22: Beat Down

The Toa-3 Orbital Training Facility was a large, sprawling space station in the orbit of one of Tornya's moons. Having started as an outpost centuries before, it had since become a vast mishmash of squat, rectangular steel blocks connected with a network of airtight corridors and protected with sturdy energy shields that deflected any space debris that might have strayed too close. A scattering of space rocks orbited this moon, the moon itself having enough of a gravitational pull to keep the sparse asteroid field within its reach.

At one point, many millions of years ago, a large asteroid had collided with the moon that had sent a hail of debris flying into its orbit. A massive crater was still present on the moon's surface, whilst the debris had settled into an orbit about the planet that formed something of a loose ring.

The central complex was at the core of the space station, and it consisted of a large multi-levelled structure in a vague cylindrical shape in which the main personnel facilities were located. An observation deck was upon one of the upper levels, offering a view of the moon below and of distant Tornya, little more than a blue-white sphere that from Toron's current perspective, could have fit in the palm of his hand. It was sometimes mind-boggling to consider the vastness of space, and how even on this 'moon' they were hundreds of thousands of kilometres away from Tornya itself. Without faster-than-light travel, it would have taken them several days to get here. As it stood, a single well-calculated hyperspace jump from Tornya's orbit to the orbit of Toa-3 would see them here within minutes. And that alone was mind-boggling in its own way, if only because Toron did not even pretend to understand the scientific intricacies of such a thing.

The observation room was mostly empty at this hour. It was arranged as a lounge environment, complete with some very comfortable chairs facing the wide, reinforced glass window ahead that offered a view of the moon's rocky surface below and of the surrounding, star-studded blackness around it. And Tornya was far out there, a reminder to those on board that they were not far from home. Little more than a small blue-white disc, it was nonetheless a comforting sight.

He wore his flight suit, a tight-fitting affair that was padded with enough sturdy insulating material to protect him from the various hazards within the vacuum of space. He had his helmet tucked under one arm, and he waited for the expected call to gather on the distant training deck at the far end of the station. For now, he took a few minutes to himself, taking in the view and pondering all that had led him here.

As far as he could tell, the team seemed competent enough with the equipment issued to them. Whether the disparate bunch of commandoes trusted him was another matter, and he could tell that the likes of Corporal Norvak and his immediate circle of friends had little liking for him. They would be a problem, especially if the issues kept up through the mission itself.

There was close to two weeks before the designated time for their departure to Jur's Anvil that would see them embark on a mission many would deem suicidal. Toron found he was not all that averse to the notion as he thought he might be, and he recalled very vividly the sight of Kavi's burned body on the medical gurney as she was wheeled away from the smouldering wreck of her fighter, moaning and crying out as the agony of her injuries wracked her body. Death had been a release from that suffering, and Toron cursed himself for becoming so attached. Was he destined to see the women he became entangled with die? After all, he had shot dead the last woman he had become involved with, before meeting Kavi. That one had been a spy and had killed many people, comrades and friends to Toron. She had deserved it, yet even Toron could not entirely convince himself of that. He had gunned her down when she had all but surrendered, as she had been counting on the fact that he loved her too much to shoot her. A fatal misjudgement, on her part.

Toron had perhaps shot her more to convince himself he could do what was necessary to win this war and that the people she had killed had needed to be avenged. These thoughts did not prevent him from seeing her in her dreams, although now it was more likely for him to see Kavi in those dreams now. She would be burning before him, her beauty vanishing in a blaze of searing flame. She would call for him, beg him for help but he never could reach her in time. And whenever he did come upon her smouldering corpse, he would wake up in a sweat, panting and wide-eyed and stricken with fear and anguish. Such sensations would pass after a minute or two, but the imagery always remained in his mind's eye. Kavi had been pregnant with his child when she had died, and Creator only knew if she had known this herself or had simply kept it quiet as to not end up grounded. She had loved to fly; it had been in her blood and to be forced to give it up was simply something she never would have stood for.

A suicide mission was just what he needed. Somehow, death hardly seemed as frightening as it had in the past. And yet, he had other lives to consider. As much as he would have liked to charge headlong into an enemy fortification, he simply could not take such a risk knowing that other people were reliant on him. He had a team, a disparate bunch of thrill-seekers and misfits who had volunteered for the most dangerous branch of the Calsharan military that was currently active. Even the ground infantry faced fewer risks than the Sky Riders.

