by Aer-ki Jyr
“Same with the MMA,” Marshal countered.
“Ok, point there.”
“My point is, if they can’t hack Knight standards they don’t deserve to be Knights, no matter what they weigh, orange armor or white. We can’t have separate standards…the battlefield doesn’t discriminate, so neither can we.”
“Is there a suggestion in there somewhere?”
“Push them harder. Learn by failure. Break their group think.”
“That’s already happening.”
“More challenges, less training.”
Jace rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If they’re going to increase their agility, it’s raw training they need. Which is more valuable at this point?”
“Knowing when to duck,” Marshal said, pointing down to Bronsor as he crawled back to the narrow choke point rather than stand up and get shot again, though there was no promise that the turrets wouldn’t tilt down to shoot him on the floor.
“Keep the others on schedule…but see what you can do with him. I think he can take more than the others, not much, but a little more.”
Marshal smiled. “That’s what I hoped you say. By the way, what do you mass out at now?”
“Without armor?”
“That is what we were talking about, right?”
“Without armor, 155 pounds. With, 215.”
“Damn runt. Why haven’t any of you taken the size enhancements? You know the Zen’zat are our size.”
“A lesson we learned from Dragon Ball Z.”
“Oh?”
Jace looked up at the Knight. “Beware the small ones.”
Bronsor dragged his numb right leg behind him as he crawled beneath his shields along the wall. This was the 6th time he’d reawoken after getting knocked out, and yet the challenge wouldn’t end. He assumed it was some sort of a test…which he was failing. The parts of his body that were awake screamed in discomfort, but the pain of transition he could handle, it was the lack of response from his leg that was getting to him. He couldn’t stand on it yet, but he wasn’t just going to sit still and wait for his body to come back to him…he had to be making at least some progress forward, or he could be stuck out here forever.
He didn’t know how long it had been, though it was possible he’d been unconscious for hours. No one else was on the training course, but the turrets were still live and acting unconventionally. Some didn’t move until he closed within a predetermined range, appearing dead then coming online when he was exposed. Others didn’t fire until he’d passed them, meaning he couldn’t trust that any inactive turret that he saw was truly offline, making him run the full course by himself whereas before it was supposed to have been a team effort.
The Calavari had tried bullying his way forward several times, but had eventually determined that he would make no further headway unless he changed his tactics, and his numb leg further encouraged him to focus on making small progress, even if it was only a few inches at a time.
Right now though he needed to hurry, for the last turret he’d taken down would reactivate after a certain period of time and he to get to cover before that happened. One upside was that a low wall was covering him from another turret that kept pinging stingers off the top of his shields that were laid over his back, unable to depress low enough to hit his exposed sides or head. Before he wouldn’t have considered crawling, but now that he was forced to it made perfect sense why the low wall had been placed where it was…to encourage him and the others to think of alternate ways of getting past the turrets aside from shooting them into submission.
Bronsor held his two shields in place over his back like an insect and crawled forward on his lower arms and good leg, dragging the numb one in a rhythm that he was getting better at, then as he rounded the corner a wave of stingers shot out at his feet, nailing his already numb leg with another splatter, though he couldn’t feel it. He pulled his leg out of the firing line and took a moment to rest and look around at where he was, finally seeing the finish pedestal ahead on a platform that had three possible approaches, each of which crossed a disqualification pit on various sized bridges.
He looked them over, spotting the turret locations and trying to think of a way past. He couldn’t run, and even if he did there was at least one turret on ground level that he knew would shoot his feet, tripping him up when they went numb. Bronsor thought back to the low wall that he’d just used as cover, wondering if the Humans had hid any more clever approaches in the architecture.
He knew he needed to look where a Calavari normally wouldn’t, and mentally ruled out all the ‘common sense’ approaches, but aside from the three choices he couldn’t see any alternates, nor any little tricks he could use to pass through one of them.
Before he would have taken off and tried to bully his way through anyway, but now he decided to stay put and think, knowing that with his leg out of commission he wasn’t going to be able to shoot his way through. The Knight had said to get to the finish, so he had to find a way to do that somehow.
As he leaned back against the long wall that was blocking him from the turrets he’d just escaped, his eyes got caught on a pair of grooves set into the concrete on a tall pillar that separated two of the route choices ahead. The pillar beside it that separated the others, identical in every way, but didn’t have the grooves, which he’d thought were decorative…but then he remembered that Star Force didn’t do anything decorative, and if they were present on one pillar and not the other, then they probably meant something.
Just then it occurred to him, and Bronsor looked around eagerly, trying to judge the firing lines of the turrets ahead…then wondering about those behind him and if they would fire over the wall or not. If they did he’d fall, but it was worth the chance of having a straight route into the finish.
The Calavari punched his numb leg in protest, then crawled over to the far pillar, passing the entry point for routes 1 and 2 and glancing down their footbridges to cover on the far side. It had to be a decoy, a lure to draw them in, while this pillar was the real way across.
