Private Cargo, Consequences, and Other Bad Deliveries

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro balanced the mat comfortably on one shoulder as they walked back toward the mess hall, considering Shade's words. "That...actually sounds familiar." He smiled to himself. "I suppose I've already done that once."

His eyes drifted ahead as he searched for the best way to explain it. "When I started working for Ra's company, I decided to assume I knew nothing." A quiet laugh escaped him. "It wasn't entirely true."

He certainly knew how to work. How to carry heavy loads. How to endure long days. How to pay attention. But freight? Logistics? Leading a crew? Those were different.

"So I treated everything like I was learning it for the first time." He shifted the mat slightly higher on his shoulder. "If something I already did happened to match what I was being taught..."

He shrugged. "...then I kept doing it.” "But if it didn't..." Another small smile. "...I tried to forget it."

His gaze settled briefly on Shade. "I felt a bit like a child." Not in a humiliating way. In a liberating one. "There wasn't any shame in not knowing." There had only been another lesson to learn. "I suppose this won't be much different."

He looked down at the mat resting on his shoulder. "Everything has changed from the life I had." The statement carried quiet certainty. "I already know that."

Varro gave a steadying nod of his head. "So now the job is deciding what belongs in this life..." He smiled. "...and what should stay behind in the old one."

Once the mats were arranged, Varro stepped onto them and took a slow breath. This was it. The first lesson. His stomach fluttered just enough to remind him that, despite all his confidence moments before, someone was about to teach him by repeatedly introducing him to the floor.

Well... no turning back now.

At Shade's instruction, he reached into the pockets of his cargo pants. Out came a datapad. A hydrospanner. A small multitool. A stylus. Two binders used for securing cargo manifests. A handful of miscellaneous fasteners he'd apparently forgotten were still in his pocket. One by one they accumulated on a nearby table until his pockets finally felt strangely...light.

"I carry more around than I realized." He gave an embarrassed chuckle before stepping back onto the mats. "I think I'm ready."

Shade demonstrated the fall. Varro watched every movement. Not simply where she ended. How she arrived there. The bend of her knees. The tucked chin. The sequence of her back contacting the mat. The slap of her hands. Then, almost effortlessly...

She was standing again. He frowned thoughtfully. It looked simple. That usually meant it wasn't. As she explained the instinct to catch oneself, understanding slowly settled across his expression.

"It feels wrong." He admitted it without hesitation. "My first thought is to stop falling." His hands instinctively lifted a few inches, as though already reaching for an imaginary floor. "I can already feel myself wanting to throw my hands out."

He slowly lowered them again. "But..." His eyes drifted toward the mat. "...I can see why that's a bad idea." A wrist. An elbow. A shoulder. Compared to his back, they suddenly seemed remarkably fragile.

"The floor doesn't become softer because I reach for it." A faint smile appeared. "If anything..."

He looked down at his own hands. "...I'd just be asking the weakest parts of me to stop the heaviest." That, at least, made sense. Even if every instinct he possessed disagreed.

He took another slow breath. "So..." Varro bent his knees awkwardly, trying to mirror the position Shade had shown him. "Step one..." His voice became almost instructional toward himself. "Ignore what feels natural."

He tucked his chin with obvious concentration. Carefully. Deliberately. He allowed himself to begin leaning backward. Everything in him protested. His muscles wanted to stiffen. His hands twitched, eager to reach behind him. His body pleaded for him to stop.

Instead, he kept going. Slowly. Awkwardly. Trying to remember every part of Shade's demonstration rather than listening to instincts that had never once been taught how to fall. He knew he would make mistakes. The lesson had already begun before he ever touched the mat.

His grin returned. "Fortunately, this part I'm already qualified for."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade watched without interruption as Varro committed himself to the movement. Her attention was not fixed solely on whether he completed the roll. Instead, she observed the sequence of decisions his body made along the way. The slight hesitation before he shifted his weight forward. The tension gathering in his shoulders. The instinctive urge to slow himself rather than trust the motion. None of it surprised her. Experience had taught her that the first obstacle was rarely the technique itself. It was persuading the body to abandon habits that had always felt safe.

He rolled, not gracefully, not cleanly, but he rolled. The motion carried him across the mat before losing some of its rhythm near the end, where his shoulders stiffened and the roll flattened more across the center of his back than it should have. Even so, he had resisted the urge to throw his hands out to stop himself. More importantly, he had committed fully once he began.

Shade stepped forward and extended a hand.

"Up."

Once he accepted the assistance, she helped him back to his feet before releasing his hand and giving him enough room to breathe.

"A good first attempt." There was no false praise in her voice. Every word was measured. "You committed to the movement. Most people hesitate halfway through the first roll. They stop trusting themselves before they reach the mat."

She raised a hand and traced an invisible line from one shoulder toward the opposite hip.

"Your chin stayed tucked. Keep doing that." A small nod accompanied the observation. "You protected your head, and you resisted the instinct to catch yourself with your hands. Those are both good habits to build."

Her hand lowered slightly.

"Where you struggled was here."

Without another word, Shade demonstrated the roll again, this time at half speed. She lowered herself smoothly, one arm guiding the path while her shoulder met the mat first. Her body continued in one uninterrupted arc, carrying the motion diagonally across her back before she rose effortlessly to her feet.

"The roll should travel across you, not through you." She lightly touched one shoulder before indicating the opposite side of her waist. "Think of a line from here to here. That is the path you want your body to follow. If you flatten onto your back, even for a moment, you absorb more of the impact than necessary."

Her crimson eyes settled on him again.

"You also became tense near the end." Her tone remained conversational rather than critical. "You trusted yourself enough to begin, but not quite enough to finish. Once the roll starts, let it carry you. Momentum is helping you, not working against you."

For just a moment, the corner of her mouth lifted into the faintest smile.

"You were paying attention while you were moving." She inclined her head slightly. "I watched you resist your first instincts more than once. That tells me you were thinking about the technique instead of simply reacting. It will make learning faster."

She stepped back toward the center of the mat, giving him space to try again.

"Again."

There was patience in the single word.

"Less effort this time. Don't try to force the roll. Guide it. Let your shoulder lead, follow the line across your back, and allow the movement to bring you back to your feet."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro accepted Shade's hand without hesitation. The assistance was firm, steady, and without ceremony. As she pulled him back to his feet, he offered a humble smile at her assessment. "A good first attempt." Those four words were enough.

Not because they suggested success, but because of one word in particular. First. There would be a second. A third. Perhaps a hundred more before his body truly understood what his mind had only begun to grasp. He was comfortable with that. Learning had never happened all at once.

As Shade released his hand and physically showed him what was good about the attempt, Varro noticed the difference only for a fleeting moment. Physical contact had once carried expectations. Permission. Ownership. Evaluation. This didn't. It was simply part of instruction.

He chose not to linger on the thought. There would be time enough for untangling old memories another day. Today belonged to learning. His attention returned fully to Shade as she began explaining where he had gone wrong. He watched the invisible line she traced through the air, then followed the demonstration as she rolled again at half speed.

