“Seventeen thousand. That’s the number of civilians that die every year from exposure on the outer colonies. With just a few more resources, we could change that. But the inner worlds don’t care; they see us as little more than tax revenue and votes. Haven’t you noticed? Even our own representatives don’t bother coming home unless it’s an election year. Why would they? We’re nothing but farmers here. Clearly, we’re not smart enough to realize when we’re being screwed.” — The state of our world, Matenhjem, local access news.

  Glass doors slid open as the trio stepped into the gym. The ever-present clink of metal against metal rang through the air as an offering to the temple they’d entered. The main gym spanned three decks, all with an open center that allowed observers to watch the friendly sparring matches that were so common in this great hall. Some observers were so enthralled by the miniature displays of battle that they would often reposition their equipment so they could watch the fights unimpeded. Unlike the other two, the first-floor viewing area was free of training equipment. Instead, tiered seating stretched across the room and made it possible to see the ring from any angle.

  “So how are you planning to find someone to spar?” Thea asked as they weaved through a maze of seats, eventually finding three open chairs.

  “There’s always someone looking for a scrap. Nine times out of ten, the ones looking for a fight are trash fighters trying to show off, but I’ll occasionally find someone legitimately looking to improve their skill.” Nessa replied, sitting in an open chair and propping her legs up to watch a pair of soldiers in the ring below.

  Neither combatant was skilled by Jack’s measure of the word. He knew that if he could tell they were amateurs, Nessa and every other veteran soldier in the room could as well. A quick glance at the Irish girl beside him confirmed that suspicion as he recognized the predatory gleam in her eyes. He’d known her long enough to understand that look and knew she would challenge the winner if nobody else did.

  One fighter was a breaker, appearing comfortable in his movements but clearly missing the fundamental skill with his abilities to be a competent warrior. A tall man, his movements suggested that he often had a significant reach advantage in fights, and was happy to take it for granted. He was slow—sloppy even—but speed meant little in a fight where both combatants were equally unskilled.

  The other man was a binder, capable of incredible feats with his cables if he had imagination. Sadly, he was clearly missing the level of creativity needed to lay a good trap and restrain his enemy. If forced to guess, Jack would say the man used his power sparingly in the field and relied heavily on his rifle and pre-formed weaponry instead. More than likely, the binder saw his power as nothing but a utility that had few uses in combat.

  “What the hell?” Thea asked, watching the binder fail to deflect an overhead strike. The dull training weapon smashed into his shoulder and shattered the bone. He dropped his weapon, reaching for the injury and gritting his teeth in pain as he stoically attempted not to cry out. From their angle, Thea could see he had his eyes clamped shut and was completely unaware of his surroundings. Not done with his attack, the opposing breaker followed through with a strike at his opponent’s knee. Thea was on her feet before the blow landed, rushing down the walkway as an audible crack sounded across the gym. The binder’s leg bent in a way it was never intended, and he collapsed with a primordial scream. The phantom vaulted over a low barrier, hands glowing emerald as she landed and dashed to the injured soldier’s side. Despite the potential danger from the clearly overzealous breaker, she placed herself between the two combatants and gently rested her hand on the injury.

  Green Light flowed from Thea like water, infiltrating the man’s body to grant her knowledge of his injuries and how to best heal them. Other soldiers often told her that the power of a phantom seemed odd, that her supernatural knowledge of anatomy seemed more like a curse than a gift. But she didn’t care; she could never experience the power of another corps, so why worry about what was normal? The map of her patient's body solidified, and she commanded the energy to pull the broken knee back into place and speed up the body’s natural recovery. If this man followed the AHF required minimums for food intake, he’d be back on his feet in no time.

  “The fuck do you think you’re doing? You wanna get your ass beat too? I’ve got no problem going toe to toe with a female.” The breaker threatened, standing over her with his weapon resting on his shoulder.

  “Do you realize what you’ve done to this man? Get out of this ring, soldier.”

  “Or what?” He asked, raising his weapon.

  “Or I’ll be forced to incapacitate you, severing the muscles in your arms so you can’t interfere with my recovery efforts. If that doesn’t work, and I assure you it will, I’ll sever your spinal cord and let the infirmary deal with you.” She replied, putting the finishing touches on the knee and moving to the shattered shoulder. Almost dismissively, she glanced around the training room and met the eyes of its many observers. While some truly didn’t care, she was proud to note the looks of pride in the eyes of the watching seniors.

  “Fuck off, I know how you phantoms fight and that ain’t it. You have to touch me to hurt me, and if you can’t tell, I can out-fight you any day.”

  “Nice choice of words there, super chief. Did you get that one off a cereal box, or did you come up with it all by yourself?” Nessa taunted from the stands. “Because where I’m standing, you’ve got less than a meter between the two of you, and I know how quickly Alfson can take down an aggressor.”

  The breaker whipped his head around, snarling as he dared the heckler to speak again. Jack could tell this man was comfortable using bullying tactics, and had probably usually gotten his way because of them. That realization made Jack chuckle under his breath. If this man thought bullying Nessa was the method to make her back down, he would soon discover the error of his ways.

