Chapter 3

Is it possible to fight for something, even if you know that object is either false or unattainable? Can you honestly put your heart into a task, knowing that in the end, it's nothing more than a futile gesture recognized by no one but yourself? Can one's sense of duty override common sense?

Maybe that's why, when soldiers are sent into battle it's on a need to know basis...their objectives are small compared to the big picture, but it's enough to keep them going. It's enough to drive them to give their all to the task at hand and consequences be damned. All they have to worry about is their immediate objective, be it taking a hill, blowing up a bunker, or rescuing a prisoner from the enemy. So long as they believe their actions are worth it, they'll sacrifice everything in the name of completing their mission.

For that first week in rehabilitation, I was like a soldier. Every day my goal was the same: Do better than the day before. Thoughts of home, of returning to my former life as a Clansman...even thoughts of my friends were all sent into the background of my mind. All I could think of...all I wanted to think of, was going that extra step or moving just that much more than I had the day before.

By the end of that first week, I'd gone from a quadriplegic to someone capable of movement, but too weak to really do anything. The implants had finally calibrated themselves to my body, but my movement was still jerky at best. It was as if I had to concentrate to will my limbs to move, and after a time the implants finally responded, and when they did it was with a burst of movement so pathetic looking, I honestly wondered if I'd been better off as a Class 2 cyborg, rather than a Class 1.

It was frustrating, but everyone around me seemed to think I was improving. The head therapist – a rather burly but alluring white tigress named Dr. Twellin, constantly commented on my progress, and was always there to pick me up when I fell, both physically and mentally.

She wasn't the only one who was cheering for me, though. Day after day I was all but swamped with visits from my family. It felt good to see them all again, and hear about what they'd been up to while I was in a coma. As Mother had said, they'd all been worried about me, but I felt relieved to hear that they'd all managed to get on with their lives in spite of my situation.

While I was more than grateful at those who did come and visit me, I also noted a couple of exceptions, in particular my father, and my youngest sister. When I asked about Genna, Mother would say Tila was taking care of her, or vice versa if Tila was visiting. I never gave it much thought at the time; I mean it must have been insane at home, taking care of the day-to-day things and preparing for my homecoming.

With Father, though, there seemed to be no real excuse...well, not to me, anyway. Everyone always said he was occupied with other things, or busy with Clan affairs, but if there were so many Clan related things to take care of, why wasn't Grandfather handling it? He was the Elder, after all.

Well, it didn't take long for me to stop worrying about Father's absence, or anything else Clan-related for that matter. Before I knew it, I had far more pressing things to deal with...

"Come on, Dalan, you can do it."

"Gnnnnnnggg!"

"That's it...just one more step...come on!"

"AGGGHHHH!"

I hit the mat with a pronounced thump and rolled over onto my back, panting heavily. I slowly covered my muzzle with my hands and forced myself to breathe normally once more. My palms and feet were soaked with sweat but I really didn't care at that point. I'd kept true to my goal, and had made that little bit more progress than I had the day before.

It was the partway through the second week of my rehabilitation, and by then I'd regained enough of my mobility that the therapy changed from simple movement while lying down to actual walking. Needless to say after a year's worth of inactivity, walking seemed akin to merely dragging along two logs that had been strapped to my waist.

On top of that, my arms weren't exactly at 100% either, so while I was trying to command my legs to move, I was also trying to brace myself with a pair of unstable, virtually useless arms. Still, I was determined not to give up, so despite how excruciating each day was, I told myself that at the end it would all be worth it.

After this particular ordeal, Dr. Twellin and my sister, Tila, helped me back to my hover chair and I plopped down in it, exhausted. Tila handed me a glass of some kind of drink and the doctor patted me on the shoulder. "Nice workout today, Dalan," she said. "Keep this up and you'll be out of here in no time."

"I'd just settle for being able to use the restroom by myself," I said meekly, my ears growing warm from embarrassment. Maybe it was just pride, but not even being able to feed and relieve myself only served to deepen my humiliation at all that was going on. By my age, most of my friends were active, mobile people, either learning some martial art or just moving about. Things I once took for granted were now gone from me and in spite of everyone's optimism and encouragement, the thought of moving around unassisted still seemed a lofty dream I'd never attain.

Tila took one of my hands and squeezed it with hers. "You did better today than Alex said you did yesterday," she said. I managed a weak smile and tried to squeeze her hand in return. As usual, my hand reacted a full 3 seconds after my mind willed it, and did so with humiliating clumsiness. If she noticed, she never said anything. "I can't wait until you get home," she said. "And I know someone else who's waiting for you too."

At that statement, my ears perked up. At first I thought she meant Genna, but the knowing look she gave me told me someone else had been wondering about my recovery...someone I'd hopefully soon call my wife.