This time he could see it. Not merely falling. Traveling. The motion flowed across her rather than stopping on her. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I think I understand." He gestured across his own shoulder and toward the opposite side of his waist, mirroring the path she had shown. "I landed on my back." His brow furrowed. "When I should be moving across it." It was a subtle distinction. Yet now that she had pointed it out, it seemed obvious.

Her next observation earned a crooked smirk. "'Momentum is helping you.'" He repeated the phrase with quiet amusement. "I'll admit..." A soft chuckle escaped him. "...every instinct I have says momentum means I've lost control." He spread his hands slightly. "If I'm falling, my first thought is to stop falling." That had always seemed sensible. Now it appeared sensible and correct were not always the same thing.

"So..." His smile returned. "I'll try trusting momentum instead." The sentence sounded strange even to him. Trusting the very thing that had always felt dangerous. Still...

If Shade said it would help, he was willing to test the idea. At her simple instruction to begin again, Varro nodded. He returned to the edge of the mat and settled into position once more. This time he resisted the urge to hurry. He bent his knees. Tucked his chin. Relaxed his shoulders as best he could.

"Shoulder first." He shifted his weight. Slowly. The movement began again. He consciously guided one shoulder toward the mat, imagining the diagonal line Shade had shown him rather than allowing himself to flatten out. Halfway through the roll he felt the familiar urge to stiffen. To fight the movement. Instead he remembered her words. Guide it. Don't force it. Let it carry you.

His muscles relaxed—not completely, but more than before—as he allowed the motion to continue across his back. Whether he had improved or not, he couldn't yet tell. But it felt…Smoother. Less like surrendering to gravity. More like working with it. Even if every instinct he possessed still insisted that falling should end as quickly as possible.

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade said nothing as Varro made his second attempt. She had already given him the principles. Now she wanted to see what he did when he no longer relied entirely on imitation. Instruction only carried someone so far. Eventually, understanding had to become movement.

His shoulder found the mat first. Better.

The roll flowed farther before his body interrupted it. She watched the familiar tension creep into his muscles midway through the motion, though not as sharply as before. By the time he returned to his feet, Shade had already cataloged the differences. She gave a single approving nod.

"Again."

There was no criticism yet. Only another opportunity.

The third roll looked more natural. Not because it was perfect, but because he had begun thinking less about individual pieces and more about the movement as a whole. His shoulders remained looser, and the diagonal path across his back became easier to recognize. Near the end, however, he still hurried to regain his footing instead of allowing the momentum to finish the work.

"Don't chase the ground." Shade demonstrated with one hand tracing a smooth arc through the air. "The roll decides when it is finished, not your feet. If you rush to stand, you interrupt the motion that is carrying you there."

Varro nodded, returned to the edge of the mat, and tried again.

The fourth attempt earned another measured silence from Shade. This time she noticed his breathing remained steadier throughout the movement. He committed his weight without the same hesitation, his shoulder accepted the contact cleanly, and the roll carried him naturally onto one knee before he rose the rest of the way. There were still imperfections. A slight tightening through his hips. A moment where his left arm drifted farther from his body than necessary. Small things.

"Better." The word came without hesitation. "You are beginning to trust the movement instead of arguing with it."

She stepped closer, adjusting the position of one of his shoulders with gentle precision before lightly tapping the outside of his elbow.

"Keep this closer." Her hand withdrew. "It shortens the path and protects the joint if something changes unexpectedly. And relax here." She touched his side briefly. "You are still carrying tension you no longer need."

Varro completed one final roll. It lacked the stiffness of the first. The diagonal line was clearer, the transition smoother, and his recovery to standing no longer looked like someone escaping the floor. Shade watched him straighten before allowing herself the faintest smile.

"Good."

She stepped onto the center of the mat opposite him, settling into a balanced stance that looked almost casual.

"Practice teaches your body what to do when it has time to think." Her crimson eyes met his steadily. "Unfortunately, life is rarely considerate enough to provide that."

She raised one hand between them.

"Are you ready to find out whether you've learned enough to do it without warning?" There was no challenge in her voice, only calm certainty. "I'm going to throw you."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

The second roll already felt different. Not easier. Different. Varro could feel where his shoulder met the mat first, and for a brief moment it seemed as though the movement wanted to continue on its own. Then instinct returned. His muscles tightened almost before he realized it, and the graceful motion he had imagined became something he wrestled back under control. He stood.

Shade simply said, "Again." No disappointment. No impatience. Just another opportunity. Varro appreciated that. He returned to the edge of the mat without complaint. "Less thinking." That became the goal for the third attempt.

Not abandoning thought altogether, but trusting that the pieces he had already learned would remain where he had placed them. His shoulder found the mat. His chin stayed tucked. The diagonal line appeared more naturally this time. Then...He hurried. Almost scrambling to his feet before the movement had truly ended.

He heard Shade's correction and immediately understood it. "The roll decides..." He repeated quietly to himself. "...not my feet." It was remarkable how often he seemed determined to finish things before they were actually complete. Again.

The fourth attempt flowed more smoothly. He noticed his breathing before he noticed anything else. He wasn't holding it. His shoulder accepted the contact almost comfortably. The floor still wasn't somewhere he wanted to be, but it no longer felt like an enemy he had to escape immediately. When he came up onto one knee instead of forcing himself upright, something clicked.

"That... felt better." Shade's single word confirmed it. Better. Not perfect. Better. He smiled modestly as she adjusted his shoulder. Her corrections were precise. Never more than necessary.

When she touched his elbow, he consciously drew it closer. When she pointed out the tension along his side, he let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He hadn't even known he was doing it. His final roll felt...almost natural. Not because he had mastered it. Because, for the first time, he stopped trying to control every inch of the movement. He let it happen.

When he stood again, there wasn't relief. There was satisfaction. Small. Earned. Real. The faint smile Shade offered brought one to his own face. "Thank you." The words came instinctively. Not out of obligation. Out of gratitude.

Then Shade stepped opposite him. Her stance changed. Casual. Balanced. Ready. Varro instinctively mirrored her by straightening his own posture. He listened carefully as she spoke about practice. The statement lingered with him.

Practice teaches the body when there is time to think. Life doesn't. His smile faded into thoughtful understanding. "That sounds..." He searched briefly for the right word. "...true of more than fighting."

His entire life had been shaped by habits formed before thought. Some had protected him. Others had outlived their usefulness. This felt like another chance to build a better one. Then came her final statement.

I'm going to throw you. Varro blinked. A nervous laugh escaped him despite himself. "Well..." He rubbed one palm against the side of his cargo pants. "I suppose knowing it's coming is already more warning than life usually gives." His heartbeat quickened. Not from fear exactly. Anticipation.

He already knew what she was trying to teach him. If someone announced every shove, every stumble, every attack...None of it would matter. The lesson only mattered if surprise entered the equation. His green eyes met hers. "I don't think I'm ready." The admission came easily. Honest.

"I've done five rolls." A crooked smile appeared. "It would be terribly optimistic to think I've mastered falling this afternoon." He took a slow breath. "But..."

His shoulders settled. "I don't think that's really the question." His gaze remained steady. "The question is whether I'm willing to trust what you've already taught me." Another breath. He nodded once. Firmly. "I am."

His stance shifted almost unconsciously, trying to remember the balance she had demonstrated. "If I wait until I feel ready..." A small smile returned. "...I suspect we'll still be standing here next week."

