Free Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights by Lawrence White Page A

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    Galborae became a fixture at Havlock’s side. When they boarded the transporter two days before departure, Havlock presented Galborae with a pile of new uniforms. Atop that pile rested a sword, a much lighter, shorter, and narrower sword than Galborae’s iron broadsword.
    Galborae set the sword aside, dismissing it with a scowl, but his eyes gleamed at the new uniform. He had been wearing the standard marine body armor during his training, a soft, snugly fitting suit that covered him from neck to toes, but the pattern in the green and brown armor was impossible to focus on properly. Whenever he tried, he came away with a headache.
    His new body suit was made of the same military grade material that instantly hardened when struck by a projectile, but it more closely resembled what he had been wearing when rescued from Tranxte. Dark blue, the armor included gloves, boots and a heavy, thigh-length cloak of the same material. His kingdom’s coat of arms, a silver shield emblazoned with two silver, crossed broadswords below a silver helm, had been worked into the chest of the armor and the back of the cloak.
    Body armor was not perfect. It could be crushed if a force was applied over a large enough area, and the force of whatever hit the material could still cause bodily damage, but a sword, an arrow, a standard blaster shot and, hopefully, gleason claws and teeth would not penetrate. Various communication links imbedded within the armor would keep him in constant contact with other members of the squad and with the shuttle, and the suit would display pertinent information automatically to a visor attached to his helmet.
    A smaller piece of the same material fell to the deck. Galborae picked it up and held it out, but it made no sense to him. “What is it?” he asked.
    “I had it made for Limam,” Havlock said. “It’s a scaled down version of the body armor occasionally worn by our Great Cats. I don’t know if she’ll wear it, but if she will, it will provide her with a modicum of protection, certainly more protection that if she wears nothing.”
    Galborae blinked several times, not sure what to think. He doubted if Limam would wear the thing, but Havlock’s intent spoke volumes about the man.
    “Thank you, Colonel,” he said. “This means a lot to me.”
    Havlock picked up the sword and held it out to Galborae. “I think this will, as well.” When Galborae scowled, he said, “I’m just asking you to give it a try. Engineers made it just for you and it’s the only one in existence. The technology is based on equipment used by our miners.”
    Galborae shrugged and picked up the sword still enclosed in its scabbard. “It’s too light and too short. It won’t work.”
    “Just try it.”
    Galborae slid the sword from its scabbard and his jaw dropped open. The blade looked like a child’s toy and was only as long as his forearm. He rolled his eyes toward Havlock. “This is a joke, right?”
    “Actually, no. It’s more than it seems.”
    With those words, Galborae gave the toy more attention, but he could not bring himself to believe Havlock was serious. The blade was dull black instead of shiny, narrow instead of wide, and far too short. Except for the full-size hand guard, the blade looked more like a knife. He brought the blade in and tested it with a finger, nodding knowingly. “Your craftsmen forgot the most important part—it’s dull. I might be able to sharpen it myself, but this knife is only for show. My arm barely feels it. A warrior needs a heavy blade.”
    “Does he?” Havlock asked.
    Galborae nodded. “You’re not a swordsman, so I wouldn’t expect you to know, but a blade is heavy not just for penetration but for defense. Stopping an opponent’s blade takes strong shoulders and a heavy blade.”
    “You’re the expert, not me,” Havlock said, nodding his head in agreement. “Let’s go to the training room. I want you to meet Sergeant Guarl.”
    Guarl, a four-armed Dramda,