For the first time in weeks, Jordan slept through the morning light until just before noon. And after a quick shower, he stood before the ATAR's chute to layout and survey his new maneuvering thrusters before installing them onto his suit.
The set of trapezoid-shaped pins cost him 5,000 rubies; five whole points, in total, but would make up for itself in due time, he was certain. Placed equidesciantly around his center of mass, they resembled tiny cameras or lights that protruded from his otherwise featureless clothes.
After dressing and stuffing his helmet inside his bag, he laid himself on the couch with a banana and jug of water and lit up the screen to pass the time.
Channel by channel, he flipped while lazily munching away on his breakfast until he saw a rendering of the rusted cracks and grooves of Europa's surface. He leaned forward at once to tune his ears to the screen.
"-sive projects going underway on the surface of Europa." A silky feminine voice suddenly filled his apartment. "At least two dozen construction footprints were spotted from orbit of the Galilean moon. Causing unrest to rise among the most influential; and dangerous gangs in the Don of Europa's Power. All the while, he's still on hiatus in the Empire of Saturnia."
'I guess it's no secret.' Jordan thought to himself. He wasn't presumptuous enough to ponder too much on his father's business. But he couldn't help but be just as curious as everyone else. Especially when he remembered his baby sisters begging their father to stay. 'Why stay so long, Dad?'
His thoughts were cut short by a sudden buzz-like calling in his ears that was quickly followed by Gelos' visage glitching to life onto the screens surface. No larger than a playing card and accurately matching its mouth with Gelos' dreary words. "You ready?" he asked.
"Whenever you are." Jordan finished off his banana and tossed the remains in the recycler chute. Then tended to his jug of water in the alcove that served as their communal porch while waiting for Gelos to emerge.
Around fifteen minutes later, Gelos shuffled out of his apartment, rubbing the bags under his eyes and all but dragging a large pack of food behind him. Which he gave his undivided attention to the moment they entered a cab. During transit to Talos, Jordan took the time to continue studying both the ancient spear techniques developed over humanities long history, and their modern adaptations for microgravity.
"Do you know how to use a spear?" Jordan asked once Gelos finished his meal.
"Not a spear, no." Gelos wiped his mouth and shook his head. "I've practiced with long and short blades since I could stand though."
"I see." Jordan sighed. "I need to learn if I'm to beat that knight."
"Honestly, a spear doesn't really fit. Claws would be better for you." He chuckled as he made claw shapes with his fingers and scratched at the air. "Better yet, daggers would be perfect."
Jordan's eyes brightened at the thought. Daggers and claws did sound like the better option. One that'd be on him at all times and didn't need to be slung over his shoulder like a farm tool. However. "That'll have to come after," Jordan said in a cold, stern manner. "First comes slaying this knight."
Gelos shrugged away whatever opinions he may have had and spend the remainder of the ride staring, as if in a daze, at the wall. Eyes glowing a subtle blue from the information passing over his manufactured retinas.
Back in the Community Center, Jordan split the morning by practicing against unmoving training dummies and being 'taught' zero-G grappling by Gelos until late afternoon. When Gelos abruptly halted their training to tend to his lunch.
Rather than wait around, Jordan accessed his inventory and, for the first time since coming into possession of it, gave the spear as close an inspection as the digital details would enable. The steel shaft was delicately etched with an Earthen landscape of open plains featuring gilded ropes to make up the masses of swaying grasses beneath a rising sun. A maned beast, similar to the one on the Knight's chest plate, sat at the base of the leaf-shaped blade with its fanged jaws gaped open around the shimmering spearhead. Staring beyond the tip with hateful, orange eyes that stared as if to invoke fear into the hearts of its victims.
"Let's see what this spear's about." Gelos' drifted towards Jordan from behind. Eyes glowing with excitement.
"Alright."
[Warning!: Unauthorized Weapon!]
"The fuck!?" Jordan flinched backwards from the thick red banner occluding most of his field of view.
[Due to rank, the Great Spear, Vel. Is unable to be summoned to Talos Community Center by user: Jordan Astros.]
[Fabrication of a replica, authorized. Cost: 10 rubies. ETA: 30 minutes.]
Jordan grumbled his objections before agreeing to the terms and spending the next half hour drifting lazily from one end of the room to the other while Gelos rolled himself to sleep near the chute.
Five minutes before the half hour period ended, the replica arrived to their training bubble with an audible guarantee of accurate dimensions, weight and balance.
While Jordan couldn't attest that claim in its entirety, he could only laugh at what he pulled out the chute. A dull metal pole. Unmarked, unembroidered and capped with a thick rubber blade.
"Steel shaft. Titanium core in the blade with a tungsten-carbide edge." Gelos whistled low after requesting a glance over the spear's specs. "You got real lucky."