He spread his hands slightly. "So..." The nervousness remained. He simply refused to let it decide for him. "I'm as ready as someone with less than an hour of training can reasonably be." A quiet chuckle followed. "And if I end up meeting the deck again..."

His eyes flicked toward the mats before returning to Shade. "...at least this time I'll know it's because my instructor put me there, not because gravity won another argument."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

The nervousness did not concern Shade. If anything, she preferred it to misplaced confidence. Varro had practiced the movement five times. That was enough to understand the principle, not enough to make it instinctive, and he seemed perfectly aware of the distinction. More importantly, he understood why she wanted to move forward anyway. Shade watched the subtle adjustment of his stance, the way his shoulders settled despite the tension that remained beneath them, and gave a small nod of approval.

"Good answer." The faint smile remained at the corner of her mouth. "And no, you aren't ready." There was no cruelty in the agreement. If anything, her tone suggested that was precisely the point. "If I waited until you were completely comfortable with every lesson before testing it, I'd teach you how to perform techniques. I wouldn't teach you how to use them." Her crimson eyes remained on him as she stepped closer. "Today I'm not looking for perfection. I'm looking to see whether any part of what you just practiced survives once you aren't controlling the fall."

She reached for him without urgency, showing him where her hands would settle rather than immediately taking hold. One found his arm, the other positioned itself where she could control his balance. "I'm also not going to throw you as hard as I can." Shade adjusted her footing slightly. "There is a difference between introducing pressure and overwhelming you. You'll have enough momentum that you'll need the roll, but enough time for your body to recognize what is happening." She paused long enough to make certain he understood before adding, "Don't anticipate me. The moment you start guessing when I'm going to move, you'll tense before I do anything."

Then she waited. Shade made no immediate attempt to throw him. She shifted her weight once, changed the pressure of her grip, and watched what happened to his balance. Another few seconds passed before she moved again. This was part of the lesson too. In a real confrontation, the body rarely received a countdown. She wanted Varro alert without becoming rigid, ready without trying to predict something he did not yet have the experience to read. Only when she felt some of the expectation begin to settle did Shade move.

Her footwork was economical. She drew him off his center, guided his momentum forward, and turned with it rather than attempting to overpower him. Even restrained, the technique happened considerably faster than any of the rolls he had practiced alone. Shade released him at the proper moment, giving him the freedom to respond rather than carrying him through the entire motion herself. From there, the lesson belonged to Varro. Shoulder. Chin. Diagonal. Momentum. Five repetitions reduced to whatever his body could remember before the mat arrived beneath him.

Shade watched the result with the same critical attention she had given every practice roll. She wasn't concerned with whether it looked graceful. She wanted to know what remained when surprise stripped away conscious preparation. If he tucked his chin, protected his head, found the correct shoulder, or even simply resisted throwing out an arm to arrest the fall, then something had already taken root. Whatever went wrong could be corrected afterward. That was why the mats were beneath them and why she had started with a controlled throw instead of anything resembling the speed she could actually use.

Once he had completed the fall, Shade stepped toward him and offered her hand again. There was a hint of satisfaction in her expression, though she withheld any judgment until she had seen his reaction. "Now tell me what you felt." Her hand remained extended toward him. "Not what you think you did correctly. What did your body try to do the moment you realized you were falling?" Before correcting the next mistake, Shade wanted to know whether Varro had begun recognizing his own instincts. If he could identify them himself, teaching him to replace them would become considerably easier.

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro gave a small nod at Shade's assessment. He wasn't ready. That didn't bother him nearly as much as he might once have expected. In fact, there was something reassuring about hearing her say it so plainly. There was no expectation that five careful repetitions had somehow transformed him into someone capable of responding perfectly when control was taken away. What mattered was whether anything remained.

His eyes followed Shade's hands as she showed him where she intended to take hold. He nodded again when she explained the difference between applying enough pressure to force a response and simply overwhelming him. "Understood."

Then came the harder instruction. Don't anticipate me. Varro almost laughed. Anticipating what someone else was about to do had once been an important part of staying safe.

He caught himself watching her shoulders. Her feet. Her hands. Trying to determine when the throw would come. "Stop." He deliberately relaxed. Or tried to. Shade shifted. Varro tensed. Nothing happened. His brow furrowed.

She changed the pressure of her grip. Again his body prepared itself. Again...Nothing. By the third time, Varro understood what she was doing. A faint, almost accusing smile appeared. "Clever." He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to say anything, but the word escaped anyway.

She was making anticipation useless. So he stopped trying. Or at least stopped trying quite so hard. Then Shade moved. There was no warning. One moment Varro was standing. The next his balance simply wasn't his anymore.

His first reaction had nothing to do with anything Shade taught him. "Stop." His body wanted to plant his feet. Pull backward. Fight the momentum. For the briefest instant his arm even began to move outward, searching for something—anything—that might keep him upright.

Then fragments of the lesson surfaced. Don't catch yourself. His arm pulled back. Chin. He tucked it. The mat rushed toward him far more quickly than it had during any of his practice attempts. Shoulder. Varro turned into the fall. Not perfectly. Probably not even well. But enough.

His shoulder met the mat first and his body followed diagonally. There was more impact than during the practice rolls, and tension returned halfway through the movement, but he didn't flatten completely onto his back. Most importantly, he didn't throw out an arm to stop himself.

Momentum carried him through. Varro came to rest for a moment before releasing the breath he'd apparently forgotten to take. "Oh." He stared upward. A grin slowly appeared. "That was considerably different."

Shade's hand entered his view. Varro accepted it and rose with her assistance, rolling one shoulder experimentally once he was standing again. Nothing hurt beyond the mild protest he expected from meeting the mat at speed.

Then came the question. Not what had he done correctly. What had his body tried to do? Varro's smile faded as he considered it. "Stay standing." The answer came quickly. "Everything in me wanted to stop you from taking my balance."

His gaze dropped toward his feet. "I tried to plant myself." He recreated the beginning of the reaction slightly, shifting his weight backward. "And when that didn't work..."

He looked toward his arm. "My hand started reaching out." That part bothered him more now that he understood what it could have meant. "I caught that one." There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice, though he remembered Shade's question and didn't allow himself to dwell on whether it had been correct. "But it wasn't my first reaction."

He thought back through the throw. "My first reaction was to fight the fall completely." A small frown formed. "Then, once I realized I was falling, I wanted to stop it."

Only after those instincts failed had the lesson surfaced. "Everything you taught me came after." He tapped his chest lightly. "My chin. The shoulder. Not reaching for the floor." A quiet chuckle escaped him. "So I suppose five repetitions haven't convinced my body that falling is acceptable." That hardly surprised him.

His expression grew more thoughtful. "But I noticed what it wanted to do." That felt significant. During the practice rolls he had known what instincts he was fighting because he had been waiting for them. This time he hadn't. Shade had taken away the preparation, and those old reactions had revealed themselves anyway. "I think I understand what you meant now."

His eyes returned to hers. "When I controlled the fall, I could decide what came next." He gestured toward the place where she'd thrown him. "When you controlled it, my body made the first decision before I did." Varro smiled faintly. "So that's what we're actually trying to change, isn't it?" Not the roll itself.

