plain.
Mercedes’ stomach seemed filled with quaking jelly. She looked away from Deal’s steel gaze. Her own eyes darted from face to face seeking help, support, comfort.
Arturo caught her glance, and she saw a flash of pity in his caramel brown eyes. He took a step back, and stared down his nose at Deal. “They’re women. A gentleman does not strike a woman.”
A complex and elaborate move that involved an arm and a sweep of the leg, and Arturo was on his back on the mats gaping up at the burly chief. Deal leaned over, and gripped Arturo by the throat.
“There are going to be women on the other side. I lost a friend when he underestimated an Isanjo bitch. She was holding a cub, sweet little mother. She disemboweled him.” He flicked the fingers of his free hand, and curved them. “They’ve got claws.” Deal jerked a thumb over at the four women. “Don’t think they don’t have claws too.”
Straightening, the chief raked the rest of the men with a cold glare. “Any of you pussies strong enough to overcome your programming? We know Peaches here,” he glanced down at Arturo, “can’t.” There were awkward glances all around and not one of the men stepped forward.
Mercedes found herself remembering all the shocked headlines and disapproving editorials that had poured from the news outlets after her acceptance at The High Ground had been announced. There had been many arguments against the inclusion of women at the academy, ranging from how their presence would inflame and arouse the men and sexual license would abound, to the possibility that a man’s natural inclination to protect the weaker sex would distract him from the serious business of killing enemies.
Judging by what was happening at this very moment, the latter concerns had been well founded. Word of this would leak. It would be all over the news services, trumpeted with their usual high decibel hysteria, that the Emperor’s foolish action had weakened the military and that the League was now under imminent threat.
She stepped over to Arturo who was just climbing to his feet. “It’s all right. You must do this,” she said firmly. “Fight me.”
For an instant his confusion was evident, then the calculation began. She sensed he was reaching the same conclusion as her. He stepped back, bowed and said, “I would not presume.”
So it is to be war between our families
, she thought.
* * *
The pulse rifle vibrated in Tracy’s hands as it streaked death toward the distant targets. He knew his rate of fire was far slower than the other cadets. Theirs was an angry snarl while his was a slow buzz as he tried to line up his shots. He had done the same thing during RCFC training, and gotten roundly mocked and abused for it by the drill instructor. Memories of those painful classes had his shoulders tensing.
He was also distracted by what was going on over on the martial arts mats. The sound of the rifles made it impossible to hear what was being said, but he didn’t need words to know that some kind of drama was playing out. Mercedes looked devastated. The men had all stepped back as if an invisible barrier now separated them from the women.
Recruit Commander Yas Begay’s surprisingly delicate hand landed on Tracy’s shoulder. “You’re thinking too much, Cadet. What did I say right at the start?”
Tracy pulled his attention away from Mercedes and glanced up at the round-faced man. “The pulse rifle is a spray and pray kind of weapon.”
“Exactly.” Begay released Tracy’s shoulder, and stroked his chin. “You’re a thinker. You might be a sniper prospect. Takes coolness and a desire to analyze to be a sniper.” The short, stocky man glanced over at the hand-to-hand training area. “So what’s your analysis of what’s going on over there?” he asked quietly.
Startled, Tracy glanced up at the chief, fearing some trick. The man’s expression was blank. Tracy looked back to the mats in time to see del Campo stepping away
Mercedes’ stomach seemed filled with quaking jelly. She looked away from Deal’s steel gaze. Her own eyes darted from face to face seeking help, support, comfort.
Arturo caught her glance, and she saw a flash of pity in his caramel brown eyes. He took a step back, and stared down his nose at Deal. “They’re women. A gentleman does not strike a woman.”
A complex and elaborate move that involved an arm and a sweep of the leg, and Arturo was on his back on the mats gaping up at the burly chief. Deal leaned over, and gripped Arturo by the throat.
“There are going to be women on the other side. I lost a friend when he underestimated an Isanjo bitch. She was holding a cub, sweet little mother. She disemboweled him.” He flicked the fingers of his free hand, and curved them. “They’ve got claws.” Deal jerked a thumb over at the four women. “Don’t think they don’t have claws too.”
Straightening, the chief raked the rest of the men with a cold glare. “Any of you pussies strong enough to overcome your programming? We know Peaches here,” he glanced down at Arturo, “can’t.” There were awkward glances all around and not one of the men stepped forward.
Mercedes found herself remembering all the shocked headlines and disapproving editorials that had poured from the news outlets after her acceptance at The High Ground had been announced. There had been many arguments against the inclusion of women at the academy, ranging from how their presence would inflame and arouse the men and sexual license would abound, to the possibility that a man’s natural inclination to protect the weaker sex would distract him from the serious business of killing enemies.
Judging by what was happening at this very moment, the latter concerns had been well founded. Word of this would leak. It would be all over the news services, trumpeted with their usual high decibel hysteria, that the Emperor’s foolish action had weakened the military and that the League was now under imminent threat.
She stepped over to Arturo who was just climbing to his feet. “It’s all right. You must do this,” she said firmly. “Fight me.”
For an instant his confusion was evident, then the calculation began. She sensed he was reaching the same conclusion as her. He stepped back, bowed and said, “I would not presume.”
So it is to be war between our families
, she thought.
* * *
The pulse rifle vibrated in Tracy’s hands as it streaked death toward the distant targets. He knew his rate of fire was far slower than the other cadets. Theirs was an angry snarl while his was a slow buzz as he tried to line up his shots. He had done the same thing during RCFC training, and gotten roundly mocked and abused for it by the drill instructor. Memories of those painful classes had his shoulders tensing.
He was also distracted by what was going on over on the martial arts mats. The sound of the rifles made it impossible to hear what was being said, but he didn’t need words to know that some kind of drama was playing out. Mercedes looked devastated. The men had all stepped back as if an invisible barrier now separated them from the women.
Recruit Commander Yas Begay’s surprisingly delicate hand landed on Tracy’s shoulder. “You’re thinking too much, Cadet. What did I say right at the start?”
Tracy pulled his attention away from Mercedes and glanced up at the round-faced man. “The pulse rifle is a spray and pray kind of weapon.”
“Exactly.” Begay released Tracy’s shoulder, and stroked his chin. “You’re a thinker. You might be a sniper prospect. Takes coolness and a desire to analyze to be a sniper.” The short, stocky man glanced over at the hand-to-hand training area. “So what’s your analysis of what’s going on over there?” he asked quietly.
Startled, Tracy glanced up at the chief, fearing some trick. The man’s expression was blank. Tracy looked back to the mats in time to see del Campo stepping away
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