"Yeah." Jordan snorted dryly. "Just had to get impaled through the gut to get it. Lose my digestive system and flatline on an airless moon. Real lucky."
After the comment, Gelos moved away to continue lounging about, as usual. While Jordan followed the instructions of the virtual dojo's against a shadow soldier based on an amalgamation of Gelos and the Knight.
While the program focused on using thrusts to attack and maintain distance with the spear. Jordan went against the teachings whenever he thought applicable and used slashes or pommel strikes to manipulate his opponent into maneuvering or retreating into an auspicious position for a follow up. As the hours passed, the intensity and length of his combos increased until the point where Gelos himself had woken from his naps to study Jordan with curious eyes.
After Jordan reset for what felt like the thousandth time, Gelos broke the relative silence with an obnoxious applause coupled with a deep bellow from his bowels. "On second thought." He pointed a stubby finger towards Jordan." That thing rounds out your style quite nicely."
Jordan nodded to himself as he'd came to the same conclusions. 'Now that I think about about it.'
Many of his half-siblings used long-range weapons. Vera and her bow. Lila and her whip. Eloise's three-sectioned staff and so on. As far as Jordan was aware, they had all learned only two fighting styles as children, just as he and his siblings had. Yet, they were all exceptionally proficient with their weapons. To the point Jordan hadn't even questioned when they'd even adopted their armament of choice. Some even carried them around daily, wherever they went. Even going as far as to stow them away in their arms permanently.
After Gelos' prior suggestion, Jordan fully intended to at least train with daggers after the Knight's weapon was returned. After training in the art of the spear however, Jordan quickly began to rethink his strategy.
The only problem was lugging the thing around wherever he went.
After nightfall, the two returned to Bronio to roam the city streets aimlessly until their fatigue started to catch up them. And after a short ride back to their apartments, they retired to their respective apartments to fall into a deep slumber.
For the next five days, their schedule continued in the same fashion. They'd meet in early morning and head to Talos to train for the entirety of the day. Day after day. Until the day before Jordan's long awaited campaign. Which was spent alone in the corner of his bedroom, where a section of the wall folded out to form a balcony of glass and steel bars. Jordan lounged about out, enjoying solitude and drinking ales as he overlooked the ribbed concrete shell of his old home.
'Not even a week and it feels like old news.' Jordan snorted to himself before inhaling another swig.
By night, a pit seemed to open up within Jordan's belly. Sending the ravenous beast of malnourishment to begin torturing his body; drain him of strength. Without moving from his balcony, Jordan activated the autochef and invited Gelos to come over in around an hour for a 'talk.'
When he entered, Gelos immediately grew wide-eyed and scrambled to the sunken couch wrapped around a table of food. An entire roasted leg of lamb with mashed potatoes and gravy; macaroni and cheese; servings of spaghetti with meat sauce; lasagna; a basket of assorted fruit; omelettes and egg sandwiches; burgers, and even Martian kibble sat neatly arranged on the table for the two to indulge in to their heart's content.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
After Jordan gestured for him to help himself, Gelos pounced onto the table as if he'd been starved for days. Immediately scooping a serving of kibble into his bowl and inhaling a steaming bite.
His face wrinkled immediately after the first chew. Which was subsequently followed by slower and slower chews before he gently sat the bowl down before him with jaded eyes aimed at Jordan.
"Dried mushrooms and veggies, check." He nodded in agreement while studying the bowl carefully. Twisting it around in his fingers before darting his accusatory eyes back to Jordan. "Any type of dried or smoked meat, check." He nodded again. "So spicy you'll need to buy a new tongue." He gave a thumbs down and blew a wet raspberry towards Jordan. "This is Galilean kibble. Not Martian. Otherwise known as, trash."
"Don't blame me." Jordan threw his hands up to shoulder height, palms outward, in mock surrender. "Hate on the cook."
After setting the bowl aside, Gelos seemed more than pleased to continue sharing Jordan's meal. Up until the moment he got full and was forced to watch Jordan continue gorging himself.
He tried not to stare, Jordan saw. But his face was readable from any range or angle. Disgust and awe fought a battle for superiority of his face while Jordan satiated himself.
In his own mind, Jordan considered it retribution for being forced to watch Gelos lounge about and stuff himself like a lazy Greek emperor while he trained day in and day out.
"Should I bring it?" Jordan belched once finished.
"The spear? Ahah." Gelos let out a short chuckle. Shock still stamped on his face from Jordan's display of eating prowess. "Wouldn't exactly be a fair fight if you did." He shrugged.
"It would if I fight all of them." Jordan snorted dismissively.
"Woah, man." Gelos wiped all humor from his face. Replaced it with the crinkled brows of pure concern as he leaned across the table. "Don't bite off more than you can chew. Ahah."
