“They fly away from each other? Why not make some of them with the opposite charge, then?”

Cole tried to mimic the pattern Penny was making, which made her laugh.

“You just lost your clever points, son. Now I have to assume you got lucky before.”

“What do you think would happen?” Penny asked, taunting him.

“They’d stick together?”

“That’s putting it mildly, now pay attention. When someone swings at you, you can’t get hit. Not even a little, okay?”

“I think he’s learned that lesson,” Penny said. She darted forward and smacked the back of his right hand with her sword.

Cole dropped his weapon and shook his hand, glaring at her.

“Good point, Penny. Now, Cole, keep a firm grip on your sword.” Arthur bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to him. “Don’t crush the thing, but try not to drop it.”

“Why’d you make the thing feel pain?” Cole asked, rubbing his hand.

“Same reason God made the other one that way. So you’d take care of it. Now listen, you don’t want to get hit. Not once. And you can’t really block your opponent’s attacks, they’ll just repulse each other—”

“How does this work, then? He who swings first, wins?”

“The other way around, usually. See the slits on your sword?”

Cole inspected the wooden blade. There were deep cracks running down the length of the thing. He nodded.

“When you swing the practice swords at each other, internal sensors calculate where they would be repulsed to. Lights in the blade shine out and your suit picks them up—”

“Oh, so it’s like a game of billiards. It’s all about the bank shots.”

“Okay, another clever point for you. Now, most fights end with someone’s own sword coming back and hitting them. With the right block and a forceful enough stance, you can send most attacks back where they came from. Think of your sword more as a shield. It’s your opponent’s sword that’s your real weapon, and your sword is theirs. Get it? So learn to fear what you’re holding and figure out how to attack with what their wielding. Now, Penny will show you the basic attack angles—the safest ones. They aren’t what you’d think, so pay attention and unlearn your fencing.”

Cole nodded and tried to take the same stance as Penny: feet apart, shoulders square, pretty much the exact posture that would’ve gotten him a beating from Lieutenant Eckers, his old fencing instructor.

“The power is from side to side,” Penny told him. “It’s in your hips.” She moved hers back and forth while Cole watched.

“You’re supposed to try it too,” she said, reaching out and smacking his sword.

“Oh, yeah.” He moved his hips side to side, swinging the wooden stick just like she did.

“It’s a lot like a judo throw, or a good roundhouse. If you don’t get your whole body in on it, you won’t go far.”