by Steve Perry
Singh held the knife in a saber grip, point forward, edge down, in his right hand. He put his body behind the knife, right foot leading, and began to centimeter toward her.
He was going to fake high and stab low, she could tell. He was used to using a longer blade. She had his reach figured.
His nostrils dilated as he inhaled—
She jumped in, threw a hard left punch at his face, and when he instinctively raised the knife to block, continued the punch into a left parry and smashed him underhanded on the solar plexus with her right fist—
—Breath gone, stunned, Singh slashed at her highline as he fell back from the impact, and she turned her left arm so the back of it covered her. She felt the jolt from the electric charge across her forearm midway between the elbow and wrist. She pivoted left and swung her right hand across her face in a hammerblow that ended on Singh’s wrist. The follow-through turned him to his left, and the impact knocked the knife loose from his grip. She slid her left foot behind him, caught his shoulders with both hands, and dropped into a squat. The move jerked him off-balance backward to land on his butt, then his back. She scooped up the fallen knife and laid the edge onto his throat—
“Ow, fuck—!”
Game over.
She stood, extended a hand to Singh, helped him to his feet.
He shook his head. “That won’t work a second time,” he said.
“Ah should hope not. But it doesn’t have to; it only needs to work once. Real knife, Ah’d have a six-centimeter-long slice on my arm, no major bleeders, wiped clean and glued shut in a couple of minutes. You, on the other hand, would have a cut throat and would be pretty dead in another couple of minutes.”
He nodded. “I’d like to learn that move.”
“No, not really, you wouldn’t. What you need to learn are simple motions, general patterns that will happen automatically when you track what is incoming. A specific defense set up in advance almost never works. If you think, ‘Well, Ah’ll block this way, then counter like so,’ you’ll find yourself skewered more often than not. Bare-handed defense against a knife is a last-ditch and desperate action, Oh, shit! moves. Conscious thought is too slow. Good chance you’ll get cut or stabbed as part of it, and if you know that going in and are willing to take it to win, you can win. If you fall apart at the sight of your own blood, you will lose and maybe die.
“What Ah’ll show you are some patterns. Covers and responses. You drill them until they become part of you, and if you have them when the turd hits the turbine, maybe you’ll use one that works.”
“‘Maybe’?”
Gunny nodded. “Yep. Old sayin’ is ‘You’re not an ape, use a tool!’ Your bare hands are for when your knife breaks; your knife is for when your pistol runs out of ammo; your pistol is for when your carbine is dead. Carbine is for when you can’t be somewhere else.
“More tool than you need is better than less. Bare-handed stuff is a low-percentage game, for when you can’t run and can’t get a better weapon. But it only needs to work once to pay for itself. In our biz, sooner or later, you might find yourself up to your ass in enemies with nothing to wave at them but your own biological tools. We started into this back on Ananda, but it’s a never-ending game. Better to know what you can do and do it than to roll over and die.”
“Yes. I see.”
“Good. Here, take the knife and try again . . .”
_ _ _ _ _ _
It was late when Kay and Wink left the medical facility, headed for their quarters. Another long day without anything much useful to show for it.
It was only a couple klicks to the cube, and as long as she didn’t want to run, he didn’t mind the walk. Loosen some of the tension he’d built up.
They weren’t any closer to a solution. It was frustrating. You’d think with all that civilization had to offer in such situations, you could find answers.
It was a little warmer today, still not hot. Never really got tropical, Kay had told him, but it did get a lot colder. The season was summer; come winter, it would drop below freezing and stay there for weeks. Not surprising, given the double-coat thickness of Vastalimi fur—they did better in the cold than in the tropics.
As they crossed the road, the streetlights offered only a faint, yellowish gleam. They were dim because Vastalimi didn’t need as much illumination as humans did. Made Wink realize that a nightsight aug might not be a bad idea though the chances of getting one here were way below slim. Vastalimi really didn’t like such things. When Kay had found out that Formentara had sneaked a tracker into her, back on Ananda? She’d nearly blown an artery, according to what he’d heard. Vastalimi didn’t do augs.
Well. He wouldn’t be here that long. He could get used to it. Or carry a lamp. Not like he didn’t already stand out everywhere he went . . .
The street wasn’t crowded, only a few vehicles moving back and forth, and no other pedestrians near them . . .
Wait. On the other side, leaning against a building, there was one, a big male, and he was definitely focused on Kay.
Wink could almost taste blood in the wind. He slid his right hand back to his hip pocket and grabbed the butt of his pistol, eased it free, let it hang behind him. He edged his left hand around to the handle of his knife . . .
Kay noticed. “Don’t do anything inciting,” she said.
“You know this guy?”
“I do.”
“He looks like trouble.”
“He is. Let me handle it.”
Wink nodded. “If you say so.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Kay resisted the urge to extrude her claws as they walked across the road.
When they were ten meters away from him, Vialmasc said, “Well, if it isn’t the hairless ruta who ran. You won’t escape me this time.”
