Collin was the last to enter the changing room.
“No fucking way I’m …” Bubba was holding up a small black rectangular cloth, with longer strands of material extending from both its ends. Some of the other teens were trying to figure out the loincloth—turning it this way and that.
Collin heard a scream and then sudden laughter from what he assumed was the next-door female dressing area. That would be Tink, he thought—he recognized her voice.
“I don’t like it either. Let’s just do what he wants,” Collin said, removing his shoes and socks. He proceeded to place things into one of the cubbyholes. He then removed his uniform and underwear. He’d already figured out the loincloth in his head. He’d actually taken a few seconds to note how Master Car had tied his own loincloth. It wasn’t all that complicated.
“This is bullshit. I’m going to be strutting around out there with only my balls covered up?” Humphrey groused emphatically. That brought a roar of laughter from those around him. Collin noticed Humphrey had a nasty burn on his chest—he’d live with that scar the rest of his life.
Collin got the cloth situated properly and the straps wrapped around his hips. The straps were so long he had to wrap them around his narrow hips twice. Royce White, on the other hand, was having a far worse time of it.
“It ain’t going to fit around me. No matter what I try.”
Collin turned around and saw Royce standing naked—his rotund belly hanging down close to his genitals. In each hand he held on to a strap that only reached halfway around his body.
Collin found an extra loincloth and ripped the straps from it. “Tie these to the ends. Should reach around you then,” he offered.
It took another few minutes for everyone, including the three Daccians, to get properly attired. All the boys were smiling, though some of them looked ridiculous. Others, like Darren, looked like professional underwear models. Collin didn’t let his mind go to the embarrassment he himself would face once he’d left the changing room.
He hesitated, then walked out of the dressing room. Ready or not, here comes Commander Sticks, in all his glory.
Master Car was back in the middle of the mats in a different stationary pose. The six girls were already there. They had on a different type of arrangement: their two black cloth pieces, affixed in place, weren’t too dissimilar to bikinis, although they also had the same wedgy-strip of material running between the cheeks of their buttocks.
Collin averted his eyes from the girls, keeping them locked on Master Car. As soon as the near-naked Lone Stars were settled into place, Master Car surrendered his pose and assessed the group. He nodded appreciatively.
“Soon you will no longer feel embarrassed by your nakedness, I promise you.” He was on the move now and walking the perimeter of the Roko. Collin’s eyes held on to Lydia as Master Car passed by her. She stood tall, with her hands at her sides; she didn’t seem self-conscious at all. But then again, why should she? Everything about her was pure perfection. What startled Collin back into self-conscious nervousness was the fact she was staring right back at him.
“You, the one called Ms. McBride. Please stand in the middle of the Roko.”
Tink, arms crossed over her chest, moved to the center of the compartment. Her face was flushed scarlet. So tiny she’d wrapped the straps of her two cloths around her twice, maybe three times.
“And you, Mr. White. Join Ms. McBride.”
As big as a Sumo wrestler, he moved into position right next to Tink. He held his head high and seemed to be coping well enough. The contrast between their two physical forms could not be greater. One of his thighs alone probably had the same weight of Tink’s entire body.
Master Car stood before the two. “I will show you how to bring Mr. White down to the mat with little effort.” A marker appeared in his hands, which a second before had held none. Had he kept it hidden somewhere within the folds of his loincloth? Collin had no idea. Now, standing directly in front of the bigger man, Master Car proceeded to draw small red circles, at different locations, on Royce’s body. Barely visible against his black skin, Collin had to concentrate to find them. Car started with a red circle just beneath Royce’s right kneecap, then drew one on the back of his left ankle, right above his heel. He proceeded to draw five more red circles at various anatomical locations around Royce White’s large body.
Master Car then turned to Tink. “Will you assist me with an exercise, Ms. McBride?”
Tink nodded. “I guess so … Yes, sir.”
“Simply call me Master Car. What I want you to do is stand before Mr. White. That’s right, get close to him. As you can see, I have made small red circles all over, at different locations on his body.”