  “What, you wanna take Blondie’s place? You think you can beat me? I just shattered this dude’s bones, you’ve got no chance. You’re what, fifty kilos soaking wet?” he asked, trying to goad Nessa into the fight. “How about this, Red? The three of us go back to my cabin for some entertainment and I’ll forget that your friend stopped my fight.”

  “Walker, if you don’t do something in the next three seconds, I’m going to kill him.” Thea said over her shoulder as she put the finishing touches on the binder.

  “I’ll get there. Can’t I play with him first?” Nessa asked, pulling her feet off the chair in front of her, and stretched as she stood. She’d been looking for a fight since before stepping foot in the gym, and had sized up every person she saw to determine if she’d learn anything from each encounter. Clearly, the man in the ring was unaware of this, or he’d never have tried to goad her. “This part doesn’t last long enough. Once I’m done with him, people will only want to spar with me because they think I’ll teach them something, not because they think they can beat me.”

  “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You might find someone with enough martial training to give you a challenge.” Jack said, the violet light in his eyes blazing as he watched, stone-faced. “But that won’t be today. This guy only has brute force on his side. Even I can tell he has no actual skill.”

  “Are you going to fight me, or are you just going to stand there and waste my time?” The breaker shouted, frustrated at being ignored.

  “Oh yeah, do you see how he grips that weapon? He holds it like a toddler swinging a stick in the yard. There’s no finesse, no art. Just a child with a stick.” Nessa said, lazily striding down the alley as she spoke. “His distancing is all wrong. The fool knows a hostile entity is right beside him, but doesn’t step away from a person who could incapacitate him with a touch. I haven’t even started on his feet, stance, posture, or that he clearly doesn’t know what the chain of the body is.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “It’s the toes, right?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, they’re pointed directly in front of him. While that’s okay in certain situations, it leaves him open to attacks aimed at unbalancing a foe.” She explained, slipping into her instructor persona.

  “Are you going to answer me? Stop ignoring me, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.” He shouted again, stepping back from Thea after realizing how close she was. “You can still choose to go back to my cabin with me. Maybe I’ll forget the things you’re saying.”

  Healed from his injury, the near-forgotten binder scrambled to his feet and slipped out of the ring, not wanting to be nearby when the next fight took place. With a resigned sigh, Thea walked to the border ropes and leaned against them as she waited for Nessa. She shook her head and met the angry gaze of the angry man. “I’m just saying you may want to take that back. She really does not like it when adults act like children.”

  “She told me to shut my hole a while back for making a joke in formation. A joke, I might add, that our captain laughed at,” Jack called, leaning back and propping up his feet in an imitation of Nessa's earlier position.

  “Fuck all three of you. I’ll fight you all and win. I was the best fighter in my company, and I’ve never lost.” He said, tightening his grip on the hilt of his weapon.

  “There he goes, squeezing the sword like it’s his manhood.” Nessa said, stepping into the ring and approaching its center. “If this is the best his graduating company had to offer, I really fear for the future of the force.”

  Tired of the constant sniping, the breaker attacked, charging with his head low and weapon held high, screaming as if he believed every decibel made him stronger. Nessa saw this and remained unmoving, hands resting on her hips as she maintained a loose stance. He reached the center of the arena and swung in a wide arc that was telegraphed from his starting point. Nessa side-stepped the attack, hands still on her hips, as she spun and raised a booted foot. Unable to recover from the wild swing, she sent the attacking man to the floor as she literally kicked him in the ass.

  “If winning your match against me is supposed to mean that you’re the only one with a weapon, then you’re winning. Because so far, I’ve seen no reason to draw mine.” Nessa said, resuming her loose stance without moving her hands.

  “Nessa, just end it.” Thea said, tapping the air around her as she played with her Vis-HUD.

  “Too scared to draw a weapon there, cheap shot?” The breaker said, pulling himself back to his feet and reigniting his sword.

  “What should I be afraid of, being as inept as you are one day? I’ve got years before I’m that slow, and by then, I’ll probably be a Steel Cast and not need to worry about that.” Nessa replied, staring blankly at the man who’d so recently beaten another soldier within an inch of his life. She knew that feeling of helplessness, of waiting to die from the next blow. Between the things her father did to her, the brutal assault on Algol, and her injuries at the hands of a Stygibora six months ago, she’d known fear on an intimate level.

  “Would you let them turn you into one of those monsters? It’s better to die on the field than to become a Steel Cast. I bet you’re a machine fucker, aren’t you?” He taunted, stepping in and swinging his weapon wildly.

  From where Jack sat, the next steps were little more than the swift wrath of a master. Nessa dodged again, stepped outside his guard, and caught his arm in a bar. Another step brought her around his body as she twisted the arm and pushed him to the ground before breaking his grip on the weapon.

  She released him and stepped away, tossing the inert hilt back to return his weapon. The man squirmed, nursing the shoulder that she’d nearly broken just seconds ago. While he struggled to regain both footing and pride, Nessa resumed her stance. She wanted to put the man fully in his place, but the personal progress she’d made over the last six months demanded she give him a chance to walk away.

