by Chogan Swan
“Today, we will add a new dimension to your training,” she said, her feral grin at odds with her casual tone. “You’ve gotten somewhat comfortable sparring against me when I’m fighting as a human. But there are those in the galaxy with more than four limbs. Myself for instance,” she said whipping her tail from behind her and thumping him in the solar plexus. The strike was not quite hard enough to make him drop the smoothie.
“Touche’!” he said, after a moment. Even though he’d sensed something about to happen, perhaps the tail attack was so foreign to him that he’d failed to comprehend it. He replayed his memory of it in his head, including the sensation he’d experienced right before the thump.
“I hope I’m the only one you face in hand-to-hand-to-tail combat on this planet. . .” She paused for him to acknowledge the phrase.
“Uhm. Groan?” he ventured.
“Of course,” she said. “However, it’s possible one day we will leave this planet, or that an enemy with a tail or a stinger, may come to us. If we start now, in a few decades you might defend yourself, for a minute or two. We can hope you’ll never be so careless or unlucky that one gets close to you, but—Murphy happens.”
“Perhaps, I should work on my fast draw. . . “
“Absolutely, but guns jam, occasionally, or run out of ammunition…” She paused and looked him in the eye. “Always.”
Jonah nodded. “Got it. Ammunition runs out—always. Murphy happens.”
“Good,” Tiana said. “I’m glad you understand.”
She turned and dropped the package on the bottom step. It landed with a thud. It sounded heavy. With an effortless yank, she pulled the packing tape off. Jonah took another slug of his smoothie. It tingled on his tongue, filling his mouth with the taste of cinnamon blended with blueberries, dark chocolate and coffee. As Tiana lifted the top sheet of dense foam packing, Jonah looked over her shoulder. The foam had covered two neat rows of objects each nested in a bed. It took Jonah a moment to understand. Two bladed weapons, a small mace and two others that looked like nunchaku. Each had a serpentine handle.
It clicked.
"Tail weapons. Cool!”
Tiana lifted the mace out of the box and passed it to her tail, sliding into the entwining grip. She waved it experimentally then put it back in its place with a snort of disgust.
“Something wrong?” Jonah said.
“I’m out of shape. I should’ve been exercising my tail more since I left the crèche.”
She reached for a practice knife with her tail, picked it up and swished it through the air. “That will do,” she said, picking up her kukri blades. “Ready?”
Jonah took a last swallow of his drink and put it in the refrigerator. “Sure.” He snatched up his rubber-coated, practice knives and walked to the center of the room.
Tiana joined him. “Sadly, I can't show you defense against an opponent with a tail for obvious reasons, but watch with your imagination. The first response I want you to practice is this…. With a tail attack from the quadrant two and left-side secondary attacks, use a right-hand cut-block a cubit behind the tail’s tip, passing to the right.”
Tiana demonstrated with a spinning pass. “As you go, guard left against the secondary attack like this.” She trailed a left-handed guard. “As you clear the attack, slash to the body with your left to push them away from you.”
“Okay,” Jonah said, “A cubit?”
Tiana pointed to the distance between her elbow and fingertip.
“Okay. Then what?”
“Run like hell.”
“Got it. Run.”
“Like hell.”
“Okay. Do I practice that too?”
“Yes. Try to reach the far side of the room.”
For an hour, Jonah practiced different variations of disengaging and ‘running like hell’. He was on his way back to the start when something thumped him on the back of his head. He jerked around, coming to guard position. A tennis ball rolled away from him across the room. Max bent over and retrieved it.
“Did I do it right?” he asked Tiana.
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