“I see them.”
“I have also numbered them.”
Tink leaned in a little closer and squinted her eyes. “Oh, okay, I see the numbers too.”
“Very good. What I want you to do is use your right index finger and, when I give the command, touch each one of the circles, in the ascending order of the numbers.”
“You want me to do that now?” Tink asked, looking at Master Car.
“In one moment. Mr. White, I apologize to you in advance for the pain you are about to endure. Take solace in the fact that the effects will only be temporary. Please stay standing as long as you can endure the pain.”
Collin saw Royce already taking deep breaths, trying to prepare for whatever was about to come.
“I will place my hand on your shoulder, Ms. McBride.” Master Car positioned himself behind Tink. “When you are ready, Ms. McBride, you may begin.”
Tink quickly looked around the room, smiled briefly, and stepped in closer to Royce. She found the circle marked 1 below his knee and touched it.
Royce bellowed out a loud painful, “Ahhh.” His breathing was fast and shallow.
Tink looked almost as surprised as Royce. She’d found the second circle and, hesitantly, touched the back of his ankle. Another scream and Royce was falling backward, grabbing at his leg in obvious agony.
Collin watched as tears streamed down the big guy’s cheeks. Royce sat on his ass, rubbing his ankle. He used his forearm to wipe snot from his runny nose. “Please stop, Tink. It hurts too much.” Royce looked up at Master Car. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to continue.”
Master Car smiled and bowed to both Royce and Tink, his hands pressed together. “You honor me and the class with your assistance. Thank you. You may return to your Chain.”
The Master waited for the two to leave the mats before speaking again: “Someone tell me what just happened. How was small Ms. McBride able to bring down someone nearly three times her weight with the slightest of touch?”
No one spoke for several moments. Finally Darren said, “You had her touch nerves, sensitive areas on White’s body.”
“Anyone else?” Master Car asked, shaking his head.
“You psyched him out. Played mind games on him,” Humphrey said.
Master Car raised his brows and tilted his head. “That may have been part of it.”
“It was you … you connected with Royce through Tink … your hand was on her shoulder,” Collin said.
Master Car pointed to Collin. “And there is your answer. By using Ms. McBride as a conduit, I communicated directly to Mr. White’s mind and nervous system. It’s a matter of synchronizing with your opponent’s overall life force. It’s not magic. You will learn the fundamentals of what I’ve just demonstrated. It may take you a lifetime to perfect this technique, as well as the art of Kanda Mu itself, which is the ancient, and highly secret, form of martial arts used by the Brotherhood.”
Collin raised his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Frost.”
“Does everyone in the Brotherhood know this … what did you call it? Kandu Mu?”
“Not anymore. The Notares’ young have much more interest for the game of Pangallo, or learning how to pilot a warship. But those that have achieved knighthood … as well as those within the mon
archy, learned these ancient arts from an early age. Queen Arabella Valora herself could kill any one of you with the subtlest of touches.
Collin let that sink in. Both Captain Primo and the principessa would surely be experts in Kandu Mu … something to keep in mind.
Master Car said, “You will now break into pairs. You will learn to throw a punch that has the strength of ten men behind it.”
Chapter 29
When they exited the firing range, the chief was coming down the corridor with his young squire, Mr. Palermo, rushing to keep up.
The chief held up a hand. “You will now head up to the mess hall for an hour lunch break. Go ahead and get into your two-line formations.”
The Lone Stars did as they were told. They’d lined up a number of times now and moved into position quickly.
“Mr. Frost, you will not be joining your Chain today … please come stand next to me. The rest of you, follow Mr. Palermo up to the mess.”
As the two lines moved away, quick glances in Collin’s direction showed uncertainty from several teens and even some concern from others.
“This way, Mr. Frost,” the Chief said, heading quickly off in the opposite direction from the others. They walked together for several moments before they reached an elevator. The door slid open as they approached and they stepped inside.
