Orion Colony Complete Series Boxed Set J.N. Chaney (books for new readers .txt) đź“–
- Author: J.N. Chaney
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The cylinder began to move as I struck out with the heel of my foot to the right ankle of the robot. I gave ground as the turnkey cylinder in front of me pushed me back. I had three full rotations to work with. If the robot forced me back that far, the test would be over and I’d lose.
Over and over again, I slammed the heel of my right foot into the left ankle of the robots’. Shock of pain from the force of the blows exploded into my foot and leg, but I ignored them and kept hammering away.
“Oh, I see, I see,” Jezra said. “Yes, yes, I recognize it in you. This is not a strategy that has worked in the hundreds of times the tribunal has been used, but perhaps you will succeed where others failed.”
With every blow I landed, I let out an exhale. Over and over again, I struck the same ankle of the robot. I didn’t need to break it. I just needed him to limp the slightest bit. If I could put him off balance or put a hitch in his gait, it might be enough.
I struck him over and over again, hoping I was making progress but not seeing any. The robot continued his relentless press forward. I lost track of how many times I hit him. I didn’t lose track of how many turns the turnkey performed. We had already made one full rotation. Two more and Jezra would write me off as an imposter and we’d be screwed.
Images of what would happen if I failed this test filled my mind. Would we be kept here as prisoners? Would we be thrown out without the supplies we desperately needed? Would we be thrown out into the mist marsh to deal with those creatures?
I wasn’t sure and had no intention of finding out. For the first time since I heard of all this crazy talk of the Great Dawn, I actually wanted to convince someone that I was, regardless of how I felt.
I continued to slam the heel of my boot into the robot’s ankle, all the time giving ground as he pressed the turnkey ever forward, despite the pain shooting up my left leg.
The turnkey made another full rotation. It coiled like a spring at the base of the revolving cylinder. As the robot made its third and final rotation, the cylinder became the harder to turn.
Come on, Dean, I told myself, rallying. Sweat began to gather at my brow. Come on, you’ve gotta take this thing out!
I knew his ankle joint had to be weakened by now. Being a trained professional, I knew exactly how and where to strike, so I struck hard. Robot or not, a joint was a joint. In an act of desperation, I reared my foot back and sent a kick out to the robot’s left lower shin rather than the ankle joint. That finally did it. There was a pop and a whine of gears. The robot faltered.
There was no time for celebration. I saw my opportunity and went after it. Gone was the laser precision and measured blows. Now it was all me and how much heart I could pour into pushing.
I ran back to my piece of steel opposite the robot and slammed into the bar with everything I had.
The robot, to my left, was slipping on the ground, struggling to walk and stay balanced on its one working ankle. A mixture of steam and smoke came from the wounded appendage.
My chest heaved, sucking in oxygen as fast as I could. Inch by inch, I fought the robot back. At times, we were deadlocked, but every time the robot shifted either forward or back, he lost more ground thanks to the broken ankle.
I couldn’t feel my right foot at all after so many strikes to the metal, but that was fine. I gave into the primal force inside of me that had won me so many fights before.
“Rawww!” I shouted as I threw my body against my bar, only to take a moment to gasp for air and then go again.
Again and again, I made the challenge, pushing the robot back farther and farther. I lost track of how many rotations I had made, refusing to give up.
People say anger is a dangerous emotion, and they’re right. Unless you can channel that anger into something useful that allows you to get rid of all that bad energy in a positive way. I did just that.
I remembered how pissed I was about crash landing here and I pushed. I remembered how many people we’d lost and I pushed. I remembered how my life as a gladiator ended and I pushed.
A loud click filled the room as the cylinder in front of me stopped moving altogether and locked into place. I’d won.
I fell to the ground on all fours. My lungs burned even more than the muscles on my arms and legs. My chest felt sore from where I had slammed it against the bar in front of me. Rivers of sweat fell from my face and sprinkled the ground below me.
“Yes, yes!” Jezra shouted from the monitor. “You are who I thought you were. You are who I thought you were. One more test, Great Dawn. The final tribunal awaits. I believe in you.”
“It’s super weird for you to be rooting for me,” I said, finally getting my breathing under control as I sat back on my heels. “Half of me wants to knock you out right now. Scratch that. Most of me wants to knock you out right now.”
“One more test, one more test,” Jezra repeated like a mad woman. “Hand-to-hand combat next. You were made for this, Dean. Your gloves are there across the room. I would hurry if I were you.”
“Hand-to-hand combat with a freaking robot?” I asked, pushing myself to my feet. “Why don’t you just break every bone in my hands?”
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