The decision that happened before conscious thought could catch up. He glanced toward the mats and then back to Shade. "I have a feeling you're going to throw me quite a few more times before that happens." There was no dread in the observation. Perhaps a little resignation. Mostly determination.

He stepped back into position. "But I didn't break my wrist." His grin returned. "So apparently something survived the surprise." Varro settled his feet and consciously released some of the tension gathering in his shoulders.

"Whenever you're ready." A beat passed. Then he caught himself and laughed. "No. That's probably the wrong thing to say." He shook his head. "Whenever you're ready. I'll work on not knowing when that is."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade listened without interrupting, her expression remaining composed as Varro worked backward through what his body had done. His assessment was remarkably accurate for someone who had only begun training less than an hour ago. More importantly, he was already separating conscious choice from instinctive reaction. That distinction mattered far more to her than whether his first unexpected fall had been technically perfect.

"Exactly." She gave him a small nod. "The roll is only the tool. What we're actually training is the decision your body makes when your mind doesn't have time to make one." Her gaze briefly dropped toward his feet as he demonstrated how he had tried to plant himself. "Trying to keep your balance wasn't wrong. There will be situations where recovering your footing is the better choice. The mistake is continuing to fight for it after you've already lost it. There is a point where staying upright stops being possible, and every moment you spend pretending otherwise makes the fall worse."

She indicated his arm next. "And you caught this." There was quiet approval in her voice. "Your hand started to reach for the floor and you stopped it before you committed your weight. That means the lesson was there when you needed it. It wasn't your first instinct, but it interrupted the old one. For five practice rolls, that's enough." Shade had trained people before who became frustrated when instinct did not immediately obey instruction. Varro, at least, seemed capable of recognizing progress without mistaking it for mastery. "Eventually the correction comes sooner. Then you stop needing the correction at all."

His comment about not breaking his wrist earned the faintest upward turn at the corner of her mouth. "A demanding standard for success." The humor lasted only a moment before her attention returned to his posture. She watched him settle his feet and deliberately loosen his shoulders. "But yes. Something survived the surprise. More than something, actually. You tucked your chin, turned your shoulder into the fall, and didn't sacrifice an arm trying to stop yourself. You tightened halfway through and lost some of the motion, but that is precisely why we're doing this again."

Shade stepped toward him once more, but she did not immediately take hold of him. This time she circled slightly, forcing Varro to account for her position without knowing exactly what she intended. "I'm also not going to throw you the same way every time. If I do, you'll learn my throw instead of learning how to fall." She paused near his side, studying the subtle changes in his stance. "Sometimes you'll go forward. Sometimes sideways. Eventually backward. The principle remains the same. Protect what is vulnerable, recognize when balance is gone, and work with the direction you're already moving."

She waited just long enough for him to begin wondering whether this was another false start. Then she moved. Her hand caught his arm while the other controlled his upper body, and instead of repeating the previous motion, Shade redirected him across her line and sent him toward the mats from an angle. There was enough force that he could not simply step out of it, but she kept the throw controlled, giving his newly forming instincts a chance to answer without protecting him from the consequences of choosing poorly.

Shade followed the movement closely, ready to intervene only if his fall became genuinely dangerous. Otherwise, she allowed him to make the decision himself. This was no longer about producing a pretty roll. It was about teaching Varro that losing his feet did not mean losing control.

"Again."


Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro nodded slowly as Shade explained the distinction. Trying to remain standing wasn't necessarily the mistake. Continuing to insist upon remaining standing when the decision had already been made for him was. That was a considerably finer line. "I think recognizing that point might be harder than the falling."

His gaze dropped briefly toward his feet. "There must be a moment where you have to decide whether your balance can still be recovered." He looked back to Shade. "And if you make the wrong decision..." A small smile tugged at his lips. "...gravity gets another vote."

Still, her assessment of his first unexpected fall encouraged him. Five practice rolls had been enough for something to interrupt his old instincts. Not replace them. Not yet. But interrupt them. Varro could work with that.

"I'll take demanding standards." His grin widened at her teasing. "I spent enough years with extremely low ones." Not breaking anything was admittedly a modest definition of success, but for the first hour of learning how to be deliberately thrown onto the floor, Varro thought it entirely reasonable.

His amusement faded into concentration as Shade began moving around him. Immediately his eyes followed her. That was new too. Until today, he probably would have turned his entire body to keep someone in front of him without considering why. Now he tried to remain aware of his own balance while tracking her position.

Then she explained what came next. Forward. Sideways. Eventually backward. Varro's eyebrows rose slightly. "Of course." There was resignation in the words. Not complaint. "If you always threw me the same way, I'd just get good at being thrown by you." That would rather defeat the purpose.

Still, the knowledge that she might send him in any direction made relaxing considerably more difficult. He could feel himself waiting. Watching. Trying to predict. Shade paused beside him. Varro wondered whether this was another test. Then she moved. Fast.

His arm was caught. His upper body turned. And suddenly the direction he had prepared himself to fall was entirely irrelevant. His feet attempted to correct. For one brief instant he tried to step out of it. There. That point. The moment Shade had just described. Varro felt it more than recognized it. He could keep fighting to remain upright...

...or accept that he wasn't going to. "Let it go." He stopped trying to recover. That decision gave him just enough time to think about everything else. Protect what was vulnerable. His chin tucked. His arm started outward, then drew closer instead. The angle was unfamiliar, and there was no clean imitation of the rolls he had practiced. Instead, Varro tried to work with the direction Shade had already given him.

Shoulder. Across. Don't fight it. He hit the mat harder than before. His roll was awkward. One hip took considerably more of the impact than he suspected Shade would approve of, and his legs briefly seemed uncertain about where they were supposed to go. But he moved through it. Most importantly, he never attempted to stop himself with an outstretched hand.

Varro remained on the mat for a heartbeat afterward. He stared upward. Then laughed. Not because it hadn't hurt. It had. But something about deliberately accepting the moment his balance disappeared had felt strangely satisfying.

He rolled onto one knee and pushed himself upright. "That one was worse." He rubbed his hip once. A crooked smile followed. "So I'm guessing I did something wrong."

Before he could analyze much further, Shade gave him exactly one instruction. Again. Varro looked at her. Then toward the mat. Then back to her. His smile slowly widened. "You're really going to make me earn tomorrow's punching lesson, aren't you?" There was no objection in his voice.

He stepped back into position. This time, however, something had changed. Not in his technique. In his understanding. Losing his footing didn't necessarily mean losing control. That idea felt completely counterintuitive. Yet Shade had just proven it.

He had been completely unable to stop her from throwing him. But he had still possessed choices about what happened afterward. That distinction felt important. Perhaps more important than the roll itself.

Varro loosened his shoulders and tried not to watch Shade's hands. "All right." He took a breath. Then caught himself. He'd almost said he was ready again.

Instead, he smiled. "Do your worst." A pause. His eyes narrowed slightly. "No." He reconsidered that particular invitation. "Do something educational." That seemed much safer.

