Leaving Paradise by Paul A Jones

Author:Paul A Jones [Jones, Paul A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-11T06:00:00+00:00

21. Vacation

He decided upon a trip to the rain-forest regions to the south of where City One lay. Zenan stayed at Forest Centre Three for three days - a day longer than he anticipated. He played games, watched holos and found companionship. In the confines of the forest centre and with the surgeon computer's warning in his memory, Zenan refrained from practising his unarmed combat skills. He took the hyper-speed train back to City One but decided to walk back the several kilometres back to his home. He picked one of the many open spaces in the city, which was given shade by a nearby building and began to practice.

He had been unable to do this while on Teres, initially because he was distracted by the visit to another world, then during his imprisonment he wanted to give the impression of his vulnerability. He wondered how slow his reactions would be. He removed his tunic and began to stretch and warm-up. The hairs on his replacement arm were growing.

He relaxed and loosened every relevant part of his body, and began. He practised every kick, punch, every hand technique and every block that he knew, in all stances, on every side, imagining attackers from every angle. He practised every series of pre-arranged moves, until the perspiration flowed, and his breath grow shorter. He trained for several hours, patiently and with meticulous replication. He started slowly at first, cautious of his arm but it felt normal so he trained at near full power. He thought back to killing the man and became annoyed at the way he had been so easily caught unaware. It was unexpected and shocking, and the pain was intense. He’d been hit numerous times while practising self-defence, but with padding, few strikes felt as painful as being struck hard in his unprotected groin.

The concept of self-defence was considered redundant and out of place on his world and Zenan received incomprehension and sometimes distaste when certain people became aware he studied the art. Running, swimming or general exercise invariably soon bored him and both the knowledge that he was learning techniques which were over a thousand years old and the careful supervision and progress and even competitions made it enjoyable. The Alsouartiscan way was to allow people, within certain boundaries to pursue whatever they enjoyed.

He sat up and meditated. He heard a voice seemingly coming from far away, which brought him out of his trance and opened his eyes. There was quite a large man standing over him.

‘Hi! Do you remember me?’ The man laughed.

The man had fair hair, blue eyes, was taller than himself and wore similar attire to his clothes.

‘Possibly.’ Zenan said, hesitating.

‘Well, perhaps it brings up... unpleasant memories?’

‘Yes... I do remember you.’ Zenan stood.

‘I saw you practising... you look like you've only just started again after a long break. Have you?’

He remembered the man was called Martic and had beat him in a competition a year before. He invited Zenan to take part in a tournament.

He

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