The major wished the bout would get under way. He was starting to feel the tension of the deciding bout creeping into his shoulders. Nervously he shook his sword arm to keep it loose. Tension meant stiffness, and stiffness meant slowed reflexes, a potentially fatal error in a sport where the winner and loser were often divided by split seconds.
"The final bout will be between the commanding officers of the competing groups. For the Red Eagles of the Regular Army, Major Matthew O'Donnel... and for the Space Legion, Captain Jester!"
"Go get him, Cap'n!"
"LEGION!"
The cheering section at the other end of the gym was obviously wound tight as a drum, bellowing out encouragement in their excitement that would be more appropriate at the opening of a boxing match than in a fencing meet. O'Donnel noted, however, that his opponent seemed oblivious to the racket as they moved onto the strip and hooked their body cords into the spring retrieval reels at either end. Saluting each other and the director, they donned their masks and stepped up to their respective on-guard lines.
"Fencers ready?"
"Ready, sir. "
"Ready!"
"Allez! Fence!"
Judging from what he had seen before, both this evening and this afternoon, the major had expected Jester to be an off-the-wall, unorthodox fencer, relying on weird, unexpected moves to score his points. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see his opponent take a conventional, textbook guard stance as they began to jockey for position.
Fine by me, mister. By the book it is. Let's see how good you really are.
Unlike foil and saber, where the hits are usually scored "deep" to the body in flashy, driving attacks, épée is more of a sniper's weapon where the touches are made with sudden quick jabs to the arm and hand-and, rarely, the leading foot-of one's opponent.
Silence slowly descended on the crowd as the two men edged back and forth on the strip, watching each other for the slightest opening.
O'Donnel was now oblivious to the audience as he studied Jester's guard stance .
... weapon arm ramrod straight at shoulder level, hiding the entire arm and hand behind the oversized bell guard... never a waiver in the coverage as he advanced and retreated in small, coiled spring steps... Classic!... No cheap, easy touches here!... Maybe if he invited an attack to...
In a flicker of movement, the Legionnaire attacked... not with an explosive burst of energy, but seeming to almost collapse as his sword dropped and...
BZZZ!
"Halt! One light! Touch is right! Score, one to zero! Fencers ready?"
The major barely heard the director's call, much less the applause from the stands as he mentally raged at himself.
The foot! He had been hit on his leading foot! Of all the...
While foot hits were, of course, permitted, they were rarely tried in actual bouts. If the defender simply withdrew his lead foot, the attacker would be left with no target, and his entire arm exposed for the counter hit! Still, occasionally a low attack would catch the defender flat-footed, but your opponent had to be...
O'Donnel pushed his self-criticism from his mind, focusing instead on the next touch as the director placed them on guard again.
Okay, wise guy. You know I'm ticked at having gotten caught that easy. If you've got any smarts at all, you'll fake your next attack to that same foot, counting on me to overreact in defense. When I do, you'll be back on the high attack before I can cover. Well, I'm waiting for you, buster, so just
"Allez! Fence!"
BZZZ!
"Halt! Again, there is one light..."
Jester had attacked as soon as the director dropped his hand to signal the start of the action. No feint... no tricky fake... just a quick darting jab... to the foot again!
Two-zero!
The major tried desperately to get his annoyance under control as they came on guard again.
The sonofabitch caught him twice with the same sucker move!
"Allez! Fence!"
The progress of the bout was relentless, giving O'Donnel little or no time to regroup mentally.
Jester stamped his foot noisily, and the major had to fight to keep from twitching defensively at the sound.
Don't fall for a sound feint! It's just the kind of thing this joker will use to...
The Legionnaire surged forward, catching and controlling O'Donnel's sword with his own weapon, moving the deadly defending point to one side with a flick of his wrist while slamming his own point squarely into his opponent's mask.
BZZZ!
"Halt!"
The major turned his back on the proceedings, shaking his arms and rotating his shoulders as the touch was awarded.
He had tightened up! Fighting the reflex to move at the sound of the foot stomp, he had tensed his arm, and Jester seized the opportunity before he could regain enough flexibility to evade the attack on his blade!
Three to zero! No! Put it out of your mind! Think of it as coming on guard for the first touch... except now Jester would be going for double touches! Two double touches and the bout would be over!
"Fencers ready?"
"Ready!"
"Just a moment, sir!"
O'Donnel took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. His opponent might protest the delay, but even that would buy him some time to get himself under control... and break Jester's momentum.
As it was, nothing was said by either the director or the Legionnaire until the major stepped up to his on-guard line and raised his sword.
"Ready, sir!"
"Allez! Fence!"
To O'Donnel's surprise, Jester did not immediately press the attack. Instead, he stood waiting in his guard... just a second! The classic picture wasn't there! Instead, the point of Jester's épée was above his bell guard... not much, barely an inch, but...
The major was attacking even before he finished the thought.
BZZZ!
"Halt! One light! Touch is left! Score is three to one!"
That was more like it! In an épée guard, holding the sword at an angle to the arm, however slight, was a dead giveaway that there was target exposed, even if you couldn't see it. Slipping his point past Jester's bell guard, O'Donnel had caught a piece of the underside of his opponent's arm... not much, but enough for a touch. Now to see if the bastard had figured out his mistake!
"Allez! Fence!"
BZZZ!
"Halt!"
Got him again! Three to two now!
The major was waiting at the on-guard line as the touch was awarded, eager for the bout to resume before his opponent had a chance to analyze the hole in his defense.
"Fencers ready?"
"Ready. "
"Ready, Sir!"
"Allez! Fence!"
BZZZ-UZZ!
"Halt! Both lights are on! Double touch! Score is four to three!"
Four to three! He had to be careful now. One more touch and... No! Jester had been lucky to catch a piece of his arm as he came in on the attack. He had to keep the offensive. Still, his opponent was expecting the shot to the underside of the arm now. Maybe a feint to draw his reaction...
"Allez! Fence!"
The major deliberately gave the point of his weapon a small twitch, and was rewarded by a quick flash of light reflected from his opponent's bell guard as it moved.
BZZZ!
"Halt! There is one light! Touch is left! Score is four all. Bout and match point, gentlemen. Fencers ready?"
Got him! Now, just one more. C'mon... think! One more touch!
"Allez! Fence!"
For a moment, it was as if neither fencer had heard the director's signal. Motionless, they stared at each other, watching for an opening yet unwilling to make a move which might create a vulnerability. Then, with slow deliberation, Jester raised his sword arm six inches, exposing the target his opponent had been scoring on, daring him to try again. That frozen tableau was held for a few heartbeats, then O'Donnel went forward in a gliding rush, accepting the invitation. Jester's point darted down, racing to intercept the attack, and...