Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity (2 page)

“I apologize for my haste.” He bowed slightly.  There was grace to the movement, a tranquility that Isaac found appealing.  The woman just smiled.

“Not at all. We’ve worked together before so I know what to expect.  There’s nothing wrong with taking your job seriously.  Just try to remember that we have to do ours too.”

“I stand corrected.”

The Tower

The group of trainees had spent the better part of two hours following Coach Achala around the Citadel complex. The above ground portion, the Tower, was a soaring needle of stone and metal that put most skyscrapers to shame, contained classrooms, administrative spaces and housing for permanent on-site personnel.  The ground floor was a massive, open space, filled with a series of large, glowing squares.  He called them “Gates.”  Coach explained that they were each linked to another Citadel facility and made long distance, instantaneous transport possible.

“How come they aren’t used more?”

Apparently, Isaac’s mind wasn’t the only one that boggled at the possibilities.  The grinning questioner was a youngish white girl with short brown hair, freckles and glasses.  She practically vibrated with energy as she waited for an answer.

Rather than speaking, Achala merely looked around the open room, noting the masses of Citadel personnel entering and exiting the various gates, then gave an inviting smile.

“I meant for civilians. I had to sit on a bus for hours to get here from San Diego and I had to fly there on a plane.  Why not just hop in a Gate back home?”

“I apologize, I have not learned all of your faces yet. Can I ask your name?”

“Jenny.” She beamed.  The entire group was now focused on her.

“Your full name please.” Her grin got even wider.

“Jenny Awesome.”

“May I ask why you chose it? You need not explain your powers.”

“It’s cause I’m awesome!”

The coach blinked. “Of course you are.”  He smiled again.  “To answer your question, it isn’t practical.  The gates are made by a single, powered individual.  He can only maintain a certain number and they are limited in size as well.”

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed but that restless energy was still there.  The broad, cheerful grin was too.

“We use them to make travel for Citadel members more convenient, but that is not their true purpose. They enable rapid response during a crisis.”

Below the Gate Room was a series of equipment storage areas. They were informed that they would have full access to these, after they demonstrated proficiency.  Lower still, they came to the exercise areas.  Isaac couldn’t call them gyms, they were just too big.  Row after row of equipment, some of which he didn’t recognize, left him stunned.  He’d thought his college had an impressive facility but any one of the rooms they passed would’ve put it to shame. 

There were two rooms reserved for his group.  In one was a large track, roughly the size of a football field, surrounding a series of martial arts or aerobic mats.  The other, at least as large, held a collection of equipment.  Most of it was familiar to Isaac.  The rest was obviously meant to accommodate people with more than human abilities.  Overclocked treadmills for speedsters, magnetic repulsion to simulate bench pressing multi-ton weights, things like that.  It was pretty impressive.

Their final stop, after the outdoor firing ranges, was the Sparring Field.

“These are combat rooms.”

The group was outside, gathered around Coach Achala.

“Each is a dome, a hundred feet across.  The walls and floor are a granite composite, at least a foot thick.  There are two doorways, on opposite sides.  All events within are recorded and can be played back at a later time.  They are maintained and operated by Annabelle Molder, the Citadel’s groundskeeper.” 

He indicated a blurry, humanoid form on a wooden tower in the center of the field.  It was surrounded by dozens, maybe hundreds, of the combat rooms.  Jenny started waving, enthusiastically, and the rest of the group followed suit.  Isaac wasn’t sure, but he thought the distant figure waved back.

“While you are on the Sparring Field, please treat her word as equal to Director Shift’s. Elsewhere, treat it as equal to mine or Instructor Catherine’s.”  A hand shot up from the crowd.  “Yes?”

“How come you call everyone else by their first name but you use the Director’s last one?” Isaac couldn’t see the speaker but the voice sounded male.

“Among Citadel personnel, using the first name with a title is considered basic courtesy. Using the last name instead is a sign of deep respect.”

“What about civilians?” Another voice he didn’t recognize. 

“Address them with respect and use the form they find appropriate.”

“No, I mean, what do we make them call us?”

The coach’s face grew stern, the first sign of displeasure he’d shown. “We do not
make
them call us anything.  We are their guardians and protectors.  We are their servants, not the other way around.  Do not forget that.”  He seemed to relax as he spoke.  “When in a professional setting, we ask them to use our last names.  In a personal one, it is up to you.” 

When he was done, the coach turned and spoke, quietly, into his communicator.  “I will show you a short recording of a training match from a previous group.  Afterwards, you will have some of your own.  Please allow this example to guide your own efforts.  Your matches today will help establish your combat rankings. In part, they will determine your eventual assignments.”

The Sparring Field

With those words, the dome behind Coach Achala almost seemed to disappear and the group spread out to watch. The doors opened and two girl in training uniforms entered through each side.  There was no sound.  The picture, however it was being displayed, was utterly lifelike.  The only thing that indicated it was a recording, rather than just watching through a clear wall, was the title floating in between the two girls.

MS vs SS

The girl on the left, presumably MS, seemed to greet the other. They spoke briefly, then set themselves in fighting stances.  At some unheard signal, both girls rushed forward.  The second, S.S., was moving with inhuman speed.  Her feet tore deep holes in the stone floor and shredded her shoes.  When she reached M.S. she threw a wild punch. 

The first girl blinked out of sight, reappearing behind her opponent.  She sent a short, vicious kick to the back of SS’s knee which dropped her to the ground.  Isaac watched, appalled, as she kicked at the downed girl repeatedly.  The blows were focused on the chest or head and nothing was held back.

The beating continued until the apparent victim managed to get ahold of a kicking leg, just above the ankle. She squeezed and Isaac would have sworn that he could hear MS scream as bone broke.  She fell, vanishing and reappearing on the far side of the dome before she hit the ground. 

