Xeno's Paragon by J.S. Morin

Author:J.S. Morin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643556413
Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press

Jessie extended a hand and helped Master Frabet to his feet. They’d both felt the rib crack with her final kick, so the taboo against helping a third-ring grandmaster of quadrijutsu stand didn’t apply. Making the medics enter the sparring circle to tend to him would have been the greater disrespect.

Off the mat, forming a loose line of laaku bodies, spectators watched in measured disbelief. They were a mix of data-pushers who’d caught wind in the we’d-deny-its-existence-if-it-weren’t-so-blatantly-obvious rumor mill, agents and analysts in the gymnasium for their own health benefits, and a few people with actual reason to be in attendance. Namely, those few were evaluating Jessie’s Earth Navy service record.

Section 74 had its own way of doing things. Paranoid ways. Mildly condescending ways. Nominally, they treated her as an equal, but time and again, they undercut her, doubted her, subjected her to tests and training and protocols that would have been easy to opt her out of.

“You didn’t have to follow through,” Frabet muttered for her ears only as he winced with each step, hanging onto Jessie for support.

Hell yes, she did. Passing her close-quarters self-defense cert would have been forgettable. It would have left all the impression of a fart on a windy day. Half-carrying the agency’s top trainer was a hedge against anyone downplaying her or second-guessing her qualifications. “You said not to hold back. Or did that only apply when you thought you’d win easily?”

“Your technique is still sloppy.”

“And you telegraph your moves.”

“Instinct will only get you so far.”

Jessie held a hand up to her ear. “Sorry, couldn’t make that out. Can you speak up?” she asked, knowing that even breathing had to be paining the quadrijutsu master. Was she being childish? Maybe. Did he deserve it? Fuck yeah.

The medic on hand helped Frabet to a seat on a hover stretcher and tended to him on the spot.

Futhrek met her on the way to the gym’s shower facility. “You could have killed him.”

Jessie paused at the door and resisted the temptation to duck inside, pretending he hadn’t intended to glean an answer. “He could have certified me ten seconds into that test. I could have snapped his neck, but a couple broken ribs made sure everyone knew he lost.”

“How much was the side action?” Futhrek asked snidely.

Rolling her eyes, Jessie stepped into the locker room rather than dignify the accusation with a reply. To her shock, Futhrek followed right along behind her. “Do you mind?”

“What?” the spymaster asked as if he wasn’t in the wrong here. “It’s a common enough joke around here. If you want the fast track to getting field certified, skip the shower.”

“Seriously? I cleaned 100 on your piss-easy firing range. Timed on that obstacle course that’s a little xenoist if you ask me. And I just rearranged the bones of your top self-defense instructor. You’ve got my service record. I’m not an impostor. If you’re seriously going to make me take a flight test—”

“No flight test. I actually opted you out of that one.

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