Unlike training, there were no floor pads here, only hard ferrocrete to break a fall. Warren walked smoothly and confidently out to meet his opponents. Just before he reached them, Thad called out. “Shake their hands first, Warren, and think about how you will start your attack or defense.”
That drew a short-lived frown from Longstreet, ending when the advice sounded so generic and innocuous. It was certainly not the latter. As they shook hands, Thad knew the two spec ops troops had also heard his advice. It was human nature, so their minds flickered over their own intended opening moves. This was done just as they shook hands with the TG1.
After the quick handshakes, all three backed away, forming a roughly equilateral triangle, perhaps ten feet per side. Warren, fully aware of why Thad had offered his advice when he did, looked Thad’s way and nodded in apparent gratitude, turning his eyes away from the larger opponent to his right. The instant reaction of the bigger of the two men was to move in towards his distracted opponent. He took two rapid short steps, as Warren was seemingly oblivious. He swung a leg sweep that would either knock the boy off balance if it connected with his right leg, or get him off the balls of his feet at a time that a follow up punch was aimed at Warren’s head.
Before even turning his head back around, Warren suddenly pushed off with the ball of his left foot in what was a deceptively weak looking move, and raised his right foot and leg just as the sweep passed a fraction of an inch below his foot. He drew his foot back halfway under his thigh. His entire body seemed to lift in an arc towards the larger man, propelled by what looked like a simple push-off using only his left foot.
Warren’s right knee pointed the way with his lower leg now tucked close under his thigh. The right foot suddenly snapped out in a blur, to connect the ball of the bare foot with the big man’s chin, and Warren’s right arm looped over, then under the incoming left-handed straight punch, pinning the man’s fist in his armpit. He placed his right hand under the big fellow’s elbow, hyperextending it as it bent backwards, practically lifting the man in the air when he lowered his right foot to the floor from the kick. Pivoting backwards to press down on the closed fist trapped under his armpit, Warren continued to lift at the elbow with his right hand as a fulcrum and rotated the arm slightly. His opponent was leaning or falling backwards from the chin kick. The elbow popped as it dislocated, and Warren instantly released the stunned man, glassy eyed from the stunning snap kick.
Warren then spun right, ducking under the injured man’s arm, and shoved the man forward, past his own body, using that momentum to push him into an opportunistic attack he expected from the opponent to his rear. The TG1 had known that the second man intended to allow him to get involved with the bigger man, and to attack him after he was so engaged.
Unfortunately, for the big man anyway, he absorbed a “friendly fire” kick in his ribs that had been intended for Warren’s left kidney.
The big man collapsed forward to the hard floor, his fall partly caught by his apologetic feeling kicker. That altruistic act for his teammate garnered him a bloody nose, as Warren snapped a back handed fist into said benefactor’s undefended proboscis, producing a satisfying splat sound as it broke. The intended sneak kidney kick annoyed Warren a little bit, because the heavy combat boot could have done real damage.
One down in about five seconds, Thad estimated. The other lighter man was blinking to clear his watering eyes, forced to be a mouth breather for now. Warren stepped over the still form of his first victim, walking towards the taller heavier built man as he backed away for a moment to recover. Warren’s hands were swinging easily at his sides, no defensive posturing whatsoever.
Showoff, Thad thought. Oh well, he can afford it with a slow opponent.
The bloody nose guy (neither man had been introduced by name), started jabs and upper cuts in a more traditional form of boxing as he backed away, and Warren walked onwards. Warren easily raised one hand or the other from his sides to smack the blows away in blurred movements, as he continued to walk forward into the onslaught of deflected punches, he always appeared wide open to a punch.
Bloody Nose suddenly became a kick boxer. Warren smacked both of the other man’s hands away when he faked a reach for Warren’s loose fitting shirtfront. The right foot swung up, ready to plant its heel in Warren’s midriff and the man pivoted on his left foot to deliver the kick. The last upward sweep of Warren’s hands, knocking Bloody Nose’s hands away, circled around and down in a flash to catch the foot, just as it reached his abdomen.