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

The awkward landing told Shade more than the successful portions of the fall did. Varro had recognized the moment his balance ceased to be recoverable and made the decision to stop fighting for it, which was precisely what she had wanted. Everything afterward had been considerably less graceful. His shoulder had taken the beginning of the movement correctly, but the angle through his torso had broken down enough to send too much of the remaining impact into his hip. It wasn't dangerous on a padded mat at this speed, though repeated often enough against duracrete it would become another matter entirely.

Still, Shade didn't immediately correct him. She watched him remain on the mat for that brief heartbeat, heard the laugh, and waited until he had pushed himself back onto one knee. His assessment earned a slight nod. "You did." There was no disappointment attached to the answer. "You accepted the fall at the right moment, which was the important part. You lost the diagonal afterward. Your hip took what your shoulder and back should have distributed between them." Her gaze dropped briefly toward the offending side before returning to him. "On this, you'll have a bruise. On a harder surface, doing that repeatedly will make walking considerably less pleasant."

His accusation that she intended to make him earn tomorrow's punching lesson brought the faintest lift to one eyebrow. Shade might have let the joke pass if not for the idea beneath it. Varro had spent enough of his life in circumstances where one thing was endured to earn another, where approval, comfort, and sometimes basic kindness came with conditions attached. She wasn't interested in quietly allowing that framework to settle over what they were doing now simply because he'd wrapped it in humor. "You're not earning anything." Her voice remained calm, but the humor had receded from it, and rather than immediately moving to throw him again, Shade remained where she was long enough to give the distinction the weight she intended without turning it into a lecture.

"Tomorrow isn't a reward for getting through today, and I'm not putting you on the floor because I enjoy doing it." A slight trace of dry amusement returned to her expression. "Despite whatever conclusions you may eventually reach after I've thrown you another dozen times." The amusement softened before she continued. "I'm doing it because I think you need to know how to fall before I teach you what to do when someone is trying to make you fall. That's all." Except, Shade realized, it wasn't quite all, and perhaps hadn't been for some time.

There were things Varro should have learned years ago, not because anyone should have been preparing him to become a fighter, but because people were supposed to be given opportunities to discover what they could do without failure carrying consequences far beyond the lesson itself. Someone should have taught him that making a mistake didn't make him useless. Someone should have allowed him to practice until uncertainty became familiarity, and given him the luxury of being bad at something before expecting him to become good at it. No one had, and Shade couldn't give him those years back. What she could do was refuse to repeat the pattern now that she had become one of the people capable of giving him something different.

"You've spent enough of your life having things made conditional." The words came more quietly, though her gaze remained steady upon him. "I'm not going to make learning another one of them. You don't have to impress me to keep getting lessons. You don't have to perform well enough to deserve the next one, and you certainly don't owe me for teaching you." There was no pity in her expression. Shade doubted Varro wanted it, and she had none to offer. What she felt was considerably more practical than pity and, perhaps, more personal than she would have admitted when she'd first agreed to teach him.

She wanted his life to become easier. Not easy, because Shade knew better than to promise anyone that, but easier than it had been. She wanted Varro to possess choices that hadn't existed before and skills that belonged entirely to him rather than to whoever had once decided what he needed to be. She wanted him to know that he could fail at something here and simply try it again, without failure becoming a judgment upon his worth or an invitation for someone else to decide what he deserved. If learning how to fall meant that one day he hit the ground without breaking something, then they would spend as many afternoons on these mats as necessary. "What I expect from you is effort," Shade told him, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. "Not payment."

His revised invitation finally earned the smile he'd probably been aiming for. "Something educational," Shade repeated thoughtfully, as though genuinely considering the request. "That was a much wiser choice of words." She moved before the smile had entirely left her face, this time refusing to attack the same arm or approach his balance from the direction he'd just experienced.

Shade stepped inside his balance from the opposite side, one hand establishing control while her hip and shoulder altered the direction available to him. There was enough speed to deny him the luxury of planning the fall, but not enough force to take away the choices she wanted him to practice making. The movement carried him laterally rather than forward, deliberately challenging the diagonal he'd just failed to maintain without sending him into anything he hadn't been prepared to survive. Shade released at the appropriate point and let gravity finish the lesson, her attention following him toward the mat, neither seeking elegance nor expecting perfection.

She watched for the smaller things instead: whether his hand reached instinctively for the floor, whether his chin remained protected, whether he recognized the point at which resistance stopped helping, and whether he could adapt what he'd practiced to a direction he hadn't been expecting. Those were the things that mattered, not whether Varro could prove himself to her. He had spent enough of his life being required to prove his usefulness to other people. Shade wanted something different from these lessons. Little by little, she wanted to give him enough knowledge, confidence, and control that there would someday be fewer things in his life he simply had to endure.

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro's smile disappeared. Not because Shade had reprimanded him. She hadn't. That almost made the words land harder. You're not earning anything. He had meant it as a joke. Mostly. Apparently there had been enough truth beneath it for Shade to notice.

Varro lowered his gaze for a moment as she continued. Tomorrow wasn't a reward. Today wasn't something he had to endure successfully enough to deserve what came next. Shade wasn't throwing him around because she enjoyed it, and she wasn't waiting to see whether he performed well enough to justify continuing. When she mentioned another dozen throws, the corner of his mouth twitched despite the seriousness of the moment.

"I was beginning to suspect the number might be higher." The humor was brief. Shade continued, and Varro listened. Really listened. You don't have to impress me to keep getting lessons. That one found its mark. He'd spent most of his life learning that nearly everything was conditional. Food. Comfort. Praise. Attention. Even being left alone. There had always been some standard to meet, whether anyone bothered explaining what it was beforehand or not.

Freedom had changed the rules faster than Varro had changed with them. Ra had been trying to teach him that from the beginning. Now Shade was telling him essentially the same thing in an entirely different context. Varro slowly nodded.

"I know you aren't asking me to earn them." He paused. The correction came almost immediately. "No." A faint, self-conscious smile appeared. "I suppose that's the problem." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know that up here." A finger tapped lightly against his temple. "But apparently some other part of me still thinks that's how things work."

He looked at Shade again. "I really was joking." There was no defensiveness in the explanation. "But..." His shoulders lifted slightly. "...I suppose jokes have habits too." That realization was uncomfortable. Useful, though.

Shade had already told him that recognizing old habits was the first step toward replacing them. Apparently that lesson extended considerably farther than learning how to fall. When she said she expected effort rather than payment, Varro's expression softened. "Effort I can give you." That was something he understood. Not because it bought the next lesson. Simply because he had chosen to learn.

"Thank you." The words were quiet but deliberate. Not payment. Not an obligation. Gratitude. "For the lessons." A beat passed. "And for correcting more than my falling."

His smile returned, smaller than before but warmer. "I have a feeling that part might take considerably longer." He hoped she understood that he meant the habits, not his ability to land without bruising himself. Probably both.

Then Shade accepted his request for something educational. Varro immediately regretted being pleased with himself. "That expression makes me think I should have been more specific."

She moved. Whatever answer she might have given became irrelevant. Shade came from the opposite side this time, and Varro's mind briefly tried to make the new situation resemble the previous throw. It didn't.

Her position was wrong. His momentum was wrong. Everything was moving in the wrong direction. His feet reacted first. One shifted instinctively, searching for balance. For a fraction of a second he thought he might find it.