He would need to do something about Corporal Norvak. That one was the ringleader, and he had at least four others under his sway. Even the female, Pelinos, was close to him. He had initially suspected that Pelinos and Norvak were romantically involved to some extent; yet now it seemed the woman had her eye on the young Lieutenant Varsla. All things Toron himself would have to be wary of as team leader.

"Captain Kavellan?" A male's voice sounded from somewhere behind him. Toron spun about to face the station officer who had entered the observation room.

"What is it?"

"The course is ready, sir. Clearance from your commanding officer has just come through." General Durren, back on Tornya at the Proving Grounds, would have sent the necessary authorisation for Toron and his team to make use of the station's training facilities. "Were there any adjustments you wished to make to the course?"

Toron shook his head. He noticed this officer, a Junior Lieutenant, seemed a little uneasy before him. Presumably this came from the fact that rumours abounded about those who joined the Sky Riders, often including words such as 'psychotic' or 'crazy' to describe them. Toron offered the Lieutenant a smile, before he started for the room's exit.

"Not at this moment, Lieutenant. What the General sent you is what we need."


The course in question was one set up by computer that made use of the asteroid field outside of the station and around the moon. It was as close an approximation as they could get with what intelligence they had on the facility at Jur's Anvil, and in that sense it was unlikely to be all that accurate. The conditions, however, would be close enough: a high-speed infiltration, avoiding sensors and automated defences before reaching the facility itself and the specified covert entrances that were the power core's exhaust ports. They would be small enough to avoid activating the facility's shields, the team simply had to take care not to be detected while on route to the objective.

The cargo deck the team gathered in had been mostly cleared of any actual cargo, leaving the grey metal expanse strikingly bare. The bulkhead doors between them and the outside were sealed closed, whilst the last few members of the disparate band of Sky Riders filed into the cargo bay and did their final checks. This involved having one other team member look over your flight suit and the attached thruster pack, and whilst Private Jaron Korvka looked over Toron's, Pelinos was giving Lieutenant Varsla's one a thorough check.

Korvka was one of the more trustworthy team members, still relatively new to the whole thing. He was also one of the more intellectual of the group, spending most of his spare time reading and studying whatever topics happened to strike his interest on any given day. He gave Toron a pat on the shoulder, indicating that he was good to go.

Toron spun about and began to check over Korvka's pack, and he took a moment then to look over the team as a whole. Some he had come to know reasonably well, whereas others still remained little more than enigmas to him. Nonetheless, he had memorised names and attached them to faces, although in their suited up states the in-helmet heads up display offered indicators with names attached. This also included information as to the vital signs of the team, all of which were in the green.

Toron, satisfied with what he saw of Korvka's thruster setup, gave the Private a pat on the shoulder. He then turned to the team, making use of a conveniently placed metal container to get a step over the others.

"All right, everyone listen here," he called, his voice sounding a little muffled by the helmet he wore. The others paused in their final preparations, all turning to their team leader. Norvak was nearby, loitering off at the left-hand side with three others gathered near him. His immediate little band consisted of three male Privates who were younger than Norvak, all of whom either idolised or respected him enough to treat him as more of a leader than the rest. Toron recalled Norvak's minor stunt with him on the first flight back on Tornya, the overtaking manoeuvre that had almost seen him lose control. A hint that the Corporal was perhaps more trouble than he was worth.

At the moment, Norvak's expression was mostly covered by the helmet he wore. Nonetheless, his yellow eyes were visible through the visor and he seemed to be watching the Captain with some disdain. To him, Toron was an unwelcome usurper with no right to take command of the team. Toron understood the reasoning, yet he was here to do a job and perform his duties, and he intended to do them all to the best of his ability.

"We have three minutes to make it to the final marker," Toron explained. "We must stick to the approved course. Stray off of that and the sensors will pick you up and you'll be picked off by automated guns." He smiled under his helmet then. "Of course, you won't really get shot but your suit will be deactivated remotely. You'll be picked up later on, although that could mean an hour or two floating amongst the rocks. Hardly a good time, so I suggest you all stick to the approved path and treat this whole exercise as if it was the real thing."

