Dusk (17 page)

And then his foot collided with something
that seemed both hard and pliable at the same time. Villichez heard
what he swore was a mumble. As the aftershock of his yawn subsided,
he opened his eyes and, even as his pupils adjusted fully, he was
not sure his brain had correctly interpreted the signal from his
eyes.

One of the inhabitants of the ship lay before
him cocooned in a bed sheet, with either a towel or a pillowcase
wrapped around where his head should have been. There was something
sticking out from the rope that hog-tied the man. The rope itself
looked remarkably like the rigging line the Shipmate had reported
missing. Dr. Villichez knelt slowly so as not to upset his already
complaining bladder and removed the card. Before he could turn it
around and bring it into the light he already knew what it said,
‘You have been serviced by the cleaning crew. Have a nice day!’

• • • • •

Cyrus, Torvald, and Milliken sat on the floor
of the fitness chamber in quiet anxiety. They had not seen or heard
from Sifu Tanner since they had left him gaffled and bound in the
hallway the night before. They had all come early to face the
music, but not knowing the cadence or the tempo formed gooseflesh
on their skin.

“You think he’s gonna be mad?” Torvald
inflected his question with a curious but characteristic blend of
oddly mellow anxiety and neurosis.

“Well, you sure talked an exemplary amount of
bilge last night,” Cyrus said, his own voice quivering.

“Well, you were the one who decided to leave
the calling card,” Torvald responded.

Suddenly, the door to the fitness chamber
opened and Sifu Tanner was standing there hand over fist. He walked
in silently as the three men stood at strict attention. His right
eye was blackened and swollen and he seemed to be favoring his left
leg. Tanner paced in front of them, taking time to glare at each
man in turn as they faced forward, trying not to flinch. Tanner
stopped in front of the three men within arms’ reach of all of
them. In a sharp, swift gesture, he raised his hand to chest
height. Each man wanted to recoil but dared not move. Tanner slowly
brought up his other hand into a resonating clap. He dramatically
brought his hands together again and again, forming ominous but
reverent applause.

Despite their best efforts, looks of
wonderment and confusion overwhelmed their statuesque expressions.
With the echo of the unexpected plaudit still resonating in the
air, Tanner spoke earnestly, “You all did unexpectedly well last
night. Even unprepared, you handled yourselves well.” Allowing
himself to smile, Tanner extended his hand and shook each of theirs
in turn. They all laughed a little, more to expel the tension than
to indulge in the humor of the situation.

“I think that was me,” Torvald said, pointing
to Tanner’s black eye, “Sorry.”

Tanner walked over to him and met his gaze.
What little smile Torvald had left fled as they made eye contact.
Consternation eclipsed Tanner’s face as he spoke, pointing to the
inflamed flesh around his eye, “This one was free. The next one you
pay for.” He let the words hang in the air as he took a step back
and levity returned to his face. He clapped a solitary, sharp clap
and stood at attention. “It is excellent to see you all here so
early, because we have a long day ahead of us.” He greeted again,
hand over fist, and as they all snapped to attention, the door slid
open.

Dr. Jang stood in the doorway in a jumpsuit.
It was the first time Cyrus could remember seeing him out of his
lab coat since they had first entered the ship on Eros. Anxiety
permeated Jang’s entire body as he stood at the doorway, apparently
not sure whether to enter or run.

“Dr. Jang,” Tanner bellowed, “What brings you
to this side of physical training?”

He glanced at Cyrus and then quickly back to
Tanner, “Dr. Chamberlain threatened, well promised rather, that he
would inflict bodily harm on me every chance he got until I came to
this class to see what havoc I had wrought by giving you that card
key to get into the rooms.”

“You gave him the card key to get into our
rooms?” Milliken blurted, but was silenced by a fiery gaze from
Tanner. Tanner moved his gaze to Cyrus and then back to Dr.
Jang.

“Whatever impetus brought you here, we are
glad to have you,” Tanner smiled. “Fall in next to Cyrus.”

As Jang took his place in the line, slightly
unsure of what would happen next, Cyrus broke his stance at
attention and reached over to Jang. Jang flinched, but then
realized the gesture was without malice as Cyrus patted him on the
back and smiled. “Good to finally have you here,” he said and then
snapped back to attention. Davidson and Toutopolus trickled in at
the regular time. They had been spared the night’s onslaught
because it had been cut short by Cyrus and his Cleaning Crew. They
fell silently into formation and drills as Cyrus explained the dojo
protocols to Jang. Jang was beginning to relax until Cyrus
explained to him that when the time came today, he too had to pick
a weapon and would have to learn to defend himself with it the same
way they all did. Jang looked more eager to get to that part of the
class than Cyrus had expected.