When he got up to the base of the concrete pylon he slipped his armored fingertips into the groove that sat just above his head, then tilted one of his shields up and tried to fit it inside. It took some wiggle work since he couldn’t stand well, but once he got up on his good knee he was able to slide the shield in several inches where it stuck firmly, making for an impromptu platform.
Bronsor huffed in approval and crawled up on top of it, using his three free hands to haul his body up. The shield supported his weight, and looking back he could see the long wall was still higher than his head, meaning it was blocking the previous turrets, so he was safe for the moment.
Getting up to a knee by leaning against the pillar, Bronsor raised his second shield up and slid it into the next groove, then grabbed the edge of it and hung off, using his lower two arms to pull out the bottom shield and flip it around over his back where his left hand held it in place. Using his right he three-armed his way up onto the top shield, ending up face down on it as he glanced back at the wall, seeing himself now level with the top of it.
The turrets were just below it, but he could only make out the tip of one of their target spheres, meaning they still couldn’t shoot at him…at least not until he stood up. There was still one more groove left before he got to the top, but looking up he could now definitely see the grooves in the ceiling that he had guessed were there, camouflaged as they were.
He took a couple of deep breaths, then leveraged himself up and onto his knee, glancing back and staring at one of the turrets on the other side of the wall. It didn’t rotate to track him, which he took as a good sign, but he wasn’t going to stick around for long and let it change its orientation, so he leveraged his free shield up and slid it into place, making a small roof over his head.
Gathering himself, he climbed up on top of it, then up on top of the pillar another half meter higher to a small platform. From there he could see the ladder in the ceiling tha
t crossed over the disqualification pit and bridges below…as well as the numerous turrets that could easily rotate up and knock him off into a long fall. With his armor on he didn’t know if he’d break anything, but he’d definitely be injured…but if that was the case why would the Humans have put the ladder here?
He decided to take the chance, then carefully stood on one leg and reached up to the now low ceiling, grabbing hold of the rungs with both upper arms. Checking his grip twice, he pulled his body up off the platform, seeing if his arm strength would hold up. It was shaky, but possible.
He wrenched himself up high enough that his head almost hit the rungs, then he reached his lower arms up as far as he could and grabbed hold as well, finding that configuration more reliable, albeit slower, but at this point it didn’t matter. He just needed to get across.
Bronsor moved a hand forward, then another and another, about once per second and pulled himself off the platform, hanging over the freefall below. Ignoring everything else but his hand placements, he looked up at the rung ahead of him and got into a rhythm, his numb leg now no longer an issue. One hand release…one hand grab, always having three locked on tight to support his weight.
It was slow going, but it was steady progress, as he’d come to learn was the point. When he made it halfway across and hadn’t been shot down he knew he was going to make it the rest of the way, for his arm strength was serving him well…and now that he’d found a way to win, there was no way he was going to relinquish his grasp on it.
When he got to the far side there was another platform waiting, which he dropped off on, allowing himself to fall on his face rather than tip over the side as his numb leg collapsed underneath him. From there he slid down a curvy slide that deposited him behind a low wall that hid the slide from view and left him two meters away from the finish pedestal.
Bronsor crawled out and smashed his large hand on top of it, triggering the challenge complete tone and ugly blue lighting the Humans used along with it, but right now it was a welcome sight.
From the concealed exit the Knight walked out with a destunning injection and pointed to Bronsor’s hand. The Calavari detached the armored glove and let him inject the cool relief from the pins and needles that traveled down to his leg and brought it back to life as well. After a few experimental twitches he stood up beside Marshal, who simply tapped a finger against his own helmet, then turned around and led the way out.
Bronsor got the message. Fighting wasn’t always enough. Sometimes victory required one to think their way through, or out of, a bad situation.
9
January 22, 2442
Prolio System
HTC
Bronsor came out of the last turn on the track sprinting, in full armor, knowing that he had victory in this last piece of qualification if only he held his pace down the straightaway, but pride made him dig a little deeper and eke out some more speed. He needed to run under 5:45, and had been 12 seconds ahead of pace at 3 laps. Though his fatigue was wearing on him there was no way he was going to squander that lead so long as he kept the pressure on.
Which he did, and then some. The Knight armor he was wearing had been designed for running and allowed him to stretch out his thick legs and pound his way down the straightaway. When he crossed the line in 5:31 he knew all his hard work had finally paid off and coasted to a stop, breathing heavily inside his helmet. That was it…the last piece of the puzzle. All the combat challenges and tech training had already been completed, leaving only the physical fitness requirements between him and official Knight status, same as the Humans, and would give him the same white armor they wore...along with a combat assignment.
It also meant he was the first. The first Calavari to qualify as a true Knight. There were several hundred others in training for the same thing, but out of his ‘class’ there were only three remaining. The others had given up the full Knight qualification goal, sticking with the orange armor they’d already earned and a position in the new Calavari military being built on their new homeworld. Star Force called it HTC, but the Calavari had come to refer to it as Hamathrat, or ‘home’ in the Calavari language.