He turned to Lieutenant Varsla.

"Lieutenant, you'll lead second squad. Your path is slightly different and should take you around the left flank of the final marker. First squad will come around the right." He heard some annoyed mutterings amongst the others. Varsla stood tall and gave the Captain a nod. As confident and eager as he was, few on second squad actually wanted him to be in charge.

"First squad is with me." He looked across the gathered Sky Riders, trying to get a gauge on what they were thinking. Some were definitely not keen on having him as their lead, whereas others were simply not keen at all on taking flight. Not everyone was here because they necessarily wanted to be, and few actually volunteered for the Sky Riders. Others were here because they had committed crimes, only to be put before an arbiter who decided to give them a choice: the military or prison. When faced with a choice such as that, some would inevitably choose the military.

"The trick is to go fast, but not too fast. You can't go too slow either, because in three minutes the enemy facility will have recovered from the initial strike performed by the taskforce. They'll have fighters and probes out by that point, most likely. We will be detected shortly after we enter the asteroid field, so for the purposes of this exercise we will operate on the assumption that we are detected as soon as we cross that threshold.

"We must move with cohesion, so that means stick to your formations and keep each other close. But again, neither too close nor too far apart. There is a fine balance to be struck out there, and if one of you slows down then the others will slow down in turn. You must keep to the allotted time not only for your own sake, but for the sakes of those around you."

A few heads nodded in understanding. Toron stepped down from the box and looked towards the observation window at his right. There were a pair of station officers there, keeping an eye on things as well as operating the cargo bay's systems.

"Take positions," Toron called, and the respective fire teams began to spread out. He motioned to the officers through the observation window. One of them gave him a nod of acknowledgment, before giving the instructions to his subordinate who hit the release on the door controls. Red lights began flashing about the cargo bay, with a computerised voice sounding through the room's announcement system that the doors were opening and depressurisation would commence in less than a minute.

Toron took his position at the right-hand side, only a few metres from the bulkhead doors. At his left, Norvak appeared, taking his respective place as did Pelinos and Korvka and the others. Lieutenant Varsla was several metres away, standing ahead of his team and no doubt looking terrified underneath that helmet of his. The visors of their helmets were self-polarising, and as soon as those doors opened they would darken in response to the light outside. Given the lack of any significant atmosphere at Toa-3, the sun of Tornya's star system was especially dangerous. They were carrying out this exercise in the dead of the night, such as it was here on the station. One thing about space travel that always threw Toron off was the lack of any real indication as to when day had ended and night had begun.

Hissing could be heard from either side of the room as atmosphere was pumped out. Toron's breath sounded especially loud inside his helmet now, and the in-built environmental systems of his suit began pumping fresh oxygen into his helmet in response to the loss of outside atmosphere. The oxygen recycling system within the suit would keep him supplied for several hours, yet with each recycle some was lost and eventually, as with any such precious resource, he would run out. Not to mention, recycled air had an underlying tinge to it that suggested something musty or used up. For now, he had an hour of fresh air, which for the purposes of this training exercise would be more than enough.

He braced himself, allowing the magnets at the base of his flight boots to activate. They stuck well to the metal floor underfoot as the cargo bay's gravity systems deactivated and the doors began to slowly open. Toron was no stranger to standing on the precipice, but he had normally done so from the observation room of a starship or from within the cockpit of a fighter craft. Here and now, he stood upon the edge of infinity and for a moment there as the doors opened, he found himself taken aback. He tried not to show it, but there was no denying the feeling when he saw the blackness beyond, scattered with chunks of floating grey-brown rock with the barren, crater marked surface much farther ahead.

There was literally nothing to fall onto. One false move and he could go spiralling into the abyss forever. An irrational thought to have when one had a flight suit and thruster pack as he did, not to mention being so close to a friendly installation, yet it was a thought that invaded his mind and almost made his head spin. Silence filled the vacuum around him, and now his breathing sounded too loud, as did the thumping of his heart in his chest. Slowly, he stepped towards the very edge, aware that every member of the team looked to him to make the first move. As team leader, he would lead from the front. As soon as he was off, the others would follow.