Arranged marriages aren't nearly as common in the Clans as they used to be. For the first few centuries after the Ascensions, many Clans started intermingling in an effort to keep their gene pools from degrading from all that internal breeding during the age of the Warlords. The marriages were pre-arranged both as a way of sealing Clan alliances, but it was also done in an effort to keep the lineages as pure as possible. That is, tiger would marry tiger, panther would marry panther, and so on.

Whatever the reason, My Clan and the Winter Stalker Clan had decided to enter such an arrangement. The Winter Stalker Clan is one of two known Najari Clans in the Karalla City area. The Najari are assassins...contract killers for hire by any in the Clans provided their requests fall within the rules of doctrine. I believe the Terrans had a similar institution in their ancient times...I believe they were called...ninja.

I'd known Shiana Na'Che all my life, it seemed. As far back as I can remember, she'd been there with me. Even as we both grew and gained other friends, we always seemed to find time for each other. Of course, it wasn't until much later that we learned of our eventual marriage, and even when we did it didn't change things between us that much. If anything, we were both looking forward to it.

All this time, though, I'd barely thought about her. I was so focused on getting better that our upcoming wedding was the last thing on my mind. However, now that Tila had mentioned it, the thought of seeing Shiana in her ceremonial wedding gown all but dominated my mind.

I was just about to say something when Dr. Twellin stepped up. All I could do was wince; I knew what was coming, and as much as I didn't want it to, there was no way I could stop it. Tila knew as well, and with her help my shirt came off and I was led to a massage table. There, they placed me on it face down, my muzzle slipping through the face ring at the head.

Now, some of you might think getting a massage from someone like Dr. Twellin would be any adolescent male's dream come true, and maybe it would be for me too if my body was merely suffering a bit of tension and not still trying to learn how to move again. See, the implants, while busy calibrating with my muscles, were also running signals through my nervous system at close to 10 times the rate a normal nervous system functions. The result: Well, needless to say every square millimetre of my body was a wee bit more sensitive than most...and what Dr. Twellin was about to put me through made me wonder if those health clubs everyone talks about aren't just some kind of torture chamber left over from the Warlords' days.

The moment Dr. Twellin put her hands on my I gasped. "Oh don't be such a kitten," she said and started in on my shoulders. Her touch was like fire, and it took several moments before my muscles stopped resisting her and submitting to her touch. I kept my eyes shut tightly, silently counting the seconds before this ordeal would be done and I could just go lay down.

I tried to focus my mind on anything but the present. From summers at the estate's lake to the coldest winter's night...I tried anything to just keep my mind off the eternal burning sensation coursing through my body from Dr. Twellin's hands. Like with any painful situation I tried holding my breath, and while it helped a little, it wasn't enough. I started begging her to stop, but she ignored me, assuring me I'd thank her in the end.

I could feel myself beginning to shake. My fists clenched and unclenched, each of them still taking their sweet-assed time to do so after my mind willed it. This reluctance...this agonizing slowness...this robot-like existence was growing too much to bear...and this mistress of torture above me was burning me with her very touch...why couldn't it all just stop...stop...STOP!

"GRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

I roared at the top of my lungs and my arms shot forward, gripping the massage table and squeezing. I was in so much agony I never noticed my fingers actually dominating the metal tubing onto which I'd grabbed. I heard the metal creak as it was being deformed, and only then did I try to pull them away. Unfortunately, the implants hadn't received any kind of command to release my grip on the table...and in that one moment my life took a decidedly interesting turn.

I felt the table give way as my arms began pulling of their own accord. The fabric and foam top ripped easily enough, and the metal underside stretched and then yielded. The sound of the metal tearing was deafening, and by the time I'd stopped pulling, nearly half the massage table had been ripped in half. I was staring at the floor now, only held up by my hands, which had finally obeyed my mind and released their grip.

The burning sensation in my body was all but forgotten in that one moment, and in its place I felt the cold grip of fear well up inside me. What had I done? How had I done that? I could feel the panic begin to rise, but I forced it back down. I didn't want to do anything that would cause my muscles to react like that again. The thought of potentially hurting someone...hurting Tila...forced my mind to keep my body still. So long as I didn't move...didn't try to move...everyone here would be safe.

I heard someone enter the room, and the accompanying gasp. It sounded like Dr. Scheck. Sure enough, the moment he stepped close enough that I could scent him, I recognized him.

"Well," he said. "I can't say I've ever seen someone so desperate to avoid a massage that they try to go through the table."

"Wh...what happened?" I asked. "How did I do this?"

