Salamanders

More weight.’ Ba’ken grunted and relaxed his shoulders. The hefting chains attached to the black exertia-mitts he was wearing went slack. The Salamander’s back was like a slab of onyx, hard and unyielding, as he slowly lowered the immense weights being hoisted by the chains. He squatted, the legs in his muscles bunched, sinews like thick cables. Wearing only training fatigues, the musculature of his ebon body was largely exposed. Dak’ir smiled wryly. ‘There is no more, brother,’ he said from behind him. ‘Then I shall lift you, brother-sergeant. Step upon my shoulders.’ Ba’ken’s gaze remained fixed, and Dak’ir couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t actually serious. ‘I shall have to decline, Ba’ken,’ Dak’ir replied with mock disappointment, checking the chrono mounted on the gymnasia’s wall. ‘Translation in-system is close. We must prepare for planetfall on Scoria.’ Easing the mitts off his immense hands, Ba’ken set them both down with a clunk. ‘A pity,’ he said, getting to his feet and towelling the sweat off his body. ‘I shall have to ask the quartermaster for more weight next time.’ Dak’ir returned the exertia-mitts, akin to massive chunks of smooth-hewn granite, back to the holding station. All around them warriors of 3rd Company were still training hard.