Proving True
Chapter 15

When I get to the dojo, I realize I probably would have been better suited to beg time for chow today. The Master is not waiting for me alone. Several of the senior students are here as well. “First,” he says as an introduction, “we must perfect your physical conditioning. Your classmates will assist me.” The first leads me through Conditioning Drill Number One—straight from the Trooper’s Manual of Physical Conditioning. To complete it properly and thoroughly takes an hour. And by the time Master Kreq signals completion, we have been very thorough. After that, I’m allowed a ten-minute rest period. The next student reviews one-hand blocks with me. First I defend against strikes from the hands and feet. Then we move to combinations of two strikes. Then one strike and one kick. Then three attacks of any combination, then four. This takes another hour. Behind this drill I get a five-minute break and a bottle of water. The next student reviews strikes and kicks, and like the previous block of instruction, it segues into combinations. Another ten-minute break before the next senior student and I practice “blending,” she attacks and I move into but adjacent to it into a position of advantage, usually to her side or behind her. And when I don’t blend well, she lets me know I didn’t with a smack on whichever target I left her. This session doesn’t involve as much contact—thankfully—as the others except for when I goof up. But even so, at Master Kreq’s signal we stop and I am wringing wet with sweat. I’ve gone straight past “glowing” and “perspiring” to “sweating,” and I couldn’t care less. “Fifteen minutes preparation time,” Kreq says.

There’s more? All I want right now is a shower and a bed! The first student is passing out the sparring gear. Here’s my way out! “Master Kreq, you didn’t mention sparring, I didn’t bring my mouth protector!”

However, the female student “rescues” me, “Hear that, all? No strikes to the face.” She hands me the gloves and boots.

Damn!

“Line up!” Kreq yells, clapping his hands. “Attack line! Sonia, you are the defender.” Normally, we’d line up in order of seniority with the senior student repelling our attacks and when we got to the end, he would fall into the end of the line and the next student would be the defender. I don’t think we’ll be rotating this time. They take turns coming at me. The only good news is that I’m allowed to blend, block, kick, strike, and throw. Whatever it takes; whatever I know how to do. I’m sure we’re only at it for ten minutes, but it feels like hours. “Stop!” Master Kreq finally says. I’m preparing to relax when he says something that drops my heart to my stomach. “Circle!” They form a ring around me. This is new to me. “Sonia, this is an attack ring. There is no particular order in which you will be attacked. They will observe you and each other. The only guarantee I will give you is that more than one person will not attack you at a time. Yet. Begin!”

He’s honest enough about that, and usually they’re polite enough to not attack from behind me. Usually. And if I’m not careful about where I wind up when I blend, I get reminded to keep my eyes open. There are no strikes to the face, but the ones to the ribs and kidneys hurt too. I lose all track of time. “Stop!” Kreq says. “Sonia, stay. The rest of you are dismissed after you help her from her gear. Thank you for your time.” I try to help them unstrap the booties and gloves, but I’m gently rebuffed. And honestly, I lack the energy to assert myself.

Before they leave, one of them hands me another bottle of water and a tube of applesauce. “You did fine,” he says with a wink. “Anyone would feel weak as a kitten after a workout like that.”

Kreq approaches with a short-legged stool and places it on the mat behind me. “Sit,” he says and taking me by the hands, helps me onto it. If I keep my feet flat, my knees are higher than my hips. Kreq gently arranges my legs so I’m sitting in an elevated cross-legged posture. “Keep your spine erect,” he chides me. I’m on the ugly side of the meat grinder, and he’s insisting on good posture? He sits in front of me. “How do you feel?”

“Exhausted,” I answer around a mouthful of applesauce. “What is the purpose?” I ask after swallowing.

“Actually, you have said it. Exhaustion. Your body would ordinarily fuel your mind’s resistance to your coming psionic exercises. Now it’s too busy for that. The good news is that you will not be required to do another drill like that, unless you ask for it. But my question of you is, where would you most like to be right now?”

“Right now?” I ask. “Right now I think I’d like to be in my bed.”

“Describe it to me, its ideal condition.”

“My sheets are fresh, crisp, cool and comforting…” I look at Kreq, and I see him shimmer. I’ve felt like this before.

I’m falling.

I fall right onto my bunk. I look around. I’m in my stateroom. I’m not in the dojo. I’m alone. My perCom chirps, it’s Master Kreq.

“What just happened,” I ask as way of greeting.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“My stateroom.”

“Are you well?” he asks. “Intact?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“Excellent, you were too tired to resist your teleportation. That was the purpose of the examination. Sleep well. Athena will bring your belongings to your cabin. I haven’t authority to relieve you from your job, but don’t feel the need to come to the dojo until you desire. You need time to rejuvenate.”

“So I’ve just been trying too hard?”

“Indeed,” he says. “You need to unlearn, but I’ve no doubt that you will persevere…” If he says more, I don’t hear it. Too tired to shower or care, I fall into a deep sleep. When I wake the next morning—and for many mornings after that one—I’m quite sore.

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