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stretched.
    She began her kata on the mats almost as a meditation, a ritual she’d started as physical therapy for her wounds. Her movements were smooth, except for the strike at the end of each position. The big man stopped to watch her during her second iteration, and on the ninth position, he intervened.
    “May I?” he asked. Meriel stopped and nodded, skeptical that he might have useful coaching. “Your rear knee should be bent, not stiff, and your heel off the mat when you begin your strike.” He leaned over and touched the outside edge of his hand to the inside of her knee to flex it.
    Meriel smiled. “And you are?”
    “They call me Cookie. You’re marine qualified?”
    “Yes, sir. Name’s Meriel Hope.”
    Cookie raised his eyebrows at her show of respect. “Oh yeah, new cargo chief. Marine-three, huh? Weapons?”
    “Blasters, pulse rifles, nothing heavy.”
    “Combat?” he asked.
    “No, sir.”
    “S’OK. Shooting for marine-four?”
    Meriel shook her head. “Not yet. I want to get better where I am.”
    “OK, good. Then you do your kata, and I’ll oppose you.”
    “I’ve never done that before,” she said.
    “Yeah, that’s what happens when you train by holo,” he said and put an instrumentation cuff on his forearm. “Now, repeat position nine beginning from eight.”
    Meriel lined up in position eight and rotated both feet for a downward strike with the blade of her hand. Cookie stepped back and blocked with his forearm raised and left hand poised for a punch, but he did not strike. Meriel struck his padded forearm.
    “Hold that position,” he said and moved to her side. “See, if your heel is down before you begin your strike, the power comes from your muscles. That’s weak. We want the power from your center.” He slapped his tummy with his palm. “Drop the heel with your center and then strike simultaneously. Like this.” He demonstrated the strike and drop. “Now you.”
    Meriel repeated the move. He frowned and tapped her forehead with his index finger. “Get out of your head. Your body knows the pattern. See from your center, not your eyes,” he said and patted his tummy again.
    Meriel repeated the move until Cookie nodded. She felt as if her whole body had struck his forearm. He raised the instrumentation cuff to show her the readout. “See. Twice the impact force.”
    Meriel raised her eyebrows.
    “OK, next position,” he said, and Meriel pivoted.
    “Stop,” he said. “Good. Pivot is fine, but just before the end, your rear foot is planted, and your body turns from the hips in a motion to strike, like a coiled spring.”
    Again, Meriel repeated the moves while Cookie opposed her, and they finished her kata.
    “OK, now from the start and speed it up. Don’t think,” he said.
    Now her kata looked like a fight, each strike opposed by a block, each block followed by another strike. Cookie was huge but moved like a lion. At the end, they were both sweaty, and welts rose on Meriel’s forearms and shins.
    “Don’t take the impact of my blows,” Cookie said as he toweled the sweat from his forehead. “Sure, it’s a kata, but I outweigh you two to one in muscle. Divert my blows, and don’t try to absorb the impact. Blend until you can strike. Improvise.”
    Meriel nodded.
    They bowed to each other and went into the showers.
    “Say, you’re marine-three,” he said over the shower partition. “You passed zero-g defense, right? Gymnastics and center of gravity?”
    “Yes.”
    “That makes you an optional for my security team,” he said. “You OK with that? It’ll bump your pay a grade.”
    “Sure.”
    “OK, let’s call that your interview.”
    “Who’s on the team?”
    “There’s Suzanne Soquette in comm, Nobu Draeger in the galley, and Lev Tyler, who works for you in cargo. Lev is my number two. Staff Sergeant Tyler, actually. Good man. Your marine-three cert will make you a squad leader like Socket. The captain’s marine-two rated, but I don’t count