“Are you both resolved to carry through with this? Speak now or combat will be joined.”
“I do not desire this fight,” said Crawford. “I regret the lives lost before, but if no payment but my death will satisfy, then I am resolved to fight.” The man relayed this to Caspari who barked something angry through his helmet.
“Keelan Caspari will only accept your death. I am sorry.”
“So am I. One question: If I disable my opponent so he can no longer fight, do I have to kill him?”
“You may offer him mercy if you choose. If he accepts, the matter is done. If he does not—and I doubt he will, stranger—then you must kill him—or the challenge is not resolved.”
Crawford stared at the man. “Let’s get on with this.” The Seyotah bowed and nearly overbalanced; Crawford grabbed his arm and steadied him.
“So be it. I will withdraw. On my signal you may begin.” The man walked very slowly back to the hatch. Both hatches were closed and secured and the man took a position at the center window. While he did so, Crawford backed off a few paces and studied his adversary. The man was wearing a tight-fitting, single-piece suit of some black material. His breathing helmet was rigid plastic, sealed around the neck of the suit. It seemed like the heavy helmet would be an encumbrance compared to one of the light, flexible ones, but then he realized that it would also act like a piece of armor, too. Damn. Crawford had opted for ordinary coveralls and work boots. He hefted his weapon and waited. The Seyotah raised his hand on the other side of the window. Caspari nodded. So did Crawford.
The man dropped his hand and it began.
Caspari went into a crouch and started to sidle to his right. His steps were small, slow and careful, sliding his feet rather than lifting them. Unfortunately, he seemed to be adapting to the gravity quicker than Crawford had hoped. He had seen people stumble and fall under this gravity when they were not used to it. And even a simple fall could be nasty when you were being sucked down at nineteen meters per second, per second. Still, this could not be easy for the man and Crawford simply turned in place to face him. Let him wear himself out with maneuvering if he wanted.
But the circling was also a narrowing spiral. The man was getting closer, too, and Crawford held his weapon at the ready. The shaft on his hammer was thick and long enough that it could be used to block a blow as well—if you were quick. Caspari was three meters away now and Crawford went into his own crouch. He had no real idea what to do. Attack? Wait for Caspari’s attack and then counterattack? Just ward off the man’s blows and wait for him to exhaust himself? Ultimately he would have to attack…
Caspari struck.
The young man suddenly leapt forward with flashing speed and swung an overhand blow at him. Crawford jumped backward and the sharp end of the pick whistled past him, missing by centimeters. But while Caspari had adapted to the increased difficulty in moving, he had completely misjudged what the gravity did to balance points. He had extended himself almost completely making his strike and there was no way to recover. The one point nine Gs grabbed him and slammed him to the deck, almost at Crawford’s feet.
For a moment, the Clorindan was completely vulnerable. His back was exposed and Crawford could have finished him with a blow. But he had no experience or training for this sort of action. Thinking about driving a sharp metal object into someone’s body and actually doing it were two very different things. He hesitated. Just for an instant, he hesitated, but it was an instant too long before he struck. Caspari rolled away and Crawford’s blow hit the deck instead of his opponent. Caspari scrambled to his feet and away, face drawn in anger and surprise. Crawford pursued for two steps and then halted.
The two men stood facing each other for a dozen long seconds and then Caspari started moving to the side again. Crawford found that he was gasping and forced himself to breathe normally. His heart was pounding and sweat ran down his face. The realization was finally breaking through: I have to kill this guy. There was no other way out—except to be killed, himself, of course. He stared at Caspari and tried to imagine him dead.
Suddenly the Clorindan stopped his advance and backed off. As Crawford watched in puzzlement, the man started turning and hopping from side to side and making strikes at the empty air. His first moves were clumsy and he nearly stumbled several times, but second-by-second they became smoother and more confident. He’s practicing, damn him. Getting used to the gravity, working out… growing more dangerous.