SS was on her feet almost immediately, again rushing towards her opponent with that blurring speed.  MS raised her head, looking directly at the oncoming girl, then disappeared again.  This time she reappeared about a foot to the side of the spot she’d been.  SS’s rush turned into a tumble, narrowly missing the still prone teleporter, as she lost control of her movement and slammed into the dome itself.

SS’s impact had left a sizable dent in the wall and chunks of stone surrounded her fallen body but Isaac couldn’t see anything obviously wrong with her. It shocked him for a second.  She’d been moving fast enough that he could barely track it and hit a granite wall hard enough to break out multiple pieces the size of his fist, but there wasn’t a mark on her.  Intellectually, he knew he could’ve done something similar.  In fact, he was pretty sure he could’ve hit harder.  It was still incredible to watch someone else do those kind of things.  What came next shocked him for a different reason.

The fallen strongwoman’s arms and legs were concealed by her black uniform, but they didn’t look right.  They lay oddly, had the wrong dimensions.  Four of what he’d assumed were fragments of the wall were actually bloody pieces of meat.  The other girl struggled to get up on her working leg, then moved slowly closer.  She stopped just outside of arm’s reach and said something, waited a moment, then seemed to repeat it.  The fallen girl, SS, just looked up at her.  White faced with pain, she eventually spat out a single syllable and the picture faded back to a plain stone wall.

No one had moved or spoken during the entire viewing. Shortly afterwards, a babbling cacophony erupted.  “What the hell was that?”  “She could have killed her!”  “She was crippled!”  “How’d she do that?”  Isaac couldn’t tell who said what or which she some of them meant.  All of the noise stopped just as Jenny, speaking slowly but with obvious sincerity, made her own statement.

“That. Was. Awesome.”

The coach nodded. “Yes.  I show this to all my students.  It is the best demonstration for new fighters that I have seen.  Neither trainee had any combat experience.  Both trainees held nothing back.  They pushed themselves to the limit.  The one who lost didn’t yield because of the pain.  The muscles in her arms and legs were removed.  She could no longer walk or fight.”  A voice from the crowd interrupted him.

“She crippled her! How the hell can you call that training?”

Achala took a moment to find the voice in the crowd. The speaker was a male who looked to be in his early twenties, on the small side.  He had the strait black hair, bronze complex and facial features that Isaac associated with the Pacific Islands.  “Your name please?”

“Duncan Nightmare.” The boy replied defensively.

“Duncan. Both learned valuable lessons.  One, never to under estimate an opponent because she lacks obvious offensive powers.  The other, that the ability to teleport small objects can be extremely dangerous when used to teleport only part of an object.”  He looked around, assessing each of his students.  “She used that same lesson to take and hold the top combat ranking in her class.

“Please remember this. Your training matches are meant to prepare you for real combat.  Your opponents are unlikely to balk at using lethal force.  We keep healers on hand so you can train with that in mind.  One will be assigned to each room we use today, and each of your matches in the future.  You must speak to your healer before you begin. 

“They will explain what will constitute acceptable damage for that fight and anything exceeding this will be reviewed by staff.  Accidents will set back your training.  Deliberate infliction of lethal harm will see you expelled and imprisoned.”  The coach’s tone turned sorrowful.  “I have lost students to both categories.  I would not wish to do so again.  Please be careful.”

After that, he introduced the trainees to the staff healers who would be present for the day, explained the format of the matches and assigned the first four pairs of fighters.  Isaac wasn’t one of them but Jason was.

Isaac wondered how long it would be before he had to fight Hector. The two had been paired for the first round but, with more than sixty trainees and only four healers, they were forced to wait until one of the initial pairs had finished.  As it turned out, that wait was only a little more than a minute. 

One of the healers, a white man in an all gray uniform and protective mask, called them over by name.  He introduced himself as Andrew Healer and asked if they had any defensive abilities or weaknesses he needed to know about.  Hector answered as Isaac hesitated.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out here during the fight so Isaac won’t have to hold back.  I should be fine, no matter what.”  As he spoke, he stepped to the side while standing perfectly still.  Just like that, two Hectors stood, facing the healer.  Isaac had known the boy was a duplicator, but this was the first time he’d seen him split off a new body.

“Um. Pretty high end strength and durability, as long as my shield’s up.  If something gets through it, I’m just a normal human.”  Isaac finally added.

“A force field of some type?” the healer asked him. “Will that stay up if you’re knocked out?”

“No, I have to concentrate to maintain it. It doesn’t take much effort but it goes away if I’m asleep and the testers said the same thing should happen if I pass out during a fight or something.”

Andrew considered this for a moment. “Okay, doesn’t sound like we should have anything complicated here.  Trainee Isaac, you win if you kill or render helpless all copies of Trainee Hector in the room.  Given his abilities, there are no constraints on your use of force.  You will forfeit the match if, at any time after the doors close, you voluntarily leave the dome, break through the walls entirely or speak the phrase ‘I yield.’  You may also tap the ground or your opponent if you wish to yield but are unable to speak. 

“Trainee Hector, you win if you render helpless Trainee Isaac.  For the purpose of this match, your definition of lethal force includes destruction of his head or torso and full amputation of one of his limbs.  Significant damage, short of physically removing a major organ, is permitted.  You forfeit the match if, after the doors close, a copy of yourself leaves the dome, the copy which remains outside interferes in any way or any copy speaks the phrase ‘I yield.’

“I will monitor the match from here, on a smaller version of the wall screen you saw earlier. Trainee Hector, during regular training matches it won’t be an issue, but during the placement exercise your external copy may not watch this or any of the other matches in progress.  Can I trust you to hold to that?”