Then he recognized the moment. Gone. "Don't argue with it." His body still wanted to. But not for as long. Varro stopped trying to remain upright. The lateral movement felt completely different. There wasn't the reassuring forward path his mind had begun associating with the roll.

His hand twitched toward the mat. He caught it. "Chin." Tucked. "Shoulder." Turn. Then came the part he'd gotten wrong before. The diagonal. Varro consciously tried to keep the movement traveling across him rather than allowing the impact to settle into his side. There wasn't enough time to think through every detail. Perhaps that was progress.

He hit the mat. Shoulder first. Across the back. His hip still struck harder than he would have liked, but considerably less than before. Momentum carried him farther than instinct wanted, and this time he resisted the urge to rush back to his feet. He let the movement finish.

Varro came onto one knee. Then stood. For a moment he simply looked down at the mats. A slow grin spread across his face. "That was better." He glanced toward Shade. Then immediately lifted a hand. "Not good."

His grin widened. "I've learned enough to know there's probably an important distinction." He rolled his shoulder experimentally. "But better." More importantly, he knew why.

"I stopped fighting it sooner." His expression became thoughtful as he reconstructed the brief sequence. "My feet still tried to save me first." He gestured toward the arm that had almost reached toward the mat. "And this still wanted to do something stupid."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "But I noticed both faster." That seemed more important than whether the roll had looked graceful. Then his thoughts returned to what Shade had said before throwing him. Fewer things he simply had to endure.

Varro couldn't know the entirety of what had been behind her words, but he understood enough. For most of his life, endurance had been considered one of his better qualities. He could endure hunger. Pain. Humiliation. Exhaustion. Whatever came next.

There had once been pride in discovering just how much he could withstand. Freedom was teaching him that perhaps endurance wasn't always the victory he'd believed it to be. "I think I'm beginning to understand something." He looked at Shade. "Not just about falling." His gaze briefly dropped toward the mats between them.

"I've always been good at enduring things." There was no pride or shame in the statement. Just fact. "But that's not what you're teaching me." He shook his head slightly. "You're teaching me that even after something happens that I couldn't prevent..."

A faint smile appeared. "...I still get to decide what I do with it." Someone could take his balance. That didn't mean they controlled how he landed. Someone could knock him down. That didn't mean he had to remain there.

Perhaps that distinction should have been obvious. To Varro, it wasn't. Not yet. "That's..." He searched for the word before giving a quiet chuckle. "...considerably more useful than learning how to get punched."

The smile became playful again. "Though I'm still looking forward to that lesson more than this one." He settled himself once more, then paused. His earlier conversation with Shade returned to him. Nothing to earn. Nothing to prove. Just effort.

Varro relaxed his shoulders. "I'm ready to keep learning." This time, he decided, that was exactly what he meant.

 

[Shade]

Shade listened as Varro worked through the realization aloud, and this time there was little she needed to add. He had found something more important than a cleaner roll. Someone else could take his balance without taking every decision that followed it. That distinction had applications considerably beyond the training mat, but judging by the thoughtful expression on his face, Varro had already begun finding them for himself.

"Exactly." A small smile accompanied the answer. "Endurance is useful when it's the only option you have. The trick is remembering when it isn't." His thanks softened her expression slightly, and she accepted it for what it was rather than turning gratitude into another discussion about obligation. "You're welcome. And you're right about the rest taking longer. Fortunately, we have time."

His assessment of the latest fall drew more immediate attention. Shade considered him, then the section of mat he'd crossed, reconstructing what she'd observed. "Better is accurate. Your hip still took more impact than I want, but considerably less. More importantly, you recognized the point where recovery stopped being useful sooner. Your hand started to reach, and you corrected it before it became responsible for your weight." The corner of her mouth curved. "So I'll permit 'better.' Try not to become insufferably proud of yourself."

The rest of the lesson continued without ceremony. Shade varied the direction, timing, and angle of each attempt enough that Varro couldn't simply memorize what had worked before. His mistakes didn't disappear, but they became smaller as the repetitions accumulated. His feet occasionally fought for balance too long, and one arm remained particularly determined to save him, but he noticed both sooner. Shade ended the session when fatigue began to interfere with precision rather than pushing him until exhaustion undid the progress he'd made.

"Enough for today." She gave him room to straighten and assess himself without wondering whether another throw was coming. "You'll probably be sore tomorrow. If anything feels worse than ordinary soreness, tell me before we start again." A trace of amusement entered her expression. "Otherwise, you've survived your introduction to the floor. Tomorrow I'll finally teach you how to punch something."

The following morning found Shade in the mess well before their agreed training time. Breakfast sat beside a mug of caf, while a datapad occupied the remaining space in front of her. She had been reviewing the previous night's security reports, checking access records and a minor discrepancy that had already been given a perfectly mundane explanation, before moving on to a message concerning one of her obligations outside the business. Varro handled the operation of the company itself considerably better than Shade ever intended to. Keeping the people, facilities, information, and shipments attached to it secure was her responsibility, and there were always enough other matters competing for whatever attention remained.

She was halfway through reading the message when movement at the entrance drew her attention upward. Shade recognized Varro immediately and set the datapad down rather than attempting to finish the paragraph while he approached. Her first assessment was almost automatic. Yesterday she'd repeatedly introduced various parts of him to the training mat, so the slight differences in how he carried himself this morning interested her more than whatever expression he happened to be wearing.

"Good morning." Her crimson gaze traveled briefly over him before returning to his face. "Before you tell me you're perfectly fine, how sore are you?"

There was enough amusement in the question to make it clear she wasn't expecting a medical report. Shade gestured toward the seat across from her and picked up her caf again. "Get something to eat and sit down. We have time before we start." Breakfast hadn't originally been part of the lesson, but there was no reason to hurry through it simply because training waited afterward. If anything, Shade preferred seeing how Varro moved the morning after his first real lesson before she put him through another.

Once he had the opportunity to get settled, Shade glanced toward him over the rim of her mug. Yesterday's lesson had given her enough to know that Varro understood the fundamentals of falling. He would need considerably more practice before any of it became instinctive, but that practice could be incorporated into later training rather than consuming another morning. Today they were moving on.

"Assuming everything you're feeling is ordinary soreness, we'll start with punching after breakfast." Her expression turned faintly amused. "You were looking forward to it considerably more than being thrown around, so I'm curious to see how long that enthusiasm survives once I start correcting your technique."

Shade took another drink of caf, allowing breakfast to remain breakfast for the moment rather than beginning the lesson across the table. There would be plenty of time afterward to introduce Varro to stance, how to make a fist without injuring his hand, where the power in a strike actually came from, and perhaps most importantly, how to hit something without sacrificing his balance in the process.

For now, she gestured lightly toward whatever he'd chosen for breakfast. "Eat. Training can wait until we're finished." A small smile touched her lips. "I think breakfast before hitting things was the more civilized order."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

By the time Shade finally declared the lesson finished, Varro had developed a considerably different relationship with the mats than the one he'd possessed when they first laid them out. He was tired. Sore. And fairly certain several parts of him would have opinions about today's decisions come morning. But he was smiling.