This was no good; his one real advantage was slipping away before his eyes. He had to do something. He swallowed and started forward toward his foe. Caspari saw him coming, of course, and braced himself to meet the attack. Crawford stopped a meter and a half away and made a tentative swing with his weapon. Caspari dodged it easily. He swung again, more strongly, and again Caspari dodged. Another swing and this time the Clorindan deflected the blow with his own hammer and then made a counterblow. He was expecting it and dodged in turn. He struck again and was blocked again; Caspari’s counterattack nearly struck him as he barely deflected it in time. Crawford was gasping again, but he was pressing the smaller man back, step by step. If he could just push him into a corner so he could not dodge…
During the next exchange, Caspari tricked him. The smaller man swung at him with the sharp point of the weapon as before, but immediately stopped the swing as it went past and reversed it, hitting Crawford with the blunt end in his shoulder. There wasn’t much force behind the blow, but he staggered back and the Clorindan shouted in triumph.
“Okay, so you hit me first, you bastard,” said Crawford. “But you’re going to have to do a lot better than that!” His shoulder was tingling where he’d been struck, but there was no real pain. He’d have a hell of a bruise tomorrow though—assuming he was still alive tomorrow. Enough of this. He advanced again and swung an overhand blow with all his strength.
Now it was Caspari’s turn to be surprised. He held up his hammer to block but completely misjudged just how much momentum the increased gravity was giving that blow. Crawford’s hammer crashed down and knocked Caspari’s weapon aside, caromed off his helmet, and tore a gash from his shoulder. Crawford yelled a savage cry.
The Clorindan stumbled backward, bounced off the bulkhead, and nearly fell. A spider’s web of cracks covered one side of his helmet and dark blood dripped down the arm of his suit. A look of shock and pain twisted his face. “Touché, scumbag!” snarled Crawford, who advanced to the attack. He struck again and Caspari barely eluded it, sidestepping along the bulkhead. He pressed in, striking again and again. Suddenly the Clorindan was up against the corner with nowhere to dodge. Crawford drew back his hammer for another strike.
But before he could deliver it, Caspari sprang forward and grabbed his wrist with his free hand. Suddenly they were grappling at close quarters. He managed to capture Caspari’s weapon arm in turn and then slam him back against the bulkhead with his greater weight. He stared into the younger man’s hate-filled eyes from only a few centimeters away.
Caspari thrust his head forward and rammed his helmet into Crawford’s face.
It hurt like hell and his eyes watered with the pain of it. He could feel blood leaking out of his nose. He snarled a curse and smashed his enemy against the bulkhead again with all his strength. The younger man was stunned but did not loosen his grip. Crawford pulled away slightly and slammed his barrel chest into him again. And again. Caspari tried to repeat the trick with his helmet, but Crawford was stronger and held him slightly to one side, just out of striking distance.
It was incredibly inelegant, but he had his advantage now. He slammed the Clorindan over and over. He was stronger and heavier and, if need be, he could eventually batter the young man into helplessness. Caspari seemed to realize that and struggled frantically. He briefly released Crawford’s wrist and punched at him with his fist, but had to grab it again when the hammer threatened to strike. He kicked and tried to trip him, but Crawford was built with solid legs, a wide stance, and a low center of gr
avity. He slammed him again. Caspari tried to hit him with his helmet, but only succeeded in banging it against the bulkhead. The young man started to swing his head around wildly, but he held him at bay and the helmet hit nothing but the bulkhead.
Crawford had one instant to realize that that was exactly what Caspari wanted—and then the already-cracked helmet shattered.
A stinging cloud of chlorine-tainted air clawed at his eyes and throat. He couldn’t see! He couldn’t breathe! He let go of Caspari and staggered away, coughing and wiping at his eyes. He couldn’t see! He swung out blindly with his hammer, trying to ward off any attack from his invisible foe. He kept back-peddling until he hit the opposite bulkhead. His vision was beginning to clear, but everything was just a tear-distorted blur.
