Badlands

by Randal Sloan

  "That'll be a job to build, but it just might work." Gabo was already furiously working at his station, trying to come up with the design to do the addition Sasha described.

  "The patterns say it will," Sasha told him, totally unaware of the stares the rest of the team gave her.

  Jarra for her own part was just watching the two of them. She couldn't believe it. And to think I didn't want her on the team at first. Sasha had been late to the party, only joining the team after John had sent her to Jarra, and Jarra had been determined not to accept her. That was until she met the girl and saw just how her mind worked.

  She also knew Sasha well enough to know she had just come out of her latest data dive. "What else have you discovered, Sasha?" she asked, knowing that sometimes you had to prompt her back into normal interaction with others.

  "Sorry, Your Highness. Give me a minute to set it up on the main viewer."

  "Jarra, remember you're supposed to call me Jarra." Jarra was afraid at some point the girl was going to blow her cover at an inopportune time. Then she had an idea. "If you insist on calling me that, I'll expect you to do the same with John," she told Sasha with a smirk.

  A look of near horror crossed Sasha's face. "No, I couldn't do that. It would hurt his feelings." Then she realized where Jarra was going. "Yes, ma'am, I'll remember from now on. It's just that I idolized you for so long, I can't believe I'm here working with you now."

  "I'm just a person, just like everyone else," Jarra told her.

  Sara couldn't resist throwing her two cents in, coming up to join the others. "You're just a person, but you're definitely not like everyone else," she told Jarra with a smirk.

  "I knew I should have held back on those implants," Jarra told her. "Now I don't have anything to bribe you with to keep you in line."

  "You could get me an AI in my head, like yours," Sara answered quickly.

  Before Jarra could answer, Sasha looked up at her in awe. "You have an AI in your head?" she asked in near disbelief.

  "Yes," Jarra said softly. "Jynks, please introduce yourself to Sasha."

  Jynks, Jarra's AI, spoke to the team, his response coming into their implants, "Hello, Ms. Sasha. I'm Jynks and I've been dying to speak with you. What you can do with the patterns is absolutely amazing. I'm so jealous of you."

  Sasha smiled. AI's were notorious for not being able to think outside the box as it were. "I'm pleased to meet you, Jynks. I have no idea how I can do it. It just happens."

  "Nevertheless, it's quite amazing. That's why I'm convinced my not-so-nice brothers, the Aerstone, won't prevail. We have a secret weapon!"

  Jarra just shook her head. "I should have warned you all. Jynks has quite the personality."

  Sasha smiled. "I like him already. We'll have to talk later, Jynks. I have a report to give to Her Highness now."

  The last she said with such emphasis that Jarra almost fell out of her chair laughing.

  Even Jynks was laughing as he replied, "I like you too. This is going to be such fun."

  Finally, Jarra had had enough. "Ok, I see I've lost control. Lieutenant, please show me your report."

  Sasha sobered up quickly. "It's not good, ma'am. Other than the fact I'm positive I can tell you who the traitor admiral is."

  Jarra's mirth disappeared as she stared at the information Sasha had her console display up on the main display. "God, I hate traitors!," she said, her eyes flashing with anger.

  "Of course, I hate pirates nearly as much," she said, looking at the information on pirate attacks Sasha had included with her data. "And they're attacking our merchants too. That's got to end!"

  "I'll be in my quarters," she told them after she calmed herself down a bit. "I'm going to call my uncle. I believe we have our first mission."

  That got everyone's attention, even Gabo, who stopped his frantic work on his station. When Jarra mentioned her uncle, the Emperor, everyone stopped to listen. That meant she would probably come back with the plans for their next mission. Who knew what she would come up with? They only knew one thing — whatever it was, it was likely to be a doozy. Even knowing that, when Jarra explained it to them later, everyone was still surprised— especially Sasha.