Warren easily caught the ankle with his left hand, the boot heel an inch from his lower abdomen. The blow, sent with a good deal of carbon fiber Booster Suit assist to the leg was halted, as if it had hit a rock wall. Warren shoved back and raised the right leg, and snapped a light punch with his right hand into the off balanced man’s unguarded crotch.
He swept his own right leg under Bloody Nose’s supporting left leg. As the man thudded to the floor on his back, Warren kicked him lightly in the left kidney as an object lesson. Then he stepped over the prone man and crouched over him, grabbed both wrists as he reached up to grab Warren’s shirt. Bloody Nose had intended to push up with his knees or feet as he grasped the shirt, and toss the lighter boy over his head.
Instead, Warren caught him by both wrists, and kneeled as he straddled the man, slowly and steadily pushing the arms down and wide to the sides. Bloody Nose kicked and tried to twist or squirm, but found he was locked in place by knees squeezing him like a hydraulic press. He couldn’t turn his body to get a leg up to hook around his attacker’s head or shoulders.
Warren slowly was stretching the man’s carbon fiber reinforced exomuscle arms wider and wider. It was obvious that the spec ops man was trying with all his might to prevent Warren from doing this. However, it appeared that Warren was intent on tearing one or both arms from their sockets. Thad was about to speak out as the groans of pain started, when the relentless force suddenly stopped.
“I don’t want to hurt you more, but I needed you to appreciate that I could have torn your arms out of your shoulder sockets, much as you thought you and your suit would do to me. Your friend over there merely wanted to knock me out, with only minor injury. However, you were a great deal more mean spirited, ready and willing to do me serious and permanent damage, just to impress your captain.”
There was a look of shock on the man’s face. The TG stood up, and said, “I’ll excuse you this one time, because you were absolutely certain I was a Krall collaborator. I am not, and I think you are starting to believe that I could have beaten a Krall nearly as easily as I could have killed you. I’d rather have you as a trainer any day than as an enemy. I beat you because I’m faster and stronger, but I know only a fraction of your fighting skills.” He offered a hand, which the sullen man at first appeared reluctant to take, then nodded and took the hand to be helped off the floor.
Warren, in a show of trust that Thad knew was based on a Mind Tap, turned his back on his last opponent and bent to check on the slowly stirring big man.
“I’ll be damned.” Longstreet said. “I put him up against two of what I would have called ‘ringers’ in another era. I picked the best men that I thought could teach you who you were really facing in me and my men.
“Private Mavrinker, aka Maverick or Mav, has never lost at arm wrestling as far as I know, in or out of a Booster Suit. Sergeant Reynolds almost beat him, against the suit!
“Sergeant Jenkins, still waking up over there, is an unarmed combat instructor that teaches our new hard case spec ops training recruits that they are not as tough as they think they are. Corporal Bender there is a problem child of mine, and he is literally the fastest troublemaker I have. Your kid moved like Bender was almost standing still. I have never seen that kind of arm and hand speed, nor sheer strength in a grown man with boosted assists and Heavyside training.” He looked at the boy.
“How old are you, Warren?”
“Almost twenty, Sir.”
Longstre
et shook his head. “Colonel Greeves, I sure as hell hope you and Sergeant Reynolds aren’t lying when you say your people are on our side. We need more like you.”
Thad was gratified to hear the rank titles restored by Longstreet, even though it was a mere honorific for himself. Sergeant Reynolds might be another matter. He had been in the PU Army for the duration of the war on Poldark, and might be back in it as of now.
“Captain, I sense that you may have crossed a threshold, where you consider our claim to be fighting the Krall a credible story. I doubt that anyone would believe the Krall would willingly permit any group of humans to match them, let alone outperform them. How do we convince your superiors that we need and deserve the help to form units that can strike the Krall where it matters most? Where their war materials are produced.”