Something dark loomed up to his left and he held out his weapon. A blow struck his forearm and then his side. He heard fabric rip and felt his flesh tear. He gasped and retreated, still swinging his hammer. Another impact tore at his left thigh. His eyes were still burning, but he could begin to see again. Caspari was pressing in on him. He frantically warded off more blows, but then another got through and grazed off his head.
Suddenly he was in a corner and only had the same option that Caspari had had a few moments earlier: he lunged forward and grappled with the Clorindan. He got hold of the man’s weapon arm and tried to strike, but Caspari seized the haft of his weapon and hung on. They were face to face once more, but this time the younger man was grinning. Chlorine was in his eyes again and he realized that the gas cylinder attached to the helmet ring was still pumping out Caspari’s favored atmosphere. Damn! He couldn’t stand this long.
He let go of his own hammer and rammed his fist into his enemy’s face with all his strength.
The man’s teeth crunched under his fist. Caspari was knocked backward and slammed heavily to the floor. Crawford stood there gasping, trying to clear his eyes and his lungs. The Clorindan shook his head and slowly staggered to his feet. His nose was bleeding and his lips torn and mangled…
…but he had both hammers now.
Caspari shouted something and advanced, swinging both weapons. Crawford retreated as fast as he could, but there was nowhere to run in the empty bay. A blow came at him and he dodged. Another and he caught the haft of the hammer on his forearm and knocked it aside in return for an agonizing jolt.
But the Clorindan was staggering now, too. The exertion was clearly taking its toll and Crawford put some distance between them. They stood there gasping for at least a minute, and for the first time, he actually noticed the audience watching through the windows. He tried to spot Regina, but then Caspari was moving again and he could not spare the attention.
To his dismay, the man actually sprinted toward him, closing the distance in a terrifying instant. The hammers swung and he ducked and dodged. Caspari got too close and Crawford landed another heavy punch into the man’s ribs, driving him back. But as he did so, a hammer clipped him and he staggered to one knee. Something sharp crunched under him and he glanced down to see the shards of Caspari’s helmet scattered around him. The Clorindan stood over him with one hammer drawn back to kill.
Crawford grasped a long, sharp piece of the helmet and lunged forward, his huge thighs propelling him like hydraulic pistons.
The edges of the shard sliced through his hand as he drove it into Caspari’s belly, but he did not let go. He pushed the curving piece in as far as he could and ignored the hammer hafts wildly pummeling his back. He wrapped his free arm around the Clorindan and bore him to the deck, landing on him with all his weight in the terrible gravity.
He lay on top of him, looking into eyes glazed with pain and shock. But then the chlorine was assaulting him again and he rolled away, yanking one of the hammers out of Caspari’s now-feeble grasp as he went. He crawled off a few meters and collapsed against the bulkhead, choking and staring at his enemy.
The young man, hell, he looked like a mere boy now, lay on his back, one hand still clutching his hammer and the other fumbling at the end of the shard protruding from his stomach. Blood dripped down his side and pooled on the deck. He tried to sit up, but fell back with a gasp, his head thumping hard.
Crawford dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the boy. They looked at each other. Finally, Crawford spoke.
“Yield, damn you. Give up. I don’t have to kill you.”
The boy shook his head and said something he couldn’t understand. Crawford turned slightly to look at the watchers. One of the Clorindans was pounding on the glass and howling silently. Several others were trying to restrain him. He spotted Regina with her hands over her mouth. He finally saw the Seyotah who had been officiating and waved at him.
“Get in here! Tell him he has to give up! Get in here!”
After a moment, the man made his way to the hatch and carefully walked over to him. “Tell him to yield. Tell him this is over and he doesn’t have to die.” The man bowed slightly, wary of the gravity this time, and spoke to Caspari. He could hear shouts coming through the open hatch. The boy listened but shook his head and said a few words.
“He will not yield. You must kill him,” said the Seyotah.
“Ask him again! I don’t want to do this.” The man spoke to the boy, but again he shook his head.
“He says that his honor will not allow him to yield.” As if in confirmation, Caspari tried to raise his hammer. The gravity sucked it back down after a moment and he gasped through clenched teeth.