"I'll fight without it if they don't accept the challenge." Jordan shrugged with his hands. "If I can't take them all. Well." He snorted dryly. "That's what you're here for."
"Hopefully it never comes to that." Gelos sighed heavily as he rose from the couch. "But, I don't see why not. I'm gonna prepare my gear. See you tomorrow."
***
[November 337th, GPY 2. Choece, Ganymede. 0756. UGT.]
[Temperature: 27°C]
[Merit: 6]
Over the days, Jordan grew to enjoy the peaceful mornings afforded in their secluded neighborhood. After waking and performing his morning routine, he'd get dressed and sit on his balcony. Absorbing the silence of the sleeping hills while he cleared his mind from the distractions of life until he received the call from Gelos to head outside.
The auras of life that had yet to rise through the habitat in those hours: the electric wining of cars, murmurs of voices, scent trails of food and cascades of footsteps, always brought a solace that made Jordan reflect on his relatively short journey in the Powers thus far. And made him ponder about where his journey would take him in the future.
Yet, on this day, it was tainted with the perpetual plans and preparations unfolding in Jordan's mind. Turning and folding over every datapoint that he was aware of that concerned his opponent, himself and their Campaign down on the surface. He stared over and over again the countdown floating overhead. Staining the low hanging clouds with its ethereal, digital glow.
[Campaign Details: Challenge. Zoltan Burns vs. Jordan Astros.]
[Rendezvous Location: Safe Zone XII.]
[Time: Friday, November 337th. YGP 2. 1200 Universal Ganymede Time.]
"Looks like I learned your name." Jordan snorted to himself. "Zoltan."
After closing up his balcony, grabbing his pack and sending his weapon to their designated hangar, Jordan met Gelos in their communal front porch, and rocked backwards in disgusted surprise at what he saw.
Gelos. Dressed in a suit completely different from the likes of when they first met. Or anything else he'd seen around Ganymede.
Instead of a coverall-like suit, it was skintight, plated, and industrialist by design. A tasteless gray suit with bulging pockets of armor on the chest, back and sides and pouches or patches positioned throughout. He clutched a visored helmet under his arms as he nudged Jordan with his free hand. Confused grunt huffing from his lips as he looked Jordan over. "Where's your suit?"
Jordan upturned his face in confusion as he gave himself a look over.
It was the same thing he'd worn almost everyday. An off-white vest with a fur collar and black, zip up turtleneck that covered his torso. With black denim-like jeans that covered his lower half. Tucked into black, pointed toe boots that buckled tightly around his shins.
"This is my suit." Jordan shook his head in confusion as he met Gelos' eyes once again.
"Woah!" Gelos gasped loudly and backed into his door. "Your clothes are vac-rated?"
"Yeah?" Jordan shook his head. Still confused. 'Is that not normal?' He thought to himself.
"No wonder you wear it everyday." Gelos groaned in indignation under his breath as he stepped into the corridor towards the lifts. "Where'd you get it?"
"My mother," Jordan replied off-handedly.
Gelos waited until they stepped into the elevator and it began its descent before speaking again. "This mother of yours have a name?" He asked.
"Jemenna Desai." Jordan sighed.
Gelos gasped, louder than last time, as he backed into the wall again. Face wide with shock. "Jemenna Desai!" He exclaimed. "The-"
"Yes." Jordan groaned. "One of the founders of the Galilean Powers and the Chieftess of Amalthea. Revered as the best fashion designer in all of Jupiter's sphere of influence, Jemenna Desai."
Gelos remained silent for the rest of the elevator ride. Swaying back and forth in a stupor. Not until they left the building and entered a cab, did he speak again. "You think dear ole mom would make me a suit like that?" He cheekily asked with no sense of embarrassment. "I'll pay."
"Hmm." Jordan scratched at his chin as he seriously thought it over. "In her eyes, a visit from me is long overdue. It's been well over a Jovian month since I've seen her. So, I'd certainly have to ask for something like that in person. Problem is, Amalthea orbits even closer to Jupiter than Io. As we are now, it's out of reach for us. But." He picked his chin up and looked at Gelos with a determined nod. "I'll try."
Gelos only grinned ear to ear and spent the rest of the journey staring out of the window. Presumably conjuring within his mind a grand design for his suit.
Jordan instead, focused on the lessons of his training and subduing the pride caused by his rapid ascension out of the hole. Steadily reminding himself to not let complacency get to him.
An hour and a half after leaving Bronio's limits, they arrived in the hangar that housed the dedicated campaign shuttles, a large, rectangular space lined with airlocks along the ceiling. After verifying his spear was loaded onboard, Jordan pushed off the deck towards the airlock and caught a handle protruding from the wall on the other side. Gently, it pulled him through a docking tube airlock, into a rather large cabin filled with rows of seats in two orientations.
