Warrior-Woman

by Mary Ann Steele

  Eyes remote, tea forgotten, Wong recalled the past. "Norman sent a ship. Four heavily armed Third Corpsmen emerged from a lifeboat, given that our rock lacked any lock capable of taking a military ship. Grandmother, along with three other aged women--those least likely to arouse any thoughts of sexual assault--met the intruders, and insisted that they'd find no men if they searched. Warning that the diggings were dangerous, Grandmother sought to persuade them to leave, acting out of genuine compassion.

  "Sneeringly ignoring the warning, the Columbians walked into a trap. Grandfather gassed them with carbon monoxide, killing them before they knew what was happening. Grandmother raised the ship, and reported that the four corpsmen who had descended into the lower levels despite her warning hadn't returned. She asked the Captain to send a search party, insisting that she didn't want to be blamed for any accident. Meanwhile, our people crowded into the habitat farthest from the locks, and prepared to defend it.

  "Four more spacer-fighters docked. By that time, Grandfather had rigged a fake rock-fall. He left a boot and an arm of two dead spacers protruding from under a mass of boulders. As the second contingent came upon that unnerving sight, they heard ominous cracking noises: recorded sounds that prompted the Columbians to beat a hasty retreat. After summoning them back to the ship, the Captain--a foul brute named Yancey--loosed a pulse that annihilated the station." Implacable hatred radiated from the narrator.

  The worst of Norman's willing tools! Signe railed silently. Mass murderer of noncombatant women and children, Yancey. The thrice-accursed bastard escaped with the Commander he so readily served--damn them both to the mythical fire!

  Feeling the heat of that wordless condemnation, Wong took a few seconds to compose his mind before resuming his tale. "Yancey reduced the habitat adjoining the locks--the largest of the five domes, which stood out like a swollen toe--to a crater-lake of molten slag. The murderous rotter never checked closely, or he'd have seen that our rock featured four smaller, more distant habitats overlain with rubble from mining excavations: facilities big enough to house a considerable population. If he did spot those, perhaps he figured they might well be abandoned, and so decided against expending the vast amount of energy loosing a second pulse would have required.

  "Grandmother and her squad beat a strategic and exceedingly speedy retreat as soon as the four corpsmen departed. Those elderly women raced down the length of a tunnel far below the surface, before Yancey fired. Luckily, they put three pressure-proof doors behind them before the shock wave propagated through the rock hurled them on their faces. Their astonishing sprint allowed them to survive. We surmised that both you and Norman would write us off as annihilated. That thought cheered us, even though we found ourselves marooned."

  Fierce joy at the news that the settlers she had believed to be casualties still lived enveloped the leader remembering her grim certainty that no one could possibly have survived the annihilation of a station by Earth-built weaponry . No single soul residing on four other stations targeted by Norman and Yancey escaped death , she reminded herself as hatred seared the mind behind the composed face.

  Pausing, Wong remembered to sip his tea before resuming his recital. "My grandparents organized us into a new sort of life. Our family has always sent a host of boys and girls to the University, so our ranks boasted life-support engineers, chemists, physicists, psychologists, historians, and even a physician. We learned to eat the excess organisms from the photosynthetic exchangers. Our mine provided the carbonaceous nitrogenous substances we formerly sold to the Ministry of Food Resources to be used along with the growth yields of the life-support system for synthesis of food, but we ate the organisms as they came from the tanks. Cooked, of course. Hunger's a great cure for squeamishness." A wry grin overspread the round face of the narrator, as a silvery laugh fell pleasantly on his ears.

  "Well, we not only survived, we stayed productively busy. The educated taught their skills to the uneducated. We mined what we could without giving ourselves away. Those of us of an age to join the resistance chafed at being denied the chance to do so, despite our knowing that Norman lost no time before confiscating every last Gaean ship--even the rock-hoppers on which we depended for supplies, and transportation when we needed to travel.

  "We clamored to train to fight. When you see the enemy striding into your home, armed to the teeth, you find yourself permanently cured of pacifistic notions." The vehemence with which the wiry raconteur delivered that last sentiment caused the listener to nod with equal vigor.