He spoke barely passable Basic, and she knew that was for Wink’s benefit.
Kay smiled at him. “Is that the best you can do? One would think that a fighter who used to have skill could rise above such a pedestrian insult.”
Vial shrugged. “It’s not the talking, Kluth, it’s the doing that matters. And you will find that my skill is unchanged from the time you observed it last.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“One hates to kill a worthless opponent, there is no honor in that.”
“After I finish you, I’m am going to shred your tame human.”
“He is legally immune to Challenge.”
“Challenge? Hardly worthy of that, is he? I’m going to exterminate him, as I would any other pest.”
“You think?” Wink said.
Vial glanced up. Saw that Wink held his knife in his left hand.
The big Vastalimi whickered. “How amusing! What do you think you are going to do with that stubby toy, ape? Wave it and hope I die from fright?”
“No, actually, I planned to use it to cut your balls off and stuff them into your mouth after I shoot you with this.” Wink held up his pistol in the other hand.
Vial looked at Kay. “You were speaking of honor? None among humans, is there?”
“As I recall, you said you were going to slay him as you would a pest, no Challenge involved. It thus would be your own arrogance that caused your death. Not that it will get that far.”
He whickered again. “Really? I am larger, stronger, extremely more experienced, and far more adept. Do you really think you have any chance whatsoever?”
“Absolutely. Unlike you, my skills have improved since last we saw each other. I have spent some years on alien battlefields. They fight differently than we do. I know things you do not.”
“Really? I doubt it.”
“Offer prigovor and find out.” She radiated confidence.
“I hear that your sister the Shadow watches over you.”
“Not your concern.
Challenge or don’t, my sister won’t trouble you as long as you do not cheat. Offer it.”
He stood silently for a moment, considering.
She was not going to scare him off even if he believed her. He was a professional killer, an assassin, and he had certainly been hired to take her out; he couldn’t walk away and expect anybody to employ him again. Plus, his own sense of honor could not allow it. But even a tiny crack in his confidence was to her advantage. A small doubt might make him pause when he should move or hurry a move he would better let ripen.
Sometimes, the smallest advantage could lead to victory. It was valid to take it if it was offered.
Kay was not at all sure she could beat him, but there was truth in her statement. He would hear it.
Vastalimi chased and caught their prey, usually attacking from the sides or from behind, now and then face on, by bounding and launching themselves with claws extended. That shaped how they moved, how they thought.
Most of their formal fighting techniques were based on the principle that one’s deadliest opponent would be another Vastalimi. And that was sound since no other intelligent species near their size could defeat them claw-to-claw. You trained for the opponent who could beat you, and that was another of your own kind.
Humans did much the same, but despite their inferior strength and speed and senses, if you balanced those, sometimes their close-combat systems would offer something a Vastalimi simply did not expect to see. If a fight went long, that likely wouldn’t matter, but against an augmented human who quickly did something completely unexpected? The fight might not go long. A single mistake could be fatal.
Jo Captain could, in mock fights sans claws, defeat Kay four times of ten. That was fairly amazing—few Vastalimi would believe her if she told them that. A human? Even an augmented one? You pull our fur!
But it was possible, because a million years of evolution was hard to put aside. Jo had learned this and devised ways to counter ingrained Vastalimi techniques. And Kay had then learned ways to recounter Jo, so she did have skills few other Vastalimi would have had a chance to develop. It might not be enough; still, it was what she had.
Finally, he spoke: “Career nama borba do pojedinac inacˇe oba nad nama umreti.”
Let us fight until one or both of us die.
“Neka bude tako,” she said, giving the ritual response.
Let it be so.
“I don’t suppose you want to tell me who hired you?” she said.
“Hired me? You don’t believe I offer this on my own?”
She didn’t smile: “I don’t think you would put incense on your sire’s funeral altar unless somebody paid you to do so.”
“Who cares what a dead fem thinks?”
Kay didn’t take her gaze from Vial as she said, “Wink, if I lose, and Vial leaves without offering you any threat, you must allow him to live.”
“Fuck I will. You die, I’m going to shoot him and desecrate his corpse. In fact, I think I’ll do that right now to avoid the wait.”
“No. It’s not our way. If he attacks you, you may defend yourself. But even Vial is not so stupid, as long as you have a gun trained on him.”
Vial faked a yawn, showing his fangs. “The human does not really matter,” he said. “He lives, he dies, nobody cares enough to pay for it. I can forgo the small pleasure.”
“Wink, if you kill him, it will bring dishonor to my memory and to my family. You must not do so without direct provocation.”
“He kills my friend? That’s provocation enough.”
“No. Please.”
“You beg a jebangje human?”
“I ask a favor of an honored comrade. Wink?”
“All right. If he twitches in my direction, he dies. If he walks away, he lives.”
“Thank you.”
Kay untabbed her belt and let it fall.