"Second thoughts, Captain?" Norvak's voice invaded his helmet's comms then, causing Toron to frown. He did not reply, did not see a need to indulge the Corporal's sense of superiority. Instead, Toron activated his thrusters and leapt off of the edge, propelling himself forwards and onto the path as indicated by his heads-up display. The others followed, with Norvak coming right after him.

Within each gloved hand were finer controls that allowed more precise manipulation over the thrusters and the direction at which they propelled the user. With some careful movements and the occasional squeezing of his hand into a fist, he could adjust his speed and heading in an intuitive way that required a minimum of actual movement. He rocketed into the asteroid field even now, the weightless environment only serving to amplify every move he made. The slightest bit of thrust was enough to start propelling him well into the red on his heads-up display, and so he hit the brakes that coughed a small amount of energy ahead of him, slowing him. He and the others moved in a level, stomach-down position, hands tight by their sides as a means of reducing their profile and improving their overall velocity.

A timer had appeared on Toron's heads-up display, a stark and rapidly diminishing reminder that they operated on a timetable. This was counting on the fact that on the real mission, they would not be detected sooner. And of course, who knew how valid the intelligence they had on the facility's response time was even accurate? Nonetheless, three minutes was generous even for a training run. Toron wondered if it was even possible on anything less than that.

The asteroids ahead were in varied sizes, some as large as star cruisers and others as small as his fist. It was the smaller ones that were a risk, for hitting any of those at these insane speeds would eviscerate him in the blink of an eye. His on-board sensors indicated the risks ahead, lighting them up on the heads-up display well before he was at risk of hitting them. Readouts displayed indicators as to the location of his team, and at the moment they all followed in formation. It was Pelinos' voice who broke through the quiet within his helmet first, a voice laced with worry:

"Captain, you're going too fast." She was right, he was going too fast. Toron risked a glance to his left, in the direction of second squad. He did not see them, and so opened his own comms:

"Control, what is the status of second squad?" He slowed his approach slightly, weaving around a spinning chunk of uneven rock. At his back, the station had receded into the distance, becoming a small, silvery set of boxes floating amongst the debris.

The duty officer on board the station who had been tasked to oversee the training exercise replied in a level, if slightly concerned tone of voice:

"They're falling behind, Captain."

"Varsla, pick up the pace." Toron had little time to talk, so focussed he was on what lay ahead. Debris hurtled by him in a flash, and he ducked and weaved through the chunks in his path. He could not get a proper bead on second squad, yet it was apparent that speed was not on Varsla's mind. Toron supposed he should not have been surprised that the young Lieutenant was being cautious, but this was hardly the time for it.

Red indicators flashed as two large asteroids hurtled towards each other directly in his path. The warning provided an annoying but attention-getting beeping noise, and Toron realised that if he waited for the impending collision then he would likely fail to make the final marker in time. So, he hit the thrusters hard, pushed his velocity to a point that even the compensators within the suit struggled. He voiced a warning to the squad behind him:

"Hit it hard and stay close." He heard what sounded like Korvka emitting a stunned gasp before Toron set his attention on the two hurtling chunks of debris and the rapidly narrowing gap between them. He wondered if this had been an intentional thing the computer had done, putting him on such a dangerous path. Regardless, it certainly elevated a mere training run to something much more realistic.

"Captain, you're crazy…" Norvak's voice faded then, if only because Toron had shut it out entirely. He blazed through the diminishing gap, practically feeling the asteroid pass over him. The others of first squad darted on through in his wake, and on the other side of that impending collision the field thickened. Both portions of rock crashed against each other, deflecting away and sending forth an eruption of smaller fragments that scattered about them like hail. By the time that had happened, first squad was well clear, barrelling onwards with their thrusters exuding light blue vapour trails. The timer was down to a minute and the final marker was still some distance away, little more than a simple buoy that had been deposited in the asteroid field to assist in training exercises. Smaller asteroids floated about it, with more trundling about the approach towards it.

Another beeping filled his ears then. Toron noticed two of the indicators for second squad had turned yellow. That meant that they had drifted off of the course and would thereby be left floating for a while until the recovery crew went out and fetched them.

