"Faster!" A female voice grated against my ears, pushing my limbs to break their speed limits.

"FASTER!"

I side-stepped and blocked the overhead strike, as my left hand snaked towards her weapon's hilt. As soon as I reached it, however, she withdrew and disappeared from my line of sight.

"Not enough control," she chided as she stepped back to give me some breathing space. I watched her long, reddish hair flip back as she assumed her stance and prepared to attack.

She closed the distance in one swift motion. Her bare arm swung up in a backhand arc, the tip of her rattan stick tracing a clean line up from my navel to my nose. Just an inch closer and that would have grazed me, I thought as I stepped back and countered with an abanico strike to her thigh. But as soon as I made the movement, I felt her left arm pressing down on my wrist. Seeing her opportunity, she swung her stick in a wide horizontal arc that would have ended at my neck -- if my left hand hadn't shot out and grabbed her elbow, trapping her stick hand a safe distance away.

"HA!" I exclaimed, ecstatic at the stalemate. My fingers felt for the slightest muscle twitch, looking for any indication of what her next move will be. At the same time, my eyes scanned her body for vulnerable targets. The torso, maybe? Then my hand will be too high to easily control, I thought.

As I did, I was vaguely aware of her labored breathing. Her chest rose and fell heavily, as beads of sweat rolled down her neck and shoulders. Her tight teal tanktop covered just enough to keep me from being distracted, but her well-toned physique shone through anyway. That's something straight out of a sports magazine or---

A blurred motion cut through my train of thoughts, as I felt my lead foot suddenly lose traction. A sweep? Why didn't I think of that?! I panicked as I fought to stay upright. By now she had gotten free from my grip, with the momentum of the kick sending her shapely figure into a tight pirouette. I gawked at the graceful motion, as I forgot about something very, very important.

The thing with rattan sticks is that they're usually really light. But with just the right flick, they can be weapons of frightening speed and power. The combination of the clockwise turn and the whip-like motion of her wrist turned the tip of her stick into a high-caliber projectile barreling straight for my left jaw...

... and I just caught it, full-force. Nothing like a short, sweet nap to relieve my tired, aching muscles, but I really wish I had more choice in the matter. Heck, I didn't even feel the floor when I touched down!

It must have been a few seconds (or more?) before I came to. My next memory was that of Nera kneeling down beside me, her concerned face framed by the bright LED lights of the gym.

"What was that?! Where's your guard?!", she scolded as soon as she saw my eyes flicker open.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," I mumbled through clenched lips. My jaw felt like it had taken a flying kick.

Nera sighed. "At this rate you're never going to get qualified for the SDC."

"No, really, I'm fine," I groaned as I tried to sit up. The lights spun like crazy the moment I did, and I had to give it up.

"Alright, I'm letting you take the rest of the day off. I'll take you to the infirmary, and Fitch can fill in on your post."

The sterile whiteness of the infirmary was a different kind of pain, though. The (male) nurse practically threw me into an empty bed after I hobbled in, leaning on a sweaty, tanktop-clad Nera for support. I can feel his jealousy course through my veins as he jabbed in the IV lines. Of course, I was too beat up to protest.

Three hours after I was left in peace and quiet, a blonde-haired freckly face peeked through the curtain that shielded my little ward in the infirmary.

"Fitch?", I said in surprise. "Who's manning CommRoom 4?"

Fitch came in, his oversized maroon overalls askew against his lanky frame. "Was it true Ms. Nera shot you?", he asked, completely ignoring my question. I can feel the entire infirmary listening in on our conversation. Looks like a lot of blabbermouths had been here all day.

"Wait what?! Who've you been listening to? Does it look like I'm bleeding?" I would have laughed, had those words not taken enough wind out of me.

"So she slugged you in the face then? I can see your broken jaw from a mile away."

I sighed. "It was a training exercise. She was helping me train for the Defense Corps qualifiers."

"I don't believe you," Fitch laughed.

"What? You know Nera and I --"

"CAPTAIN ON DECK!", the nurse's voice rang through the large room, and I can feel the atmosphere tense up considerably. Fitch, for his part, stood motionless and in shock.

A few seconds later, the curtain to my bed parted. In the opening stood a tall woman, her reddish-brown hair tied in a neat braid behind her back. She wore a crisp, indigo military uniform, with a golden pauldron decorating her right shoulder. On her left breast pocket was a multi-colored badge that depicted the Crescent-62 insignia. Her imposing appearance looked completely out of place here. 

"Ah, Corporal Nelson, so this is where you are," Nera spoke in a cold, distant voice as she glared at Fitch. "The CommRooms are running a decryption exercise at this moment. Perhaps you'd like to lend them a hand?"

I heard Fitch suppress a whimper, but he flashed a snappy salute and disappeared beyond the curtain.

As soon as we were alone, Nera slumped her shoulders and sighed.

"Errr... you know the guys will get me for this display, right?"

"Shut up," Nera snapped. "Uh, I just wanted to apologize. I think I went too hard on you today."

"That's an understatement. You killed me six times in three hours, and wouldn't even give me a water break!"

"You said you wanted to train?!" I thought I saw Nera's brown eyes waver.

"I said I wanted to train for the SDC, not for an MMA tournament!"

Nera fell silent. I laughed, and regretted it immediately as my jaw sent up emergency signals to my brain. "Look, I'm just kidding," I let out. "I know I still have a long way to go."

"Well I'm glad, but ---"

I never got to hear what she was going to say next.

Suddenly, the mellow light of the infirmary disappeared. In its place, a blazing red alarm lit up. At the same moment, a shrill siren sounded through every single speaker in the space station. When the siren ended, a calm female voice called out:

"ALERT. IMPENDING IMPACT. ETA, THREE MINUTES."

For a few seconds, Nera stood still in shock. "Three minutes?," she finally stammered. "How in the world did they get THAT close, that fast?"

For my part, I'm worrying about something else. If this is Nera's response, we're all doomed.