Eagle X, Mission 21: CTRL

Part 28: Commander Lychee Pawah

The training room rang with the song of battle. The three fought with deadly grace, their clashing weapons creating a symphony and their movements flowing into a warrior's dance. The room, thirty feet to a side, was a hexagon lined with racks of weapons, both ancient and modern. Hanging from the high rafters were tapestry banners to Lady Belladonna, ruler of The Pale Garden.

All of her soldiers were simple flowers in the shadow of her enormous tree. Flecks of blood stained the white tiles and pillars.

Xavier, part woman and part machine, fought with a training sword of long edged steel. Her eyes were cruel and calculating as she dodged and struck with equal frequency. Her complexion and features marked her as a human colonist, descendant of those who fled the dying Earth Prime in search of fertile lands. Pale and angular with hair of bright colors. Xavier wore hers in a spiky lavender pixie cut, half of her face under the tattoo of a snake coiled in thorny roses. She deflected an attack from one opponent, kicking off the woman and putting space between herself and the others.

Rahsa fought blindfolded, a dagger in each hand. He grinned as if enjoying himself despite his two adversaries attempting to bleed him from as many wounds as possible. His skin was dark and smooth like an Earther, though he'd never seen Earth Prime or Earth Two. His nose was full, his hair aggressively curly. His dreadlocks jingled as he moved from one opponent to the other. His lighter weapons lent themselves to his swiftness. Slash, stab, and retreat. Of the three, he bore the smallest number of wounds.

Xavier was a brute. Rasha was a poet.

Lychee pushed herself to match the others. More slight than Xavier and lacking Rasha's finesse, she relied on her ability to adapt. Matching his speed when necessary and meeting her savagery in kind. Smokey tan and pale eyes marked her as an Earther, the blood in her veins that of those who survived the dying Earth Prime and nursed her back to health. Her long wavy hair clung close to her back in one large braid. In her hands she wielded a wooden staff, twirling it with jarring efficiency as she fought back her rivals. Her expression determined, her concentration intense, Lychee read the flow of their dance and adjusted her movements to always be ahead of their blades.

They danced, using their master's training in the ancient martial arts of the felarnian and humans, until they were all covered in blood and breathing heavily.

"In a battle of attrition, I will prove the victor," Rasha said with no hint of boasting.

"If I overclock my system, neither of you will be able to keep up," Xavier laughed.

Lychee said nothing.

They goaded one another, hoping someone would play their advantages too early and sacrifice the element of surprise. It was a constant part of their deadly waltz. Their number had once been six, but two had let their guard down and were now buried under White Lawn's soil. The fourth had skipped the day's training.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door to the training room hissed open and a tall handsome canamarian entered the room. His normally nonchalant expression of his ursine face was one of concern.

"You're late," Xavier taunted. "Have you finally given up?"

The man growled.

"There's your bark, Kalcus. Where is your bite?"

With the last, Xavier ducked a swipe from Lychee's staff and charged at the canamarian. He met her sword with a halberd snatched from the weapon rack beside him. They traded blows, his natural strength pitted against her cybernetics. In unspoken mutual agreement, Lychee and Rasha ceased their own battle and watched. Xavier slashed Kalcus across the gut, but was too slow to retreat when he grabbed her hair and drove her face into his knee. Both retreated to nurse their hurts.