Daughter of The Dragon

Then he did something that, when he thought about it later on, saved his life and sure as hell wasn’t in any manual. But he did it anyway.

Pe

Suddenly, he saw the horizon—and, dear God, he had dropped far enough for there to be a horizon—and clouds spread in a foamy cushion. Thirty, forty degrees max… come on, come on, lemme see it… The Lucifer still spun, but more drunkenly now, as if the craft were a top ru

“Damn,” said Menace. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Pe

A pause. “Look down. Starboard.”

Pe

He couldn’t think anymore, not now. But much, much later Pe

Something else would happen, too. A flight mishap investigatory board would convene. Pe

But that would be then—and this was now and, for now, Pe

4

Conqueror’s Pride, Proserpina

Prefecture III, Republic of the Sphere

20 November 3134

Control.

Blinking away sweat, Antonia Chi

Chi

She wondered if her opponent was fagged out. Doubted it. Her opponent stood three meters away, in a picture-perfect stance: shoulders relaxed, back straight, feet a fist’s width apart, each heel two centimeters off the floor. A pair of unwavering, jet-black eyes glittered with the intensity of two lasers from behind a protective mesh of horizontal wires that formed the frontispiece of a navy blue helmet. To either side of her opponent’s men, her face mask, a thick cowl of protective fabric flared in a design reminiscent of the helmets worn by the ancient samurai. Her opponent was taller by a half meter, but compensated for the difference, angling her shinai at waist level and inscribing an imaginary line that, had it been an arrow, would have whizzed through Chi

Just one lousy hit on target so I don’t look like a complete idiot. It wasn’t as if Chi

Chi

Go, go! Chi

The Old Master raised a hand. “Yame!”

“Yeah, stop is right,” Chi

Her opponent said nothing. But the Old Master glided over, almost soundlessly, his eyes flashing with disapproval. But when he spoke, his tone was mild. “This is the way of a warrior? To throw a tantrum like a spoiled child?”

The questions, so precise and to the point, made Chi

“Perhaps.” The Old Master had very brown eyes, but the orbits were marred with splotches of yellow that reminded Chi

“Fight? Without armor? Without anything?” Chi

“Oh, of course we can,” said her opponent, shucking her helmet. Katana Tormark’s face was so slick with sweat, her chocolate-brown skin looked oiled. She, too, wore a tenugui saturated with perspiration, and her hair, cut close in wavy locks, glistened and clung to her scalp. Her nimble fingers quickly peeled off her do, and she dropped the body armor onto her helmet. “Don’t you understand, Toni?” she said, unself-consciously high-stepping out of her hakama, then letting the black trousers puddle on the floor with a whisper of fabric against wood.

Chi