Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [25]
“I’ll be there. Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kes stood, whirled, and left the mess hall, a slight bounce in her step.
B’Elanna shook her head. Great. Teaching Kes a brand new sport was just what she needed for her own workout time. She doubted she’d even get to break a sweat.
Well, one quick session and hopefully Kes would find whatever it was she needed. Then B’Elanna could go back to her usual schedule. She tapped the tabletop with her fingertips. Now she just needed to choose the right game….
“Computer, reset match. Stay with level-one opponent.”
Kes flipped up the blind on her helmet as Torres came closer to the anbo-jytsu ring. “You’re doing okay,” the engineer said. “Just keep listening to the proximity detector.”
Kes leaned on her staff, wishing it could hold all of her weight. “If I’m doing okay, why does he keep blasting me out of the ring? I feel like a photon torpedo.”
“Brace for impact. Yeah, I know you’ve hit the floor more than your fair share of times.” Torres smiled. “At least you can treat your bruises yourself without getting a lecture from the Doctor.”
When Kes didn’t smile back at her, Torres jumped into the ring and borrowed the staff. “Maybe this will help. When you’re ready to strike, try holding it down at the end of the handle.” She slid both hands all the way down and then swung the staff in a long arc. “That way, you get the benefit of its full length and weight. If you choke up too far, you can really only rely on your own strength.”
“And I sure don’t have much of it,” Kes said, crossing her arms and massaging both biceps. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so sore and so tired and so sweaty. She’d replicated clothes in a breathable fabric more appropriate for exercise than her usual attire, but still she was soaked across the chest and back of the gray sleeveless tunic she wore under her armor, and the tight black shorts were, she was sure, permanently welded to her legs.
It wouldn’t be so bad except she wasn’t getting anywhere. Far from relieving her aggression, her failure at anbo-jytsu was making her feel more frustrated than ever. Her head felt like it might explode with the pressure at any moment.
“The game isn’t all strength,” Torres encouraged, showing more patience than Kes would ever have thought possible. “You’re making some good contact points, and you stay away from him most of the time.”
“But then he catches me and pitches me out of the ring; match over.” Kes shook her head. “I don’t think this is my game.”
“Maybe not,” Torres said, “but try one more time. Use the staff like I showed you, and see if that doesn’t help.” She handed Kes her staff and backed out of the ring.
Kes resisted the urge to groan. “All right. One more try.” She grasped the end of the staff with both hands and faced the frozen hologram, spreading her feet about shoulder-width apart. She flipped down her blind and nodded that she was ready. Torres called for the computer to begin.
The hologram must have moved forward immediately, because Kes heard the soft whoosh of his staff just to her left. She jumped right and jabbed straight forward with her staff as if with a sword. Its tip found her opponent’s armor and slid off, and the computer registered a point to Kes. She immediately backed up. The hologram followed with a barely audible step, and she squatted just in time to miss his head-high slash. Still near the floor, Kes swept the staff from left to right, but missed her opponent’s legs entirely. Where was he?
Staying low, she crept around the edge of the ring circle until she thought she must be behind him. She raised her staff above her head with both hands, hoping it was high enough to clear the hologram’s helmet, and swept it slowly from side to side until her proximity detector sounded. Muscles shaking with the effort to keep the staff high, she took a deep breath and let the head of the staff fall. It took longer than she had expected to make contact; she must have hit a shoulder or hip instead of his head, but the point was hers. The sense of accomplishment was short-lived,