"I don't know...yet," the Doctor said. "We'll run some tests and find out, Dalan...I promise. Now just stay calm; your sister and Dr. Twellin are gonna help you back into your chair, all right?"

I nodded and only winced a little when I felt the hands lift me from the ruined table and back into the hover chair. I looked over at the table as I was being pushed out of the room...and for a moment I began to wonder. If I could do that to a table...then what could I do to those four packlas who'd attacked me all that time ago?

"Well," said Dr. Scheck, "it seems there's been an unforeseen side-effect of the implants."

"What's that?" asked Mother. After the incident she and Richard both came to the hospital to keep Tila company while I underwent more tests.

"On a human," said Scheck, "the implants are designed to mimic muscle tissue. Normally, the patients notice a slight increase in strength, but it's rather negligible. However, given the difference in Bengalan gravity, and our increased muscle density compared to a human, that 'strength increase' is slightly amplified."

"Slightly?" I said. "Doctor...I tore that table in half. And I couldn't control myself when I did." I could feel my anger rising. "What have you done to me?"

Dr. Scheck sighed. "I told you this was a new treatment, Dalan," he said. "We're all in new territory here, and like with any kind of treatment there's always some...well...anomalies."

"Anomalies? Is that what this is?" I raised my hand 3 seconds after wanting to. "You call this...an anomaly?"

The doctor fell silent, and I let my arm drop back down. I started mentally kicking myself for speaking the way I did. After all, he had spared me from a life with prosthetics...and it had only been a couple of weeks since these implants had activated. I knew I was being impatient; who wouldn't be? But more than that I was terrified...completely terrified at the thought of not being the tiger I used to be. I mean, that wasn't much to ask for, was it...to have my life back the way it was?

"I'm sorry," I said. "I had no right to yell. I guess I just don't know what to do."

"I'm not sure either, Dalan," he said finally. "But if you're willing to trust me, I promise you I'll do all I can to make sure you get better. You will walk again, that I promise."

The look in his eyes said it all: He believed with all his heart that he could do it...all I had to do was give him a chance...to trust him with my life. I looked at those of my family who were there and they all nodded in agreement. I then looked back at Dr. Scheck

"All right," I said. "What do you need me to do?"

The additional surgery went off without a hitch. Dr. Scheck concluded that my heart and lungs needed some augmentation to compensate for my increased strength. Under strenuous conditions my circulatory and respiratory systems would need to work on par with my augmented muscles so I didn't give myself a heart attack, or hyperventilate every time I pushed myself to the limit.

Unlike the implant surgery he'd done a year ago, Dr. Scheck was an old pro at this particular procedure. Repairing hearts and lungs was almost commonplace in this age of interstellar vices. Decadent foods from distant worlds...exotic tobaccos and other such narcotics played havoc on Bengalan bodies, and preventing people from paying the ultimate penance had fast become the norm for the Bengalan medical community.

It only took a day for me to recover from the surgery, but the end result wasn't much different than before. I could still barely walk or move my arms, and when I did it was the same jerky motion that it had always been. The doctors had said with the added augments in me, my endurance would increase five-fold...well, that's all well and good if you can actually move around.

By the end of the week I was exhausted...and completely discouraged. It felt as though I'd done nothing to improve my condition, save prove over and over again that my body was never going to heal. My nerves still burned, and while Dr. Twellin still insisted on the massages, she backed off when I needed her to. I guess she didn't want any more massage tables turned into scrap.

That night, no one from my family stayed around. I didn't really mind that much; I mean hey, they all had their lives too, and since I was out of any immediate danger they didn't have to worry about me as much. That, and I really didn't feel much like talking to anyone

I leaned back and closed my eyes, sighing loudly. I'd never felt lower than I had right then and there. I tried to clench my fist, and wasn't surprised when my body reacted only after several moments. I began to wonder if that was the key to being able to move now...to try and adapt a new rhythm in my head. I couldn't help but chuckle dryly at this; if that were the case, then martial arts training would certainly be out for me. When survival depends on the body and mind working in perfect harmony together, any delay between mental order and physical response could spell disaster.

Still, I continued to clench and unclench my fist, counting with dread each second between command and compliance. It felt so surreal, watching my hand move seemingly of its own accord. I'd heard stories in classes about primitive limbs, and how people had to use their stomach muscles to get them to move. It was barbaric, sure, but with enough training, one could eventually master it and make his new limb an asset rather than a liability.

1..2..3...clench...1...2...3...unclench. 1...2...3...clench...1...2...3...unclench. It seemed simple enough, though it was still uncomfortable as hell. I wondered if this was one more of Dr. Scheck's 'anomalies' that he hadn't foreseen, because I really couldn't imagine any human being able to function like this...always having to wait while his or her body processed each mental command with all the efficiency of a government institution.

