Chapter 3: Combat

Disclaimer: the Stargate franchise and aliens that they created are the property of MGM. This is just a fictional story made out of fun and has no profit or commercial value derived from it.

Take off was delayed because of the Hives were still going over the further proposed selection lists for officer swapping. It was two sessions of combat training for blades. Each session from moon rise to moon set. The Queen ordered her to attend despite the fact that she was not really a blade. There was no choice in the matter. She reluctantly typed a message in her data tablet.

/Outgoing: Delay game reset. Two moon rises of combat training.

/Incoming: Looking forward to game again. Last game was interesting. Good combat, blade.

Interesting? She lost two games now to the mystery cleverman. She put on her black Wraith officer uniform and rubbed her new tattoo on the side of her neck. Her hair was secured in a rough bun. The tattoo was granted by the Queen for watching over her daughter. A symbol of achievement for a wraith. In her case, it was a part wraith.

She walked out of her quarter and headed towards the combat training room. A worshipper hurried past, taking care to avoid her, to clean her now empty quarter before her return.

She arrived at the combat room. The not-so-familiar faces ignored her. They recognised her in the Hive. That was all. The new faces stared at her. Most were bare backed in anticipation of a fight. And there were no tattooes seen. Young ones.They took their places on the ground to sit. The telepathic flurry of information revealed that sessions were going to be taught by one of the Cruiser Commanders. An experienced one and skilled veteran from one of the toughest ships to serve on. She had a bad feeling as a familiar presence approached the entrance.

Food. You escaped again. Her former battlecruiser Commander walked through the door with a glint in his eyes. However it was more in jest. Deadly jest. Her mind shuddered at the memory of him bargaining to feed on her. Fortunately she remembered to feed fully prior to attending. He taught her well. Everyone stared at her. Etiquette did not allow them to pounce on her and feed in front of a Cruiser Commander. However they were eagerly waiting for him to issue the free-for-all food grabbing galore.

If anyone was to feed on her, it will be me. Not any of you. He was deadly serious now.

Hand to hand combat skills. This is important if you want to rise in ranks. No underestimation.

Ofcourse, he just had to select her first with the do-not-disappoint-me look. There were no volunteers. Everyone thought that it would be an insult to fight a seemingly weaker opponent. Then he asked who amongst themselves thought that they are strongest in the group. Just great. His Second Commanding officer walked in to watch at the sight. This is getting even better. He always liked to hear her bones crack when she was serving in the old battlecruiser. Probably missed the sounds.

No. I came to watch you crack some bones. You have served with us. Those young ones are soft. JUST CRACK SEVERAL BONES. His private whisper in her mind. Awesome. Pressure to perform.

First volunteer. A young but biggest sized blade in the group volunteered himself as the strongest. He eyed her with absolute contempt. He underestimated her. She removed her coat. Her collarless leather exercise top revealed her new tattoo at the neck. He pounced as she deftly moved away. This one was using brute strength, not his mind. She tripped him as he lunged towards her again. In a few moves, the first crack was heard and subsequently more cracks as she took him out. Finally, she was on top and the Second Commanding officer quickly pulled her off before she got carried away with trying to feed on the loser. The loser was dragged aside by two in the session to regenerate painfully for the Second Commanding officer's viewing pleasure.

Too slow. I expected faster. I am disappointed. Her former Commander said, shaking his head. A mixture of surprise and respect for her ran across the looks of the young learners.

I forgot a minor detail. She used to serve on my ship. What did I say about underestimation? A malicious glow was seen in his golden eyes as a grin formed on his face. Any more volunteers?

Another hand rose up. He was despatched a little faster than the first and left to regenerate for the Second Commanding officer's viewing pleasure again. His only complaint on the second. Not enough bones were broken.

Her former Commander now moved onto techniques to fight. No pure reliance on size and strength. It was going to be an interesting session. He was going to set them on an approved small prey settlement to hunt when the two finished regenerating. They will be using fighters to stun prey. The winner was the one with the most number of alive prey collected in storage.

She was exhausted. She did win the challenge and her prey were in marked cocoons specially as her private feeding stock. If they included the most number of dead prey, she would have lost the challenge by a far mark. The next session was on his cruiser. This should be interesting.

A beep on her data tablet indicated a message

/Incoming: Were you victorious, blade?

/Outgoing : Won challenge.

/Incoming : Excellent.

Second session. The Wraith cruiser was an eyeopener from the old battlecruiser. It was far larger. And had a smaller complement of fighters. However the purpose of the day was to look at bridge controls and how to operate them in battle. There was an added component of hiding a ship effectively. Another cruiser commander had agree to participate in the exercise. A nearby asteroid field was chosen. Everyone had an opportunity to pretend to be a Cruiser Commander but that did not spare them beatings from the real Cruiser Commander or his Second Commanding officer when mistakes were made. She got the worst... she flew out of the bridge and slammed into the opposite wall in the corridor. Punishment for being the fastest found. One of the young blades was awarded the prize of hunting. He came back with five extra prey for his personal consumption.

She fed from another screaming prey to regenerate fully, heavily annoyed at the mistake made. It was a matter of reflexes at the control. Hers was not faster than the other wily Cruiser Commander.

The data tablet beeped.

/Incoming : Game reset. Your move when you are rested. Victorious, blade?

/Outgoing: No. Got beaten for it.

/Incoming: Always another day for Victory.

/Outgoing: Move made in game. Your call.

/Incoming: Interesting opening move. You are improving. I will do this when I return from meeting my Queen.

She sighed. Combat was a game of reflexes.