Jang stood in front of Cyrus, gripping the
handle of the bokan with both hands as if he thought he would fall
from the ship if he let go. Cyrus lunged forward with his staff and
Jang parried, stiffly, but effectively. In an exaggerated arc,
Cyrus brought the end of the staff around over his own head,
attacking again as he stepped forward. Jang parried again, but this
time, his stiffness caused him to lose balance. Cyrus shifted his
weight and brought the back end of the staff around into Jang’s
chest. Jang stumbled but did not fall. The blow had been enough to
get Jang’s attention, but not enough to send him to the floor.
Cyrus stepped back and held his staff at his side. “What happened
there?” Cyrus asked.

“You hit me in the chest,” Jang answered,
rubbing his chest as he centered himself back in front of
Cyrus.

“You are too stiff. You have to relax.”

“How can I relax if you keep hitting me in
the chest?”

“Relax and I won’t be able to,” Cyrus said,
kicking the bottom of the staff with his left foot and spinning
into both hands as he dropped into a fighting stance.

Cyrus lunged forward again. Jang was caught
off-guard and his hands moved the bokan instinctively to his left
side, pushing Cyrus’s staff to the outside of his shoulder. The
heat from the bruise that was swelling across his chest told Jang
he did not want to get hit there again. Jang lashed forward,
determined to get Cyrus and the staff out of his face. He swung his
hands down with fury, bringing the wooden sword down in an arc
toward Cyrus’s forehead. Cyrus turned into Jang and brought the
middle of his staff into the path of the bokan. The two wooden
weapons collided with a clap, and Jang, still stoked with
adrenalin, pressed into Cyrus.

“Yes!” Cyrus exclaimed, shifting his weight
to hold Jang back, “Much better!” Cyrus then stepped down and to
his left and Jang’s weight carried him past Cyrus. Cyrus swung the
end of his staff around and pushed Jang along with a tap on the
back. “Don’t overextend yourself. Never sacrifice your vertical
base for an attack.”

Jang gathered himself and turned to face
Cyrus again. He was aware of the others locked in mock combat
around him, but he focused on Cyrus as he brushed his damp hair
from his face.

“You should tie that up next time,” Cyrus
taunted. Jang turned his head to the side to swing the lock of hair
the rest of the way and continued the motion into a lunge. Cyrus
side-stepped and blocked the thrust upward with the back end of the
staff, but Jang recovered quickly and brought the bokan back down
toward Cyrus’s neck. Cyrus stepped under again, spun the staff a
half turn, and brought the spinning end down on the top of the
wooden blade. Jang’s momentum carried him forward and he tripped on
Cyrus’s foot. Jang careened toward the ground face-first. Cyrus
placed his staff under Jang and leaned, hitting Jang in the chest
again, but halting his decent to the floor.

“Footing,” Cyrus reminded.

Suddenly, as Jang gathered himself again, the
door to the dojo slid open. Everyone stopped where they were and
turned to see Commander Uzziah standing with his arms folded.
Tanner turned to face Uzziah and belted “Ready Position!” Instantly
everyone lowered their weapons, snapped to half-attention, and held
their weapons at their side—everyone except Dr. Jang who almost
fell as Cyrus moved the staff from under his body and shifted into
ready position. Tanner waited for Jang to gather himself and for
him to attempt to mimic the stance.

“When a fellow martial artist enters the room
you greet!” Tanner bellowed and everyone, except Jang, brought
their weapons into their right hands and greeted in unison as they
faced Commander Uzziah. Uzziah unfolded his arms, straightened his
body, brought his open hands slightly to the front, and then
sharply to his sides, slapping his workout pants as he brought his
right foot up and then down quickly to the floor. As the sound
resonated through room, he bowed ever so slightly, keeping his eyes
on Tanner.

“To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”
Tanner relaxed his own greeting and stepped toward Uzziah.

“After you guys’ fiasco in the hallway last
night, Fordham and Villichez asked me to check up on your little
soirée and make sure everything is kosher,” Uzziah smiled smugly,
his eyes calmly taking in the details of the room.