“Colonel, the feed of our activities is going back to my commanding officer, or at least to his AI. I’m certain he was, or will be watching what happened. However, I’m sure his questions will echo mine. If all of your TGs really have the ability you say, why were my men able to trap you?”
“Several reasons seem obvious. We lack training in sneakiness, suspicion, and equipment such as night vision and body armor. We simply walked into your trap not looking for a threat, and because you are human, we don’t want to fight you. Had you immediately opened fire as the ramp closed, I think even in the dark our TGs would have shocked you. They think at an accelerated pace and have a phenomenal sense of where they are and where other things are in relation to them. You’ll find they have almost photographic memory, which explains how they learn so fast.” He wasn’t revealing the Mind Tap ability.
“If you aren’t trying to be sneaky, then why are your transducer messages encrypted? We tried to listen in, and couldn’t understand you. I’m having our main AI search for older quantum keys, since you are using an old human made AI system for the Link.” Longstreet was looking at Thad with more than idle curiosity. There was a kernel of suspicion yet.
Genuinely mystified Greeves answered, “I don’t know what sort of encryption the AI uses. I wasn’t even aware that it did. It is cloned software of an old civilian model from a passenger transport, named the Flight of Fancy. It was new about twenty or so years ago, so I wouldn’t have expected it to be encrypted, other than for normal call privacy. You have our Link blocked, so I can’t ask Jakob.”
“Jakob?”
“The cloned AI. Its software is a subset copied from a JK series AI, and runs on even older hardware, taken from some other passenger ship from over twenty years ago. I don’t know what model that older hardware was.”
“That combination might have confused my smaller handheld computer, particularly running it in an old system that could be partly incompatible. I’ll pass that information on to our primary AI. Frankly, I’d like to hear what you’ve been talking about today, after we were close enough to record your weak signals. Where have you been, that your entire human tech is that old, or taken from the Krall? You dropped out of sight that long ago yourself. I’m burning to know what you mean by you and the sergeant being Second Generation, and those kids being Third Generation.”
“Captain Longstreet, I have my own superior to consult with before that information is released. Our entire small population is at risk if the Krall receives a hint of where we live. Captain Tetsuo Mirikami is the man we have in charge, and he was captain of the Flight of Fancy when the Krall boarded her. Your AI can surely discover when the ship vanished. There must be a list of its passengers and crew from that time. We intend to be very selective about what we let anyone know about us, because that information could fall into Krall hands. We can’t let anyone know where we call home.
“When we managed to rescue Sarge here from the clanship we captured, the very one parked right outside, we traded notes about our mutual home, Poldark. I was pleased to learn my former Poldark Militia XO was now a general in the PU Army on Poldark. That captured clanship finally gave us off world transportation. Nabarone seemed to be the right man to trust, to get us what we need to go after the Krall, where no one else can go.” He paused, examining Longstreet and some of his men.
“I don’t intend to offend. You and your organization seem like the best people to train our youngsters, but I don’t know you, or your superiors. If Henry Nabarone vouches for you and your organization, we will share what we can with Henry and with you, which is a great deal. What information and Krall technology we give, you can share with the rest of the Hub government. Concerning ourselves, we have reason to be wary of the Hub government. We want to help all of Human Space, but the feelings may not be mutual from some citizens. We don’t want them to know where our home world is located. Part of that is protecting our security from the Krall, part from the Hub government itself.”
“Wow, Colonel. You do know how to raise an eyebrow and whet a man’s curiosity. I have to tell you that my orders do not come from General Nabarone, but he does know you are on Poldark. Like you, I leave the political discussions to the higher levels. I truly hope we can find a way to cooperate. I’d love to be able to settle some scores with the Krall, on their home turf.”
