Tarik: Entry Level Warfare (11 page)

One thing from yesterday echoed in his mind. ‘Thirty seconds to do with your limp useless body as I pleased.’ Most, if not all of this damage occurred when he was fully conscious and fighting back. Thirty seconds of ungodly acts could have occurred, he should be dead not just barely alive enough to feel like death.

Tarik walked to the Dome, he needed three trips to take his tray, utensils and drink to the kiddie table. He sat alone and didn't bother to try and talk to any of the people who stared at him while he ate. The chewing movements required pulled on the tight skin of his face. He could feel fresh blood on his lips which tainted the food. He tried to hide his face, looking directly down to his tray the bruises on his neck the only injuries overtly visible.

Daze entered the Dome from the door behind Tarik and made her way to the nutrition unit.

“Hey Tarik!” She said as she walked past without looking at him.

She grabbed a tray and filled a cup with water.

“I wanted to ask you. Have you ever done any repair work? I'd love it if you came down to the computer core; I think you'd really enjoy it.” She said as she turned and walked to join him at the kiddie table.

Tarik looked up at her, lifting his head from the tray so she got a good look at him.

Daze dropped her tray on the floor, the room went silent. The soup splattered on the floor and mixed with the contents of the cup. Her face went from shock to worry and finally to anger.

She looked to the walkway and locked eyes with the Gorrex who was previously pacing. Still holding the Gorrex in her sights she asked “Who?” She seemed ready to take off after the Gorrex.

Tarik tried to look up to see what the Gorrex was doing that distracted her so but the pain was too great.

“Dav.” Tarik said
 and he hoped it was for the last time.

Daze dropped her gaze from the Gorrex and locked her eyes on Tarik's busted face. Her body trembling with anger she stepped over her tray and made for the door. Tarik reached a hand up to stop her but she marched right through it, exiting the room with purpose.

Tarik hadn't anticipated this reaction, he probably should have lied to her but the thought hadn't come to mind.

Tarik looked back to his tray; a half-eaten piece of fruit seemed to smile back at him. He pushed the tray away; while he sat back trying to gather the strength to get to his feet, when who should walk in but Rye.

Rye looked like she'd been dealing with a headache, a collective hangover a few years strong. She looked over at Tarik and a smile formed on her face.

She walked towards him and a giggle escaped her while she relished in his misery.

“What happened big man?” She was ready to pick a fight with a man who probably couldn't fight back. “Did you get put in your rightful place?”

Tarik said nothing. He was mad and could probably still
beat her
 to death even with his injuries. He did however lack the
drive
 to do so. He'd defend himself if I came down to it but that was about it.

She was just five steps away and ready to really lean into the verbal assault when the Gorrex above them launched himself over the railing.

The Gorrex couldn't fly as far as Tarik knew but that didn't seem to deter this particular Gorrex from gliding down to the floor between Rye and Tarik. As the talons hit the floor, Tarik saw the leg muscles tighten. The Gorrex turned towards Rye and snapped its beak, its front incisors hanging out of the ends turning a brilliant green
color
. It's back arched; forelegs were pulled in close, the hair on the neck stood up to make it look even bigger. Deep red feathers flourished, the body language left no question that the Gorrex was protecting Tarik.

“Found yourself a pet, Razor?” Rye asked the Gorrex.

The Gorrex, Razor, only answered with a rumbling growl so powerful it caused ripples in Tarik's drink.

Rye backed away slowly still happy with the look of Tarik's pain and left the room.

“Thanks” Tarik said to Razor.

Razor only glanced back before he made his way back up the stairs to his perch.

Tarik pulled up his log to see what fresh hell waited for him. He could see he originally had
six
 bathrooms and two instruction sessions scheduled. Now it showed he only had a tentative meeting scheduled after end of day meal. Curious, Tarik queried for more details on his
cancelled
 duties. Goddess had
cancelled
 her
training
 shortly after helping him to the shower. Mange had requested one of his bathrooms; the other five had been signed for by Scout Three, Fighter One, Fighter Two and Drop One. The pilot he had spoken with earlier this morning must have told the flight crew about his injuries. He had a message from them simply saying “Rest up. - Flight”. Thankful for the help Tarik headed back to his bunk, he didn't bother trying to undress this time as he lay down and set a countdown for end of day meal.

Tarik had been sleeping for a few hours when he heard the door open to his room. Soft padded feet moved towards him but he did not try to turn to meet the trespasser.

“This will help; deny I have given this to you.” Tilla said as she jabbed a needle into his neck.

Tarik felt cold run through his veins, the medicine spreading fast. He wanted to shiver but he knew it would only cause pain.

Tilla left the room saying nothing more, her subterfuge made it seem like her help was against orders.

Tarik was woken again by his countdown expiring. He sat up with minimal pain this time. He touched his face noticing that the swelling had decreased significantly; he could partially open his right eye now. Tarik pulled up his log and only one event remained, his meeting with Dav now read ‘Mandatory’. He stood and walked to the door, his limp almost gone. Whatever was in the injection had an amazing effect; he needed to find a way to thank Tilla discretely. He thought a gift seemed appropriate but he did not know her or her kind well enough to know if she'd like that. The last thing he wanted to do was insult her.

After end of day meal, Tarik made his way to the
training
 area, waiting for the door to open. When it did a single round table with three chairs was in the
center
 of the room. Dav sat in one chair, Lamb in another and the last remained empty. Tarik nervously checked the corners when he walked through the door slowly making his way to the table trying to hide his limp. Dav pointed to the open chair, that Tarik was to sit in, and pushed it away from the table with his foot.