"Enough for today," he repeated, almost testing the words. There was no disappointment in stopping. He understood why. Near the end, concentration had become harder. His body was tiring, and mistakes that he'd begun correcting earlier threatened to creep back into his movements. Continuing merely for the sake of continuing wouldn't accomplish anything. Varro nodded. "All right."

He rolled one shoulder, then the other, conducting an admittedly amateur assessment of himself. "Nothing feels like it belongs to someone else." A grin followed. "So I'll call that successful."

At Shade's warning about tomorrow's soreness, Varro gave another nod. "I'll tell you if anything feels wrong." Then she finally confirmed what he'd been waiting to hear. Punching. His grin widened immediately. "I'll be here."

After an afternoon spent being repeatedly thrown onto the floor, the prospect of learning something that involved remaining upright sounded wonderful. "I can't believe I'm saying this..." He chuckled. "...but I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

Varro arrived early the next morning. Or at least he thought he did. The doors to the mess opened and he stepped inside, only to immediately spot Shade already seated with breakfast, caf, and a datapad. He stopped. "Oh." His eyes briefly flicked toward the chronometer. He hadn't gotten the time wrong. That earned Shade an amused look. "I thought I was early." Apparently, he had underestimated her.

"Good morning." There was no attempt to conceal how he felt when he approached. His movements were a little stiffer than usual. Nothing dramatic. Nothing he considered worth hiding. When Shade immediately preempted any claim that he was perfectly fine, Varro laughed. "Apparently you're already learning my habits."

He took the offered seat, though only after collecting the light breakfast he'd intended to have before training. Nothing heavy. Some fruit. A piece of toast. Water rather than anything particularly rich. He'd decided before arriving that learning to punch immediately after filling his stomach seemed like an unnecessarily adventurous decision.

Once seated, Varro considered Shade's question properly. "I'm sore." No qualification. No attempt to dismiss it. He shifted slightly in his chair and felt several muscles remind him exactly what they'd done yesterday. "Mostly everywhere that met the mat." A small smile accompanied the admission. "My shoulders know we did something unusual." He flexed one arm experimentally. "My back too." Then his expression tightened slightly as he shifted his weight. "The hip is worse." The same one Shade had already identified yesterday.

Varro placed a hand against it briefly. "Not badly." He gave it an honest moment of consideration before continuing. "It's sore enough that I notice it when I move certain ways, but nothing sharp. Nothing feels damaged." He looked toward Shade. "So unless my instructor disagrees, I think it qualifies as ordinary soreness."

Yesterday's lesson had made hiding discomfort seem especially foolish. Shade needed to know what condition he was in if she was going to train him safely. More importantly, Varro had nothing to prove. That lesson hadn't been entirely physical. He took a bite of toast as Shade confirmed that punching would indeed be today's subject. The grin returned. "Good."

Then came her prediction about his enthusiasm. Varro narrowed his eyes playfully. "You seem remarkably confident that you're going to ruin this for me." He swallowed before adding, "I'll have you know I've spent most of my life imagining that punching someone was considerably simpler than falling correctly." A pause. "Yesterday already destroyed one assumption." His smile became sheepish. "So I'm prepared to discover I've been equally ignorant about this."

That was, increasingly, becoming part of the fun. He'd eaten lightly on purpose, but he'd also taken his time over breakfast for another reason. He had wanted the quiet. Yesterday he'd walked into the lesson knowing almost nothing about what Shade intended to teach him. Today there were possibilities.

How to stand. How to move. How to strike. Where to strike. Perhaps how to avoid being struck in return. Varro had spent part of breakfast imagining all of them. Then he'd deliberately stopped. After yesterday, he knew better than to arrive having already decided what today's lesson should look like. "I actually spent breakfast thinking about what you might teach me." He picked up a piece of fruit. "Then I realized I was probably doing exactly what you told me not to do yesterday."

Trying to anticipate. A quiet chuckle escaped him. "So I stopped." He took another bite. "I decided I'd eat, settle my mind, and find out when you showed me."

Shade's instruction to keep eating earned no argument. "Civilized sounds good." Varro gestured lightly with his toast. "Especially considering our definition of civilized apparently becomes punching things immediately afterward."

He glanced toward her caf. "Though I'm beginning to appreciate the system." Yesterday they had talked before training. There had been no urgency. No demand for immediate results. Today was beginning the same way. Breakfast first. Training afterward. One thing at a time.

Varro smiled. "I think I'm learning another lesson." He lifted the toast slightly. "Never argue with an instructor who tells you to finish breakfast." He took another bite. "That one I expect to master considerably faster."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade's attention lingered on Varro when he mentioned the soreness in his hip. The rest sounded much as she'd expected after repeatedly introducing his body to the floor, particularly when it had spent most of his life trying very hard not to end up there. The hip deserved slightly more consideration because it had been the weak point she'd already noticed yesterday, but nothing in his description immediately concerned her. More importantly, he'd answered the question she'd actually asked rather than the one that might have made him sound tougher. "That sounds like ordinary soreness. We'll still look at how you're moving before we start, especially your hip. If it changes from sore to sharp, or starts affecting your balance, tell me immediately." Her expression softened with quiet approval. "And apparently I am learning your habits. You were early. I was simply earlier." She lifted her caf as though this settled the matter completely. Shade had never considered arriving before the agreed time particularly remarkable, although Varro's expression suggested he'd briefly thought he'd failed some scheduling test nobody had actually given him.

His playful accusation that she intended to ruin punching for him earned a small smile. "Ruin it? No. I'm merely preparing you for the devastating revelation that hitting something correctly involves more than putting your fist somewhere another person would prefer it wasn't." There was a great deal to correct before she ever worried about power: stance, balance, the position of his wrist and thumb, how he transferred weight, what parts of the hand could safely take impact, and how not to commit so thoroughly to a strike that missing left him presenting his opponent with an invitation. Fortunately, none of that required Varro to begin by hitting particularly hard. Shade took another drink of caf before adding, "The good news is there probably won't be any need for the mats today." A fractional pause followed as her crimson eyes settled on him over the rim of the mug. "Probably."

She let him contemplate that while he finished his breakfast, amusement lingering in her expression as he explained how he'd caught himself trying to anticipate the lesson. "Thinking ahead isn't something I want you to stop doing. Yesterday I wanted you to stop deciding what was going to happen before it happened. There's a difference." Anticipation was useful when it produced options. It became dangerous when it committed him to one answer before he'd actually been given the question. "Eventually I want you thinking about what someone might do, what you might do in response, and what happens if either of you does something unexpected. For now, coming in curious instead of arriving convinced you already know what I'm going to teach you is a good habit." She glanced briefly toward his breakfast. "Although choosing not to eat heavily before your first striking lesson was also sensible. I hadn't planned on teaching you that particular lesson through experience."

