After breaking into the spare parts locker, Kieran came out carrying boxes of piezoelectric motors and nanowire assemblies. The five combatants soon found themselves together in the ship's machine shop, where they worked through the night on drilling, wiring, and testing. The fundamental installation process was the same for all of their different weapons. Inside their weapon, each carved a precise cavity five millimeters below the surface. A polymer that contained tiny audio relays was sprayed inside this cavity. Piezoelectric motors were connected to generators located inside the weapon's handle, which were wired from the polymer coating.
The metal shavings that were created during the drilling process were carefully gathered, melted, and then refilled into the cavities to create a seamless seal. Each weapon's on/off switch was a tiny activation stud on the hilt. Batteries were not necessary because the internal generators generated power through movement.
With the smallest weapon, Nayla finished first. She used a 7-millimeter steel plate to test her altered blade. A clean break came after three hard blows. With a grim smile, she deactivated the weapon. She thought it was time for some retribution. Resonance blades were known for their cutting ability as well as their exceptional edge retention, even when facing off against other resonant weapons.
After finishing hers, Nora idly hoped for a lightsaber similar to those featured in Star Wars, which she regarded as the best movie series ever, including the originals, prequels, and sequels. Even though lightsabers were blatantly against the laws of physics, they were still cool!
Kieran came in last, followed by Okani and Luna in third place. Additionally, Kieran had taken the time to sharpen the previously blunt end of his staff because he remembered times during the previous battle when he had hit opponents with ineffective blows. The chronometer read 0400 hours by the time he finished, which is too early to wake up properly and too late to go to sleep. Since everyone else had gone to bed, he wandered down the hallway in the direction of the simulator. There were always activities to partake in.
With a gentle hydraulic hiss, the doors behind him closed as he stepped into the room. He stopped and looked around. Luna and Nayla moved quickly in the middle of the simulated dojo area, avoiding tiny objects that flew through the air. A wooden sphere that was only a few centimeters in diameter struck him hard on the side of the head after he had been watching for about three seconds. Before Luna or Nayla even appeared to notice him, he scurried back out of the room in shock.
Luna had shown interest in this specific evasion simulation, which Nayla had developed a few days earlier as part of her training routine. It had ten different levels of difficulty. Since no baseline human could possibly handle level ten, Nayla herself could only handle level eight at this time. Entering the room, making your way to the center, and waiting for the computer to count down to five seconds was the straightforward simulation protocol. Wooden spheres would appear at zero and try to hit the user by swooping down. Missed spheres would keep coming back for more chances. In order to demonstrate the point of impact, a successful hit would immediately freeze the simulation and hold the user in place.
The simulation had been set to level six with Luna involved, and she was adjusting quite nicely. Motion had to be fluid and nearly constant to avoid the spheres. The simulation abruptly froze once more. Nayla looked over. This was the second time in less than ten minutes that Luna had been caught mid-cartwheel, with a sphere having just scraped her shoulder.
Nayla advised. "Try pushing off with your legs a little harder," she said. Perhaps because she was a special person, she wasn't quite sure how she was able to avoid the projectiles so well herself. But then, she thought in silence, I'm not really human, am I?
After Luna gave a nod, Nayla told the computer to restart. The two women continued their evasive dance, flipping, rolling, diving, and ducking as the spheres resumed their dizzying flight. Each movement seemed to flow into the next as they prepared for the sphere's return trajectory. For a moment, Luna entertained the humorous idea of enticing Kieran into this simulation.
Then no simulator. Sh*t. That made it much harder for Kieran to pass the time. Perversely, he walked down the hall to the food creator in the hopes that it might be broken so he could fix it. No luck.
"Drinks. alcoholic. vodka. Lemon. "Three degrees Celsius," he said. In order to navigate layered menus that became increasingly specific, the creator's program required verbal commands. Kieran placed another order after accepting the machine's offer of a chilled glass. "Food. vegetables. potatoes. French fries. minimally salted.
The fries needed a little tweaking; they were all perfectly shaped and sized, and they tasted pretty much like the real thing. Kieran accepted the creator's dish and made his way to his room. Perhaps this week Popular Mechanics will publish an intriguing piece.
A tai chi sword was in Okani's right hand as he stood bare-chested in the Kyara's guest quarters. In addition to being a very powerful fighting technique, tai chi offered an unmatched sense of inner tranquility. He moved with ease and accuracy, the sword appearing to be a natural extension of his arm. He had spent an hour honing his forms, pausing every ten seconds for three seconds. The only lights in the room were a few flickering candles. There was a big, ornate wall hanging above the bed that showed two dragons tangled around a yin-yang symbol. Below it, on the headboard, were two candles. The harmonious fusion of the mind and body was symbolized by the yin yang, a perfect circle split by a smooth black-and-white curve.
Although Okani was not yet considered an Elite warrior, he was very close and spent almost all of his free time working toward that honor. He even hoped to become a Seraph, the elite guard that serves the Nine rulers, in the future. Even though there were only 90 Seraphs in the world—ten for each of the Nine—they served as the pool from which the Nine's replacements were selected in the event that a vacancy ever occurred.
Okani felt that an hour was enough. For the first time since he started practicing, he stopped moving, straightened up, and opened his eyes. In the dim light of the candles, sweat glinted on his back. He placed his practice sword down and touched the elaborate dragon tattooed on his neck. With the dragon's head at the base of his neck, its serpentine body coiling down his back, and its tail ending close to his ankle, it was a magnificent work of art. A master tattoo artist from his own family had skillfully inked it in an old Chinese style. Perfection was represented by the dragon, which was immortal, strong, intelligent, and lovely. There were billions of species in the galaxy, but none, in Okani's opinion, were as magnificent as the one that covered his skin.
After running a hand through his short hair, Okani reached down and touched his practice sword's hilt once more. It was not the same weapon he used in the arena, but it was similar in design: it had a double-edged, straight blade with a sharply rounded tip. The intricate jade carving on the handguard was reinforced by delicate gold inlays. The head of another dragon, only a few centimeters from the tip, was carved into the blade itself. Small gold studs were set into the sides of the fine-grained oak hilt to improve grip, and the handle was polished to a mirror sheen. He returned the weapon to its wooden carrying case after respectfully wrapping it in green silk.