluck the flower and take it with them. No, there was none of the selfishness Jiya had experienced on her own world.
These people were willing to let the world exist around them and make themselves a part of it, not the masters of it.
That made Jiya happy.
She watched them for a few more minutes, the Telluride moving carefully through the tall grass to look at other species of flowers and ask questions, each time showing reverence for nature and their surroundings.
All the while, the siren’s call of the creek tickled Jiya’s ears. It sounded so inviting.
At last, she gave in. “Who wants to go for a swim?” she asked.
All of the Telluride raised their hands excitedly, smiling from ear to ear.
“What’s swimming?” one of them asked, earning sympathetic nods from the rest even though they kept their hands raised high in the air.
“Only the most wonderful thing ever!” Jiya chuckled.
Takal and Geroux were led to an assembly hall in the Grindlovian section of town. Hundreds of the chair-bound beings had wheeled to the hall to observe the proceedings.
Geroux was surprised by the number and even more surprised by how restrained they were.
Although she’d already learned that the people were not physically motivated, it was strange to have so many of them gathered around and to only hear the occasional hum of their motorized carriage/chairs.
She glanced at the throng—which she knew was the wrong word for them given their silence—looking for any sign of interest among the Grindlovians.
If it was there, she didn’t recognize it. That they were there should have b
een all she needed to know. They could have been anywhere doing nothing, but they chose to be there, with her and Takal.
“It’s like performing in front of fish,” Takal complained, coming over to stand alongside her. “It’s as if they are incapable of showing even a trace of emotion.”
“I think it might tire them if they were to crack a smile,” Geroux said, grinning. “Stars forbid they accidentally laugh.”
Takal chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid we might kill off the whole species were we to dare to increase their heart rate a point or two.”
“Maybe that’s why Gorad keeps them so quiet,” Geroux suggested.
“Perhaps that’s part of it now, but I can’t imagine the Grindlovians having always been so passive and apathetic.”
He gestured to the huge gathering.
“While Jiya told me over the comm that she has no Grindlovians involved in her lesson, which is to be expected given their location, I certainly did not expect to have so many of them here with us.”
Takal took in the crowd, studying both races and how they presented themselves.
“I think there is something akin to excitement running through them right now,” Takal suggested. “Otherwise, why else would they all be here?”
“Gorad?” Geroux questioned.
“No, I don’t believe that to be the case, my dear,” he answered. “I truly believe these people want more than they have.”
“But they have everything,” Geroux argued.
“Do they?” Takal countered, shaking his head. “The inclination that led them down this path to total dependency might not have been what they truly wanted, only what they believed they wanted.”
Geroux looked at the crowd of Grindlovians, seeing the colorful Telluride among them, all smiles in sharp contrast to the brooding emptiness of the Grindlovians’ expressions.
She wondered then if her uncle were right: that the Grindlovians wanted more than their current existence.
The sheer number present supported his theory, and Geroux hoped that was the case. She wanted to have had a positive impact on this world when she and the crew moved on. If she could help both the Telluride and the Grindlovians advance and become better, happier people, the trip would have been a success in her eyes.
“We’re going to start with something simple,” Takal announced, drawing Geroux out of her thoughts.
She sidled to the table to which the Telluride had brought the supplies they’d requested. She grinned as she watched her uncle work.
“This is an example of a chemical reaction,” Takal told the crowd, raising a vial filled with a clear liquid.
He poured it into the clay volcano Geroux had crafted, and the crowd—the Telluride part, at least—gasped when foam spewed from its mouth, showing them what an eruption might look like. They had no active volcanoes on Grindlevik 3. They had no reference beyond Takal’s display.
Geroux cheered and strafed the Grindlovians with her gaze. She didn’t see much of a reaction out of them, but several had leaned forward slightly in their chairs to get a better look.
It was something, she thought. It was a start.
Chapter Eight
Jiya and her Telluride charges had made their way to the creek. She was going to show them the basics of swimming and how to breathe without sucking water into their lungs.
They spent several minutes learning the best way to cough and get out water they weren’t supposed to swallow, but Jiya had finally become confident enough that she let them get into the water as a group.
The creek was little more than a meter deep, so all of the Telluride could stand with their heads above the surface. That made the impromptu training easier.
The stream’s flow was gentle and barely tugged at the would-be swimmers as they splashed about. Although a bit cold for Jiya’s liking, the water was refreshing, and she figured a little chill would help the Telluride stay alert. If they were uncomfortable, they would be less likely to become complacent and put themselves at risk.
Jiya traipsed back and forth across the stream, the Telluride at her back, mimicking her motions.
The Telluride grinned and smiled and splashed and had a great time in the water. Jiya had singled out one of the females who had shown slightly more competence to be the example for the others.
