Chapter Eleven

Two days later, things returned to normal. Training, classes, meals, more training. After their defeat, no one wanted to be caught off guard again. They had no idea how they'd made it out alive. What had happened to Petra when the deviants had taken her, or why they'd taken her in the first place. One thing was certain, the Martinets were hell-bent against it happening again. Once was one time too many.

More than any of the others, Ezra carried the heaviest burden. He'd already apologized about a dozen times, but it didn't seem to relieve him of the guilt heavy on his young shoulders. He was team leader, he should have protected the others better. He should have anticipated an ambush. He should have handled the situation better. Should have, should have. There were millions of should haves and could haves, and infinite alternate scenarios ran through his mind.

After much coaxing, a begrudged Shea left the infirmary and lost himself in hours upon hours of training. When everyone else had left the gym, he continued on, determined to never find himself in such a situation. He hated having felt weak, vulnerable and so out of control. Known for being consistently even tempered, he now grew angry at any and everything. The others grew worried, but no one dared speak to him.

"He needs to feel a sense of control again. He won't say it, but what happened scared him, all of us" Ezra explained. Shea was off balance, and just needed to regain his foothold.

Petra understood. There was something niggling at the back of her mind, but she hadn't spoken about it to anyone yet. Nor did she want to. What she'd seen was some kind of hallucination; a drug induced dream, nothing to worry about. Or so she consoled herself. She had more pressing matters to deal with, and that was Farrow. She hated being indebted to him, and she'd been doing an excellent job of avoiding him, but today it was impossible.

The two units, forty four, and sixty six were training together. Unless she called in sick, which would land her back in the infirmary, she would have to face him. Training started with a five mile run. In trying to avoid him, Petra ducked and dodged the entire time, raising a few suspicious looks and questioning eyebrows. Weight training followed, and she used the equipment furthest from him. When her unit mates needed help, she pretended not to hear them calling. And when he moved anywhere near her, she pretended to have something important to take care of at the other end. Petra knew she was being ridiculous, but she didn't know of any other way to handle her situation. Saying thank you, did not cross her mind.

Even though they were all sweaty and tired, they had fight training or close combat training next. Their shoulders drooping, no one wanted to volunteer to step onto the mat. "We don't have all day, I need a volunteer" Luke, fellow soldier and their trainer shouted. He was tall, wide, with muscles that rippled across every inch of his body. Khaleel had joked once that he was sure Luke had such powerful muscles in his ear, if he could flap it, he'd cause a tornado. Looking at him, it wasn't that impossible to believe.

"I nominate Petra!" Ezra shouted, waving his hand like a crazy person. He grinned and winked at her. She huffed, and kicked her leg out at him, missing him by a few inches.

"Petra" "Petra" "Petra" "Petra!" The rest of her unit started chanting her name and clapping, and she knew there was no backing out. Luke beckoned for her to step forward. Petra had been on this mat thousands of times before, and she was quite confident when it came to her fighting abilities.

Anya jumped up as soon as Petra's foot hit the mat. She was ready to exact pain on her long time rival. She ground her right fist in her left hand in anticipation. No one knew why, or how their rivalry had begun, but everyone knew it ran deep. Anya was about to step on the mat when a hand pulled her back. Luke had a rule; whoever stepped on the mat, had to see the fight through.

Anya turned to the owner of the hand, ready to argue. She found the owner of the hand, and her heart sank. She was ready to protest, but the look in his eyes made her return to her seat.

She admired Farrow. No, it was more than admiration. There was a word she'd never used, but she felt it. He was, to her, without a doubt the best leader. She'd said so over and over to him and her unit-mates. She didn't know much about what it meant to be beautiful or handsome, but to her, Farrow was both. Sometimes, dangerously so. Farrow had always, from the first moment, stood out to her.

Then there was Petra. She herself couldn't quite understand their rivalry, but she despised Petra. And what made it worse was the amount of attention Farrow showed her. Anya knew that he enjoyed goading and making fun of Petra, but it still annoyed her. She had been in such a rage after learning that HE had been the one that found Petra. Anya's hate made her wish Petra was never found. Her punching bag, a close confidant and recipient for her rage, knew her secrets. Instinctively, she gave Petra a seething look.

Petra's attention was elsewhere though. There was no running away now. For the life of her, she could not understand why he'd stepped onto the mat. Maybe him rescuing her had been a major inconvenience, and he wanted to prove how irked he was. Get a little pay-back.

She watched him flex his arm, the muscles and veins moving in tandem. Then he cracked his neck. Petra wasn't afraid, but she meant to thank him. This put her in an awkward situation. Kicking his butt wasn't exactly a thank you. He stood before her expressionless, leaving her guessing about what he was thinking.