  #

  Corporal Greg Resault sighed as he polished yet another piece of his ceremonial armor. He'd never even known such a thing existed until a week ago. Now he spent nearly every free moment working on it. He hoped that someday he might actually pass the Master Sergeant's muster, although he suspected that day would never come. At least he wasn't the only one to endure the Sergeant's wrath. Sarbensky had it worse than he did for some reason. Greg was of the opinion it was because the man thought he was something else, but he actually was quite lazy.

  Speak of the devil and he will appear, went through Greg's head a moment later as Sarbensky walked through. Greg didn't know why, but Sarbensky seemed to have it in for him. Something must have shown in Greg's eyes, because he stopped to torment him.

  "You can polish all day and you'll never be man enough to wear that armor," he told Greg.

  "You're probably right," Greg told him. The fool had no idea how far Greg had to go to earn that right. The other thing he didn't know, Greg was determined to do it. He owed that much to his Princess for giving him another chance.

  Before Greg could stop him, Sarbensky slapped the bottle of polish out of his hands. Unfortunately for Sarbensky, Greg had swapped out the nearly empty bottle he had been using earlier that day for a full one. Most unfortunately for Sarbensky, the Master Sergeant picked that moment to walk through the Marine barracks. The man seemed to have an extra sense about stuff like that.

  "Resault, clean that up," the sergeant bellowed. "Sarbensky, you have five minutes to get into sweats and drag your ass into the ring in the training area. It's time you learned a lesson, and this one you're never going to forget. The rest of you get to watch—this time." His emphasis told the others they'd better always be on their toes or it would be their turn next.

  Everyone scrambled to follow their orders, Greg included, but he didn't miss the blank look on the Master Sergeant's face as he turned away. That meant he was making an implant to implant call. Greg had a sneaky suspicion he knew who the Sarge was calling. As much as he disliked Sarbensky, Greg wouldn't have wished that even on him.

  "Your Highness," Master Sergeant Robert Gibbons sent. "Is there any way you can assist me in the Marine training area?"

  "Yes, I could use a break right now, Robert," Jarra replied. "What do you need me to do?"

  "Bring your Bo staff. I'll explain when you get there."

  "On my way." Jarra grabbed her Bo and headed for the door. She didn't bother to change out of her ship's uniform into workout clothes. She knew she wouldn't work up a sweat so why bother; plus, it would give her just a little more of an intimidation factor.

  #

  Maze Sarbensky was not happy. The sergeant has picked on me since I joined the squad. Why is Resault getting such special attention? It doesn't make sense; the boy shouldn't even be here. He's still learning basic stuff and this is supposed to be an elite group.

  Maze wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the real reason he was so angry was the loss of prestige he felt the squad had taken. When I was first put in for the squad, they were protecting the Crown Prince, quite an honor. But I didn't get to have that privilege. No, we got stuck on this toy ship with a stupid Princess.

  Maze couldn't believe it when instead of the Master Sergeant climbing in the ring with him, it was the Princess that came in with a Bo. The Master Sergeant had already kicked his tail more than once, something anyone would have expected with the sergeant's experience and size, so he didn't pay much attention to whatever lesson the Sarge was trying to teach. When the Princess entered the room, it was a complete surprise.

  "What do you want me to do, Master Sergeant? How bad do you want it to be?"

  "I'm thinking a slow, total wear down," he answered. "If you hit him too hard, he'll think it was just a lucky hit."
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  "How about I just work him all over so he can't get up in the morning but don't leave a mark?" she asked. Smirking, she added, "Without wrinkling my uniform?"

  Master Sergeant Gibbons grinned. "That would be just perfect."

  Sitting on the sidelines watching, Greg just put his head in his hands. He wouldn't want to be Sarbensky. Greg had already spent way too many rounds in there with the Princess and she'd not gone easy on him, but she had at least been working to help him. Right now Sarbensky was too stupid to learn, just like Greg had been the first time he'd faced her. He couldn't help it; he shuddered.

  Maze was in near shock. What's this all about? "I'm not going to fight you, Princess," he said.

  "I agree with that," she answered, "but it won't be for lack of trying. You'll be slinging that little stick of yours shortly."