Vial’s claws snapped out with a loud snick! “As I stand!”
“And as I stand—”
He charged—
He was bigger and stronger, but not faster, and his attack was direct, intended to take advantage of his superior reach and power. His claws would reach her before hers could reach him, they both knew that.
Three meters out, he leaped, an angled dive, upper body leading, his arms extended fully, fingers outstretched. If she offered a block, he would shred that arm and strike with his other hand, cutting the line of her second block if she tried it, and bowling her over with his weight—
Kay waited until he was in the air. Then she fell onto her back, a move no Vastalimi would ever do in a death match, offering a vulnerable throat and belly to an enemy. As he flew over her, she thrust her foot up, claws extended, and caught him just above the groin. Instead of ripping, she shoved upward, turning his flat dive into a flip—
It was a move she had learned from Jo and one she had used on the augmented human who had attacked her and Formentara on Ananda. She knew it would work on a human, and a Vastalimi would have no reason to expect it at all.
It took Vial by complete surprise.
He snarled as he rotated—
She continued the motion, came up in a backward roll, did a half twist, and was already moving before he landed on his back, hard—
He hit, and scrabbled to come up but it was too late—she dropped to her knees and stabbed downward with both hands, burying her right claw in his throat and her left in his face and eyes—
He screamed, a primal, wordless roar, and swiped at her, scoring her chest and slicing the muscle under her left arm, but she was already moving, diving away, and rolling—
Vial came up, blood pouring from his throat, his eyes gone, screaming—
“Ja volja ubiti te!”
“No, you won’t,” she said. “You aren’t going to kill me or anybody else, paid assassin. You are done.”
He tried to circle for another attack, tracking her by scent, but she matched his steps, staying outside his range.
He lunged—
She moved out of the way.
It didn’t take long for the shock and blood loss to drop him to his knees. And when he fell face forward, she knew he would not be getting up again.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Wink sprayed the skinstat from his aid kit on the last claw cut. The liquid quickly hardened to a flexible film, sealing the injury shut. “I think that does it,” he said. “You’ll have scars if you don’t get them resected. That pec is going to be sore for a few days, too.”
“Thank you. The fur will hide the scars. The muscle will heal.”
“That was amazing. So . . . quick.”
“He was very good, a first-rate duelist if not a true master. I didn’t expect to win, much less as undamaged as I am. He made a mistake. I gave him warning.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Wink chuckled.
“Some funny thing I missed?”
“Not really. Just that if he had won? I lied. I was gonna say Ace ja stajanje! and shoot his furry ass dead anyway. He wasn’t going to gloat for long.”
She whickered. “I expected that you might. I confess that the thought gave me some comfort.”
“Now what?”
“We call the Shadows, report the incident, and with luck, will be at our quarters in another half hour and able to get some rest.”
“That’s all?”
“It was a formal Challenge; he is dead, and I am not. That’s how it goes.”
“Yeah, and I’m a witness.”
“Not necessary for you to speak to it,” she said. “The Sena who comes will accept my statement.”
“Really?”
“Why would they not? And it will probably make subsequent challenges less frequent.”
“Why?”
“Vial was one of the best-paid duelists among us. Hundreds of kills. In the light of h
is death, those who knew his skills? Likely they will think carefully before offering prigovor.”
“You said you thought somebody hired him.”
“Somebody certainly did. Vial didn’t kill people for free.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “An old matter, from before. He missed his chance when I left Vast. Back then, I would have died. My experiences offworld gave me an edge. I—” She stopped, hearing the faint sound of footsteps. She recognized the tread.
“What?”
Kay looked down the street, saw the approaching figure.
Wink caught her look and turned. His hand drifted toward his weapon. The light was too dim for him to recognize the approaching fem for what she was. “No need for that,” she said. “The Sena have arrived.”
“Did we call them, and I missed it?”
“No.”
When she drew near enough, Kay nodded at her. “Wink Doctor, this is Leeth. My sister.”
“Doctor,” Leeth said. “My sibling thinks most highly of you.”
“She does?”
“Else you would not be on Vast.” She looked at the corpse on the sidepath. “I see that Vial finally found you.” She looked at the bonded cuts on Kay’s chest. “And that is all he managed to do?”
“He was not as good as he thought,” Kay said.
“I have seen him fight, and he was that good. It would appear that you were better than he thought.”
Kay shrugged.
“I am required to ask: Was this a valid prigovor?”
“Yes.”
“His or your Challenge?”
“His.”
She nodded. “So noted.” She looked at Wink. “My joy to make your acquaintance, Wink Doctor.”
“Sister.”
“Sister.”
Leeth turned and walked away.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Kay said. “Are you hungry? I could eat.”
EIGHT
“They got cute on us,” Gramps said.
Jo looked at the projection over her desktop. “They got smart on us.”
The image floating in the warm air—the cooler was on the fritz—was of one of the giant-wheeled transports the growers used.