Defying Terror

Chapter LXXIII

September 10th, 2030, 4:52 am

Something pokes my cheekbone, and I flare my nostrils. My eyes tear open and I see the razor edge of a sword within inches of my face. The blurred image before me untwists until I see the figure of a man standing over me.

"Let's get up, kid," MacTavish demands, nudging my shoulder with the bladepoint. "It's time to practice."

I press myself off the ground and brush the stone dust from my arms. "It's time to sleep, not practice," I groan.

"No, come on, get up. One more duel before morning. I know we practiced for a few hours but I need to make sure you got it down before I let you go."

With leaden legs, I rise to face the Colonel. I blink several times and let out an exaggerated yawn. "What time is it, anyway? I feel like I was only asleep for an hour."

He hands me the silver sword with the rubber grip. "A little before five. And you were asleep for an hour and a half, actually. You know, I said you could sleep on the living room couch upstairs, but you crashed against the wall, so I let you go. I figured I'd let you be independent."

"So, why are we up now? Just because you want to battle me or something? I thought you said I looked good."

He points to me with his sword, walking a safe distance away from my being. "I said you looked decent, not good. You need actual practice now, fighting an actual opponent. Me."

"I'm too tired to do this, Colonel," I whine, lowering my sword to my hip. "You look like shit yourself. Why can't we just sleep so we're not dead for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I'll say this: you're already dead."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He gestures to my sword with a shrug. "You refused to sleep next to your sword. An intruder comes up to you as you're sleeping and threatens you, and you have no sword to protect yourself. If I was your enemy, you'd be dead by now."

"Don't tell me you actually sleep with a sword under your pillow." I expel a heavy sigh. "Isn't that an Imperial Guard thing, like officers sleep on their guns and shit?"

"No," he replies, twirling his sword at his side. "It's behind my nightstand. My gun is locked under my bed."

"Oh for fuck's sake." I streak my bandaged hand over my face, scraping against the gauze. I widen my eyes and shake my head. My left hand tightens around my sword. "So, what, are you going to attack me?"

"I was hoping you would come to me."

I lunge forward, throwing an overhead attack down onto him. My blade rattles against his, and I swing out on my left to catch him across his right, to no avail once again. I go on my backhand and try to hit him on his left side this time, but he blocks it. Nothing is going through, or even coming close.

He told me last night that fighting him would be a task, considering he's been dubbed the best sword fighter in the entire Empire. I'm not supposed to be landing any hits.

But damn, do I really want to.

I sustain my strength and go for a downward attack across his body like a sash. He impedes the diagonal, holding me in a stalemate. He presses me off and I stumble back. If I was fighting anyone else besides the Colonel, they would take this opportunity to dice me to bits. He taught me that I cannot let them counter, so I have to regain my footing fast.

The Colonel hovers over me as I pick myself up. "How about this time, you actually try to hit me? I promise you won't hurt me if that's what you're so scared of."