Parker's Folly (21 page)

Most of the crates in the hold had been unpacked and removed, their contents installed in various locations around the ship. A few remained scattered about the middle of the deck while a clear path had been opened around the sides of the hold. GySgt Rodriguez had roused her squad early for physical training and now had the ambulatory Marines jogging around the track, though their level of exertion in the lowered gravity was minimal.

Overnight, the Captain ordered the deck gravity increased to match that of the Moon, roughly 1.6 m/sec
2
, one sixth of Earth normal. The Marines and First Officer were taking the opportunity to become accustom to lunar conditions in case the need arose to EVA on the surface.

“Hey Gunny,” Cpl Sizemore puffed out between strides, “what's the Navy officer doing with that big stick?”

“She's practicing, Sizemore. It's called
kendo
, the way of the sword in Japanese. The wooden sword is called a
bokken
, I think.” the Gunny huffed. “At one time samurai used wooden swords to practice their technique, sort of like target practice for swordsmen.”

“Could she really hurt someone with that thing?”

“I've seen people smash cinder blocks and bust up crates with one of those things. It could break bones or mess you up inside, easy. Now quit yapping and concentrate on running.” With that, the Gunny pulled away from the talkative corporal.

In an open region in the center of the hold, Lt. Curtis was running through some individual katas—ritualized practice exercises. The bokken, literally “wooden sword,” was made to mimic the size, weight and balance of a traditional samurai
katana.
Normally, it was better to perform katas with a partner, but she could find no takers for that. Better than doing katas was actual sparing, for which the lighter
shinai
was used. So far, Gretchen had been unable to entice anyone into sparing with her more than once. The only one who wanted to play was Lt. Bear, and he didn't use a sword.

Watching unobtrusively from the sideline was Dr. Saito. Gretchen finished her kata and saw the Japanese physicist out of the corner of her eye. She walked over to him and bowed, saying in decent Japanese, “Greetings Doctor, you wouldn't by any chance be a kendōka (a practitioner of kendo)?”

“Actually I am, Lieutenant,” Saito replied in the same language, “but I am quite out of practice. However, if you  have some spare equipment I would be happy to practice with you.”

“You're in luck, Doctor,” Gretchen replied, switching to English. “I have a pair of shinai and armor in my quarters. If you would be so gracious as to spar with me I would be in your debt.”

“I would be honored to spar with you, Lieutenant.”

“Great! I'll be right back.” Gretchen quickly disappeared up the passageway forward to the crew's quarters. This should be interesting thought Yuki. He was a skilled
kenshi
(swordsman) but had not practiced in years, not since his
wife and son had died. Maybe he should have, after all one of the Buddhist inspired tenets
of kendo was
mushin
, or “empty mind.” Perhaps he could have found comfort for his grief by
embarking on a quest for spiritual enlightenment like the samurai of old.

* * * * *

Gretchen soon returned with two sets of kendo equipment. There were robes, two helmets with metal grills to protect the face, and a series of hard leather and fabric flaps to protect the sides of the head and throat. Heavy leather gloves to protect the forearms and hands, breast plates and quilted groin protectors called
tare
completed the panoply
.

The two shinai were modernized versions with carbon fiber reinforced resin slats in place of the traditional four bamboo ones, though the slats were still
held together by leather fittings.
In modern kendo both strikes and thrusts can be used against one's opponent. Strikes are only made towards specific target areas on the wrists, head, or body, all of which are protected by armor. Thrusts, which are more dangerous, are only permitted to the throat and are seldom allowed by lower ranking kendōka.

“We should start slowly, Doctor. Do you wish to be
uchidachi
or
shidachi
?” During practice, the participants take the roles of either
uchidachi
, the teacher, or  
shidachi,
the student.

“I would humbly prefer the role of student, Lieutenant,” said the slender physicist, wrapping a towel around his head for padding before donning his helmet. “And please call me Yuki.”