Bronsor was now going to have to think of it as HTC, given that he was no longer part of the new Calavari military. He was a full Knight, meaning he was all Star Force now, not just a subsidiary like the Kiritas or Canderous, but part of their line troops…at the lowest level, but he was 100% one of them, and Archon Jace had promised him an immediate combat slot if/when he achieved that feat.
Catching his breath, Bronsor looked up at the others using the track, most of which were plodding around as he once had been. There was no one paying attention to him, no fanfare or congratulations. Only a marker on the scoreboard to indicate his time and completion of the qualification mark.
Somehow that felt fitting, because he’d learned that Star Force wasn’t one for celebration. That was alright, even if it wasn’t the Calavari way, because what he wanted most was to be done with this endless training and get back into the fight.
Bronsor walked off the track, disconnecting his helmet and holding the orange head covering between his upper and lower right arms as he moved out into the hallway. He was planning on going back to the prep room, getting out of his armor and taking a shower before finding one of his trainers and asking for his combat assignment, but to his surprise not one, but two Archon rangers stopped him a few steps out the door.
“Archons,” he said with a respectful nod down at them as he stopped walking.
“Time to lose the orange armor,” Jace said with a smirk. “Follow us.”
“You were waiting?” Bronsor asked as they walked off. In the past he wouldn’t have spoken unless it was vital to the mission at hand, but these Humans were more informal than even the Calavari were on the battlefield, which was something he appreciated. Pointless egotistical ritual had always annoyed him, and so many of the Alliance’s member races lived and breathed their social standings rather than recognizing true skill.
“We can usually tell when someone is close to passing,” Jace explained as he walked shoulder to shoulder with Jason. “You’re the first Calavari to qualify as a Knight, so we wanted to be nearby to get you up to speed as soon as possible. Your time on this planet is over.”
“How soon?” Bronsor asked.
“You’ll be transferring to a seda,” Jason answered, “and training with the Knights there until your jumpship is ready to leave. Probably within 3 weeks.”
“I doubt any of the others will pass before then, so you’ll be the only one going back,” Jace added.
“What of the Calavari Knights?” Bronsor asked, feeling weird asking the question now that it no longer applied to him.
“They won’t be deployed for several years,” Jason answered. “We are sending a few squadrons of Valeries with you, but the Knights, Regulars, Mechs, and Naval aren’t ready yet, and won’t be for some time.”
“I understand,” Bronsor said, following the Archons into a stairwell and climbing up with heavy steps, for his legs were still burning from the mile he’d just ran.
“Do you?” Jason asked.
Bronsor looked at the back of his head as they climbed. “I’m now part of an experienced military. Theirs is brand new and has to prove itself before being given combat assignments.”
Jace glanced at his fellow trailblazer. “Seems he does.”
“Does that bother you?” Jason asked.
“No.”
“Told you he’s one of us,” Jace quipped as they got off the stairs and headed for a room just a few meters down the hallway.
“He’s earned it, but does he understand it?” Jason asked, looking at Jace then Bronsor as they walked inside.
“He’s about to,” the other trailblazer said as the three of them came through the door in the face of a set of Calavari Knight armor set up on a display rack, making it look as if one of them were standing before them. Bronsor looked at the white armor, feeling an immediate sense o
f pride and accomplishment.
Jace walked past it and pulled a small package off the wall behind it and brought it out for Bronsor to see.
“This goes along with the armor. It is a secret amongst Star Force that most of our civilians do not know about, nor do our allies. When Jason and I went through our initial training we did so in a similar way to you…”
“Except it was way harder,” Jason added.
Jace smiled but continued talking without missing a beat. “Afterwards we were told of this,” he said, holding up a small vile of blue liquid. “We call it ambrosia.”
Bronsor looked down at it, frowning. “What does it do?”
“It gives you additional energy and structural components to make your body stronger. You eat small amounts of it with your food, as we have been doing every day for the past 400 years. Human ambrosia is different from this, which is the Calavari version. We’re still adapting it to your physiology, so this isn’t as potent as ours, but it will help you in training and combat.”
“Think of it like a super sugar,” Jason said, seeing that Bronsor wasn’t fully grasping the concept. “When your body runs out of it you’ll feel low on energy, and when you take too much you’ll get bad headaches, so you have to carefully measure how much you take and when you take it. It’s something you’re going to have to learn on your trip to Calavari territory.”
“I drink it?”
“No,” Jace said. “This much would cause you immense pain. Only a small drop is required, so we measure out the amount and put it into specialized foodstuffs, so you’ll be eating your ambrosia rather than drinking it. And make sure you only take the Calavari version. We also have one basic formula that we give the Kiritak, so it’s important to know what it is you’re taking.”
“What happens if I take the wrong one?”
Jace and Jason exchanged glances. “We don’t know.”
Bronsor nodded. “How do I tell the difference?”