"Varsla, what's going on over there?" He skirted over one smaller asteroid, travelling close enough for dust to fly up from its surface in his wake. He pushed onwards, barely aware of those in his team who followed closely.

"Two of them strayed." Varsla's voice was taut, even breathless. The young Lieutenant sounded to be on the verge of a panic attack. "They charged on ahead, Captain. Against my advice."

"You're still going too slow, Lieutenant." Toron could see as much on his display, although he had hardly paid it much attention until now. He was close, so close to that final marker and he still had a solid thirty seconds…

Suddenly, Norvak was at his flank. The Corporal turned to him, and Toron could easily imagine the smile beneath his visor. He was going to overtake him again, same as he had done so back on Tornya the other day. Instead of allowing this to happen, Toron felt a spike of anger and hit his thrusters, pushing them further. Norvak responded in kind, and the pair fell into a neck-and-neck race for the finish. The rest of the squad attempted to keep up, but none were game enough to push themselves harder than these two seemed intent on doing.

It was foolishness, of course. Toron swore under his breath, narrowly avoiding a head-sized piece of debris. Norvak must have modified his thruster pack, since he abruptly darted ahead with the thruster's glowing a brilliant white. Toron was so fixated upon Norvak that he did not see nor hear the warning of his own display until it was seconds too late, and when he did see it he hit the brakes hard and still skirted the small rock ahead of him. The impact was a glancing one, countered by his shields yet it was still enough to knock the wind from him and send him barrelling out of control.

This time, he could not recover quickly, and before he knew it, he was spinning wildly out of control. Stars and blackness and the moon flashed about him, and the sheer sight of it all mashing together in a blur was enough to make him sick to the stomach. He jerked his thrusters left and right, trying to counteract the downwards spin. Someone was shouting into his comms, yet his senses were so befuddled by the spin that he could hardly make out the words.

Oddly enough, he did hear the confirmation that at some point during his spin he had hit the final marker. An accident, no less, and once again he was second behind Norvak. Hitting his thrusters hard, he pushed back against the spin, slowing it enough that he was able to determine just where he was in relation to everything else. And then, with renewed determination and rising anger, he locked eyes on Norvak's distant green indicator and started for it. Toron knew that allowing his emotions to get the better of him was probably unwise, but this time around his usual control had slipped away and all that was on his mind was getting back at Norvak.


They were picked up by a small, agile shuttle and taken back to the station a little while later. Data from the many sensors about the asteroid field had been collated, and as soon as Toron set foot upon a solid surface and felt the familiar tug of gravity he found himself faced with a station duty officer. The same young Lieutenant from before, and they met in the now repressurised cargo bay. The rest of the team was filing on inside, helmets coming off and flight suits being loosened. Some of the team members appeared visibly relieved, as did Varsla, whereas others were still visibly shaky on their feet.

"The results are ready, if you wish to view them, sir," the Lieutenant said, and he motioned to the observation window nearby. "You can use the computers in there."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Toron took off his helmet, finally freed of its stifling confines. He set it down upon a nearby crate, his voice distant as he searched the familiar faces about him for that of Norvak. He heard the Corporal before he saw him, and the burly Sky Rider strode inside with two others, speaking loudly as if intent on having everyone on the team hear of his exploits.

"It takes a careful hand amongst that level of debris," he declared, his helmet tucked under one arm. He did not look at Toron, barely even noticed him amongst the others clustered about the cargo bay. The Lieutenant standing before Toron noticed that the Sky Rider's team leader appeared distracted and so, seeing as how he had said what he needed to, turned around and shuffled uneasily away. To him, these Sky Rider commando sorts were an odd bunch, more prone to causing trouble than stopping it. And for once, he would have been right in that assumption.

Toron started for Norvak, moving in long strides. Lieutenant Varsla, free of his helmet, turned to Toron as he walked by. He smiled, apparently relieved to be back inside a pressurised environment.

"Captain, I want to say that…" He trailed off as Toron walked right by him and said nothing. Norvak was still talking loudly to his two followers, and his disdain for their team leader became more apparent the closer Toron came to him.