Kally and several others close by had been listening, and had all the verbal discipline of recent high school graduates anywhere. That is to say, essentially none. Kally blurted, “Just wait ‘til we get our next mods. Then we’ll track the Krall… down…” She cut off weakly as Thad’s disapproving frown suggested she should hold her tongue.
Laughing, despite revealing his own slip from discipline, Longstreet said, “Ain’t youth a pain in the ass sometimes? I have twenty-three year old hot heads like Bender, and you have even younger blabber mouths.” He suddenly tilted his head and looked off into the distance. The transducer “trance” was universal. Longstreet was receiving a Link despite the electronic block applied to Thad’s own transducer (he tried to call Jakob, as he turned away as if being polite, and muttered, with no reply).
Longstreet listened for several minutes, his face revealing nothing. Finally, he looked over at Greeves and Reynolds with a half-smile. “It seems your earlier Links were mostly about attacking that second clanship, or about exploring these tunnels to reach Novi Sad, to contact Poldark military forces. Colonel Trakenburg said his AI, Max, was deeply apologetic for not figuring out that an old civilian privacy com module, modified to run in an abbreviated AI package, on completely different hardware, wasn’t really quantum encryption. He just couldn’t understand you. Isn’t high technology great?” He chuckled, which sounded sincere.
It was Greeves chance to take advantage. “OK, Captain. Your colonel has spoken, has heard what we said privately, what’s the verdict? Are we still considered collaborators, or could we be saviors of humanity.”
“Not the former, but he questions the latter. You definitely have a clanship you control. However, he wonders if you captured it from the Krall as you claim, or did you steal it as you did the Dragons? Colonel Trakenburg is going to contact General Nabarone, but is waiting to see if your small force can take that clanship. I’m here to observe the conflict, and then win or lose, after that fight I will escort you to the meeting you and Captain Mirikami wanted. My boss definitely wants to be in on that meeting.”
“Your boss knows we are here, some of what we want, and a bit of what we offer, except that I will defer to the judgment of my old friend Henry, who outranks your colonel. Before I recommend that Captain Mirikami also trust Colonel Trakenburg, General Nabarone has a vote. Sorry to make your life difficult and place you in the middle, Captain.”
“I’m a shadow in Special Operations. We are always between rocks and hard places, and stepping on a shadow does not hold it in place. My men and I will get by.”
“You said you are supposed to observe the taking of the clanship.” Reynolds questioned. “Kind of hard to do that down here, unless you have drones or continuous satellite feed.”
“We do have some small drones with us, but that makes for small images. The Krall won�
��t tolerate a satellite over territory they hold for very long, and with the clouds, the visual feed is only gray tones from synthetic aperture radar. I was told to use my Mark 10 spec ops eyeballs. We’re going out there.”
Reynolds laughed. “Isn’t that Mark 1 for basic eyeballs?”
“Sergeant, you have been left out of the loop for nine more Marks. With these eyes I can see your underwear,” Longstreet bragged.
Sarge was not to be outdone. “Humph. All you see are the dirty outlines where they were. I ain’t wearing any damn underwear.”
In the background, they heard Kally talking to Miriam, the only other girl with the group of boys and men. “Mom was right. They never grow out of it, no matter how old they get.”
****
The two spec ops electric carts were running almost silently through the small tunnel under the ridges and valleys. The “singing” of their soft tires along the slight ripples on the flooring was the only sound from the carts, with their hushed motors. The tunnel was ten feet wide, so that the four-foot wide carts could pass each other in opposite directions without slowing. The roof was ten feet from the floor, room for even an armored man to run, provided he didn’t lift too high between powered strides. The adjustable length carts were set to the maximum of eighteen feet now, to accommodate the ten passengers per cart, sitting on a double row of uncomfortably small popup folding seats, spaced along the lightweight tubular framework. The front light did not illuminate the dark corridor very far. Because the soldiers had night vision, Thad assumed the light was a concession Longstreet made for his “guests,” and it didn’t run counter to his orders.
Koban: Rise of the Kobani Page 15