“Great, please call me Gretchen.” she replied, donning her own helmet and moving out to the middle of the impromptu practice space.

Yuki joined her and they bowed deeply to one another. The pair struck a pose with their swords held high in front of them, tips crossed. Then they launched into a noisy flurry of strikes and counters, accompanied by the stamping of feet and loud shouts—the traditional
kiai
, a verbal sign of their martial spirit.

In kendo it is important that a strike be made with the correct portion of the shinai. The shinai and its parts represent a real sword. The back of the sword is marked by a cord that runs down one of the four slats, from the tip to the hand grip. The slat opposite the cord represents the sword's cutting edge, the two on either side the flat of the blade. The cord is secured one quarter of the way from the tip by a leather ribbon. This represents the forward quarter of the blade, the most effective cutting part of an actual sword blade.

In order for a blow to score, solid contact must be made in a valid target area using the correct portion of the blade. But a solid
accurate strike is not enough—the path of the blade and the direction of the edge must be in proper alignment. The strike must
also be accompanied by a correct kiai yell. The leading foot step, the kiai, and strike should all occur simultaneously.

Eventually, Gretchen was able to whack Yuki on top of the helmet. They separated, circling each other warily. “Again!” she shouted. Once again the two swordsmen engaged. This time Yuki scored first, striking the left and right helmet target points in quick succession. Again they separated.

After a strike, it is particularly important for a swordsman to show continued awareness of his opponent and their surroundings.  This is demonstrated by passing through or moving diagonally to a proper distance while keeping one's sword tip pointed at the opponent's center. The swordsman must remain on guard, ready to thwart any attempt at a counter attack.

“Very good, Saito-san,” gasped Gretchen, partly winded. “You are
dan
rated, aren't you?” Proficient kendōka are rated by levels of expertise called dan, ranging from 1 to 10 in order of increasing skill.

“I was 5
th
dan when I fell out of practice,” said Yuki, who suddenly looked quite formidable in his swordsman's armor. “You too are dan, I think.”

“I am also 5
th
dan, but you are from a Japanese school and are most certainly better trained than I am.”

“The only way to improve is to banish the four sicknesses through
fudōshin
,” Yuki replied, referring to the concept of “unmoving mind.” When achieved, fudōshin prevents the kendōka being led astray by delusions of anger, doubt, fear, or surprise arising from his opponent’s actions—the so called four kendo sicknesses. “Again?”

Gretchen bowed and again struck the starting pose. Again the crack of swords and kiai shouts filled the cargo hold. At the side of the chamber, the Marines, finished with their PT and morning run, observed.

“I didn't know we had any Jedi on board,” said Cpl Sizemore, referring to the loose flowing robes that two swordsmen wore under their armor. The corporal wasn't far off, George Lucas freely admitted that Japanese samurai and the samurai films of Akira Kurosawa had a great influence on his Star Wars films.

“Jedi or not, I don't think I'd like to go up against either of them up close and personal,” remarked PFC Sanchez, “not with those sticks they're whacking each other with.”

“Joey,” LCpl Washington said, “that's about the smartest thing I ever heard you say.”

Lt. Curtis had showered and rubbed liniment on her bruises from sparring with Yuki. For supposedly being out of practice, the little Japanese physicist was quick, quicker than she was, Gretchen admitted to herself. He also packed a wallop. She hurt all over, but it was a good kind of hurt, the type that meant she had gotten a real workout for the first time in months. To her right, JT was engrossed with the navigator's station, occasionally saying something like “wow” or “fantastic!”

“Mr. Taylor, what is it that you are finding so fascinating about the navigation station?”

“Lt. Curtis, were you aware that this ship packs a number of astronomical instruments, including a 2.2 meter reflector telescope? Combine that with being outside of Earth's atmosphere and its like having my own private Hubble space telescope! It does infrared and near UV as well, and it's all controlled from right here at this console.”

“I am aware of that, Mr. Taylor. And what interesting sights have you been looking at with Mr. Parker's equipment?”

