Black Guard, The (2 page)

During those years, we lost ten more of
our class. At breakfast or lunch they were led away, never to be seen again. Hada
said they didn’t pass for one reason or another and would be assigned to the
army. Whether she was right or wrong, it just made me work harder.

One day, instead of our normal classes,
we were assembled in the large lecture hall. When we were all settled in our
seats, Lieutenant Vogel strode onto the stage.

"We have been evaluating you for
the past four years in an effort to determine where you would best meet the
needs of the Jax military. You have all worked hard or you wouldn’t be going on
to a new school," she said, confirming that nothing good happened to the ones
who had disappeared. "Most of you will be leaving tomorrow for the army
school at Harbin; the others will be transferred to the commando school at
Riyah.

It brought back that same helpless
feeling I had when I first arrived at Camp Lozn—others were running my
life. I didn’t want to be in the army or the commandos, and I doubted I’d like
the Black Guard. But worse than that, I’d be alone again if they separated Hada
and me. She was my one link to sanity.

"The list has been posted in your
barracks. Those going to Camp Harbin will be packed and in formation outside of
the barracks at eight hundred hours tomorrow. Those going to Camp Riyah will
assemble there at eleven hundred hours. Dismissed," an army sergeant
shouted and everyone made a wild dash to get out and see the list. Hada and I
remained seated.

"Aren’t you interested?" I
asked Hada.

"Of course, silly. You and I are
at the top of all our classes so I know we will be going to Camp Riyah. It’s
our reward. I just thought we would wait until the fighting to see the list died
down." She laughed, forcing me to smile. I desperately hoped she was
right.

When we arrived a half hour later, only
a few of our classmates were hanging around the board—some happy, some muttering
angrily, another openly weeping. Ironically, not everyone wanted to go to the commando
school.

"See, I told you," Hada said,
pointing to my name and hers. "Riyah."

I took a deep breath, realizing that I
had been holding it as we approached the board. I didn’t care which school so
long as Hada was going to the same one, but I was happy she got the school she
wanted.

During my time at Camp Lozn, I had
grown twenty-nine centimeters and gained twelve kilo. I now stood one hundred
forty-one centimeters and weighed thirty-two kilo.

* * *

The next day, forty of us were loaded
onto combat shuttles and flown to Camp Riyah in the northern part of Jax. The
grounds were grassy, shaded by huge trees, which was a nice change from dry,
dusty Lozn.

We continued to have classes in roughly
the same subjects but at an advanced level. And we began weapons training and
the art of war, in the classroom and with field problems designed to test
individual and squad performance. During squad exercises, we took turns at each
position: leader, second, scout, explosives. Self-defense classes involved more
advanced techniques, and supervised fights occurred several times a week. I
enjoyed the class work, academic as well as the tactical war theory. I disliked
the field exercises. I did well only because I worked extra hard preparing for
them. Hada’s promise of the Black Guard drove us night and day. I hoped she was
right, because I could tell I would hate being a commando. Would I like being a
Black Guard better? It didn’t matter. At least, I would be with Hada.

* * *

The four years went fast when I looked
back—although there were periods when time seemed to have stopped. I lay
in bed watching the gray light of dawn exposing the double row of bunks that
the current survivors of the one hundred plus children who began training with
me a lifetime ago called home. Today, I wished I could make time stand still.
In a few hours, someone was going to make a decision that would affect the rest
of my life. And like my father’s decision to get rid of me, I would have no
say.

I looked over to Hada’s bunk. She too
was lying with her eyes open. I hoped her father had been right, and she would
be selected for the Guard. It was her dream. I had no dreams, just a hope that
I would not lose my only friend.

As if to remind me I had no control,
the barracks’ lights came on and the loudspeaker announced another day. Pushing
my dark musing aside, I sprang out of bed along with the others, washed,
dressed, and headed for the dining hall. We had one hour to eat, pack, and
assemble for transportation to our next school.

"Well, Hada, excited?" I
asked. I wanted to talk so I wouldn’t have to think.

"I will be as soon as they tell
us
we’re going to the Guard school. I’m not going without you, Rivka." She
didn’t smile.

"I don’t think they’ll let us
choose. I love you, Hada, but I wouldn’t let you give up your dream—your
father’s sacrifice." I hugged her. A tear slid down my face. We ate in
silence, or rather, Hada and I pushed food around our plates.

An hour later, we stood outside the
barrack, bags packed and ready to go. Hada and I stood together holding hands.
Soon we were approached by a Guard lieutenant identified by his black uniform
and red star above a red dragon on his right sleeve, and a commando sergeant
identified by his dark-blue uniform and two gray stripes above a gray dragon on
his sleeve. We straightened to attention, although the sergeant hadn’t called
for it. The sergeant was a broad shouldered man with a square jaw and a no
nonsense look. He stood expressionless as his eyes scanned us. The lieutenant
stood straight but relaxed compared to the sergeant who looked… tense by
comparison. The lieutenant was lanky with a narrow face and several centimeters
taller than the sergeant. He seemed to appraise us in one glance and then
looked down at the computer device strapped to his left arm.

"We have been evaluating each of
you for the past four years to determine where you can best meet the need of
the Jax military. For most of you, that will also be where you will be the most
comfortable. A few that started with you four years ago have been transferred
to army units as they weren’t fit for the commandos. Most of you here will make
good commandos. You have worked hard and earned a position in an elite component
of the Jax military. Congratulations. He turned toward the sergeant and nodded.
The sergeant looked at his computer device before speaking.

"The following recruits will
assemble over by those shuttles. Amyas, Gamal, Osher…" The list seemed
endless, the pause between each name an eternity—waiting for Hada or
Rivka to be called. I prayed to whoever might be listening that Hada’s name
wouldn’t be called. Thirty agonizing pauses. As I waited for the next name, the
sergeant turned to follow the last man, and the Lieutenant spoke.

