It's almost as bad as Elysia. For a minute I feel dizzy, unsure of whether or not I'm even in reality. Maybe Specter is right for burrowing into Immersion. At times I'm not sure what the difference is. When the world is synthetic, what does it even mean to be human?
A collapsible staff is in my hand. A click of a button and both sides pop out, forming the thin but sturdy weapon. It whirs in my hand as I go through my form, focusing my mind and body. Embracing the discipline. I move in ways I never could before, not even in my previous top form. I'm faster in my enhanced body. Stronger. Nearly flawless. I'm not even sure if Dabria could best me now in a sparring contest. So different than in the beginning. When I was a playful student and she a patient mentor…
I remember the sunlight. Not the artificial, waxen glow of the Havens. But real sunshine, bright and warm on my skin as I stalked the garden at the retreat where she trained us. She was hard at work, weeding with her back to me. I crouched low to the ground, creeping with a bamboo staff in hand. She never saw me coming when I sprang and whipped the staff forward, blurring as it struck.
Quivering, the vibrations rattling my hand when her rake blocked my attack.
Her head turned slightly in my direction. "Still at this game, child?"
I leaped back, automatically assuming an offensive stance. "How did you know I was coming?"
"Training." She stood, towering over me.
I attacked, awkwardly wielding my practice weapon. "I never made a sound."
She casually blocked my strikes. "You made many noises. That is the difference between the trained and untrained. In time, you will be able to move soundlessly. With much practice."
Her rake handle whipped out, catching my legs and sweeping them from under me. She was already back to weeding as I fell to the soft earth.
"Your sparring skills are equal to your stealth. Both need more practice."
I picked myself up, staring at her. She was in coveralls and a cotton t-shirt, black hair pulled back in an untidy bun. Sweat beaded on her bronzed skin. She didn't look like a soldier at all.
"You spend a lot of time in the garden."
"Yes."
"I thought warriors were supposed to spend their time fighting."
She wiped a grimy hand across her brow, glancing at me with a wry smile on her face. "One day, after you fight your battles, you will understand."
"Understand what?"
"That there is more glory in this humble garden than any battlefield, and more pride in hands stained with earth than with blood."
The staff blurs in my hands. My muscles burn where the flesh and blood bond with the synthetic. Part of me is fire, the rest cold, numbed to pain and sensitivity. I strike and defend on the rooftop with an invisible partner, recalling when I did the same with Dabria, day after day. Week after week. Month after month…
It takes years to warrant Dabria's full attention. But I worked hard, training continuously, engaging in extra sessions until I could nearly match her skills. We sparred on a rain-slicked rooftop in a city at night, glittering lights flashing around us. Our staffs whirred and clacked as we fought, neither giving quarter. Back and forth we went, far longer than I ever lasted previously. But in the end, it was her strikes that penetrated my guard once again.
Her staff stopped just short of a crushing blow to my throat. "Well fought, Enigma."
I hurled my weapon away, face flushed with anger. "I thought I finally had you this time. But you got past my guard again."
She leaned on her staff, face composed. "There's no need to get upset. This is why you train. To get better."
I glared at her. "Yeah, like you remember what it's like to lose."
"You think so? Then you'd be surprised because I definitely remember what losing is like." She stared at something unseen, eyes unfocused. "It's nothing like a sparring contest, Enigma. Losing in real life cuts. Every loss takes something from you. Pieces of yourself you can never recover, no matter what you do or how much time has passed."
I feel the hostility drain out of me. "I'm sorry, Dabria."
She shrugs. "Such is the way of war."
"How many wars have you been in?"
"Only the Red War."
"What was that like? Fighting on Mars?"
"The closest thing to hell, Enigma. Had I been wiser I would have never have enlisted. But I wanted the glory. That chance to prove myself beyond my training. What a fool I was."
"But… you're a hero. A decorated veteran."
"A fool with medals." Dabria exhaled slowly, glancing upward as if for answers. Rain fell on her face like tears. "I suppose it's in my blood. My people were fighters long before the Cataclysm."
"Your people?"
"My people hail from Kurdistan, a land torn by war and suffering. For centuries, we fought for the right to claim our homeland as our own. We fought simply to exist. For many people, the Cataclysm was the worst disaster in human history. For my people, it was a blessing."
"But… the Cataclysm nearly ended the world."
"Yes. Turmoil and opportunity often go hand-in-hand if you have the strength to endure. And while the rest of humanity scrambled for hibernation stations and Havens, my people were free to claim the lands once lost to them. We fought the madness that roamed the world in the Cataclysm's aftermath. We fought the raiders and savages that roamed the area. And when the hibernators awakened, we fought them to retain our claim. And so, Kurdistan was recognized as a sovereign nation, beholden to no one.
"I was raised on the stories of our battles, our heroes who fought and died for our independence. I trained and enlisted in the military, but by that time, service was mostly ceremonial. When the war broke out on Mars, I didn't think twice about volunteering to join the troops headed there. I had no idea that the stories of sacrifice and glory would be replaced by the red-stained horror of war on foreign soil. Killing and maiming other people, day after day, and for what? For the rights to harvest crimsonium mineral? And all the while, what was truly precious was far away from me. Here, on Earth. Where I should have never left."
I lean against the railing, breathing vapor into the rain. "Guess I never looked at it like that before."
"Fight for a worthwhile cause, Enigma. Fight for life, for home, for basic human rights. Fight to survive. Never for financial gain or to further the interests of someone you don’t know and who doesn't know you. Fight for something truly worth the sacrifice."
I grin at her. "Like winning a sparring match."
She smiles in return. "Like winning a sparring match. Speaking of which, do you know why you lost?"
"Because my concentration slipped."
"No. Because you're fighting to win."
"I thought that was the point."
Sadness touches her face. "The point of fighting is to kill your enemy, not win a match. Remember that if you want to survive."
I'm winding down my workout when my holoband pulses. Zen's face flashes on the screen. She looks more resigned than anything else, and I immediately know she found something.
"You got a hit."
"Yeah. Kilgore's hooked up with some ex-General named Hamilton. Looks like he's amassing some kind of mercenary army."
"Well, chances are that Dabria will be hooking up with him soon is she hasn't already. Track the General. I'll assemble the team, and we'll head out as soon as we can."
"You got it."
No enthusiasm in her voice and I can't blame her. We're on another collision course with Dabria again, and this time I don't think she'll have a synoid double to fool us. I know the Collective claimed that she had a plan to rescue me, but I don't see how that's possible. Doesn't matter. Our sparring days are over. All that's left are two soldiers on opposite sides of the battlefield.