“L’Willow,” Jiya called, waving the female over. “Would you please join me?”
“Of course,” L’Willow responded, immediately doing as she had been asked.
“The rest of you, stand back and stay put,” Jiya advised. “And no splashing, please.”
The Telluride groaned as one, but their smiles made it clear to Jiya that there were no hard feelings. They would comply.
Jiya grinned broadly and took L’Willow’s hands, lifting and adjusting her so that the female floated on her back in the water.
Stiff as a board, her eyes saucers, L’Willow might as well have been a rock.
Jiya chuckled. “Relax a little,” she said, nudging the female’s stiff legs and arms where she needed more flex. “Stay stiff like this and you’ll sink to the bottom,” Jiya warned. “But if you relax and let the water embrace you, you’ll float on the top like a leaf.”
“Is that a good thing?” L’Willow asked, her voice a whisper.
“It’s way better than sinking,” Jiya told her with a laugh. “Now just relax, I’ve got you.”
After several minutes of trying, L’Willow finally managed to calm down enough for Jiya to ease her hands back and let L’Willow float almost entirely on her own.
The female realized what was happening and beamed with joy. The crowd of Telluride cheered.
“You’re doing it on your own,” Jiya told her, taking a slow, careful step back to give the female room.
“I am,” she squealed, smiling all the while. “I’m doing it.”
“You are.” Jiya clapped, waving at the others to do as L’Willow was doing. “Just relax and lean back, let the water buoy your bodies. Don’t fight it, just float,” she explained, showing them with her own actions.
Jiya eased into the water and floated, watching her charges as the water lapped around her ears and the noise of the world fluttered in and out.
The Telluride murmured happily and splashed about, doing their best to imitate what Jiya and L’Willow were doing.
There was both success and failure along the way, some of the Telluride managing it on the first attempt while others thrashed about and kept sinking until Jiya assisted them.
After what seemed like forever, Jiya waded through the creak around her charges, marveling that each and every one of them had finally managed to make themselves float.
Smiling gold faces jutted from the water’s surface, islands of life within the babbling waters. The gentle current slowly carried them downstream.
Everything is perfect, Jiya thought, feeling pride well up inside her.
Then everything wasn’t perfect.
L’Willow gasped and went under.
Jiya shot toward the female through the resistance of the water, but she knew she’d made a mistake the moment she did it.
Several of the other Telluride thrashed in surprise and were swallowed by the water.
“Motherfucking fuck of all fucks!” she cursed, grabbing several of the other Telluride by the arms and hauling them to their feet. “Pull the others out,” she ordered, pointing at those Telluride who’d gone under. “I’ll get L’Willow.”
The Telluride did as she’d commanded and pulled their fellows out of the water, while Jiya raced over to where L’Willow had sunk.
She spotted the female lying frozen on the bottom of the creek, her eyes like gleaming stars beneath the surface.
Jiya reached down and cradled the female in her arms, yanking her above the water in a rush. Jiya gasped a breath of air and examined the female.
She realized L’Willow was turning blue, but not from having swallowed water. She was still holding her breath.
“Might want t
o breathe,” Jiya advised.
L’Willow opened her mouth and sucked in a huge gulp of air, nearly choking on it as she did. She coughed until she’d caught her breath, Jiya holding her the entire time.
“I thought perhaps I might drown,” L’Willow told her, repeating the word that Jiya had used to explain what would happen if they didn’t come up for air.
At least she’d been listening, Jiya thought.
“You do know that you could have simply stood up and gotten your head out of the water, right?” Jiya asked, exasperated. By example, Jiya lowered her back to her feet, and L’Willow’s shoulder and head were well above the surface.
L’Willow blushed, her golden cheeks flaring crimson. “I think perhaps I might need more lessons,” she admitted.
Jiya chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the Telluride who nodded in agreement.
“I don’t have a problem with that at all.” Jiya laughed, signaling for everyone to get out of the water.
Though she’d realized how sheltered they were, growing up in servitude to the Grindlovians and following Gorad’s directions, she hadn’t quite realized that the Telluride were nearly as crippled in their own way as the Grindlovians.
It wasn’t a physical thing, but a mental one.
They hadn’t had to adapt and overcome anything. Their whole existence circled around the needs of the Grindlovians, and swimming and adventuring and anything else that occurred outside of the confines of the city was a foreign concept to them.
Jiya realized how big a job she’d taken on. But it wasn’t just her, it was the whole crew.
She decided that it would be a good idea to sit down with the others and discuss the process of teaching the Telluride new things, get their ideas and brainstorm how to do it better, more safely. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt one of the Telluride accidentally while trying to get to know them better.
“Maybe we should dry off and look at the plant life,” she suggested to the group, motioning a second time for them to head for shore.
At least on land, she could keep a better eye on them.