by B A Vonsik
“Release the youngling,” the deep voice calmly demanded from somewhere behind them.
The martialist stopped and looked back while still holding Nikki high and tight by the hair. Nikki painfully spun a little on her toes to confirm with her eyes what she already knew. At the edge of the courtyard stood the six-foot-tall, broad-chested, blue, red, and black armored figure she expected.
“You’re not my mother.” The martialist dismissed the armored character as if she expected her confidence to intimidate and see immediate obedience. “Leave me alone, if you know what is good for you.”
“Do I appear to have . . . lost my manliness?” Rogaan directed his comment beyond the martialist and Nikki.
“Not something I . . . care to confirm, old friend.” Aren’s sardonic tone brought a low growl from the cybernetic woman. Looking back towards the courtyard, Aren stood in his dark blue monk-like clothing. Putting his stare directly on the martialist, he spoke at her. “What is good for you is to let our friend go.”
“Go back to playing your childish cosplay and get out of my way,” demanded the cybernetic woman martialist, her focus on Aren.
“Release our friend,” Rogaan demanded again as he calmly walked toward Nikki and her captor. As he drew near, Nikki could make out more finely his well-groomed hair pulled into a tail, revealing his brown skin, short beard, and radiant blue eyes that held in them a life of skills, experience . . . and confidence.
Nikki felt Rogaan’s raw emotions . . . He feared nothing here. She waited for the tell he almost always gave when readying for conflict. She waited a few moments but didn’t see it. Really wanting her hair free of these artificial fingers, Nikki complained with pain-filled words, “Are you here to talk or get me out of mecha-woman’s paws?”
“Shut your mouth,” the martialist angrily demanded of Nikki as she gave her a shake. Nikki yelped. The woman martialist then put on a knowing smile that seemed out of place now as she dragged Nikki to the side of the path, allowing the martialist to watch both Rogaan and Aren with minimal head movement. She spoke again at Aren and Rogaan. “I said, get out of my way.”
“Old friend, more like her to approach behind you,” Rogaan warned Aren while he continued closing to sword’s length of Nikki’s abductor.
Aren smiled knowingly as he too moved to the side of the path opposite the woman martialist and Nikki while casually speaking to Rogaan. “Do you need my help with this troop, old friend?”
“Your aid is always of value but let us to keep the Powers in store and to not notice,” Rogaan conferred with Aren.
The path beyond Aren started filling with the cybernetic woman’s fellow martialists. The biggest, a male martialist, with prosthetic arms, dressed in his purple, blue, and red athletic attire, made strange-sounding pounding gestures fist to palm. He stood taller than everyone and carried himself dangerously. With new confidence filling her words, the woman martialist chastised Aren and Rogaan once again. “Stop with this cosplay crap and leave before you’re made to regret us.”
Nikki felt the change in the half Tellen’s demeanor just before he set his jaw and shifted his weight on his feet . . . readying himself for physical combat. It was ever so slight a change, but Nikki knew what to look for. Rogaan spoke with more heat. “Once more, release the youngling.”
“There’s the tell,” Nikki defiantly announced with a pain-filled groan as she hung at the end of the cybernetic arm. She hung impatiently waiting for what was to follow. Rogaan cocked his head sideways slightly looking at Nikki as if asking an unspoken question.
“What tell?” the woman martialist sneered.
“The tell that says my friend is going to put a hurt on you,” Nikki confidently answered. “Better listen to him. I’ve seen that look . . . It sank a ship a couple of weeks ago.”
The transhuman martialist dismissed Nikki’s provocations by jerking her about. Nikki yelped in pain again, seeing the martialist sneer with satisfaction. A strong brown hand grabbed the wrist of the prosthetic arm gripping Nikki’s hair. The pain Nikki endured from being jerked back and forth subsided. The cybernetic martialist tried pulling her artificial arm from Rogaan’s grip but found it held in a vise. She growled at Rogaan’s impassive, unflappable gaze as dim light glinted off the half Tellen’s dark blue metallic forearm guard.
“You’re transhuman too?” The cybernetic woman martialist sounded shocked with her realization and accusation.