“Eventually, you’ll get accustomed to the station’s layout. It’s one of three … Nero Station, Astor Station, and Juno Station. Nero is smallest of the three and the oldest.”
Collin couldn’t imagine a space station larger than this one—and it looked fairly new to him. “Do they ever get attacked by the Kardon Guard?” Collin asked.
Chief Bragg smiled at that. “All the time. Even though Nero Station is situated on the outskirts of Notares space, in a kind of no man’s land, we’re still attacked fairly often. For that reason, there are never fewer than thirty Brotherhood warships patrolling local space. You and your Chain recruits will be spending significant time on those vessels as part of your on-duty apprenticeships.”
Collin nodded. “Um … where is it I’m going now, Chief? Did I do … am I in trouble?”
“No, Mr. Frost, you are not in any trouble. Capitano Primo has requested the three Chain commanders to join him for lunch, at the capitano’s table, on board the Helix.”
They continued the rest of the way in silence. Collin recognized some of the station’s landmarks from when they’d first arrived, but with the last turn he could tell the concourse they were now heading down was a different one.
From the series of portholes on his left, Collin was able to see the spaceship. Smaller than the Tyrant, it was also significantly more battle-worn. Scorch and blast marks covered the ship’s port side.
“The Helix has been through a lot lately. Not really sure how much longer we’ll be able to keep her in service.”
They entered the warship’s airlock compartment and waited—first, for the outer concourse hatch, and then the ship’s hatch, to close. The air equalized in a matter of seconds and the Chief and Collin moved through another hatch into a ship, like the Tyrant, that was bustling with activity. The uniforms the crew wore were black, with a red piping that ran along the sleeve cuffs and around the collar. Chief Bragg casually returned several salutes as they progressed through the ship. They entered another elevator and Collin felt substantial G-forces as they descended downward, and then forward.
“We’ll be dining in the capitano’s ready room, which is directly off his quarters and close to the bridge.” Once out of the elevator, they moved down another short corridor and then down a longer one.
“Here we go, Mr. Frost. In here.”
Collin entered the captain’s ready room and found at least ten people already seated around a formally-set table. The compartment was spacious, paneled in dark wood, and the air was thick with white smoke. Half of the men were smoking pipes. The aroma of rich tobacco, or its Notares equivalent, wasn’t completely unpleasant to Collin’s nostrils.
The room, loud with overbearing voices and laughter, went quiet as both the Chief and Collin’s presences were noticed. Then Collin saw Captain Dante Primo, sitting on the far side of the table, in between two uniformed, middle-aged men.
Captain Primo, smiling, stood and gestured toward Collin. “Looks like we’re all here now. Thank you, Chief, we’ll take good care of him.”
Chief Bragg nodded to Captain Primo and left. Collin suddenly felt abandoned—he was ridiculously out of his element. Not only was he just a teenager, he was in a room filled, undoubtedly, with seasoned military leaders—war heroes. Or not? There, seated at the end of the table, was Fico Lucan, commander of the Brave Hearts, and two down from him was Rocco Puma, commander of the Righteous Warriors. Collin nodded to them but got only blank stares back in return.
“Come, Mr. Frost, sit next to me.” Primo patted the officer to his left on the shoulder. “Capitano Drago, would you be so kind as to scoot over one chair?”
Captain Drago slid over one seat and moved his tumbler, containing some kind of dark liquor, with him. Collin came around the table and took the chair Captain Primo pulled out for him. He sat and tried not to look too nervous.
Captain Primo remained standing. Talking had resumed and only by tapping a gold spork on his water glass could he refocus everyone’s attention.
“Gentlemen … before we eat, if you haven’t met them already, I’d like to introduce our newest recruit Chain commanders.” Captain Primo placed a hand on Collin’s shoulder. “Here we have Mr. Collin Frost, commander of the Lone Stars. He comes from many light-years away … beyond the frontier, from a planet called Earth. Captured by one of our queen’s sim rover collector ships, he and his young compatriots not only survived that ordeal but found their way onto an old, abandoned, mining space vessel. Ingeniously, he used its excavation laser to punch a hole in the collector’s hull and they escaped. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you view it, the Tyrant was there to greet their space vessel … which, by the way, they’d appropriately christened the Turd.”