“The rings of Saturn, Neptune, and the Moon of course, and look at the view aft,” he gushed, ignoring the remark about who's telescope it really was. “I think you can pull it up on your screen.”

“I can do better than that,” Lt. Curtis countered. “Heads up everyone, I'm going to put the main scope's image up on the forward display.”

The star field and Moon, visible ahead of them through the ship's transparent nose, wavered and were replaced with a view of the limb of an outsized Earth with the Sun just peaking around it. A couple of the bridge crew gasped at the sight.

“Sweet! I didn't know it could do that,” exclaimed Bobby from the helm. He and his cowboy partner were splitting watches.

“That is breathtaking, Mr. Taylor,” the First Officer finally managed. “Perhaps you could show us where we are headed?”

“Coming right up. I don't know what the mirror is made out of but it must be light. This sucker repositions really quickly.” As JT spoke the view from the big telescope turned to blurred streaks of light and quickly stabilized on a picture of the cratered face of Earth's satellite.

“We will be orbiting that shortly,” said Bobby.

“Hey, would you like to see the Apollo 17 landing site? I'm sure we can make out some of the equipment they left behind.”

“Sure,” Jo Jo added from his post on the other side of the bridge. “Does that mean we can claim anything the astronauts left? I'll bet you could sell a used lunar rover for a pretty penny on eBay.”

“The Universe is yours to explore and you want to go into the used car business? You're hopeless Jo Jo,” chided the First Officer.

“Come on, Lieutenant. We'll probably need to make some money to help bail Mr. Parker out of jail when we get back home.”

“That could well be, Mr. Medina,” admitted Lt. Curtis.
Indeed, that could well be,
she thought.
I wonder what's happened back on Earth since we took off. No matter, there are things to be done.
“Mr Taylor, if you are done playing with the optical instruments the Captain has ordered a survey of the Moon using the terahertz radar to commence when we arrive in lunar orbit.

Also known as sub-millimeter radiation, terahertz waves are electromagnetic radiation with frequencies between the high end  of the microwave band and the long-wavelength portion of far-infrared light. Terahertz radiation is non-ionizing and shares with microwaves the ability to penetrate a wide variety of non-conducting materials. It can pass through clothing, paper, cardboard, wood, masonry, plastic and ceramics. It can also penetrate fog and clouds, but cannot penetrate metal or liquid water. Without the presence of Earth's radiation absorbing atmosphere, terahertz radiation can be used as ground penetrating radar. Combined with sophisticated imaging software, the ship would be able to construct a detailed subsurface map as it orbited the Moon.

“Perhaps we will find something valuable enough to bail out Mr. Parker,” mused JT.

“Or maybe we will find out that the Moon is really hollow with an ancient alien spaceship inside,” offered Bobby.

“I think we will be putting that fringe science nonsense to rest once and for all, Mr. Danner. In any case, Mr. Taylor, I believe that Dr Saito expressed interest in working on the survey as well.”

“Yes Ma'am. I'll get the equipment set up and let him know when we are ready to start.”

TK Parker was not in the custody of the authorities at the moment, mostly due to the efforts of a phalanx of high-priced lawyers. TK was not pleased. “You took your own sweet time bustin' me out of federal detention,” he groused. “What the hell am I paying you for?”

“TK, we got you released just as fast as we could,” said George Bolt, one of the firm's senior partners, in an attempt to pour oil on the waters. “You know how hard it is to find a judge on a federal holiday.”

“What ever,” the unmollified TK shrugged. “I want to go home, and someone needs to check on Maria.”

“We have checked to make sure Mrs. Lopez is not being held and have contacted her son, who is acting as her counsel. Your ranch, however, has been impounded by the federal government.”

“Well un-impound it, damn it!”

“Mr. Parker, the Department of Homeland Security is claiming that your property was used to construct an illegal nuclear device. They further claim that you were in possession of illegal radioactive materials. They are continuing to search the grounds for signs of said radioactive materials.”