Free Crystal Horizon: A Short Prequel to Crystal Deception by Doug J. Cooper

C rystal Horizon
     
    Sid climbed the steps of the aging
fitness center and a shadowy flicker caused him to look up. Squinting, he contemplated
the massive Kardish vessel—small to the naked eye—as it passed overhead in its
orbit around Earth. Huge, silent, lingering, the alien spaceship had been a
fixture in Earth’s sky for the past fifteen years.
    The Kardish had never done anything threatening or aggressive.
In fact, it was their silence that made Sid wary. His intuition screamed that they
would someday transition from visitor to enemy. He couldn’t see a different
outcome.
    And that’s why he’d accepted an invitation to attend Fleet’s
talent development school—a place called “camp” by those who knew of its existence.
    Stepping through the door at the top of the steps, a
muscular instructor in a too-tight T-shirt caught Sid’s eye. “Welcome to camp,
Lieutenant.” The instructor tapped a locker with his index finger. “Get into
pads and move out to the floor.”
    It was his first day at the elite facility, and Sid took his
time changing so he could absorb the rhythms of the place. He dressed in the
flexsuit he found in the locker, then touched his toes, rotated his torso, and
stretched his arms to confirm that the protective pads gave him a full range of
motion. As he passed from the locker room out into a large hall, the same burly
instructor handed him a wooden pole about as long as he was tall.
    “You’re with her,” he told Sid, nodding toward an attractive
woman wearing similar gear. He pointed to an area on the far side of the room.
“Take that spot. Warm up a bit. You’ll be sparring with each other in a few.”
    Sid and his sparring partner looped around the outside of
the room to avoid the waving sticks of those who’d arrived ahead of them. They
reached their destination and turned to face each other.
    “Hi. I’m Cheryl.”
    He nodded politely but remained silent, studying her calm
resolve as she squared up in front of him. He judged her to be in her late
twenties—same as him—and he could see enough of her face and figure through her
pads to conclude she was not only pretty, but also had the tight body of a natural
athlete.
    She held the stick in one hand like a spear, and her
unpretentious manner disarmed him. It’s her first day, too, he thought. Go
easy on her.
    The instructor clapped his hands. “Let’s spar, folks. Work
up a sweat. Convince me that it’s real.”
    Cheryl threw some swats and jabs at Sid, and he blocked her
stick in a series of practiced moves. The physical activity warmed his tall,
broad-shouldered frame, and he welcomed the sensation.
    Sid’s priority was to learn everything he could about camp,
so he went through the motions of defending himself while he scanned the room
with his peripheral vision. He saw Captain Dooley chatting with a couple of
instructors, and stopped his visual sweep to watch.
    Cheryl goaded him for his lack of effort. “C’mon, sport. Are
we fighting or dancing?”
    When he didn’t respond, she slipped her hands together at
one end of the stick and swung it at his head, much like she was swinging a bat
at a ball. As the stick accelerated, he heard a growl from the back of her
throat.
    Amateur , he thought, disappointed with her tactic. He
timed the stick’s motion and, dropping his chin, ducked forward so it would
swing by overhead. Her momentum was about to expose her midriff and he’d use
the opening to execute a “take down and kill” sequence.
    As the arc of her swing developed, she pivoted her stick
while maintaining the power behind its motion. In rapid sequence, she twirled,
dropped to one knee, and lowered her shoulder to protect her midsection. Her
stick veered down on a new path and she swept his legs out from under him.
    By the time Sid realized what was happening, he was flat on
his back. I got suckered, he thought, scolding himself. He looked up
from the ground and saw her smile.
    “I am so sorry, champ,” she