Unlike his time with James, the rows were filled near maximum capacity. Heads upon heads. All turning and murmuring in an endless wave of motion and sound.
Jordan attached his boots to the deck and scanned the crowd while finding his seat and managed to catch a glimpse of the gray fuzz of Zoltan's head above him, near the front. Staring at the wall as if in a daze.
After getting seated and waiting an additional ten minutes, a mechanical voice suddenly rang through the cabin before the airlock sealed shut. Announcing their imminent departure and giving the passengers their terms of service for this particular shuttle. A requirement to leave the safe zone within twelve hours of landing, or pay some type of fee.
Jordan felt the shuttle lunge and twist beneath the restraints of his seat, vibrate and hiss from the propellants erupting from its skin as it undocked, reoriented itself and fired a short impulse from its main drives. For only a few seconds, Jordan was gently pushed into the back of his seat from the crafts acceleration towards Ganymede before the feeling cut out entirely. Rendering his arms to drift lazily in front of him. Suspended and shimmering in the dull light of the shuttle.
By reducing their orbital velocity before accelerating towards the moon, they were due to arrive on the surface in only a couple minutes.
After hearing their time of arrival, Jordan's eyes quickly and suspiciously shot back to Zoltan's location. 'If so. Then, why are you so early?'
As far as he was concerned, Gelos and himself had an alibi. Jordan departed from the Sphere of Europa to his first campaign on Ganymede. And this was the formers first time. Neither was acclimated to the moon's gravity. Yet, Zoltan struck Jordan as someone who's campaigned more than a few times. And was certainly a native to Ganymede. Someone who'd know just how much time they had to make it down to the surface before a duel.
His head was still turned towards the wall. Unmoving, like he was watching or reading something in augmented reality.
After touching down on the surface, Jordan held Gelos off until Zoltan egressed from the shuttle with his crew. Once gone, Jordan counted to thirty before departing the shuttle with the stragglers and skirting around to the cargo hold.
As the Community Center in Talos Guaranteed, the felt identical to the rubberized toy he'd been training with thus far. Juxtaposed with his arms and the faint sun ahead, Jordan could almost assume the weapon was designed for him. However.
[Warning: Imperial Weapon Detected. Notifying Owner.]
Jordan reflexively released the spear the moment after it fell into his grips. While his heart pounded away, echoing loudly in the sound chamber of his helmet, it remained suspended above the ice at arms length. Waist high. Slowly rotating. Glistening underneath the digital warnings popping in and out of existence.
[Temporary Authorization Granted.]
[Tracking Services Enabled.]
'Granted? As in the Knight allowed me to use it?' Jordan thought to himself as he hesitantly retrieved the still-suspended spear from in front of him. 'That didn't take long. Which means...'
"Are we following or not?" Gelos asked over the radio. Pointing to the dense cluster of bodies bouncing in the distance.
Without a word, Jordan began hopping, with Gelos in tow, after Zoltan's group towards the edge of the seemingly endless complex of domes, tunnels and huts that made up the Safe Zone 12.
"That's not the Campaign zone, is it?" Gelos pointed towards the barren ice at the edge of the compound.
"No." Jordan shook his head, ignoring the fact that the motion remained unseen under his helmet, as he accessed the local map. Then relayed his findings. "The ring around the poles that makes up the safe zone are divided 36 times. Ten degrees wide each. 18 safe zones, like this." Jordan gestured behind them with a jerk of the thumb. "Are separated by 18 others that are left empty, like this. Void Lands, they're called. They're used by people who want to train. Or by people who just want some peace and a little less gravity."
"If that's the case, how come we never used it?" Gelos jabbed at Jordan's chest with his finger.
"Hey, I'm just now learning about it too." Jordan snorted. Threw up his hands, palms outwards, in surrender. "But, it's not a bad idea."
Wordlessly, they backed off of Zoltan's tail and retreated back into the safe zone. Turned to walk south for a couple hundred meters, then veered back into the void lands and for some last minute practice.
The immediate difference noted by Jordan, besides the lack of gravity, was the obvious lack of resistance from his thrusts and swings. Without air to slice through, it was far too easy to swing with the blade misaligned. Or worse, swing too hard and end up throwing himself off balance.
After another hour or so of practice, the two returned to the safe zone and moved to the far south of the complex where Zoltan and his three friends were huddled around the array of launch pads. Massive crossbow shaped constructions with L-shaped platforms in place of bolts. Pointing their rails towards the ice fields of Ganymede.
On approach, Jordan requested their frequency by tapping at the ear of his helmet. Once connected, Zoltan's baritone voice immediately screeched into his ears while he pointed Jordan's way. "What's with the spear?"
"I brought it, in the event of a four-on-one." Jordan shrugged with his hands as he snickered as loud as he could across the radio. "But, if it's just you and me, Zoltan. I definitely won't be needing it."