  "Well, Grandfather had tasted blood, figuratively speaking. He enlisted the help of his uncle, a man of ninety-eight, and my own self, to train the young men and women in the martial art in which the old man excelled. After turning ninety, the Master had begun to show signs of aging--a bit of stiffness, and gray streaks in hair formerly space-black--but he eagerly agreed to offer instruction. Our family from time immemorial always included two or three practitioners who kept that martial tradition alive: masters who passed on a skill, together with its ritualistic trappings, to someone younger. I was the man my elderly relative selected to be the recipient of his knowledge, Earthyears before Norman invaded. Our method is purely defensive…or was. I'm forced to admit that I've practiced offensive variations."

  Exerting admirable control over her face, Signe concealed profound shock. Wong a martial expert? she expostulated inwardly. Why, I could break him in two--kill him in seconds. Or … could I? My method's most assuredly based on offence. Could this man mount a defense sufficient to keep someone as highly trained as myself from delivering a lethal blow, or gaining a deadly hold? Shades of the ancients!

  Gifted with a high degree of sensitivity, Wong saw through his companion's effort to conceal her reaction. "I'll bet I could earn a totally undeserved reputation for reading minds, right now, Signe, if I voiced what I know you're thinking," he remarked with a smile, his ease with his world's supreme leader an outgrowth of a culturally programmed belief in the basic equality of all men and women: leaders and followers. His manner conveyed respect wholly devoid of fear.

  "I admit to harboring doubts that may well prove unwarranted," Signe admitted candidly. "When you finish telling your story, would you favor me with a demonstration?"

  "You honor me by asking." Wong spoke with an innate, unstudied dignity that impressed the warrior. Wholly at ease in her presence, he swept a speculative glance over her lithe, graceful, powerful, ultrafeminine body: a glance lacking the least hint of any sexual nuance.

  Watch yourself, woman , the martial expert scathingly chided her alter ego. Underestimating this man could prove an embarrassing mistake!

  "We trained rigorously from then on. Our smiths forged swords, and we practiced daily. No one among us had ever learned swordsmanship, but we accessed old manuals. One of our ancestors served aboard Johann's Flagship . That's what prompted the others to gain passage aboard the Gaea , and make the Jump with a statesmanlike leader they revered. Our forebear's journals got passed down to us. We studied those, along with old training films. All of us lived rigorous, disciplined lives--learned, waited and hoped. The more we gained in skill, the more frustrated we grew at our enforced isolation. I finally decided to act."

  Fascinated, scarcely breathing, Signe listened.

  "I'm a trained programmer, and I possess considerable knowledge of complex computer systems. Over the Earthyears, I taught myself higher mathematics. My cousin, who had studied mechanical engineering, knew the theory at least. The two of us collaborated on a project. Together, we built a free-flying, autonomously operated vessel."

  So that's how he got here! Damned if that feat doesn't rival any attributed in ancient mythology to Odysseus! Signe marveled.

  "Our creation wasn't any prize for beauty, let me tell you, nor did it offer much in the way of comfort. My cousin and I designed the craft together--enlisted the aid of various relatives blessed with greater practical mechanical ability than either of us possessed. We built the ship in sections, wit
h painstaking care. The project took us Earthyears.

  "We listened to the short-range emissions from the boards manned by Third Corpsmen on Main World so as to get the news. Fearing that the war might end just as we reached you, we stepped up our efforts. You kept Norman pretty busy at the last, so we chanced assembling our brainchild on the only lock still intact--a slip built for drones. That necessity made docking our creation here chancy. We weren't altogether sure the makeshift craft would seal to an ordinary lifeboat lock, but it did.

