Daughter of Atrocity by Hartley James

Author:Hartley James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: scifi, adventure, aliens, alien invasion, sci adventure
Publisher: Hartley James

Chapter Twenty-One

Belshore

Those early years on The Cradle under the Old One’s watchful eye had taught her many things, but then she’d learned so much since then, and in some ways, because of, rather than despite what had happened on the world once called Lantana. Those silvery ships, her captivity, her time with Aleyin had all given her lessons. As she made her way down to her quarters to freshen up before heading out in the hope of meeting up with Jacinda once more, she realised that she’d become a little lax, even lazy about the lessons she’d been taught. She wasn’t even wearing her blade. Well, she could remedy that. She should remedy that. Just like Chutzpah, her blade was a part of what she was, but she wondered briefly, pausing at her door before opening it whether she was evolving, changing into something else where she would no longer need to carry that symbol of her own discipline. If she was honest with herself, the discipline equation was becoming a bit of a joke. It had been days since she had run her stances and patterns. The fact that she didn’t have the blade strapped in place was just a symptom. She gave a sigh and stepped into the small living accommodations. She tossed her comp on the bed, next to the blade itself that lay there staring back at her accusingly. Looking at the comp lying there, it brought back other memories: Aleyin asking her about who maintained the technology and why when most of it had been denied to them when they were growing up; Aleyin telling her to fill her mind with knowledge, Aleyin saying she needed to experience and grow, become more than she was then. Funny how all the memories were of Aleyin, rather than the Old One. For a time after those initial separations, she’d searched for him, both physically and by reaching out with her senses, trying to locate that bond that had held them together, but to no avail. After a time, that too drifted into memory. She wanted to shower before she headed out, but at least she could do something about at least a part of her lack of discipline and maybe work up a sweat in the process.

“Chutz, off,” she said, and he leapt from her shoulder onto the bed. And there it was, the trinity. Her blade, the comp and Chutzpah. The essential components of Mahra Kaitan. Apart, of course, from the pieces of whatever that wormed their way through her brain matter. She snorted to herself and then proceeded to strip off her clothes and let them fall to the floor. Before reaching for the blade, she examined her side. The bruising was still evident, and she stretched first to one side and then the other, grimacing a little as the pain of the motion took her. It would have to do. Once, twice, she ran the mantra through her head. Mind, body, and blade sharp. Just like it had always been.

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