Dav pulled a canister from
under the table
 and set it in the
center
 of the table, Lamb produced three small cups. Lamb filled the cups with liquid from the canister and set one in front of each of them. Tarik made no move for his cup and simply waited for instructions.

“Looks like you do have some friends here after all.” Dav said. “I see Tilla gave you the shot the doctor ordered withheld. Good for her, I’ve been waiting for her to come into her own.”

Dav held up his cup, Lamb’s cup joined his; Tarik took the cue and put his cup to theirs. The three men tilted back their heads and drank the contents of the cups. Tarik felt like choking as the burning sensation tugged at his throat. Lamb refilled the glasses as soon as they were set down.

Lamb moved the canister from the
center
 of the table and activated a display. The display showed two side by side pictures of young men dressed in rags.

“Thirty nine years ago today, Dav and I came aboard this ship.” Lamb said pointing to the pictures.

Tarik leaned in closer to have a look with his one good eye. Both young men in the pictures looked as if they had been pulled from a garbage hauler. They were malnourished, carried no personal effects but looked tough. Each of them had a fire in them that said they would not accept the hands they had been dealt.

“We actually hated each other when we first met. Both of us thought we were the toughest men on the ship.” Dav said.

The image changed to two men being held back in the Dome much like Tarik was the other day. Lamb’s mouth was open in a scream; veins popped out of his neck in rage. Dav had his fist pulled back ready to punch Lamb.

Lamb help up his glass and the men drank again. Tarik felt fuzzy this time, the warmth in his stomach took some of the remaining pain away.

The image changed again and both men sat in a holding cell. Lamb had a
black eye
; Dav had a red lump in the
center
 of his forehead.

“The next day we met with an
instructor
 who changed our lives.” Dav said.

The image changed yet again and both men had looked as bad as Tarik did earlier. Lamb now sported two
black eyes
 and his right arm was in a sling. The left side of Dav’s face was purple but not swollen, bruises on his neck matched the one’s he had given Tarik.

“To
instructor
 Zu and the best friend I met through a fist fight.” Dav said raising his glass and smiled at Lamb.

The men drank again and Tarik saw the love these men had for each other. He doubted he and Rye would ever do this but it was encouraging to see that the men were once in his same situation.

Lamb saw that Tarik understood what the men were showing them and smiled at him.

“It’s not always going to be easy Tarik but we see something in there. With some hard work we would love to welcome you into our family.” Dav said.

“You have friends here; some of the crew truly admires you Tarik.” Lamb said. “I look forward to helping you find
control
 and taking your place with us.”

Dav and Lamb stood up at the same time; they held their cups high. Tarik rushed to join them, clinking his glass against theirs.

“To Tarik, may he find peace through battle,
control
 of his emotions and brothers in arms.”

The three men drank again, Tarik felt inspired to do well.

Dav and Lamb shook hands and Lamb left the two of them in the
training
 room.

“I will have a Gi delivered to your room, come dressed in that tomorrow.” Dav told Tarik as he walked to the door.

Tarik sat in the chair feeling hopeful about his future on the ship for the first time. If the old men could accept him and teach him he stood a chance.

Dav poked his head back through the doorway. “Oh, and stay away from my daughter.” he said before he disappeared again.

“Shit.” Tarik said while sitting alone in the empty room.

Tarik started to settle into a routine. Meals, showers, and
training
 progressed without issue for two weeks. The ship had gone to jump, headed for an as of yet undisclosed location. He wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the transparent windows on the track he ran with Goddess. Only a flash of light when the ship passed through another membrane betrayed the notion that they remained in place.

Tarik looked at himself in the mirror; his body had grown leaner and tighter. He thought he was losing lean muscle mass so he started weight
training
 after his
training
 sessions with Dav. He wasn’t quite
on the level
 of the pilots but he could make out ridges of his abdominal muscles. When he balled his fists he could see muscles wrapping around themselves in his forearm.

Lamb had him on the range and he was scoring
seven
 stars out of ten on the intermediate courses. He’d replayed the original battle scenario and no longer lost assets. He’d moved on to more complicated scenarios; some involved flying enemies, others incorporated artillery.

His work with Dav was moving at a very slow pace. Most of his time there had been learning the basics of throwing punches and kicks with correct form. He didn’t feel like he was progressing as fast as he should but bad habits learned over a lifetime were hard to break.

He checked his log for the day and his
training
 had all been
cancelled
. He had five bathrooms to clean then after midday meal he was to report to medical. Tarik could have lived happily without having to see the doctor again but he’d like to talk to Tilla if the opportunity presented itself.

He no longer had to sit at the kiddie table, his seat was moved to the
combat
 table but he frequently talked with the pilots. Scout Three was one of the nicest guys he’d ever met, Tarik was shocked to find out he was only five years old. His Dereft mother sent him out into the world as another unwanted son at the age of one but he’d matured to the body of a twelve year
human
 by that time. Scout Three explained that Dereft women kept the sperm of human males alive inside their body for up to four years, using the sperm sparingly to have more children. They would only become pregnant again after the last child had left the home. The males being infertile were larger considered trash in Dereft culture; they were left to fend for themselves early in life. Fascinated, Tarik found out more about Dereft culture and Scout Three’s journey to the Beetle.