Chapter Three
Lessons
The combat deck smelled like sweat and old gym
shorts. Dust flew from punching bags as off-duty Rangers
worked out their aggression on inanimate opponents. Taz,
sitting cross-legged next to a pile of dirty towels, was
watching Lieutenant Up put a bunch of ensigns through
their paces in the ring. Most of them were boys, not much
older than her, and they were putting on a fairly pathetic
display.
“Ensign Lucas!”
“Yes, sir!”
“You wanna tell me what those are in your head? Those
things under the eyelashes your mama thinks are so pretty?”
Silence. Someone chuckled.
“Uh, my eyes, sir?”
“Give the boy a prize!” bellowed Up. “Your eyes are for
more than winking at pretty girls, Ensign. Use ‘em next
time or you’ll be back on your arse on the floor again.
You’ve got to see what’s coming at you in battle, or you’ll
be toasted faster than a marshmallow in a campfire. Next!”
The next ensign was no more impressive. “I should send
you back to the Academy, the lot of you!” Up regarded his
charges and sighed. “You’re over-thinking this, children. A
warrior has to sense what’s going on and react – there’s no
time for your brain to get in the way.” He shrugged off his
uniform jacket and Taz sat up a little taller against the wall.
Just so she could see the ring better.