“Blast his honor!” cried Crawford. He stepped forward and kicked the hammer out of the Clorindan’s hand. It slid across the deck to bang against the far bulkhead. “You can’t beat me now! Stop this madness!” Caspari stared at him and grated out more words he could not understand. The boy was shaking now and clutching at the shard in his stomach.
“He says that if you do not kill him, he will get well and then come again to kill you when he can. I am sorry, k’ser, but he speaks the truth. You must do what you must do if this is ever to end.”
“Damn you,” growled Crawford. “Damn you and your laws!” He turned to face the watchers. “Damn you! Damn you all to hell!”
Then he turned and stooped and swung his hammer. He let the gravity suck the spiked end down into the boy’s chest and through his heart.
Chapter Fourteen
“Ouch! Careful there!” Charles Crawford growled at the medic changing his bandages.
“Stop squirming, Charles, and let him do his job,” said Regina Nassau from her chair beside the exam table. “This is the third time you’ve had this done since you were hurt, I’d think you’d be used to it by now.” The medic manfully kept a straight face. Good thing for him, too, since Crawford was ready to peel a strip off of just about anyone at that moment. But then he saw Regina smiling steadily at him and a grin grew on his own lips in spite of all his efforts. He finally snorted and shook his head.
“There you are, sir, all done; see you again tomorrow,” said the medic cheerfully. He packed up his gear and withdrew while Crawford carefully pulled his shirt back on. Regina was still looking at him.
“So, how are you doing?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
He stared at her for a moment before answering: “No. I hurt and I… I feel all twisted up inside. Not sure why…”
“You’re not? I am. Anyone would be twisted up after a nightmare like that.”
“I can still see that kid’s face. Why the hell wouldn’t he yield? He was going to lose his clan’s challenge anyway, so why not stay alive?”
“Other cultures’ mores can seem incomprehensible sometimes. Like the Amerhammi Tribes on Jerdall III; they eat the brains of their dead in hopes of preserving their memories.”
“Ick.”
“I don’t know what was motivating that young man, Charles, but it was obviously something very important to him.”
“Damn. I’ve never killed anyone before, at least not face-to-face, like that. I don’t thi
nk I like it very much.”
“Well, I’m glad of that! I… I don’t think I could like anyone who enjoyed killing.”
“I don’t like myself very much right now as it is.” He finished buttoning his coat. She was still looking at him. “So why’d you kiss me before the fight?”
Regina blushed and looked down at the deck. “I’m not really sure,” she said quietly. “I was worried about you, of course. But it was just that everyone else was only looking at you as a way to get the expedition out of a jam. Briggs and Innes didn’t really care if you won or lost, as long as the issue was settled and they could get their damn trade agreement. I just wanted you to know that… that someone cared about you as a person.”
“Thank you, Regina. I really do appreciate that. And I guess I should have expected you to put people ahead of objectives.”
“Oh dear, has my reputation as a radical preceded me?”
“Well, we did talk about that a little bit a few days ago, as you’ll recall, and I talked to your assistant a little bit the other day…”
“Jeanine ratted on me? The little snake! I’m going to have to give her a spanking, I think.”
“I rather imagine she’d like that—from you.”
Regina’s mouth dropped open and she turned red. “Just what did you two talk about?” she demanded.
“You, mostly. But it was pretty obvious that she really likes you a lot. She admires you as a professional, but she couldn’t hide the fact that her feelings go deeper.”
Her blush was slowly fading, but she looked away. “She’s a sweet kid, but she is just a kid. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.”
“She was sure enough that she was willing to follow you all the way out here.”
“I know. I… I feel bad about that, but she was so eager I didn’t have the heart to say no. But someday she’ll figure out what she really wants.”
“What about you? Have you figured out what you really want yet?”
“Oh, peace, prosperity, truth, beauty, and justice for everyone, of course. I was going to take care of that this week, but your damn duel got in the way and I’m behind schedule.”
Across the Great Rift Page 23