  "I built the computer systems into the vessel, and rigged the guidance and attitude-control systems. Luckily I was able to pick the brain of an uncle who'd studied navigation, before programming a lift and descent sequence, and a flight path. The vehicle held two of us--my cousin and myself. Your people hauled Inigo to your infirmary, and patched him up. He ruptured his spleen and bruised liver and kidneys when we docked. We hit damned hard--damaged the outfit, as well as a man less well trained in taking falls than myself. I emerged bruised, shaken, but whole. Inigo's twenty-two--tough as spring-steel. Terence hinted that you might be able to use a laggardly but eager recruit, Signe--one who knows computers at the level of their operating systems. He said you intended to take the war to space, prompting us to hope that you'd allow us to enlist. Inigo's as desperate to join as I am…"

  Wong's voice trailed off, but Signe caught overtones of poignant longing as the visitor sought to avoid giving the impression that he pleaded. Rising swiftly, she thrust out a hand to the petitioner who exerted an astonishingly strong grip on the proffered member. "You dropped out of the void like a gift from a benevolent Power, Wong," she assured him, the excitement gripping her palpable--irresistibly contagious. "I stand in dire need of someone with expertise in computers, and I most certainly welcome another engineer. Let me assure you, the most crucial phase of the struggle is just beginning. We've captured a military ship armed with the irreproducible weaponry. I plan to parlay that vessel into a fleet."

  The ringing voice projecting absolute certainty thrilled along the quivering nerves of the small man staring mesmerized into eyes that blazed as their owner made that final declaration. Moldering bones of the founder of our line, but she's magnificent! he exulted. She'll achieve what she intends. There's not a shred of doubt in my mind that she will. Not a shred. And she wants us--but just for our expertise? As technicians? Damn, how do I convey that I'll be mortally disappointed if that's all she desires of us? How?

  Exhibiting a degree of self-control superlative even for a Gaean, Wong settled back into his chair. Having finished his tea, he glanced expectantly at the woman regarding him speculatively over the rim of her cup. "If you're ready, we'll retire to an exercise hall, and try each other's skill," she invited. As the guest rose with sinuous grace to his feet, the Commander noted telltale signs in the way he carried himself. His small stature blinded you to evidence you ought to have seen immediately , she reprimanded herself sternly. Good way to get killed, that. Let this be a lesson to you, woman!

  Standing barefooted, Signe watched Wong position himself next to her, and bow with head lowered. Instinctively, steeped as she was in various traditions demanding ancient, stylized movements expressing respect to one's surroundings, one's instructor, and one's opponent, she imitated the small man's gesture, responding so swiftly to his cue that it seemed that she acted in perfect unison with him. Turning to face her supremely confident recruit across exercise mats spread on the deck, she returned the deep bow he now made her, noting the look of approval animating his open face. Assuming a stance excellent for defense but one from which she could launch a kicking offense, the Commander waited.

  Serenely unfazed, Wong issued a startling invitation. "Attack me, Signe. I'll demonstrate the purely defensive aspects of my style."

  Five minutes later, having been utterly unable to land a light blow or kick, or to gain any hold on the superlatively active contestant who regarded her out of eyes brimming with mischief, the splendid athlete stepped back, struggling to conceal utter shock. "Shades of ten generations of my ancestors!" she breathed in manifest wonder.

  The small master of an ancient art smiled warmly at his adversary. "You just put my skill to the most rigorous test it has ever sustained, Signe. Each of us could learn a vast lot from the other."

  "So we could!" Stupefaction contended with unconcealed admiration as the Commander admitted, "Those holds you sought are new to me."

  "You blocked them, all the same."

  "Show me what would have happened had I not."

  Wong nodded. "Aim a mid-body blow at me."

  Signe's right fist shot out. Blurred in her vision by the swiftness of its motion, her opponent's left hand made contact with her extended member, to slide over that arm into the bend of her elbow as with his right hand Wong gripped and raised the right arm with which his statuesque adversary sought to deliver the blow. Employing a reverse grip, the wiry expert twisted, and then bent the captured hand and arm back, as he stepped in with his right foot. "Go with me," he commanded, dropping to his left knee.

  Exquisitely cognizant of what appalling damage that twisting motion could cause, the battle-wise warrior obeyed. Unbelievably strong hands forced her far taller body to the mat, and held her immobilized. Releasing his astounded opponent, Wong rose with feline grace to face her.