“Release my friend,” Rogaan spoke calmly in a lower tone. Nikki knew him better. She felt his anger heating his actions, despite his outward stolid presentation. A surprised expression swept across the martialist’s face as her prosthetic forearm, designed for abusive TM2A combat, started crushing under Rogaan’s grip.
“What the hell are you?” the martialist asked as she tried frantically to pull free of Rogaan’s hold.
In the struggle, Nikki fell free of the synthetic grasp. She stumbled away from the struggle before she got her feet under her. Concern and anger simultaneously swept through her as she ran adrenaline-trembling fingers through her hair, worried some was taken by the prosthetic hand or that she bled. When satisfied neither was the case, Nikki looked back to Rogaan to thank him. Instead, Nikki saw the martialist strike Rogaan with a left hook to his face. The martialist’s eyes went wide with surprise and a growing fear when Rogaan simply glared back at her.
“Competition safeties remove,” the woman martialist commanded, speaking to nobody that Nikki could see.
The martialist then struck at Rogaan again with her synthetic left fist and legs. The sounds emitted from her arm and legs now more aggressive, power-filled . . . maybe overpowered. Nikki felt the impact along with Rogaan. That’s new. Nikki rubbed her jaw. That hurt. The strike angered the half Tellen though he still maintained his composure and an impassive expression. Nikki felt Rogaan’s reluctance to hit her. The woman martialist then burst into a flurry of strikes—hand and knees—on Rogaan until he released her right wrist and took a step back, forcefully blocking with ease her trailing strikes. The woman martialist stopped her assault, instead, stood looking at her deformed hand and hanging arm, bent slightly at the wrist with fingers limited in movement. She looked at her damaged right appendage with shock that then saw her transforming loss into a growing visible anger.
Rogaan simply rubbed his jaw and side where she made particularly hard strikes. Nikki felt them too. Still, Rogaan held his anger in check. In fact, he was calming himself, to Nikki’s amazement. Such self-control and no desire to inflict undue injury on a woman. The intoxicated and drug-high woman with her deadly transhuman tools now without strength limiters readied herself to attack Rogaan. She went at Rogaan with everything unbridled: arms, legs, hands . . . damaged as well as undamaged, feet, knees, and elbows. She attacked straight on, with spinning moves and kicks, and with jumping strikes. The speed and anger in which she attacked Rogaan was a blur and more intense than anything Nikki ever saw live or in video flicks. The cybernetic woman martialist wanted to hurt Rogaan, maybe kill him as her strikes told. She growled, grunted, and did that power yell with her attacks. Rogaan deflected them all, every strike, without counterattacking. Nikki felt Rogaan purposely seeking an inner calm.
Suddenly, Nikki felt hands tugging on her, pulling her back from the two combatants. Looking over her shoulder, the dark-haired and tanned face of Dr. Dunkle met her eyes with a wide-eyed “You should know better than to be in the mix of this” look. He quickly positioned her a short distance away behind a waist-high, stone-faced, holo-signage emitter that now sat cold and dark. Dunkle then left her, making his way to Anders, who still lay on the ground clutching his chest. Watching the one-sided fight between the cybernetic woman martialist and Rogaan frustrated Nikki. Hit her, Rogaan. Hit her hard . . . as hard as she deserves for hurting Shawn and Miller. Nikki hoped Rogaan heard her and felt her anger at the transhuman martialist as much as she felt his emotions.
Nikki felt the other one near and found him kneeling over Miller. S
he almost missed him in the dim light and shadows as they blended with his dark monk attire. He placed his hands on both sides of the unmoving head of Miller. Nikki knew what was to come . . . the searing pain and euphoric joy of that which is broken is healed. How does he do that? Nikki wondered at it for the countless time. Miller’s body jerked and convulsed, then lay unmoving. Nikki felt a tingling . . . a touch of the energies flowing through Aren the Ra’Pa. It always manifests as a chill felt throughout her body when he was near and using the Powers of Agni. The unresponsive Miller drew a look on Aren’s face matching the surprise Nikki felt in him. He attempted another healing with Miller’s body convulsing again as Nikki felt another chill sweep through her. Aren then placed his hand on Miller’s chest. To Nikki’s relief, she felt satisfaction in Aren, and that meant Miller drew breath.
