Read Online Crystal Horizon: A Short Prequel to Crystal Deception by Doug J. Cooper - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Doug J. Cooper
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mocked, projecting a lightness
that suggested humor.
Hopping up, he reassessed both her and his strategy. He
didn’t give a moment’s thought to the fact that she’d dropped him in front of a
crowd. Instead, just as he’d done at the beginning and end of more than a
thousand sparring bouts, he brought his feet together, pressed his hands to his
thighs, and bowed at the waist. He wasn’t surprised when she returned the
formal gesture.
She assumed a fight-ready stance, crouching ever so slightly
as she centered her body over her feet. Shifting the stick to her side, she
held it parallel to her body, one hand next to her waist and the other up near
her shoulder.
He’d trained hard for more than a decade on a variety of
martial arts and other fighting forms, and recognized her classic bojutsu stance. Adrenaline spilled through his veins, causing his skin to tingle. This
is gonna be fun , he thought.
He assumed a ready stance that was not identifiable to any
particular school or style. But anyone watching would have no doubt he was
proficient with hand-to-hand combat and staff weapons.
They began to circle each other. A hush developed in the
room as the pair drew attention. Everyone, including Captain Dooley, drifted in
their direction and formed a ring around them. Neither Sid nor Cheryl noticed.
The muscular instructor appeared between them, raising his
hand high to stop their movement. He looked at Sid and caught his eye. Turning
to Cheryl, he did the same. After a brief pause, he called, “Ready,” then
dropping his hand in an arc between them, shouted, “fight!”
Cheryl leapt forward and unleashed a lightning-fast attack
sequence. The air was filled with a click-clack staccato of impacting
sticks as Sid struggled to block and parry the onslaught. He retreated several
steps during her opening flurry to protect himself from her weapon.
He soon deciphered her patterns and methods, and fell into
an easy rhythm, alternating between attack and defense. During the bout, Sid
landed several sharp jabs to the pads on her chest, stomach, and thighs. His
own suit protected his shoulders and forearms from some vicious slices. Not
bad , he thought, having met few opponents who could touch him in this sport
when he was fully engaged.
The battle raged for twelve minutes, then the instructor
appeared and yelled, “Break,” to end the bout. Both dropped their guard and
bowed again.
Sid leaned on his pole and took deep breaths. Cheryl sat on
the floor and sucked in air. Still breathing hard, she lay back on the ground
and splayed her arms wide.
“Nice work, slick.” She smiled for the second time.
He sat next to her and continued his recovery. “I’m Sid,”
was all he could think of to say.
* * *
The next morning, Cheryl swam into the
tube-like entrance of an underwater obstacle course. She wore space coveralls that
had been modified with foot fins, added to give the swimmers greater agility in
the liquid environment.
Pulling herself through the lake water, she advanced into a labyrinth
of looping and intersecting tunnels. Colorful geometric shapes—boxes, balls,
cylinders, and cones—were attached above, below, and on either side along the passageway,
providing handholds and hiding places as far as she could see. With her com disabled,
she heard only the background thrum of filters keeping the water clear.
Sid, her same partner from yesterday’s sparing bout, trailed
behind in a gold-colored suit that matched her own. He swam up next to her and,
using hand gestures, signaled that he was taking the leftward path at the
intersection up ahead. She nodded and signed that she’d go right. She smiled
encouragement through her clear hood, but he’d moved ahead and didn’t see.
Other teams were spread throughout the maze, and the
challenge they all faced was pretty much a kid’s game—the last team standing at
the end of the exercise won the bout. Everyone in the game had a short baton as
their only weapon. If
that suggested humor.
Hopping up, he reassessed both her and his strategy. He
didn’t give a moment’s thought to the fact that she’d dropped him in front of a
crowd. Instead, just as he’d done at the beginning and end of more than a
thousand sparring bouts, he brought his feet together, pressed his hands to his
thighs, and bowed at the waist. He wasn’t surprised when she returned the
formal gesture.
She assumed a fight-ready stance, crouching ever so slightly
as she centered her body over her feet. Shifting the stick to her side, she
held it parallel to her body, one hand next to her waist and the other up near
her shoulder.
He’d trained hard for more than a decade on a variety of
martial arts and other fighting forms, and recognized her classic bojutsu stance. Adrenaline spilled through his veins, causing his skin to tingle. This
is gonna be fun , he thought.
He assumed a ready stance that was not identifiable to any
particular school or style. But anyone watching would have no doubt he was
proficient with hand-to-hand combat and staff weapons.
They began to circle each other. A hush developed in the
room as the pair drew attention. Everyone, including Captain Dooley, drifted in
their direction and formed a ring around them. Neither Sid nor Cheryl noticed.
The muscular instructor appeared between them, raising his
hand high to stop their movement. He looked at Sid and caught his eye. Turning
to Cheryl, he did the same. After a brief pause, he called, “Ready,” then
dropping his hand in an arc between them, shouted, “fight!”
Cheryl leapt forward and unleashed a lightning-fast attack
sequence. The air was filled with a click-clack staccato of impacting
sticks as Sid struggled to block and parry the onslaught. He retreated several
steps during her opening flurry to protect himself from her weapon.
He soon deciphered her patterns and methods, and fell into
an easy rhythm, alternating between attack and defense. During the bout, Sid
landed several sharp jabs to the pads on her chest, stomach, and thighs. His
own suit protected his shoulders and forearms from some vicious slices. Not
bad , he thought, having met few opponents who could touch him in this sport
when he was fully engaged.
The battle raged for twelve minutes, then the instructor
appeared and yelled, “Break,” to end the bout. Both dropped their guard and
bowed again.
Sid leaned on his pole and took deep breaths. Cheryl sat on
the floor and sucked in air. Still breathing hard, she lay back on the ground
and splayed her arms wide.
“Nice work, slick.” She smiled for the second time.
He sat next to her and continued his recovery. “I’m Sid,”
was all he could think of to say.
* * *
The next morning, Cheryl swam into the
tube-like entrance of an underwater obstacle course. She wore space coveralls that
had been modified with foot fins, added to give the swimmers greater agility in
the liquid environment.
Pulling herself through the lake water, she advanced into a labyrinth
of looping and intersecting tunnels. Colorful geometric shapes—boxes, balls,
cylinders, and cones—were attached above, below, and on either side along the passageway,
providing handholds and hiding places as far as she could see. With her com disabled,
she heard only the background thrum of filters keeping the water clear.
Sid, her same partner from yesterday’s sparing bout, trailed
behind in a gold-colored suit that matched her own. He swam up next to her and,
using hand gestures, signaled that he was taking the leftward path at the
intersection up ahead. She nodded and signed that she’d go right. She smiled
encouragement through her clear hood, but he’d moved ahead and didn’t see.
Other teams were spread throughout the maze, and the
challenge they all faced was pretty much a kid’s game—the last team standing at
the end of the exercise won the bout. Everyone in the game had a short baton as
their only weapon. If
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