  “Machine fucker? Do you know how ridiculous you sound? Do you know how many people in this room have replacement parts because of their service to humanity? I’m going to give you a chance to leave and forget this happened.” Nessa said coldly. “I suggest you choose wisely.”

  The tall breaker picked up his weapon and faced Nessa. Instead of doing the clearly sensible thing, he raised it and ignited the blade for another attempt. His face was purple with rage. Lips pulled back, snarling as he gave himself over to the primitive beast that lived inside all unskilled warriors. Nessa knew that feeling. Until recently, it was how she got after a long fight. Luckily, losing a leg and being forced to come to terms with herself gave her a gift. She no longer fought with rage storming inside her. Instead, she fought calmly, able to push aside her emotions until the battle was over and there was time for such things. “I suppose you’re not going to back down and save face in front of your comrades in arms?”

  “No. I’m going to beat you senseless to teach you a lesson,” he growled through clenched teeth. The opposing breaker raised his weapon and stalked in, placing his feet more deliberately than before. The movements were an attempt, but his burning rage made learning impossible. He struck, swinging his weapon in a wide arc with as much force as he could muster. Nessa dodged the telegraphed strike, but instead of moving in for the disarmament, she slipped backward and forced him to follow, baiting him into burning energy with every missed attack.

  “Your slow and off-balance movements indicate that if you were ever trained in martial arts, your master neglected to teach you proper footwork.” Nessa said, teaching as she dodged each slow attack. “Fighting starts in the feet. It’s why most trained warriors take some form of dance class long before they pick up a sword.”

  “Shut up,” the man growled, taking the sword into a two-handed grip as he tried to cleave the weaponless woman in half.

  “Why? I don’t have to focus on this fight to teach you how to get better.” She said, spinning on the balls of her feet to dance away yet again. He was slowing down; the exaggerated strikes draining him with every swing. “You hold your weapon too tightly—I’m sure you heard my squad leader talking about it earlier—and it’s the reason your arm is getting so tired. It’s not the weight of your sword, it’s the fact that your hand is getting no blood flow. Loosen your grip and see if that feels better.”

  “God dammit, shut up,” he shouted, tightening his fingers as he moved in for another series of strikes. Jack watched from the man’s eyes, quietly observing what would probably be his last volley of attacks. He was tired, and the fight had already gone on much longer than he was used to. On the third strike, Nessa switched up her footwork and moved in, pinning the man’s sword arm against his hip. The wide attacks let her see where his problems were, and she noticed that he always reset his swing instead of following through in an unbroken chain. She slipped a foot between his and hooked his leg, pulling it out from under him while simultaneously delivering an elbow to his jaw. With a final strike, she drove her back knee into his ribs and dropped him to the ground.

  She followed him down, breaking his grip on the hilt of his sword and deactivating the blade with a thought. Tired of the game, she flung the weapon outside the ring and waited for him to recover his senses. It didn’t bother her. She’d been on the receiving end of this sequence so many times she knew exactly how long it would take to clear the stars in his eyes.

  “Are you done now?” She asked, noticing the breaker had recovered his wits.

  “Fuck–” he started, cut off by a finger against his lips.

  “Stop. You just got your tail handed to you by one of those machines you like to hate so much. Yes, it’s just one leg, but I’m still partially a machine like so many others in this room. You’re going to stand up, go find your friend, and apologize for taking it too far. Then you’re going to leave this gym and take a moment to think.”

  “What if I don’t want to apologize to that weakling?” He spat, blood staining his teeth as he spoke.

  “Then I’ll let the cute blonde phantom over there patch you up and challenge you herself. Might get a little more bloody, and she might break a bone or two, but don’t worry, broken bones aren’t permanent. If she gets involved again, you won't leave under your own power.” Nessa said, climbing off his chest and walking over to stand beside Thea.

  “This is the military. I shouldn’t have to apologize for being strong,” he said, staggering to his feet.

  “Then don’t and see how Alfson takes it.” Jack said from his seat. “But I’ve already let my AI look up you and your chain of command. In fact, he’s already drafted an email outlining everything we saw today with a nice little video to go with it.”

  Jack thought that part would terrify the man, and by the blood that instantly drained from his face, he was right. The breaker had a rap sheet three pages long after being in the AHF for only two years. At this point, every new complaint was a disciplinary action.

  Predictably, the breaker turned to the man he’d originally sparred with. “Hey man, I’m sorry I got carried away.” The words came out in a torrent, like a broken dam releasing its pressure for the first time in years. Without waiting for a response, the man pretended to get a message on his Vis-HUD and ran out fast as his feet could carry him.

  Silence filled the gym, all the weights and equipment seeming to fall motionless in the fight's aftermath. Timidly, the freshly healed binder approached the two women and cleared his throat before meeting Nessa’s eyes. “Excuse me, but do you think I could get a pointer or two from you sometime?”

  “I was right, Jack.” She called out over her shoulder before addressing the young soldier, “Yeah, I can. What’s your name?”

  “Johnny Willem,” he said.

  “Alright then, Johnny, next time I see you, be ready to learn.”