"Some officers I know are seeking only one thing," Norvak declared, his back to Toron. Whether he knew the Captain was coming was unclear. He simply kept talking, his two friends appearing increasingly uncertain as Toron approached. "Glory, mainly. Promotions, most definitely. And some, a very special few, aren't seeking anything more than their own destruction." Then he spun around, as if on cue, and he narrowed his eyes when he came face-to-face with Toron. "I've seen your kind before, Captain. You didn't volunteer for the Sky Riders out of a sense of duty. You did it because they were giving us a suicide mission and you've got a death wish. Another arrogant home-worlder trying to use us colonials for his own ends."

That was a somewhat common attitude, and it had only become all the more pronounced since the war had started. The major colonies were allowed some level of autonomy, yet in the end they had all answered to the government of Calshae Prime. They had been a Union, after all. Nonetheless, some resentment remained among a small percentage of the population, with the idea that those on the home world tended to see themselves as better than those on the colonies. It was a dated attitude, but the war had only brought these things to the forefront. And since Toron was born and raised on Calshae Prime, the distrust he received from some of the colonial officers and soldiers he encountered had been noticeable. Norvak was Tornyan by birth, a patriot even who had likely seen the civil war as inevitable and a benefit. Having a home world officer put in charge of the team had struck a deep chord within him and he was unlikely to let it go anytime soon.

"You almost got me killed out there," Toron stated, his anger just roiling under the surface. His voice was level, if audibly strained. His yellow eyes were wide, blazing with fury. Norvak did not appear too bothered by this accusation. He simply looked Toron in the eye and scowled.

"Isn't that what you want?" He asked him. "I'd rather you get killed in a training exercise, than have you send the whole team into the grinder for your own glory." He paused then, mulling over what else he might add. "What happened, Captain? Did you lose someone you cared about? Because this war's doing the same thing to just about everyone, so don't go thinking you're somehow a special case."

"You're out of line, Lieutenant." Toron's voice was almost a growl. Now everyone else in the cargo bay was watching the pair, even the few station officers present. The other conversations happening around them stopped, and an uneasy quiet fell about the room broken only by the voices of both Toron and Norvak. The latter stood stalwart, being broader and visibly more muscled than Toron was. Even so, Toron felt no intimidation from this uppity Corporal. He could certainly understand why Norvak had been demoted from Sergeant, as his insubordinate attitude was clear as day.

"And you're not fit for this outfit," Norvak countered. "The Hero of Vargania, and how long did you coast along on that? Six months? All that time, did you do anything worthy of note?" He took a step forwards, and this put the two of them almost nose-to-nose. "You used your pull to get transferred here, and for what? A personal vendetta?"

"You'll shut your mouth right now, Corporal."

"Or what, Captain?" The invitation was there. Norvak glared at him, his amused exterior gone and replaced with something far less civil. "Will you demote me? Throw me out of this team?"

"Both can be arranged."

"But they won't go ahead because I'm too good at what I do." Norvak spoke with a smug self-assurance that only caused Toron's anger to rise. "I've been here far longer than you, Captain. And I've survived as long as I have because I fight smart, not hard. And I will not have some vengeance-seeking Captain send this team into the fire." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in: "I have a couple of friends on the Lance of Might. There's a Lieutenant there, you might have met him but that's not the point. He told me about you, and about the pilot who died. The one you were sleeping with?"

Toron's control slipped. Norvak kept talking, but only for a few more seconds.

"She died and now you're here, ready to send us on some suicide mission all to get back at those—"

Toron punched the Corporal hard across the jaw, a powerful right hook that sent the burly soldier stumbling. He had been unprepared, and so the blow hit harder than it otherwise might have. Norvak fell against a nearby stack of metal boxes, knocking a few aside and sending them clunking about the metal floor. Cradling his jaw, blood tricking from a cut inside his mouth, Norvak looked up and narrowed his eyes in an expression of anger mingled with a newfound hate for the Captain. Suddenly he was charging ahead, and Toron was taken aback by the ferocity of the charge and by the bloodthirsty demeanour that had taken hold of the Corporal.

