Eventually the sergeant’s head came up, and a few moments later he was nodding at what his commander was saying. The two men rose to their feet, and the captain clapped Escrima fondly on the shoulder, leaning close to share a few last words before leading him back to the bleachers.
O’Donnel found himself nodding as well.
Good. The little sergeant was much too good a man to be abandoned by his own during such a trauma. The major’s appreciation of his rival went up yet another notch as he turned his attention to the bout in progress … the initial attack misses … passe … then the counterattack lands before the final replacement of the point. The touch is right … Score, three to one! … Gardez! …
Three to one?
O’Donnel focused his attention on the action.
What was going on here? How could his man be down 3-1 so fast?
“Allez! Fence!”
In the quick flurry of swords that followed the director’s signal, it became clear what was happening.
The little fencer representing the Legionnaires-what was her name? Oh yes, Super Gnat-had found a way to compensate for her shorter reach. She would hang back at the edge of Davidson’s lunge range, obviously too far back to launch an attack of her own, and bait the Eagles’ fencer into initiating the action. Sometimes she would simply step back out of the reach of the attack, but then …
The major scowled as Super Gnat dodged the oncoming point and stepped in close to her taller opponent. Davidson tried to reverse his advance to bring his point to bear again, but she followed him back down the strip and …