The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,89
provide much-needed mission support on the ground. She is a highly sophisticated, cognitively processed radar who will be far more valuable in the field than any piece of tech Verne could dream up.”
Landon gave Peregrine a gentle nod of welcome; she smiled a bit wider in reply.
• • • • •
Two weeks later, Landon was standing in the Palaestra. Only a twelve-by-twelve square of white tiles in the center of the floor was lit up; the walls and ceilings were black, leaving the vast training room eerie and dark. He stood just outside the lighted squares, the glow from the floor casting strange shadows over his face and distorting the actions of Cortland and Brock as they fought in the sparring area.
Parker and Peregrine stood beside him, similarly transfixed by the match currently playing out. Brock swung his right arm, but Cortland was too fast and managed to duck down, avoiding the flying fist.
Landon’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched. It was only the first of the sparring matches, but his heart had been racing ever since Dr. Brighton told him that today was the day he’d have to display his progress in combat training by facing off against Jeremiah. He wasn’t sure how he could compete against people who’d been in the Pantheon for months, if not years, when he only had two weeks of instruction.
The Pantheon had adapted the United States Marine Corps martial arts program, and its physical and mental requirements fell far beyond what Landon was comfortable with. He enjoyed the Okinawan karate, judo and jujutsu. They made him think back fondly to the Tai Chi he’d done with Dr. Brighton in the Secret Garden for all those weeks before the First Frost Frenzy. It felt liberating to kick and punch the rubber dummies during his instruction, cathartic to choke the “life” out of its plastic neck or grapple it into submission, but now he’d have to fight a person—a real, breathing person. Would he remember the “appropriate use of force” when he was trying to punch, kick and subdue Jeremiah? He always felt weird when they were instructing him on appropriate use of force and how to identify and use weapons of opportunity. It made everything real. Landon didn’t think about hurting the rubber dummies, but if he didn’t heed the words of his instructors, there was a good chance he could hurt or very well kill someone.
Landon tried to calm his nerves as he watched Cortland kick at Brock’s side. Brock blocked it with his forearm.
Landon gulped, envisioning himself in the same spot as soon as the current bout was over.
Brock landed a hard punch against Cortland’s jaw, and Landon glanced over to Peregrine. She grimaced and slammed her eyes shut. Landon wondered if she was feeling as nervous as he was. After Landon fought Jeremiah, it would be her turn against Parker.
Cortland sprung backward, pressing one hand to his face, and started shuffling around the ring. It was impossible to see the expression on Cortland’s face, but Landon could feel his determination to beat the top fighter on the Pantheon. Suddenly, Cortland lunged forward, his arms outstretched to tackle Brock, but with unbelievable speed, Brock sidestepped out of Cortland’s path like a matador and wrapped his arm around Cortland’s neck. He secured it with his other arm. Cortland was in a perfect sleeper hold, and there was no way he’d be able to escape from Brock’s super-human strength.
The seconds passed like minutes, everything transpiring in slow motion as Cortland moved toward his inevitable defeat. Brock’s arm was slowly cutting off the supply of oxygen to Cortland’s brain, and it was only a matter of time before Cortland was tapped out or passed out. Even in the dim light, Landon could see his eyes start to roll back in his head. Brock slowly guided Cortland to the floor once Cortland’s legs began to give out. Landon was afraid his legs would give out any second, too. He’d never been in a real fight before. . . . He wasn’t even sure he’d ever truly hit anyone.
A moment later, Dr. Brighton stepped into the white square and called the match. “All right, victory goes to Ares!” His voice echoed through the nearly empty Palaestra.
Brock released the chokehold, stood up, and helped Cortland to his feet, holding him up until he regained full consciousness. After they nodded to each other in respect, Cortland walked slowly and uncertainly over to Landon on the sidelines.