After a few more minutes of working with my hands I finally let them relax and breathed out. I was dead tired; I didn't want to think about anything more that night...I just wanted to get some sleep and try to have at least some energy for the next day's round of torture. It didn't take long before I was fast asleep, dreaming of nothing much in particular...

And that's when I noticed him...

I don't know how long I'd been asleep, nor did I know how long he'd been there, but my whiskers tingled madly in his presence. I opened my eyes to find the room had been plunged into complete darkness. At first I wondered if perhaps I'd gone blind, but in the darkness I could make out the ghostly white of the sheets that covered my body. I turned my head from side to side, tying to figure out where this new presence was, but I saw nothing. I breathed in a little deeper, trying to scent this intruder and from that interpret his or her intentions. I felt relieved at the lack of aggression in both the scent and the electricity in the air.

The intruder had strength, yes...but instead of aggression, this presence regarded me with bemused curiosity, as though I were some freak on display. The scent was unfamiliar to me as well, though I could sense it was a tiger...far older than me, and perhaps even older than Grandfather. It wasn't masked either...whoever he was, he was no Clansman.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound brave again, but probably failing miserably.

The intruder didn't answer at first. I could feel myself beginning to panic. Even though I'd torn a table apart just recently, that damned 3 second delay would do me no good if this packla was here to finish me off. For all I knew, he was one of the thieves who left me for dead a year ago mere metres from the main road.

"You pound on the door with your right hand," a voice finally said. It sounded so hollow...so dead inside. Yet, in that seemingly ancient voice I found a sense of comfort. "Yet you hold the key in your left."

"Wh...what do you mean?" I asked.

"You know the answer to your own riddle," said the voice. "Yet you deny yourself that which you need to see it."

"And...what do I need?" My whiskers flattened against my muzzle as I felt the intruders presence press closer. I still couldn't see him...only sense him leaning in closer to me. He uttered only one word...but it was all he needed to say:

"Time."

And then he was gone.

I thought about what he said. Time? What did time have to do with me? Dr. Scheck said the implants would need more time to adjust, but even he was growing more and more sceptical each day

1...2...3...clench...

I closed my eyes again, but I didn't fall asleep; my head was still reeling from the visit. The intruder, for all his mystery, was trying to help...but why did he have to be so damned cryptic? What door was he talking about...what key? It didn't make sense

1...2...3...unclench...

The delay was growing frustrating again, and I growled weakly. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs...forcing by mere conscious will for my body to obey me as it had once before. Yet, for all my mental screaming, it simply felt as though I was yelling at...

At...

A door?

My eyes shot open. The revelation hit me like one of Father's gut shots during sparring. The door...the pounding...it was my mind relentlessly trying to bully the implants into working. But what was this key, this other option? How did the answer to this lie within me?

I started to think of the quieter times at home...of the times when we would all gather for worship, or sit quietly in the War Hall during our training sessions. Father had always said that the body could grow strong and fast, but unless the mind was in tune with it, all the speed and power in the galaxy wouldn't save you from defeat.

Mind over body...body mastery...of course...

Meditation.

It was the only answer that made sense. In a meditative state the mind becomes keenly aware of the body. Holistic healers and other such philosophical therapists often speak of the healing power of the mind. Mentally isolating a trouble spot on the body and working on it was, what they claimed to be, the miracle of the body. I wasn't sure if meditation was going to help, but it seemed a far better option at that time to try it rather than go to sleep frustrated.

I began breathing calmly and closed my eyes. Starting from my toes I willed the calming wave to creep over me...to cover me like a soft, warm blanket against the cold. My nerves seemed to grow less irritated as inch by inch I persuaded my body to relax.

It took several minutes, but eventually I reached that state where everything and nothing was open to me. I felt as though I could taste every particle in the air, or feel each electron as it bounced off my whiskers. I could almost hear my blood running through my veins as my heart relentlessly pumped it along. Terror and fascination filled me as I felt this machine that was Dalan Kalamar open itself up to me.

My right hand would be first. I tried to sense where the implant was and what it was doing. Impulses flowed to the implant slowly now, trying to work its way through to the other side. At first, the implant resisted, still not comprehending what I wanted it to do and when. It dismissed my first attempts, but through persistent, gentle persuasion I could feel it beginning to relent...to learn...to understand.

1...2...3...unclench

I didn't let the delay bother me. This was new...this would take some time but I knew deep down it would work. I knew that this was the key to opening the door. My mind had to adapt to the implants as much as the implants had to adapt to my mind. Now working together, I knew that soon I would be the tiger I used to be...

Just in time to become the tiger I never wanted to be.