  "You'd be willing to instruct me?" the war-leader demanded, her excitement nakedly visible.

  "I'd be honored."

  "Would you teach others? Women as well as men?"

  "I'd surely be willing, Signe, but my art requires Earthyears of continual study for mastery--a lifetime. I had decades to devote to it. I wasn't fighting constantly."

  "I'm fully aware of that. We'll instruct each other, for a time, on a regularly scheduled basis. Then I'll lay on you the task of developing a series of moves you could teach to novices: moves designed solely for self-defense against certain common physical attacks delivered by an unarmed enemy--one taller and stronger. Use whatever suits that purpose from both our styles. I'll help you, but you'll teach the course we develop. I can visualize situations in the near future where such skill might save lives."

  "So can I. I'll gladly take on that chore, but you won't bar me from fighting because of my small size…will you?" A beseeching note crept into that softly couched appeal, despite Wong's conscious effort to keep it out.

  Signe's infectious laugh, manifestly approving, reassured her fellow expert. "Bar a man who flew here in a vessel he built, from flying the one we stole? Deprive a man I can't put to the mat, of the chance to use those twisting holds on our enemies? Hardly. I offer you a commission, Wong. You'll serve in our reorganized force as an officer, once you complete a period of training, and then gain some experience in actual combat."

  Shock melted into delight that shone from the ingenuous round face. "I thank you--from my heart!" A daunting thought impinged. No temptation to conceal a deficiency surfaced even fleetingly. "Would you care to try me in a bout with foils? I'm certain I'm no match for a swordsman of legendary skill, but you'll have tested all my qualifications."

  The man's readiness pleased Signe. "I'll take you on. Not as any test--merely because I haven't engaged yet today in the practice bout I never fail to schedule, on any day except one spent fighting a battle. Does now suit you?"

  Wong proved no match for the tall warrior at swordsmanship. Expecting that outcome, wholly unruffled by it, he found his regard deepening with every touch the Commander scored. She's magnificent , he conceded admiringly. All the legend promised!

  Signe grew impressed in her turn, not by her undersized recruit's degree of skill--although she considered that not at all bad, considering the way it had been gained--but by his cool exertion of that skill against a fencing partner he obviously held in awe.

  No overweening pride afflicted the athlete whose skill with the sword exceeded that of any of her captains, including Eric, the Columbian-trained teacher whom she had long ago surpassed. She knew right well that
Eric and Sean came closest to matching her. Equally certain that she would find neither Morgan nor Conor a cinch to kill, should that unthinkable notion ever cross her mind, she nonetheless lived with the ever-present awareness that she remained a peerless master of the blade she wielded with such lethal effectiveness in hand-to-hand combat, or in a duel.

  Victor in four duels to the death--encounters firmly woven into the fabric of the legend--Signe constantly observed the unsettling effect that the legend tended to exert on the minds of men or women facing her even across practice foils, for the first time. The unflustered manner in which Wong employed every iota of skill he possessed to meet a challenge he knew would expose his total inability to score on his commander generated unqualified admiration. This self-trained swordsman keeps his head in a tight spot , the keen judge of men noted approvingly, even as she scored a touch once again.

  The memory of Dahl's cool nerve flashed across the master swordsman's mind. I hope to hell Norman doesn't space that poor bastard , she found herself wishing. Dahl's a better man than his murderous commander's capable of realizing . At that juncture, Wong came fairly close to breaching his opponent's guard, prompting his opponent to focus on the here and now. All thought of her blatantly unwilling flight-instructor fled, as the master swordsman concentrated single-mindedly to the engagement.

  Standing in a lock below the captured ship, Signe introduced the members of her core staff to the newcomer, and described the dramatic circumstances of his arrival. "Wong's the computer expert I'd hoped to recruit," she informed them. "I've offered him a commission. Morgan, I'm laying on you the task of training him. Special case, his. He possesses valuable skills--unique ones. See to it that he learns what he needs to know to function as an officer."