"You sixteen have earned the right
to enter the Guard school. Your eventual position in the Guard will be
determined by your performance. And like poor performance at the commando
school resulted in several being transferred to the army, poor performance at
the Guard school can result in you being transferred back to the commandos. Get
your bags and assemble over by the shuttle on the pad to your left."

When I looked at Hada, she looked at
peace—like a bird just released from a cage. And it finally hit me. I was
going with Hada to the Guard school. I had been so worried about her, I had
forgotten about my future. It hadn’t seemed as important as hers. My dreams had
been broken years ago. Her dream still lived.

* * *

"Wow," was all I could say as
I exited the shuttle. The landing pad sat on the top of one of the smaller
mountains and the view was breathtaking. The mountain range extended as far as
the eye could see—snow covered peaks disappearing into the clouds, gentle
waterfalls with ribbons of silver and giant ones creating mysterious mists, and
rivers rushing to reach distant green valleys. From the landing pad, a trail
wound its way down to a number of terraces carved out of the mountain. On close
examination, I could make out buildings and people on each of the four
terraces.

"Isn’t it beautiful, Rivka? It’s
just like my father described it."

"Yes, it is." Hada had
described the school several times, but I had dismissed it as another lie,
although I had hoped for her sake it wasn’t. "Your dream come true."

"Only partially. I’ve made it to
the Guard school, and I have you with me. Now we must reach for the
dragon-collar." Her eyes sparkled, and her smile spoke to a precious
dream.

"What’s a dragon-collar?" I
suddenly realized I’d not only been following Hada but was being sucked into
her dream.

"Just like the army and the
commandos, the Guard has rank. Whereas the army has green and the commandos
gray dragons, the Guard has red. And the stripes and stars denote roughly the
same thing—sergeants and officers. And like the advanced army and
commando schools, performance determines whether you are an officer or not. But
the Guard has something neither the army nor commandos has, a unique rank that
transcends the others—a red dragon on the collar. They are the elite of
the Guard because they have mastered themselves. That is
our
goal,
Rivka."

* * *

 
Again the training consisted of classroom
and physical exercises. The army was traditionally contracted to defend or
liberate a city or rebel held area. The Jax tended not to take contracts with
rebels against legitimate governments. The commandos were a standard contingent
on most Jax cruisers and there to support the navy during space battles,
special hit-and-run operations, and occasionally to support the army. The Guard
defended VIPs and their facilities and were specially trained to fight inside
buildings where the encounters were up close and personal. Under those
conditions, excellent reflexes, quick thinking, and good judgment were
essential.

The school curriculum was divided into
four two-year segments. If you passed a segment, you were promoted. If not, you
reverted to your previous rank, except the first segment. Failure there meant
being returned to the commandos school; success meant promotion to Guard
private—a red dragon on your sleeve.

We were introduced to the special
weapons the Guard typically carried: a five millimeter laser, a
multi-functional weapon called an Mfw that was capable of shooting metal
shards, nine millimeter bullets, and metal piercing explosive bullets; a
multifunctional communication/computer device called an Mfi; and a special
non-resistant fighting art called Wuji.

I found the classroom studies
relatively easy and had no trouble with the weapons. But I struggled with Wuji.
The art was driving me crazy. Like before, the dances consisted of simulated
fighting techniques and moves, which when performed over and over again
reinforced the techniques. The new dances were performed slowly which permitted
the instructor to easily see your every mistake. Even more frustrating, the instructors
insisted each move be made with precision—every move made in perfect balance,
every leg and arm movement precise, and every breath performed in a certain way
and at a specific time. After most sessions, I returned to the barrack
exhausted and frustrated to a point of admitting defeat.

"I can’t do it, Hada. The harder I
try the worse I perform. Even instructor Yadin is frustrated. I don’t think I’m
going to pass this segment," I whined. I would have given up long ago
except I couldn’t stand to disappoint Hada, or destroy her dream for both of
us.

"That’s the problem. You’re trying
too hard, and it’s making you tense. And when you’re tense you move like a… drunk."
She giggled. "Quit whining and stand up."

When I did, she raised her right arm,
bent so her palm faced towards her. I repeated the motion. Then she touched her
wrist to mine and placed her left hand on my elbow. I copied the position.
After standing that way for a few seconds, she suddenly pushed and I stumbled
backward.

"You lost because you lost your
balance and had to step away." She raised her hand again and waited. Angered
by her rebuke, I stepped up and resumed my original position. When she pushed,
I was ready and pushed back hard, found no resistance, and stumbled forward.

"You lose." She smiled.
"Sorry, Rivka. Both times I was able to throw you off balance because you
were stiff, like an oak tree. The first time you lost your balance because my
force was greater than yours. Like an oak tree, you broke from the excess
force. The second time because I didn’t try to resist you, and your excessive
force propelled you forward. You must be like a willow tree which bends when
force is exerted on it. Not like the mighty oak which must withstand the force
or break."

We spent every minute, when we weren’t
otherwise occupied, practicing her exercise. Slowly I began to understand, and
my Wuji improved. With the picture of a willow in my mind, by the end of the
first year my dances flowed smoothly. By the end of the second year, two had
failed to meet our instructors’ standards and were returned to the commandos.
The remaining fourteen of us were promoted to Guard privates.

* * *

The second two-year segment
concentrated on Wuji applications and introduced Hada’s exercise, which they
called Pushing. That proved a lot of fun, since Hada and I easily defeated
everyone. Weapons training became more intense, and we were expected to
accurately hit the target whether we or it was moving. We studied building security
and conducted regular exercises where our instructors tested our defenses and
alertness. And we had real fights using Wuji.