  She tapped him on the side of the headgear he was wearing. "Your techniques are sloppy and your moves are pathetic," she told him as she tapped him on the other side of the head.

  Maze was beginning to get tired of being hit. The next time she moved the staff, he tried to block it. Somehow she completely dodged his block, hitting him once again on the left side of his head, this time a little lower, close to his ear. That hurt.

  The next time he tried even harder to block. She still hit him, once again switching sides and hitting exactly the same place on that side. That was it. She wanted a fight; he'd give it to her. He swung his staff harder, thinking to finish it quickly. Except he hit nothing but air. She hit him again, this time on the left shoulder.

  It went on like that for a few moments, each time she blocked or dodged his strike, hitting again somewhere else, gradually moving the strikes down his body. Finally, Maze lost all control, charging at her and swinging his staff as hard as he could.

  That was what Jarra had been waiting for. Until then, Maze wasn't ready to learn. Easily, she avoided his wild strikes, and just as easily she knocked the staff out of his hands.

  "Pick it up," she told him, waiting until he complied.

  Then she went full speed, the staff moving so swiftly it was almost impossible to see. Maze couldn't seem to block a single strike. By the time he moved his staff, she had already struck. Each strike was driven precisely, using only a fraction of her power, and each one in another location. Not a single strike was hard enough to put him down, but by the time she was finished, he was in complete shock, falling to his knees. Barely able to catch his breath, finally he looked up at her in awe.

  "Now," she asked him, "Do you really want to learn to be a true Marine?"

  "Master," Maze managed to gasp out. "I do. I humbly submit."

  "Sit over here on the side," she told him.

  "Greg," Jarra went on, "Would you please pick up his staff and show everyone the proper way to block?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Greg told her. He stepped into the ring, not bothering to put on headgear. With the Princess, he knew it didn't make any difference. She could hit him whenever she wanted, but she wouldn't hit him anywhere unprotected. Without even conscious thought, he slipped into the guard position.

  Jarra began again with the same basic lesson she had been trying to teach Maze. The difference was, when she made a move to strike, it was blocked by Greg. Even he couldn't believe it, but he continued to concentrate as she repeated the same moves across his body. Only when she began to move faster did he fail to block. Even then, when one of her strikes got through, Greg just shrugged it off.

  Nevertheless, she stopped. "You did that very well, Greg. Now, please demonstrate for the group the basic attack moves."

  "Yes, ma'am," Greg told her. He walked through the complete set, not worried that he would hurt her, knowing she would easily block the strikes even as the sets sped up. Only when he started through the second set at double the speed did he miss one of the moves.

  Jarra held her hand up so he stopped. "Thank you, Greg. That was done perfectly. I want each of you to consider that Greg has been studying the right way to use a Bo for less than a week. He definitely has a lot to learn, but because he's been willing to learn it the right way, he has already progressed further than some of you."

  She gave Maze a direct look. "Do you see now what the Sarge has been trying to teach you?"

  "Yes, Your Highness. What I thought was skill was really just sloppy work. The only reason I've been able to beat the ones I have is because they're worse than I am. I also know my work ethic has to improve if I'm going to learn to be the best Marine I can be."

  Jarra nodded. "You do those things, you may someday be the old Master Sergeant trying to teach his own stubborn men to do better. I must warn you, I fear the days of complacency for the Empire are over. The ones that don't learn this lesson may not live very long."

  Then she turned to Greg. "If Maze accepts you as his teacher, would you be willing to teach him the basics again, this time making sure he learns them right?"

  Greg looked over at Maze, as he now knew was Sarbensky's handle. He felt once again the resentment he'd harbored toward the man, but this might be his one chance to move beyond all that.

  "Yes, ma'am," he answered. "I will strive to do my best."

  "As only we all can do," Jarra replied. "Maze, do you agree to learn from him, beginning three days from now," she gave him an understanding smile, "when you'll actually be able to move again?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I would consider it an honor to learn from him."