Some of the team members around them looked shocked, but others began cheering. There were the handful on Norvak's side who began calling him on, encouraging him to hit back. None cheered for Toron, although the likes of Varsla and Korvka and even Pelinos remained quiet, stunned by the outburst but not game enough to step in or even attempt to break it up. Perhaps they thought it was necessary? Someone had to be in charge here, and Toron's rank did not necessarily cut it.

Norvak barrelled into Toron like a truck. The two of them went falling between two of the gathered team members before slamming onto the floor of the cargo bay. Toron suddenly found himself underneath Norvak, the Corporal's weight heavy against his torso. Norvak struck him, a blow across the face that sent Toron reeling. Pain wracked his skull and blood filled his mouth. He went to hit him again but Toron swatted aside the blow before he raised his other hand and plunged a thumb into the Corporal's left eye. Norvak let out a pained cry and his loss of concentration was enough for Toron to throw him aside, freeing himself of the Corporal and climbing back upon his feet.

Norvak rubbed at his sore, slightly bloodshot eye and swung again, although this time Toron ducked under the blow and instead grabbed the Corporal and turned his own momentum against him. He shoved him headfirst into the nearby wall, with Norvak's skull sounding off the metal surface with a resounding clunk. Toron then spun him around whilst the Corporal was dazed, kicking him in the groin and doubling him over. Norvak was winded now, groaning as one hand went for the pain shooting through his crotch and his vision partially blurred by the damage done to his eye. And yet, despite all this he reacted to Toron's next attack with a snarl and a lunge, one that caught Toron by the waist. This time, it was Toron who hit the nearest hard surface, slamming with considerable pain against a nearby stack of crates that tumbled and scattered all around him and Norvak. The cheers and hollers of the other team members were almost indiscernible now, so caught up were the two of them in their fight and their desire to see the other one beaten to the floor.

Varsla finally worked up the courage to step in. He went to move for the both of them, trying to work his way between them. Instead, Norvak punched him in the jaw and sent the young Lieutenant falling. A couple of the other team members, Korvka among them, ran to his aid. This fight was between Toron and Norvak, no one else could intervene. Toron tasted blood in his mouth, his head throbbed, and his stomach churned. He figured he had at least one broken rib, easily fixed by Calsharan medical science but that did not make the pain any less.

Toron stumbled out of the mess of boxes. Norvak swung again, and this time it was a glancing blow that hit Toron in the side and made him almost lose his balance. Both of the fighters were unsteady now, their initial burst of energy gone and their injuries leaving them weakened. Nonetheless, Norvak snarled at him again, baring his pointed teeth in a show of aggression that most civilised Calsharans tried to avoid doing. Toron turned on him as Norvak went in for the grapple, and for a few seconds both of them grabbed the arms of the other, trying to push their opponent back, only for Toron to sweep a leg out that connected with Norvak's own. He did not fall over, but he did stumble a few steps that allowed Toron to release the Corporal's arms and duck underneath the feeble attempt he made to grab him. Instead, he tacked Norvak to the floor, all while the surrounding Sky Riders cheered the pair on. Varsla stood nearby, cradling his jaw, whilst at least one of the duty officers present had gone off to fetch help from their superiors.

Norvak was beneath Toron now. The Captain hit him again and again, each blow connecting with the Corporal's face, tenderising his jaw and cheekbones and the taut facial muscles underneath his scaled countenance. A dazed quality came upon Norvka's eyes, his struggles against the Captain becoming weak as he was beaten again and again. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.

Finally, Pelinos stepped forwards and pulled Toron off of him, and unlike Norvak he did not lash out at this attempt to end the fight. Instead, he rolled off of Norvak and landed in a heap next to him, his own features bruised and bloodied, his chest heaving. The cheering stopped then, leaving an uneasy silence. Toron saw fear in the eyes of some of those under his command. They were afraid of him now, and whether that would prove to be a good thing or otherwise remained to be seen.

Norvak was still conscious, if dazed and bloodied. Calsharan bruises usually showed up as slightly darker patches underneath the scaly hide, and Norvak's face was mostly just that now. Toron was not much better off, and even his knuckles ached and bared the scuffs and scrapes and bruises of simply hitting too hard too often against an equally sturdy opponent. He wondered how the General might react to this incident. It was an absent thought, one that did not hold much importance for him right now. At least Norvak was unlikely to cause further trouble.