Farrow was at least six one, while she stood at five seven. He was lean, but she knew that he was all muscle. She'd fought him many times in a fit of anger, and always lost, but this was different. She took up her fighting stance, calm, collected, ready.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked, and she felt her face flush with embarrassment. He'd thrown her off with that statement, then kicked her legs out from under her. She fell on the mat with a thud. Petra got up fast, and threw a punch. Farrow dodged it with ease, and pulled her arm across, and grabbed her in a chokehold. Her back pressed against his chest, she could feel the warmth of his skin and the thud of his heart. The closeness was unsettling. She fought to break free, but couldn't, even though his hold was more relaxed than it ought to be.

"Are you okay…? After…" he was saying, when she used her weight forcing an elbow into his side, pushing him back and breaking free. He had said those words with an unexpected softness and with such concern that she felt confused. Why was he being weird? Was he trying to unhinge her? Petra stared at him, wondering what was going on, and he stared back, giving nothing away. "Farrow, quit playing around" Luke called from the sidelines.

A sudden realisation dawned on Petra, and she became enraged. So that's what he'd been trying to do. Messing with her head, so the fight would be easy. She glared at him, and Farrow smiled. How she hated his smile... He'd been looking at her like she was a wounded mouse, but now there was a twinkle in his honey brown eyes.

Petra lunged forward, making contact with a block of his arm. She knew that this was only a sparring session, but she was determined to get as much out of it as she could. She bounced around on the balls of her feet, looking for an opening. She lunged forward again, this time bringing her foot high, missing Farrow's neck by inches. He grabbed at her leg, but she was faster this time. She went low and spun a kick to his middle. In her haste she'd forgotten the metal plate that lived in his midriff, and kicked it. Her foot stung from the pain, and she retreated hopping back. She fought the urge to grimace, as the pain echoed into her calf. Farrow grinned. Petra scowled. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid grin from his face! She knew that there was only one way for her to win this, and that was by using her metal arm, and the jolt that would follow. This was an absolute no-no in sparring sessions. But Farrow had his metal plate as an advantage, so why couldn't she use her advantage? The pain in her foot began to subside, and she resumed her fighting stance.

"C'mon Petra!" Khaleel called from the sidelines. She rushed forward, dropping as she went. Farrow expected her to hit his midriff again, so he didn't even try blocking. Instead, she slid past, and came up behind him, bringing her fist into his back. Surprised by this, Farrow threw a back hand, but she ducked. Petra swiveled, and brought her fist into the opposite side of his back. Farrow seemed to buckle, and Petra jumped up and in quick succession kicked his calf and the back of his knees. Farrow faltered, but was quick to find his stability. Her attack had little effect.

He turned, lithe despite his size, and backhanded the side of her face. Petra had not been quick enough in maneuvering out of the way, and the force of it brought her to the mat. The shot stung. Petra knew that this was only a small measure of Farrow's power. Farrow was holding back, and that stung more. "Farrow". "Farrow". "Farrow". His team chanted, glad that their leader was finally getting a bit serious.

Petra brushed the strands of hair out of her face, and stood up.

"You can always forfeit" he teased, poking at her with his finger. Petra bared her teeth. She stepped to the farthest edge of the mat, and tried to gain her composure.

"Show him Petra!" Lina shouted, punching her own hand. Petra ran, gaining momentum. Farrow expected another sliding attack. He lowered himself to prevent it, but instead she jumped, landing both feet on his chest. Farrow looked stunned, and took a few steps back. Petra didn't wait. She used combination punches and kicks in his chest, face and sides. Farrow could do nothing but block. Adrenaline coursed through her, and she kept going. She'd brought Farrow on his knees, or so she thought. Focused only on her attacks, she didn't see the punch coming. Farrow blocked her last hit, then lightning quick, punched out, hitting her hard on the upper arm. Distracted, she took her eyes off him. He followed this with a hit to her side. Before she could steady herself, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her off the mat. With a fair amount of force, he felled her onto her back. Petra cried out.

She knew it was over the moment he'd lifted her off the mat. Not only did her pride hurt, but her entire body reverberated with pain from that last hit. She didn't want to look at his smug face or anyone else's, so she covered her arm over her face. She lay once again, wallowing in her pain and defeat.

"That was a pretty decent fight" she heard him say. She turned to her side, and found him lying on the mat beside her.

"Just go away…" she said, in too much pain to care why he hadn't.

"No, I like it here" he laughed, a little too comfortable on the mat.

"Ugh" Petra responded, at a loss for words.

Farrow laughed again.

"Is that how you say thank you?"