  "Good. I'll be checking in on you both as I can, although it's going to get quite busy around here for us fly-boys. We have a mission to plan and execute. I expect we'll get you involved in it eventually." She turned to leave, giving Master Sergeant Gibbons a warning glance as she passed.

  Even knowing what he'd thought he'd known about her, the Master Sergeant had been taken as much by surprise as the others by the Princess' demonstration. Now he was sure he never wanted to face her in the ring, but from the look she just gave him, she must have read his mind. She'd just put him on notice that he would indeed face her someday soon. He barely managed to avoid a shudder.

  Nevertheless, the Sarge was thrilled that she had managed to teach the whole squadron a valuable lesson. I'm very much afraid she's right about the future. I hope it's enough.

  Days later, Jarra would pass by the Marine training room and do a double take. Greg and Maze were working out together with the whole squadron watching, together demonstrating a set of moves. The Sarge stood just outside the ring, explaining each move as they went through it. Not a man was missing. Jarra still worried that she might have to put them all in danger on their mission, but at least she felt a little better about their ability to defend themselves.

  #

  That night, Jarra received a real-time galactic call. "Father," she answered in surprise.

  Jarra's father, Marcus Joshin Von Hasson, was the Ambassador to Borjon. As far as she knew, he was still stationed there. A real-time call across that distance was barely within the capabilities of the Empire. The last time he had called, he had told her about the Borjon prophecies that they insisted were about her. She was still trying to deal with that revelation.

  "Hello, my dear Jarra. My work here has been making good progress so I hope to be able to return home in the next month or so for a short break. I ask that when I do, you try to make time to come see me."

  Jarra smiled. "Of course, I'm sure we'll be able to do that, obviously depending on the current state of things out here on the Rim. Lately it has been quiet, but I'll be leaving on a mission in a few days. Still, I can't imagine it taking a huge amount of time to complete. It looks cut and dried to me."

  Her father shook his head. "I don't know any details about that mission of yours, but that's one of the reasons I'm calling. Earlier today I was given the opportunity to meet with an elderly Borjon that would be the equivalent of an old Earth monk. The members of their order are very much revered by his people. Just so you know, elderly for a Borjon is several centuries old. Despite our language barrier that even
now we struggle with, he was able to communicate a warning to me.

  "You must be extremely careful in your upcoming mission. It's much bigger than you realize. The lives of you and your crew and the fate of the galaxy itself are all going to depend on how you respond. The last words he gave me were this, translated as best we can: When you're faced with the gravest danger of all, when there appears to be no way out, look deep inside. You must find the one path that leads to safety, impossible as it may appear to be."

  Her father shook his head. "If I could in good conscience do so, I would implore you not to undertake this mission, but I know I can't do that. I can only ask that you be very careful."

  He just looked at her briefly, weighing his next words. "I've been thinking back to the last few days I spent with you before we had to go our separate ways in service to the Empire. More than once you appeared to be displaying moments of extreme intuition or perhaps something deeper. I believe you're beginning to develop an ability that your mother had, an ability to catch glimpses of the future. You must work to develop this ability and learn to depend on it."

  His eyes grew worried. "I'm convinced that's the only way I will ever see you again."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Mission

  The next day the team gathered together in the galley of the ship to discuss their new mission. The galley on the Katarina was much larger than on their previous ship. Of course, the new ship was over four times the size of the previous one, so it did have a bit more of that precious commodity all ships struggled to find — space. Because it was a new mission, the Marine contingent was also invited.

  As she waited for everyone to settle in, Jarra made herself a cup of coffee. Her thoughts were far away, still dwelling on the conversation with her father. It greatly worried her, but she saw no choice but to go ahead with the mission.

  It hadn't been all bad. After delivering his warning, he had moved on to less consequential things. He'd even asked about her dinner guest that night on the Dauntless, making Jarra wonder just what her father and Admiral Jarmon Cauldwell had been up to. Perhaps just a little bit of matchmaking?