Free Loralynn Kennakris 2: The Morning Which Breaks by Owen R. O'Neill, Jordan Leah Hunter Page A

she’d ordered a few imported luxuries and enjoyed having a whole glorious thirty-four square meters to herself until her studymates returned last night, Tanner arriving with just ten minutes to spare, his eyes still red-rimmed and bloodshot, and wincing when anyone spoke in the normal tone of voice.
    Tanner was sitting just four places from her now, pasty gray this AM and still wincing as Yu delivered his unamplified address in a gundeck voice calculated to fill a larger space than this roomy hanger. “Now I know some of you think that modern warfare is just sitting around fiddling with icons, and all this is only a betting sport.” He looked out over the group, making most everyone his gaze touched feel like one of the culprits. “So let me assure you, children, that out there, that shit breaks and you never know when and where you are going to meet your enemy. When all the fancy gadgets don’t play—in a cutting-out expedition, a boarding action and yes, those still happen—or when your shuttle is taken down in hostile space, the only thing between you and getting strapped to a table and having your brain turned into mayonnaise is what you learn right here.”
    Yu stopped in his pacing and pointed. “A volunteer, please.” He looked straight at her. “You, Kennakris. Come on up here. On the quick now.”
    Kris stood, sidled down the aisle to murmured exhortations of her classmates— Go get him; Kick his ass; Some people have all the fun —and mounted the steps to stand at parade rest before Sergeant Major Yu. He greeted her with a knowing leer. “So Kennakris, how’s your AM been going?”
    “We’ll see in a minute, sir.”
    The leer widened. “Worked up any good resentments lately?”
    “Not against anyone present, sir.”
    “Too bad. Let’s see what we can do about that.” He executed a fluid motion, impossibly swift, and Kris hit the mat hard. “Unacceptable, Kennakris,” he barked. “Totally unacceptable. How’re you gonna kill bad guys flat on your ass like that? Come on, get off your butt and try it again.”
    Kris hauled herself off the mat slowly, coming up into a crouch, rubbing her sore tailbone, and with her knees flexed, exploded forward. She’d fought hundreds of savage, desperate battles against Trench—nasty, brutal, vicious combats that always made him laugh—and lost every one but the last.
    Now, her right hand shot up, feinting with two stiff fingers for Yu’s eyes while she punched hard with the left for his solar plexus. The blow had all the power of her driving legs behind it, but Yu slipped the feint and turned so her fist slammed into his ribs—it was like hitting granite—and his arm came around hers. She writhed, brought her knee up hard for his groin, missed as he blocked with a thigh like a tree trunk—wrenched free, ducked a blow to the side of her head, pivoted hard and tried to sweep his leg. The blow connected. She heard a small grunt as it went home, felt the slight change in balance and lashed out with a kick to the neck that found nothing but air. She spun with the momentum, blocked a heel aimed at her middle, dropped into a roll as a blow hammered down on her shoulder; bounded up, felt herself lifted; twisted in midair, slamming an elbow into rock-solid meat, came down on her feet with her knees bent and kicked high.
    The kick went wide as Yu moved like smoke, and suddenly she found herself flat on the mat, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush, and there was a tremendous weight on her chest, pinning her firmly yet almost gently. The sergeant major smiled down at her—no kind of leer now—and the redness around the edge of her vision started to clear.
    “Much better, Kris. Much better. Put more science behind that and you’ll scare the piss outta people.” His voice was quiet, almost private, and Kris, gasping for air, merely blinked. Yu watched as the yellow-eyed look of savagery faded. “Ready to get up?”
    Kris nodded, accepted Yu’s hand to get