Hoplites, Thralls & Prizes Ch. 06

As he ran he reviewed the progress each hoplite had been making. He didn't think he was being too tough. "Shit," he thought to himself, "Ol' Sargent Major Callaghan in the Irish Brigade was a real bastard and slave drier, compared to me."

His mind turned to Erickson. "She's a real beauty," he thought. He considered how her and her friend Beth Richards being civilians for the most part had started developing as warriors. He hadn't read her full profile, primarily because he didn't understand a lot of that mumbo-jumbo. That was Lana's gifting. He knew Erickson, like everyone here was a diamond in the rough. All it took was a little work to make the gem show through.

When he returned to the compound he went to the barracks and began his weight routine. As he did so, he went over in his head how he was going to make the new phase of training work. No longer would the hoplites be doing all their training as a group. It was now time for them to start training individually and in groups of two's or three's, with occasional group sessions. With the prizes arriving today, counseling would begin as well, so that would be needed to fit into the schedule, as well.

He finished his weight routines and stepped into the shower. He became fully awake when the cold sonic waves began coursing over his body. This served to remind him that he needed to turned the temperature back. He tried not to play favorites. If his hoplites were taking cold sonic showers, he was going to as well.

He stepped out of the shower, put his harness on and picked-up his data pad and authorized the temperature change. He thought to himself, "There, they ought to like that."

As he passed back through the common area he picked-up a couple of more protein cubes did his wake-up call. "God," he thought, "Two-weeks of sleeping on the floor has to suck. Well, that will be another pleasant change for them, as well."

He turned the lights up in the bunk room and did his usual wake-up call, "Get the fuck up and get moving."

They had slept in groups to share warmth and they began to rise and stretch. He could see the hard muscle that was beginning to sculpt and shape the bodies of these new hoplites. Even the civilians like Mitchell, Mathews, Richards and Erickson were becoming quite fit looking. He never got tired of seeing this transformation.

He went out to the compound and within a few minutes, everyone was forming up. It appeared that all had taken at least a brief sonic, as they all appeared very awake. "Okay, listen up, he started, "Congratulations on making it though two-weeks of training. As of today, there'll be a few changes in the normal routine and you'll be seeing some new faces around the compound. We'll cover more of that later, after the run and some 'light' exercises. Okay, start running."

Even after doing this for two-weeks, a few of them still groaned. He wondered why they would complain about having bodies such as these. He came to Eden before the modern Olympics, but he was sure that in the shape they were currently in, any of these new arrivals could win every track and field event, because of this training.

As they set out on the run, he noticed that Erickson and Foster were lagging back again. It appeared those two were beginning to become an item. He knew this sort of thing happened often, but he wanted them to focus on training. They could screw around all they wanted to when they were off the clock. He jogged-up behind them and yelled, "Get a fuckin' move-on you pussy willows. NOW!"

Erickson screamed in surprise and Foster said, "Holy shit."

They sped up and rejoined the rest of the pack. The Reaper shook his head and muttered, "Fuckin' love birds."

By the time they got back to the compound, dawn was breaking. He wanted to finish this phase of training with a good hard workout, to see how far they had progressed in the first two-weeks of their new lives. He started pushing them through a series of push-ups, jumping jacks, planks and other exercises. Erickson and the other civilians had made some dramatic improvements he noticed, but he wanted to keep the pressure up. He needled and insulted, but he felt he was being a sculptor of fine marble. Chipping here and there, to expose a masterpiece.

He had the group going through a series of slow count push-ups. He knelt by Dana and closely examined her. The exercise and sweat was accentuating the muscular physique that was developing. "Come on, pussy willow," he chided, "This ain't shit. Get busy and work it."

Straining through the exercise, she said, "I'm ... trying."

He got closer to her ear and yelled, "Try fucking harder, granny!"

As he rose and turned to walk away, he heard Erickson say, "That's it, motherfucker. I'm not taking any more of this shit!"

As he turned he saw everyone had stopped their work out. Many of them were on their knees and Dana has risen to face him. Her feet were set shoulder length apart and her hands were raised, not clinched into fists. Her knees were slightly bent and she was on the balls of her feet. It appeared she was ready for a fight. He also saw that she had a look of pure hatred on her face.

Foster said, "Come on, Dana, don't do this."

He had intended to say 'what do we have here?', but all he could manage was, "What ..."

With lightning speed Dana threw a round kick with her left leg that connected with his cheek. His head exploded with the pain and it felt like every tooth in his mouth was rattled with the blow. Before he could recover, it felt like someone clubbed him in the back of his head, as Dana had delivered a stunning follow-up spinning hook kick with the heel of her other foot and The Grim Reaper was thrown forward by the kick.

As he tried to get up, Dana pounced on him and drove a knee into his kidney and he was again slammed to the ground. As she began raining blows down upon him, he wondered if he had possibly pushed things a little too far.