In the end, Violet's fears were unfounded. Rysi Reichart merely used her as a demonstration partner to show the class a few techniques that they would be drilling.
“Consider your blades,” he said, raising his by the hilt. “Though your training blades have their cutting edge blunted and their points dulled, they are weapons still, so take care not to injure your training partner.” Rysi crossed the blade back and forth in an X pattern, his wrists, flicking the blade through the air with an elegance and ease of motion that spoke to his expertise and combat experience.
"Feel the weight of the blade in your hands, the balance of it carefully weighed by the finest armorers in the Galactic Republic. The balance will depend on the length you choose, but as we are working with the shields today, our choice of blade is suited to match — the gladius. A shorter blade, double-sided, and meant to be welded by one hand while the other holds your shield. In the weeks to come, you will be exposed to other blades–light blades, like the rapier and heavier, longer blades, like the katana and longsword. But you will only be expected to master the gladius–the blade of choice for the GR Marines. Its size and speed make it especially effective in the confines of a ship's corridors. Before you graduate, the gladius will feel like an extension of your natural arm, as though when you hold it, it is a biological extension of yourself."
Violet hefted her own blade in her hand. It felt heavy and cumbersome. Most definitely not as the old man had just described. She watched her classmates as they, too, attempted to handle their weapons as they’d seen the old man do. With the exception of a select few, everyone else seemed as clumsy as Violet. It brought her more relief than it should have.
Among those who seemed to know what they were doing, were Trace, along with Marten and a few of his crew. Violet made a note to work her way over to Trace as soon as Rysi was through with her. Maybe she had a few tips that could help Violet out.
“Trainee Weaver, activate your shield,” Rysi commanded.
Violet fumbled with the activation controls and heard someone in Marten’s pack of jackals crack a joke. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Jensen. Marcus Jensen was like Marten Warwick lite. He came from similar circumstances. Born to powerful parents, and used to getting his own way. The only difference between them was the degree of wealth, power, and thus influence that their families had. Where Marten came from a prominent core world, Jensen’s family hailed from one of the many mid-system worlds that made up the Me’shin Combine.
She felt her face redden as a quarter of her classmates laughed at whatever bullshit Jensen had spouted, but it wasn’t embarrassment at being the butt of the joke. Violet was pissed that she had fumbled with the shield controls. She should have spent more time getting familiar with the shields instead of being so engrossed in the fight between Rysi and Marten. She was already handicapped when it came to most of the recruits and weapons training. They’d spent most of their lives receiving tutelage from whichever security firms their families could afford to hire.
The shield hummed to life as Violet finally managed to activate her shield.
“Defend yourself.”
Before Violet had time to think, Rysi delivered an overhead blow, and she found herself raising the shield to cover her head. The blow landed with a sizzling crack as it struck the shield and the kinetic energy dissipated.
“Again.”
This time the strike came from the side. She blocked it once more.
“Good,” Rysi grunted. “Pair off and do the same. One of you will stay on offense and the other on defense until I tell you to switch. If you are on offense, I want you to strike at a relatively slow speed from a variety of angles. Your intention is not to land a blow, it’s to give your partner the opportunity to learn to use their shield in an effective manner.
“When you’re in a real fight, there is no telling where the next strike might come from, but there are clues. Pay attention to your partner’s center of gravity. Is their weight balanced between both feet or do they favor one over the other? Everyone understand the assignment? Good.”
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The class broke into chaos as everyone scrambled to find their preferred partners. Violet spun to find Trace and smacked her face into the shoulder of someone standing directly behind her.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
Violet looked up at the speaker and started laughing. “I was just looking for you.”
Trace had an awkward look on her face. “Well, you found me… Aww, man, you’re bleeding.”
Violet reached up and felt her lip. Her fingers came away with blood. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll learn to watch where I’m going one of these days.”
A countdown timer started chiming from 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
“Begin!” Rysi instructed.
Violet was about to ask Trace if she wanted offense or defense, but her shield was still activated, and Trace was already halfway through her first strike. “Guess that settles that,” she said.
She caught the blow on her shield and Trace paused. “Huh?”
Violet shook her head, dismissing the break in the action. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.”
They begin again, slowly at first and then picking up the pace as they both fell into a rhythm. Before long their bodies were covered in sweat.
“Switch!” Rysi called over the noise of blades battering shields.
Trace activated her shield and nodded in the direction of Marten and his partner. “Who do you think is responsible for the beatdown the other night?”
“Who knows?” Violet shrugged, she didn’t care to dwell on it. In fact, if she could just pretend like it had never happened, she’d be fine with that.
“Come on, Violet. It doesn’t take a genius to–”
“See something you like ladies?” Marten had caught them staring. “I’m more than happy to spread it around.”
Violet broke off the glance and felt her face redden for the second time that day. “Let’s just train,” she said. She drew back her blade and swung.
“I hear Weaver likes late night visitors,” Marten said as Violet’s blade began its arc through the air.
Trace turned toward the insult, infuriated, dropping her shield in her haste to respond to Marten’s taunting.
“Listen motherfuck–” was all she got out before Violet’s blade slashed her mid-torso. She cried out and dropped to her knees.
Marten and his partner saw the injury and doubled over in laughter. The training room ground to a halt as Violet rushed to Trace’s side, apologizing.
Violet could see blood between the fingers of Trace’s hand that covered her side.
“Somebody call the medic!” Violet yelled, adding her own hands over the top of Trace’s, trying to help stop the bleeding. She knew it likely wasn’t helping, but it was all she could think to do.
Staring at the pain on Trace’s face she said, “I’m so sorry, Trace. Hang in there, help is on the way.” But looking up, Violet saw only shocked faces staring back at her. “Someone get the fucking doc in here, now!”
Her outburst broke the spell on several classmates and they rushed to summon the medical team.
Against the wall, Rysi stood, observing everything. He appeared more interested in watching the reaction of the trainees than offering any useful assistance.
“With friends like Violet, who needs enemies,” Marten said, bringing another round of laughter from his underlings.
Violet snapped and sprang to her feet, launching herself at Marten with a shriek.
Several trainees were able to intercept her and prevent her from getting close enough to land a blow, but not without serious effort. Violet kept fighting to get through.
“Stop!” Trace called out, the effort causing her further pain. “He’s not worth getting washed out over, Violet.”
The sound of her friend’s voice took the wind out of Violet’s sails, and she stopped. “This is on you!” she said, pointing her finger at Marten’s face.
The medical staff arrived, running into the room with their equipment. Violet returned to Trace’s side.
“How bad is it?” the medic asked. His name badge read Perez. He laid Trace down and removed her hand. He ripped open a fresh gauze and wiped the smeared blood to get a good look at the wound. “I’ve seen worse. Can you walk?”
Trace nodded.
Perez opened another gauze and pressed it to the wound, holding it there. “Help me get her up.”
Violet and another trainee helped Trace to her feet.
Perez studied Trace for any sign that she was incapable of walking. Satisfied, he said, “Alright, let’s go get you patched up.”
Violet watched her friend leave and then searched for her weapon. She found it lying nearby.
A voice squawked over the comm system. “Trainee Weaver, report to the training commander for an incident debrief, immediately.”
Murmurs rippled through the bystanders. Violet shot the room a glare and then stormed off, stripping the shield generator from her wrist and throwing it against the wall along with her training sword.