The protective cylinder lowers back into the floor. JC lacks control of the actions performed by the body she now shares. In her years of instruction, sharing memories was integral in a telepathic link, but the telepath was to be in control and guide the moment, not be lost in it.
The durable lightweight self-contained containment suit protects her entire body. The mechanical exoskeleton frame increases strength, and the ceramic alloy plates are highly reflective against plasma bolts. The right arm draws a foot-long baton from a torso sheath. The rod ignites, sending forth a glowing six-foot staff of energy. A dull hum fills the chamber.
She steps from the platform. Thoughts whirl around her, involving the advancements in combat gadgetry installed in this suit being far from the ones envisioned in order to bring down the Mokarran.
Scott.
Anger overwhelms what little control she has of the memory. It’s fresh. Full of testosterone-driven anger and lust—power and control. Scott was testing a new suit of battle armor instead of gathering the replacement parts and repair crews to restore the Dragon. When Amye learns that Scott was progressing his own goal of crushing the Mokarran, there’ll be more fighting.
Data readouts on the holograph display inside the helmet alert her that a second power suit has entered the chamber. Scott twirls the energy staff before drawing into an attacking stance. His training with such weapons remains limited. He’s never studied under Joe. His skill lies in programming the exoskeleton suit with a multitude of combat techniques, allowing the suit to fight for the owner. JC slips into the flow of using prechoregraphed techniques. The suit should amplify the skills already present.
The shine of the ceramic alloy makes the second suit of battle armor look pale and weak in comparison, but new paint doesn’t reflect the skill of the wearer. The second pilot squares off, matching Scott’s attack posture. The end of the second warrior’s staff glows when it strikes Scott’s black battle armor in the small of the back. The energy wand would cut into the armor hide of a normal battle armor suit. Scott’s advanced ceramic alloy absorbs the blast instead.
With the impact greatly reduced, Scott spins around. Instead of falling, he is met with a second blow to his helmet.
She would have defended the attack differently, but she’s not controlling a mind; she’s in a memory.
The hologramatic readout momentarily fizzles to static as this impact sends her reeling to the floor. The warrior in the second suit drives his energy staff into Scott’s machine’s calf. The ceramic plate tears from the exoskeleton frame. Scott jerks back, rotating his damaged leg farther away from the attacker. Scott had ignored the pain, but she wonders how the femur didn’t snap.
Any physical damage done to his leg has been offset by the exoskeleton, but now her actual calf is exposed. She must end this test before she suffers irreparable damage. JC swings the staff like a club. With the added strength the power suit provides, he shatters the suit of the second warrior as if it were peanut brittle. The cracked and crushed shell of the body suit collapses on the floor. Smoke pours from the gash, and a black substance oozes out like blood. The staff shrinks back to a foot in length to be holstered. Scott pops the seals on the helmet latch so he can remove it.
“Drazz droid,” Scott curses. “I set it for skill level three, and those moves were skill level seven.”
Through Scott’s eyes, JC spots the bear-faced Kal Dbrenw accompanied by Doug. Over his Silver Dragon jumpsuit, Doug sports a black Metallica T-shirt with a noticeable hole in the bottom left side near his navel.
“You changed the settings.” Scott unclasps the armor plate on his calf.
“I wanted a proper demonstration. You wanted to utilize my faculties and technicians on stringent regulations imposed by you.” Kal Dbrenw’s lips snarl involuntary over a missing incisor.
“You’ll be well paid.” Scott should remind him of profitable past dealings.
“I’ve heard too much about this armor not to witness the designer in action.” Kal Dbrenw beams with excitement.
“Then we’ve a deal?”
Scott shifts his weight a stride before he enters the bridge to hide the slight limp gained in combat. Scott absorbs much of his pain as he straightens up his posture. He wraps his muscular arms around Australia, picking her up from the captains’ chair. The passion overwhelms her.
••••••
JC BOLTS FROM the chair, breaking the physical connection. She sucks air into her lungs as if she just ran a four-minute mile. “You touched me.”
Scott catches himself on the captain’s chair. “You were unresponsive. I was concerned.”
“Smerth! Your mind was still engrossed in your passion with Australia and the arousal you found in combat. It was too powerful to accept without preparation.” Before Scott responds, she adds, “Say it, and I’ll twist your mind to find Porlest rocks arousing.”
“I’m sorry. I forget. You just…seemed not there,” Scott apologetically admits. “Your thoughts. I felt the Hex Darmight. It prevents the Sandmen from entering our reality?” Scott seems unsure of what he saw in JC’s head.
“I was in contact with the orb. Australia’s research has yet to yield a location. I was hoping the orb would show me Reynard.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“You saw my death vision?” JC asks.
Before they continue their discussion, Amye slams her fist into Scott’s chest. Taken aback by the hit, he uses all his momentum to not stumble on his bruised leg.
“You don’t have time to play with your toys. The Dragon’s in pieces, and now the shuttle’s useless to control the ship.” Amye balls her fist again.
“Slow it. My time in the arena bought the terms I needed to make repairs. Not all repairs are possible with synthoids. Kal Dbrenw wouldn’t allow us to use the facilities without a demonstration. Doug’s requisitioning the supplies and non-synthoid workers.”
“You’re going to allow non-crew onto the Dragon against Reynard’s orders?”
“Only special workers. I want as many repairs and modifications complete as possible. As soon as Australia’s
