Part 8: Memory of Draga: Unwanted

Unwanted

Draga grips the staff, holding it steady. From the opposite end of the plateau, the Imperial Trainer faces her and the other recruits. On an adjacent landing, Pygarian Generals gesture at Draga, no doubt debating her fate.

Draga had surprised all Pygaria when she passed every exam and was inducted into the army. Thus, her present training exercises was something no Pygarian wanted to miss. The spectators grin, placing bets. How long until Draga fails, gets kicked out, and returns to factory life? That very notion spurs her on.

The Imperial Trainer singles out Draga. "Step forward. Or drop out. There is still time," he prods.

Heat rises in Draga but she stuffs the annoyance away with an icy calm. "I've got all the time in the world, sir."

In true sparring-form, the Imperial whirls his weapon up high before launching an assault, jerking it forward toward Draga. The other recruits back away. Draga glides out of the way and returns the strike with one of her own. The Imperial advances again, this time faking a reach outward then coming in low. The move disorients Draga but she recovers quickly. She re-sharpens her focus and steps through her next two thrusts with a block and spin. The frenzy with which Draga presses her attack causes the Imperial to call a timeout.

A commotion of voices comment on the spectacle.

General Ellia motions Draga over.

"General!" Draga performs a military salute.

"That was good technique. Who taught you?" The General asks, kindly.

"I..." Draga blushes.

"Answer the question, worm!" The Trainer yells.

Draga lowers her head. The dream ends here, she thinks.

"You can keep your secret, for now... Draga, is it?"

Draga nods slowly, confused.

"Send her to my cadet division, on the double," General Ellia orders the Trainer, then she starts to walk away.

"I will find your secret, Draga," she adds, without looking back.