Looking to Dunkle and Anders brought Nikki more frustration. The woman martialist kept stepping in front of what Nikki wanted to see. When she finally stopped bouncing about, the transhuman martialist appeared winded as she stared at Rogaan with frustration and what looked like fear-filled eyes. Rogaan appeared calm, casual . . . almost unconcerned by her relentless attacks, though Nikki felt his desire not to injure the woman starting to wane.
“I need some help with this one,” the woman martialist reluctantly admitted to her fellow teammates. She raised her right hand high for all to see the twisted fingers and bent wrist of her battered synthetic arm. “He bent my graphene, bad.”
“Stop this . . . foolishness.” Rogaan attempted an offer of reason to the woman, wanting to stop events before he would need to act decisively.
Nikki knew better. Reason was not at play. The woman martialist wanted this because of a sense of being wronged through her kittens, despite their troubled moral values and behaviors. She carried a sense of entitlement, allowing her and her friends to behave in any manner they saw fit and that everyone else must accept, even encourage, their ways, or be forced to do so. Sad . . . The ones once seeking acceptance decades ago now demand all others conform to their desires in living. The bullied are now the bully. Nikki shook her head in disgust at the realization.
When Nikki looked up, she found Rogaan surrounded by six transhuman martialists, two she took for women and the other four men. Fighting hand-to-hand, Rogaan easily dodged and deflected their strikes except for a few. Those, despite the sharp ringing tones caused by cybernetic appendages powerfully striking Rogaan, his armor seemed to absorb it all without him noticing. Rogaan moved with a blur. Despite the odds against him, Nikki still felt Rogaan unworried . . . even calculating, as if events were unfolding as planned. Dunkle now had Anders up on his knees but found themselves surrounded by three more hostile team-colored transhumans. A troubled expression on Dunkle’s face said what he thought of their situation as another chill swept through Nikki, drawing her attention back to Aren. He stood off to the left of the rest in his dark blue monk-like clothes. It’s a good look for him, Nikki decided.
With his left hand raised, Aren held at bay three more aggressive transhuman martialists with some form of unseen barrier he created between him and them. His right hand extended horizontally, Miller levitated, his body gliding silently toward Nikki. The transhuman martialists looked in awe. You think that would be enough to get them to back off, Nikki thought. Instead, their drunk and high states of mind would not suffer such obvious reason.
A loud whistle sounded. Fearing it was security forces, Nikki looked for its source before realizing it came from Rogaan. He now pointed at the three martialists surrounding Dunkle and Anders. “Are you three . . . so cowards as to not fight me?”
Nikki thought she heard Rogaan’s words wrong. Did he just challenge another three of the transhumans to join the fight against him? What’s he thinking he’s doing? Maybe he translated his Antaalin incorrectly to English? Then, it became clear to her as Miller’s unconscious body settled on the inactive holo-signage display surface in front of her. Rogaan and Aren were working as a team to get them out of danger. Aren turned his focus to Dunkle and Anders, pushing his unseen barrier past them and into three more martialists. He now pushed back six transhuman martialists, keeping them from getting into the fight. No longer surrounded, Dunkle helped Anders to his feet, then got him moving toward Nikki. Rogaan bought Aren time to protect Shawn and Dr. Dunkle. Nikki now saw and realized how they fought as a team.
As Dunkle and Anders stumbled to Nikki, she felt Rogaan transform his thoughts into a mind-set of resolve. Looking between the six transhuman martialists doing all they could to harm him, he calmly growled, “Let us finish this—now.”
The big martialist growled, then started swinging angrily at Rogaan. The remaining martialists hesitated a moment before joining their big teammate, all six attacking as a coordinated team. An air of calm surrounded Rogaan as he blocked the brute’s and others’ mechanical arms and legs, sounding as if he was damaging them as he did. Then Rogaan called out in Antaalin, “Aren, idaalam!”
