Page 30 of The Omega's Unexpected Bounty
“Why no weapon?”
“Because it can be taken away from you. One must practice with and without objects. Random Attack.”
It kicked with a wide foot toward Graden’s stomach. He grabbed the sim’s foot and pulled back. It fell on its spine. Graden’s thick muscles twisted the shin while the sim yelled in simulated agony. The next few heartbeats were Graden stomping on the kneecap, kicking its groin, and the stomach. As a fellow fighter, I couldn’t help but be impressed. There’s a saying: Every man has a plan until he gets hit in the face. I lived on a frontier planet, but there was still the rare man who didn’t know how to fight. A punch to the nose wasn’t the most effective way to cause damage but a good number panic once they saw the blood running down their face and into their mouth. I could tell that he did something similar. Twisting somebody’s foot would make them concentrate on the pain. A broken kneecap meant they couldn’t stand and kicking someone in the testicles was a reliable standby.
Pink ‘doughy’ flesh shifted while it healed. Then it stood tall for another command.
Graden’s voice drew out softly. “The default is Volardi. I can make it look like another race if you prefer.”
My voice was quicker than I intended. “I’m not soft.” My eyes closed momentarily, and I breathed in deep. “Sorry.”
“No offense and you are most assuredly not soft.”
I smiled at the compliment. “Soanyone,”I said. “What about Balo?”
He let out a disapproving murmur. “It’s inappropriate to duplicate family members. Volardi don’t kill Volardi. Attacking a replicate is disrespectful. Technically he’s your brother as well.”
“Huh, I never had one.”
“Or a mate,” said Graden.
“That too.” I licked my lips. “Let’s do this.”
Graden narrowed his eyes as he whispered, and I presumed he was giving it commands. His lips curled into a slight smile. “Soft and gentle or something harder?”
“You know what I can handle.”
I’m sure I heard a deep inhale before he spoke. “Random.”
The lumpy thug ran toward me, and I held my hand out and realized my mistake too late. A muscle flex that served me well now extended no claws. A few hundred pounds of ‘flesh’ ran into my fist, and I grimaced with pain. In my side vision, Graden jerked up and frowned but remained still. I kicked at the thing’s stomach to take away its air. I knew it was a sim, but so far it acted like it was alive. It lost some of its breath but lumbered toward me. I cupped my hands to its ear and pounded. Like with the other fights, it howled in agony. I shifted back and forth as I tried to throw the immense weight off. Meaty hands went around my throat and squeezed.
“Emergency stop,” yelled Graden.
It withdrew its hands and then stepped back. I coughed while the hot air burned my lungs.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I shouted.
An image of Tiny’s face or rather my own flashed over my eyes. “Caan? I got a vital sign warning. Are you–”
“I said I’m fine!”
It was a weird visual effect while viewpoints overlapped each other. Both Graden and the virtual Tiny rose their eyebrows. I let out a low calming breath. “Tiny. I’m fine. Graden’s teaching me in the dojo.” I winced as I flexed my hand. The ‘dumb’ nanites were just enough to increase my healing and to concentrate on my skin where the claws came out. For most fights, he was nearby and could adjust as needed.
“Up the nanites will you?”
“Will do. If you need anything–”
My tone was soft, but I wasn’t sure how angry I sounded. “I’m fine, goodbye.”
Graden’s voice drew out. “Can he see me?”
I kept my tone jovial. “Didn’t you say sims weren’t sentient?”
“‘Try telling that to Tiny’ is what I believe you said. He was created with your brain waves. It would feel strange to have someone potentially sentient watch us.”
“Do what?” I teased.
