A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. This chapter is just my attempt at taking things a bit slower than is my tendency, to make myself take time with this stage in Mara's life. In this chapter, we can see Mara's in-born and partly-bred attitude of superiority, her bullish personality, coming to the fore and her high opinion of herself getting her into a bit of trouble. Charming, she is not.
Thanks again to everyone who is following this story, and especially to those who have reviewed.
The Acquisition of Habits
They were a bunch of amateurs. She didn't know why they even bothered.
Their hand work was sloppy, their feet – clumsy. Just a group of boys trying to prove who was the toughest. She smirked as she walked past.
Her combat trainers often let her observe the practice sessions of other units, telling her that such observation was crucial in understanding the advantages and disadvantages inherent to different styles of hand-to-hand combat. (We'll practice these maneuvers until they become instinct, Mara. Until they are as natural and expected as the next breath you take.) Today the Specs were training, men from the Storm Commando unit, but a few of the more influential politicians and moffs always managed to get their sons into the arena, too, brash, cocky boys who had nothing better to do than pretend that they were good enough to practice with the elite military units. Almost all of them were on the fast-track to commissions in the Imperial Navy. None of them had done anything to earn it.
And they were all terrible fighters. But who you were seen with was more important sometimes that what you were seen doing, and Mara knew it was a fact of every organization. Her sociology tutor had brought her here himself one day to explain how delicate these power plays could be, and how deeply they were insinuated into every aspect of the Empire's hierarchies. Her contempt had been beyond expression.
Apparently everyone had been instructed not to ask about her or try to engage her in conversation, so she usually enjoyed free, undisturbed hours where she could watch and learn. Occasionally her trainers would even let her spar with some of the officers – it was always a lesson in humiliation, because the officers never went easy on her. But every defeat was another learning experience. And she was getting better.
In fact, she'd planned to get Lt. Sohn to join her on the mat today. He'd given her a beating last time, and she wanted to make sure he knew that it would be one of the last times she let it happen.
"What's that kid doing here? Hey, little girl, you lost?"
The boys – apparently fresh blood, cadets who had never seen her around before. She didn't stop, but deigned to throw a sneer their way.
But she hadn't made it three steps before she felt a hand come down on her shoulder - and without thinking, she grabbed it, stepped one foot back to center her weight, and pulled (as expected as the next breath you take). As the boy's own weight shifted forward, she snaked her right ankle around his left, twisted him around, and heard his body meet the floor with a loud smack.
It was a series of movements lasting less than two seconds, and by the time it was over Mara still hadn't fully registered what she'd done.
She stared down at the boy – what must he be, eighteen, nineteen? - as he blinked up at the ceiling, stunned, gasping to get his breath back. The others gaped at her, making no move to help their friend.
She stared a few moments more, body still tensed, still wired in defense-mode – and noticed that the room had gone silent. The other recruits and trainers had paused, some even still tangled up with each other on the mats, and all eyes were on her.
An officer jogged over – a captain, she recalled, vaguely certain that his name started with a 'T' – and looked at her, then at the boy now struggling to get to his knees. He gave the others a hard stare. "Look, I don't know who you kids are, and I don't care. Keep messin' with this one, and you'll land yourselves in a whole heap of trouble."
The cadets began to protest. "What-!"
"And you -" The officer pointed a finger at Mara. "Don't make trouble for yourself, either. I know your supervisors won't like to hear about this."
"I'm not supervised," she muttered. "And I didn't start anything. I know better." She pulled a face at the cadets, who were still red-faced and starting to look nervous. "Unlike them." But she nodded at the captain, the best apology she could muster, and even this small act of deference caused something deep inside her to scrape and burn. She winced. "I just came here for a match against one of your men. If that's okay...?"
He held her gaze for a moment longer, clearly unhappy about having to make allowances to some prepubescent girl. But he knew, if not who she was, then what she was, and that was all that mattered. He gave her a nod.
She lost to the lieutenant again, which did not surprise her, but her speed had improved, and though she walked away with a bloody nose, she was proud to note that Lt. Sohn had received more than a few bruises of his own. On her way out of the training arena she passed by the cadets again. None of them would meet her eye.
