by Greg Curtis
“Why on Earth would I do that?”
“For the reasons I outlined before. No hope, no escape, just capture and death. You do know that you’re doomed.” And he was. Dimock had foolishly believed the lies that David had told him. The lies that he had asked the President and the United Nations Secretary General to speak. He imagined that even now they actually wanted to capture him. To interrogate him about his crimes. That there would even be a trial. And most stupidly he believed that the orders David had been so publicly given, would be obeyed. At least it would be made to look as if they had been. They wouldn't be.
Theirs was a game of bluff and double bluff. Dimock believed the orders were real and that David had to obey them. And because of that he thought the game was in his hands. He imagined that David would therefore try to arrest him as ordered. Or at least go through the motions of arresting him instead of blowing his ship out of space. He imagined that David's hands were forced and that as long as he appeared to surrender David would have to go through the motions, and that he'd come on board and then try to kill him one on one instead of blowing his ship up. So because of that he'd allowed him to come on board, and in theory arrest him. As well as the feeling of satisfaction it brought him, it gained him precious time as well as he tried to escape.
Naturally Dimock was planning on killing him. He didn't want to be either killed or arrested. David knew that, and Dimock knew that he knew it. But it didn't matter because Dimock also knew that David was planning on killing him, orders or no orders. He guessed that David had agreed to arrest him only so that he could kill him face to face, and he was more or less right. He didn't realise that the Leinians weren't all sure they could target the Mentan vessel let alone destroy it. Dimock was simply buying himself a fight and some time as he tried to work out a way to escape the warship's guns that he imagined were trained on him. And his methods were always the same. Take hostages, bargain in bad faith, kill them and escape. For that reason David had left specific instructions that under no condition were they to bargain for his life. If he lost, he lost. That was it. He hoped Cyrea never found out.
In the end though, they both knew the one thing that mattered. Only one of them was walking away from this meeting. So they'd each planned accordingly knowing the other was doing the same. David simply had to hope that he'd planned better.
“I'm doomed? Or you are?” Dimock laughed at him, trying to pretend a confidence he didn't truly have.
“You are. You see you forgot one thing shit head.” David was still baiting him, and enjoying it immensely. To see Dimock frightened was pure pleasure. And he was frightened. For the first time since David had ever known him, there was fear in his eyes. Just a trace as he still believed he had the advantage in his armoured suit. But that was more than he’d ever seen before. Removing his strength had left him weak, and while he thought he had everything in hand, the psychological effect of it was that he felt vulnerable.
“What’s that? The pleasure of breaking your bones and sucking the marrow out of them while you scream? Of finding and raping your woman? Killing your unborn child? Maybe even destroying your whole world? Everybody you’ve ever known, ever cared for. I don’t think so.”
“No. The fact that you’re alone. On an alien ship that you don’t understand and can’t control. Without your normal superman strength. And you’re facing me. A combat veteran in the peak of fitness who's going to put a bullet in your brain.”
“I couldn’t believe you were stupid enough to let me on board, even as badly as you hate me. But you did and now you’re mine. Start running shit head. This is going to hurt.” Partly it was bluff, but partly it was true. David wanted, needed to hurt him badly. To make him hurt as badly as he’d hurt everyone else. Just killing him wasn't enough.
“Oh I control it all right.” On cue his prisoner who David noticed was looking even worse in person than he had on the video, started pushing buttons, and a horde of the floating robots entered the room. Every one of them was clearly armed with something that looked like a ray gun. The same weapon that Dimock was suddenly holding in his gauntleted hand. Naturally he'd gone big, just as David had always known he would.
It was the moment that David had been waiting for. To have the entirety of his trap exposed so that he could be certain of destroying it.
“Thank you!” He smiled broadly at Dimock, just to let him know he’d fallen into his trap, just as he depressed the final button with his toe, praying it would work.
The result was everything he could have dreamed of as the massive electromagnetic pulse ripped through the ship. It was as powerful as the Leinians' advanced science could make it, without needing a nuclear bomb to generate it. For which David was infinitely grateful. He didn’t want to die, and in any case the Mentan’s ship would surely have detected such a device. But a dormant pulse charge cannon, broken down into its separate components though able to be reassembled with the press of a couple of buttons, had passed through all its sensors exactly as he’d hoped.
In the first heartbeat, half the ship began glowing brighter than a star as the electronics went crazy, and only the darkened visor in David’s helmet kept him from going completely blind. Dimock he hoped, wasn’t so lucky. Then the entire ship exploded. There was no other way to describe it.
Everything electrical, anything that could carry a charge, suddenly turned into a fireworks display with sparks and flame shooting everywhere. Bridge consuls, the floating robots, the view screens on the walls, and the walls themselves, all turned into showers of flashes and flame, while things started exploding all around them. Pieces of red hot fiery metal began screaming like tracer bullets everywhere, and whatever they hit tended to explode as well, adding to the chaos.