“Join us,” Tanner indicated his own kali
sticks, “we are weapons training.” Uzziah looked around the room at
each of their weapons and finally moved over to Dr. Jang.

“May I?” Uzziah asked, indicating Jang’s
bokan. Jang nodded and handed over the weapon.

“Who is my partner?” Uzziah asked, looking
around, a confident grin on his face.

“I am,” Tanner said, moving toward him, kali
sticks firmly in his hands now. Tanner greeted again. Uzziah
returned the greeting and launched himself forward as soon as his
foot hit the ground. Tanner’s right stick clacked against the bokan
as he moved to the outside of the attack. Tanner brought his left
stick around, toward Uzziah’s back, but Uzziah stepped with
Tanner’s parry and turned into a parry of his own. Uzziah riposted
off the parry, angling the tip of the bokan over his left forearm
toward Tanner’s chest, but Tanner dipped to his left and brought
his right stick under and around, pushing Uzziah’s lunge to the
right. Tanner riposted from his parry and brought the inside of his
right stick toward Uzziah’s face, but Uzziah stepped forward,
following the bokan, and went beneath the attack. Uzziah stepped
his left foot back behind Tanner and swung left, but Tanner was
already stepping his back foot over. Tanner spun blindly, bringing
his elbow around and the kali stick in his left hand into the path
of the attack. As soon as Tanner’s right foot was planted again, he
lifted his left knee and extended his leg toward Uzziah’s ribs. The
Commander exhaled as the kick caught his ribs, but continued
rolling to his right. He pivoted on his right foot and shifted the
bokan to his left hand. Rolling past Tanner’s back, Uzziah took a
backhand swipe at him, but only connected with wood. Uzziah used
the momentum from the parry to flip the wooden sword in his hand
into an overhand grip and launched his right elbow at Tanner’s
temple. Tanner rolled away from the elbow and, as Uzziah tried to
follow him, he lifted his left leg in a little hop and caught the
back of Uzziah’s thigh. Uzziah stopped turning and stepped back to
create some space.

Uzziah stumbled as he stepped, but he
completed his turn and lunged back and to close the distance.
Uzziah swung his left hand like a punch, the wooden blade of the
bokan trailing in its arc. Tanner met the attack with both kali
sticks and was hit in his ribs by Uzziah’s knee. Tanner locked his
sticks in a cross around the bokan and as the Commander lifted his
knee for a second attack, Tanner lifted his own knee to his chest
and extended his leg. The kick caught Uzziah in his solar plexus,
and sent him stumbling two steps backward, weaponless.

As quickly as he went back, Uzziah charged
forward again, hoping to catch Tanner off-guard. Tanner threw the
mass of weapons beneath Uzziah’s feet, catching him unprepared. The
weapons caught around Uzziah’s ankles and he lost his footing.
Uzziah lifted his knees to get his feet back beneath him, but
Tanner was already stepping past him, delivering a back fist to
Uzziah’s upper back. Uzziah careened to the ground in a clattering
of limbs and wood. The others could hear the air escape Uzziah’s
lungs as his torso met the floor and bounced. Uzziah got his arms
under his body quickly, but before he could lift himself, Tanner
had descended on him like a falcon and had his arm around Uzziah’s
right arm and throat, knee pressed into the small of his back. As
Tanner pressed the Commander’s face into the floor, he moved his
mouth as close to Uzziah’s ear as he could while maintaining the
hold. The Commander’s body tensed, but he knew struggling would be
of little use.

“Only the Sifu teaches lessons in this room.
That Sifu is me, and he demands respect!” Everyone stood in
slack-jawed awe, but Tanner didn’t seem to notice. “You pay your
respect to the Sifu, or you will pay your respect to the
floor!”

Tanner’s chest heaved in and out, his
breathing more deliberate than any of them had ever seen as he
released the Commander, stepped from over him, and extended his
hand to him. The Commander, flushed where his face had been pressed
into floor, turned slowly. He paused for a moment, and then took
Tanner’s hand.

“Now go run and report that to Villichez and
Fordham,” Tanner spat out with more disdain than Cyrus had ever
heard in his voice. Tanner then moved to collect the weapons
scattered across the floor. Cyrus leaned on his staff. The air made
him uncomfortable, as if he himself had been a part of the melee.
The tension sat heavy on his brow, a swath of perspiration no towel
could remove.