The word brought laughter from around the table. Collin smiled and saw genuine admiration in the expressions of the officers. But none from the other two recruit commanders. Collin wondered just how long the Turd would remain the property of the Lone Stars, once the ship’s retrofitting was complete. We’re already ten tributes in the hole.
“Tell me, Mr. Frost, on Earth, were you enrolled in a military academy, or already serving in the military?”
Collin stared back at the officer, seated directly across from him. “No, sir. I am … was … still in high school.”
“And how old are you, young man?”
“Seventeen … wait … actually, eighteen.” Collin was somewhat surprised he hadn’t thought about it earlier—as of today—September 28th back on Earth, he’d just turned eighteen.
“You are very young to be considered for a leadership position.” The officer made a sour expression as if he’d just smelled something unsavory.
Collin didn’t know how to respond to that. The truth was, the old guy was absolutely right. All Collin wanted to do was get him and his friends home, safe and sound. Playing war with these old farts was their idea, not his. Collin nodded, but kept his thoughts to himself.
Captain Primo extended a palm out to the officer on Collin’s left: “Capitano Drago, tell us about your recruit.”
So that’s how this was working: The three Chains were each sponsored—or perhaps a better word was mentored—by a captain. That made sense. The Brotherhood seemed all about competition—why wouldn’t that rise to the officer level, as well?
Captain Primo sat as Captain Drago stood. “I would like to introduce all of you to Mr. Fico Lucan, commander of the Brave Hearts.”
Collin watched the round-faced recruit as he acknowledged the welcoming sentiments from around the table. Truth was, he looked bored.
Drago continued, “Mr. Lucan comes to us with two years of space-academy tu
telage under his belt and, as we all know, he is a direct descendant of Queen Arabella Valora: a marquis of the House of Lucan, by birthright. Young Commander Lucan looks forward to commanding his own vessel one day soon, in the service of the Brotherhood.”
At that last statement, Lucan looked at Collin—a smirk settling on his face: a face that read, don’t get too attached to that turd-ship of yours.
Captain Drago said, “Very good, Mr. Lucan. Capitano Pritzi?”
The next captain to stand was tall and lean. He had a bright crop of red hair and an equally bright-red mustache above his upper lip.
“I am pleased to present Mr. Rocco Puma, of the Righteous Warriors. Son of a Brotherhood knight, the Duca of the House of Highcrest, this young man has already completed space academy and is well on his way toward gaining knighthood status himself. He has faced battles honorably, both in space and land campaigns.”
Rocco Puma looked intelligent. He was fully engaged with those around him and Collin knew, at that moment, he was the man to beat. Fair-haired and handsome, Puma raised his chin and looked at Collin, down his perfectly straight nose.
More than merely military, these were sons of aristocrats. Collin remembered Captain Primo too was a Duca. Was that like a Duke? He was also a knight—and apparently still married to the queen’s daughter. Collin wondered how he could ever fit into this mix of pompous blue bloods. Then, just as quickly as he’d given thought to it, he realized he didn’t give a shit about any of that. Whatever didn’t assist him in getting back home, screw it. He’d play along, just as long as it served him and the Lone Stars.
The food arrived on silver platters. It was some kind of duck or other fowl, covered in a sticky sweet sauce. Collin could not remember ever eating anything so tantalizingly scrumptious—so wonderful. There were the green mashed potatoes, which he’d tasted before, and several other food items that tasted good but looked unappetizing.
Captain Primo leaned in closer to Collin. “Mr. Frost, I’ve arranged for you to spend the afternoon here on the Helix, with Capitano Drago. Typically, you would spend your on-duty hours on board the Tyrant, but we decided to mix things up a little … just for today.”
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