David threw himself to the deck, having guessed that this would happen, and hoping that his own armoured suit would protect him. Dimock of course, wasn’t so fast. His reflexes were no longer enhanced, his strength was only human, and the bulky armour he’d chosen to wear slowed him down even further with its newly dead servos. But most of all he hadn’t expected it. David watched with savage joy as he saw his ancient foe stand there gaping around like an idiot, and then clumsily throw himself to the metal floor. It was working perfectly.
A few seconds later of course, everything went dead. The lights failed, the screens went dark, and the only light in the bridge came from the still burning instruments which were sparking wildly. The floating robots had crashed to the deck, just before they started floating aimlessly around the room as gravity failed, and even if their weapons still worked, they would never be able to fire them.
Meanwhile David was largely intact, his suit having taken a few hits, but nothing it couldn’t deal with. Of course all its powered functions were off line. No powered servo assists, no radio, no lights, no electronic compass and map. But then he’d planned for that. It was why he had had most of them removed ahead of time. To save weight. All the suit had had to do was hold air and protect him. Even speaking and hearing was done through the aid of a flexible membrane around the collar. No electrics involved. Meanwhile Dimock had foolishly counted on the enhanced speed and strength of his armour to protect him. Things the suit no longer had.
Meanwhile the Mentan’s ship was now officially dead. If the pulse had been as strong as the Leinians had hoped, there wouldn’t be a single working system on the ship after that blast. The ship was defenceless, a drifting hulk in space, and Dimock was powerless to destroy anyone. Except the three of them still on board. David still had a little work to do.
He risked looking across the room to where Dimock had been, hoping against hope that the madman was dead. But there was no such luck. He was gone, no doubt having taken shelter under one of the consoles, as his ship exploded around him. It would have been too much to hope for that he would have died that quickly or easily.
Further around he could see the Mentan, hiding under another console, his chain no longer taught, and David realized that Dimock had let him go in h
is fear. It was probably clever. Had he held on to the chain, David would have known where he was. But he was still going to find him. This just made the hunt more interesting.
He reached inside his steel sleeve for the gun Lar had given him. A 45 automatic with three spare clips that one of the party had thought to send back home as a souvenir. He knew it would still work. Mechanical triggers could still fire percussion caps, and the metal of the ship was thick enough to stop the bullets holing it. Of course ricochets were going to be a worry, but only if he missed. And with a little luck the chances were that all the ray guns, like the rest of the electronic equipment were now completely dead, the pulse having wiped them out. He hoped. That had been the plan after all.
There was only one way to check of course. He reached for a few pieces of still glowing shrapnel that had landed near him, picked them up in his steel gauntleted hand, and threw them in the general direction of where Dimock had been. It was an old ruse, but one that he hoped would do the trick. Especially if Dimock was still partially blind and deaf from the explosions, not to mention frightened both from having no more super strength and no ray guns.
It worked almost exactly as he’d hoped for, as no rays blasted anything, and then he heard Dimock start creeping towards the sound, no doubt with his hopefully useless ray gun firmly in hand. He could just see the very top of his head barely inching above one of the instrument panels. It was foolish of him not to keep lower, but David instantly forgave him his mistake. It was all he’d ever wanted.
“Yes!” He didn’t let the word leave his lips, he was far too well trained for that, but had he the choice he would have screamed it to the heavens above for their blessing.
Silent as a ghost, David rose all the way to his feet, aimed and squeezed the trigger. Even as the bullet was leaving the barrel, he knew it was a good shot, and he watched with transcendent joy as blood spattered in the air as the bullet ripped through Dimock’s titanium helmet. It should. He'd expected Dimock to be wearing armour and prepared accordingly. The armour piercing bullet had torn a rut through the metal as if it was just dirt being ploughed, and grazed his enemy’s skull, sending a spray of blood into the air and on to the steel walls behind him. It was a wonderful sight, and he knew Dimock would be reeling from the blow, possibly even already on the floor unconscious. But that didn’t stop him doing the rest of his job as he’d been taught so long ago. Always make sure of the kill.
Screaming like a wild man, still squeezing the trigger as quickly as he could, he sprinted towards his target, with every step getting a better and better angle on him. Then he hurdled the console between them like an Olympic athlete, and pumped another half dozen slugs into Dimock’s body below him, even as he sailed right over him. He didn’t need powered servo’s with so much adrenaline pumping through him. Besides with the artificial gravity off all that had held him to the floor were the magnetic boots.
Each shot brought another splash of red to the back of his enemy, and with a savage joy David knew he was finally hurting the monster. He could see the blood pouring out of his wounds, welling up through the titanium skin of his suit. Both kidneys and the centre of his back were craters, while the back of his head had taken a slice off the top. More bullets had lodged in his shoulders, and the right one was a mass of blood and gore. Dimock’s armour had been no match for the Teflon coated, depleted uranium, armour piercing bullets he’d had the Leinians prepare for him.