Shade allowed breakfast to continue without turning every observation into instruction. When Varro raised his toast and announced the lesson he expected to master fastest, she gave him a look of exaggerated consideration before conceding with a slight inclination of her head. "I think I can safely approve that one." She finished another sip of caf and set the mug down. "Although I should warn you that today is going to begin rather less dramatically than whatever you've imagined. Before you hit anything, I'm going to teach you how to stand, how to make a fist without injuring yourself, and how to move without giving your balance away. Then you'll learn the basic strike slowly before we add any real force." Her gaze flicked toward him, the hint of a smile returning. "After yesterday, you should already know what happens when I decide speed is less important than getting something right." There was no threat in it, only the quiet promise of repetition. For the moment, though, Shade made no move to hurry him from the table. "So master the breakfast lesson first. We can begin dismantling your assumptions about punching when you're finished."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro nodded at Shade's assessment of his hip. "Sharp pain, balance problems, or anything that feels worse instead of better. I'll tell you." There was no reluctance in the promise. Yesterday had rather thoroughly demonstrated that pretending an injury didn't exist would only make Shade's job harder and his lessons considerably less pleasant.

Her explanation of their respective arrival times, however, received a suspicious narrowing of his eyes. "I see." Varro took another bite of fruit. "So I was early." He pointed toward her with what remained. "You were just more early." A grin appeared. "I'll remember that distinction tomorrow." There was perhaps the slightest competitive edge beneath the humor now. Not enough that he intended to turn breakfast into a race. Probably.

Shade's description of punching caused him to chuckle. "Putting my fist somewhere another person would prefer it wasn't seemed like a perfectly adequate definition until about thirty seconds ago." Apparently he was about to discover otherwise.

Then she mentioned the mats. Varro visibly brightened. "Oh, good." Probably. His expression immediately changed. His gaze slid toward Shade. Then toward the section of the mess where yesterday's training had occurred. Then back.

"You enjoy doing that." The accusation was delivered with a smile. "Just enough reassurance to make me comfortable, followed by one word that makes me question all of it." He wasn't actually worried about another encounter with the floor. Not much.

Yesterday had removed some of that anxiety. Still, he suspected the mats had not finished with him permanently. Varro listened more seriously when Shade clarified the difference between thinking ahead and deciding ahead. "Options rather than conclusions." He nodded thoughtfully. "That I can understand." It was another distinction that sounded simple once someone else explained it.

"I can consider what might happen without convincing myself that it will happen." His brow furrowed slightly. "And if I've considered several possibilities, I suppose I'm less likely to freeze when one of them actually happens." That sounded considerably more useful than guessing correctly.

Her approval of his light breakfast earned a pleased little smile. "I'll take that as my first success of the day." Then Shade explained what today's training would actually entail. Stand. Make a fist. Move. Then, eventually, punch.

Varro stared at her for a moment. "So yesterday you taught me that I didn't know how to fall." He counted the lesson on one finger. "And today we're beginning with the possibility that I don't know how to stand." A second finger joined the first. He looked down at them. "This training is doing remarkable things for my confidence." The delivery was dry, but the grin that followed spoiled any attempt at seriousness. Truthfully, there was anxiety beneath the humor.

Yesterday he'd discovered just how many things his body did automatically without ever having been taught the safest way to do them. Today would apparently expose more. Making a fist without hurting himself sounded particularly ominous.

Varro looked at his hand. He slowly curled his fingers inward and regarded the resulting fist as though it had suddenly become suspicious. "I've done this before." His eyes lifted toward Shade. "Many times." A pause. "I was considerably more confident about that fact before you explained you're going to teach me how."

He opened his hand again. "Now I'm wondering how many different ways there are to get something this simple wrong." There was genuine apprehension there. But excitement too. Yesterday had proven something important. He could be bad at this. Shade would correct him. Then he would try again. Nothing worse happened. That made discovering mistakes considerably less frightening.

"And yes, I remember your opinion of speed." Varro gave her a knowing look. "Slowly." Then again. And again. Until the movement became something his body understood rather than something his mind was desperately trying to command. He could already imagine Shade adjusting his feet by centimeters while he wondered how such tiny differences could possibly matter.

Strangely, he was looking forward to finding out. "But..." A little more confidence entered his smile. "I did eventually improve yesterday." That mattered. He hadn't become good at falling. He'd simply become better than he'd been when they started.

"So you can dismantle as many assumptions as necessary." Varro took the last bite of his toast. "I'll just build better ones afterward." He finished chewing before raising his hands in surrender. "After breakfast."

There were still a few pieces of fruit remaining, and Shade had explicitly told him not to hurry. Varro selected one. "I've been told that's the civilized order." A mischievous smile appeared as he took another bite. "And unlike falling, standing, and apparently making a fist..." He gestured toward his nearly finished meal. "...I'm reasonably confident I already know how to do this correctly."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade accepted Varro's promise concerning his hip with a small nod. She believed him. Yesterday had made it clear enough that concealing a problem from her offered little benefit, and she had no intention of turning ordinary soreness into an injury just to finish a lesson. His interpretation of their respective arrival times earned considerably less solemn consideration. Her eyes settled upon the piece of fruit pointed in her direction before returning to his face. "Correct. You were early. I was more early." The faint curve at the corner of her mouth suggested she was perfectly comfortable with this interpretation. "I'm glad we've established the terminology. I expect it will save considerable confusion tomorrow."

The accusation that followed earned him an expression of carefully maintained innocence that probably did more to prove his point than deny it. "Enjoy is a strong word." Shade reached for another piece of her own breakfast. "I merely believe reassurance should be accurate." She paused briefly as she took a bite, crimson eyes resting on him. "Probably accurate." This time the smile escaped before she could quite suppress it. She let him have that one, then listened as he worked through the distinction she'd made. Options rather than conclusions was concise enough that she nodded her approval. "Exactly. Anticipation gives you choices. Assumption takes them away. You don't need to predict someone perfectly. You need enough awareness that the first unexpected thing they do doesn't become the only thing you're capable of thinking about."

His increasingly suspicious examination of his own fist was considerably more entertaining. Shade glanced down at it as though sharing his sudden concern about something he'd apparently been doing incorrectly his entire life. "I wouldn't become too alarmed. You've successfully stood, walked, and possessed hands for quite some time without my supervision." Her attention returned to her breakfast. "I'm reasonably confident we can preserve all three achievements." The humor softened when he mentioned improving yesterday. That was the part she cared about. "You did improve." There was no teasing attached to it. "And you kept trying after you knew you weren't immediately good at it. That's more useful to me than getting something right by accident on the first attempt."

Shade made no effort to hurry him through the remaining fruit, finishing her own breakfast at much the same unhurried pace. His declaration of culinary competence received a quiet huff of amusement. "I'll concede breakfast to you. I don't think I have enough professional qualifications to challenge your technique." Once they were both finished, she collected what needed clearing from her side of the table and rose. The section of the mess hall they had borrowed yesterday had already been returned to its usual state after their lesson, the mats packed away rather than left occupying a space people actually needed. This morning Shade had arranged considerably less equipment. A padded training figure stood off to one side, waiting for the point when Varro was ready to hit something other than the air.

She moved into the open space beside it and stopped, leaving enough room for Varro to join her without positioning him herself. There would be no throws to begin today, no sudden tests and, despite her earlier probably, no immediate introduction to the floor. First she wanted to see how he naturally stood when he thought he was preparing to fight. That would tell her far more than arranging his feet for him before he'd even had the opportunity to show her. "All right." Shade's expression carried just enough amusement to suggest she remembered every complaint he'd made over breakfast. "Come over here when you're ready, and we'll begin today's devastating assault on your confidence."

Varro