Nikki understood the Antaalin words “Aren, now!” and their meaning as she felt a chilling tingle sweep through her when Aren stretched out his hands and fingers. Blue-white arcs of energy danced across his hands, then lanced out to the nearest transhuman, then another, and another; then to all the other transhumans and several metal poles aside the patio as the sound of electrical burning buzzed all about. Amidst the screams and groans of surprise and pain, the entire crowd of transhuman martialists fell to the ground, many with their cybernetics now smoking, having been disrupted or destroyed.
Rogaan stood tall surrounded by the withering bodies of transhumans, all now unable to stand or attack as their cybernetics were rendered useless. Camera flashes from various places around them, most at some distance, a few just to the water-side of the patio where a small group of towel-wrapped resort patrons stood among arched pillars leading to a giant, irregular-shaped, illuminated pool told Nikki they and their fight had been noticed . . . and on video. Pleads of mercy and shouts of anger came from the fallen championship team. Some of the transhuman martialists feared they were about to be slaughtered in their defensiveness. Others kept up their air of arrogance and superiority, continuing with threats of revenge.
“He’s going to have my hide,” Dunkle groaned as he noticed the growing interest and video recordings being taken by the resort patrons.
“Too much?” Aren asked Rogaan in Antaalin.
“Too . . . little,” Rogaan replied in English, as he noticed Aren looking about the area for something. “They still . . . wiggle.”
“And . . . make too much noise.” Aren discharged another handful of arcing blue-white energy, looking much like lightning, striking and dancing all about the complaining transhumans. More camera flashes Nikki caught out of the corner of her eyes told her Aren’s acts were being captured on still images and video. When the electrical burning buzzing and the screams of pain it brought out ceased, Aren stopped his assault. He looked at Rogaan. “Superior?”
“Superior.” Rogaan nodded in agreement.
The two were a fighting pair, Nikki realized, balancing and complementing each other in almost every way. Rogaan took on the martialist mob to draw them to him so Aren could take them down in one act without killing. Creative. Merciful.
“What . . . do you to seek?” Rogaan asked Aren, who looked about the area searching for something or someone.
“I recognized the Powers in . . . usage,” Aren revealed. “Not from me . . . or from you. That . . . deduces others are near.”
Rogaan started looking around the perimeter of the patio filled with its custom-placed bushes, trees, ferns, flowers, and rocks. More camera flashes visibly irritated him. Nikki felt his irritation before he forced a calmness on himself. Appearing to realize the uselessness of his physical vision, Rogaan then stood perfectly still with his eyes cast down as if he were looking at something other than his immediate surroundings. Nikki felt something more of Rogaan. He was . . . His mind was adrift. Not adrift . . . connecting with int
elligence . . . a presence. That familiar presence. The Wind.
“We need to get Miller . . . Komann . . . whatever in the hell name I gave him, to a medical facility,” Dunkle told Nikki and the pain-suffering Anders as he held his MediScanner on Miller’s forehead. “He’s in poor health. His waves are all off norms. He has a severe concussion, and I think he is bleeding on the brain.”
Aren placed his hands on Miller’s chest. The chill of his manifestation made Nikki aware that he attempted another healing. Looking at the motionless young blond officer, Aren grunted. Not a good sign, Nikki knew. Aren spoke to Rogaan without taking his eyes from Miller. “He needs you, old friend.”
“They approach from everywhere,” Rogaan informed the group as he joined Aren. “They arrive with fly . . . ing eyes and Tusaa’Ner in front.”
“And the sexless beings?” Aren asked calmly as if expecting these events to unfold as they did. “Are they changed from servants to . . . enforcers?”
“Consider them not friends,” Rogaan replied as he looked for where to place his raised hand on the unconscious Miller.
“Sandu,” was all Aren said as Nikki sensed him begin another manifestation.
Rogaan placed his right hand on Miller’s forehead, allowing his blue steel arm guard to change as if liquid-forming tentacles that penetrated the young officer’s skull. Nikki winched at the pain she thought Miller felt. She felt Rogaan as clearly as she did Aren. He willed his Ra’Sakti to link with the Wind above. Fragments from a vast knowledge repository flashed in her mind. Nikki assumed she saw only a tiny bit of the information Rogaan did. With it, he searched for the injuries, allowing his blue steel tentacle to fix them. She stood motionless trying to see as much as she could of both Miller’s brain and the knowledge vault.