Finally he sailed too far past Dimock to keep shooting and he hated it. But still the gun was empty, and he knew that all eighteen bullets had been fired and over half of them were still lodged in his enemy’s back. It was a good day. Automatically he ejected the empty over sized clip and slotted the next one in, before he walked down the wall and then across the floor, back to his enemy. But things weren't as they should be.
He didn't realise that at first. Not until he saw the huge knife coming at him from the edge of his visor. Reactions born of years on the battlefield helped him dodge it, but nothing could explain to him how the madman could still be standing. Not with all those bullets in him.
It didn't matter though. Somehow he was up and trying to kill him, and that was all there was. That and a lack of gravity. Dimock in all his planning had not thought to wear magnetic boots and the act of striking at him with that huge knife had sent him spinning, flying across the room, out of control. And from the look in his eyes through his visor, he wasn't happy about it. In fact he was screaming.
David launched himself towards the far wall, planning on arriving there ahead of Dimock and taking the fight back to him. But he'd made one tiny miscalculation in his plan. He had to fly past Dimock to get there, and the man had a knife.
Despite everything being in slow motion the attack was so quick that he almost missed it. He floated past Dimock and the madman, still spinning out of control, struck. The knife tore through his titanium armour as if it was paper, and it was no gentler on his flesh, slicing his thigh apart. Fortunately it wasn't a deep wound, and he knew even as he crashed into the far wall that he could move as before. But he also knew that Dimock's knife was no ordinary weapon. However it had been built, the Mentan had crafted it to be sharper than mere metal.
And Dimock had always planned on using it to kill him.
That was fine though. Never bring a knife to a gun fight as the old saying went. And even as Dimock floated towards him, David stood and trained his weapon on the madman. This time though, he only needed one shot, and he simply waited until the moment was right and then squeezed the trigger.
It hit perfectly, the bullet striking Dimock in the knee, and sending him spinning further off course. That was good, but not why he'd shot him there. Somehow his bullets weren't quite as deadly as he'd thought. They were getting through his armour, but only just. And despite the blood, the wounds weren't deep. A little blood it seemed went a long way in space. But he knew that Dimock's armour had weak spots, and the knee had to be one of them.
Dimock screamed, or at least David assumed he did since he couldn't hear anything through his armour, and he clutched at his injured knee. That at least said that the shot had scored. But as to how badly he was injured, David didn't know. What he did know as he launched himself towards the opposite wall, this time avoiding his enemy as he shot past him, was that the fight had to be taken to him. And not with a gun.
David put his weapon back in the sleeve, and waited for Dimock to reach him, knowing exactly what had to be done. He was nervous. He knew the move perfectly. He'd practised it a thousand times in the training grounds, and used it on the battlefield. But he'd never used it in space. It was a painfully long wait.
Then the moment came and things became a blur. Dimock struck for him as he'd known he would, fast despite being encumbered by his armour, and David dodged just far enough to let the deadly blade fly past him. Then he grabbed his knife arm and twisted. Hard.
It didn't work exactly as it should. Weightless as he was Dimock's entire body spun, lessening the impact of his move, but still it must have hurt terribly, and he was sure he felt something crack. He just hoped it was bone.
After that it became a contest of strength and cunning as they both fought for the blade knowing it was the weapon that would decide the battle. Dimock, despite his wounds and his lack of super-strength was strong. Far stronger than he should have been. And when David managed to get a look at his face through the visor, he understood why. He was amped up again. Trellin had restored some of his strength to him, probably through drugs. It was a stupid thing to do.
Fortunately he was wounded and the armour slowed him, while David was better prepared and he knew how to fight hand to hand. He was also angrier.
Dimock tried to strike him with his other hand, forgetting to support his wrist and that was a mistake. David had both hands on Dimock's wrist and that gave him the strength advantage. He used it, forcing his arm up and down with brutal force all while twisting the arm back on itself. This time he did feel something break
, and he felt a sense of elation. Dimock's bones were no longer tougher than steel. Better yet he let go of the knife in his pain and it went flying off somewhere in the distance.
After that it was a simple matter of hand to hand combat, and Dimock didn't have the skill he'd pretended. He'd spent all those years relying on his super-strength instead. He'd never actually had to fight. With his knee not working, one arm broken and no magnetic boots to hold him to floor so he could strike at him with force, he was in a bad place. And he still didn't understand that he wasn't a superman any more. He kept striking at him, trying to punch him, and forgetting that his fist couldn't punch through titanium armour any more. David of course just stuck to the judo moves, bending and twisting him around, and gradually tearing his body apart.