CHAPTER 23
Wovoka entered the fighter hangar and headed to a Jet Shark that was already railed. He took the helmet offered by a tech tribal and hopped down into the cockpit. The canopy clicked shut and the Jet Shark shot out of the bay. It made a tight arc and in a few seconds Wovoka was firing control thrusters and operating grav manipulators to enter the flight bay on the Brule lodge ship. The canopy popped and Wovoka pulled himself out. He was barely on the flight deck when he ordered the closest tribal, “Lead me to the challenge arena.”
Brule warriors by the hundreds lined the halls that led to the challenge arena. All were silent, their stares hard. Wovoka entered the challenge arena where the two spectator decks were crammed with Brule warriors. The entrance to the challenge arena lead directly to the battle floor. The battle floor was fifteen meters in diameter and a third of a meter thick. The deck floated five meters off of the floor on anti-grav discs. Bright blue lights circled the edge of the battle deck. Between the blue lights, spaced at one meter increments were handrails that melded into the deck. Knotted flexi-cords hung from the handrails at the edge of the platform.
Without acknowledging any of the Brule gathered or the Brule hierarchy who now stood directly under the battle deck Wovoka jumped the three-meter gap to the battle deck and scaled the flexi-cord. He pulled himself on top of the battle deck and yelled, “Send the champions now.”
Moments passed and Wovoka began to pace with anger. He was ready now and wanted this done. The first Brule champion, a tall well-muscled Caucasian, pulled himself over the edge. Wovoka knew him; Bo Riggs, a Notre Dame running back that had passed up a lucrative career in the IFL to join the AmerIndian Confederacy. Riggs had distinguished himself as a capable leader in less than a year.
The other two champions pulled themselves up together. Both were true bloods with traditional features; dark skin, smooth oval faces and long poker straight black hair. Wovoka recognized the two as the River twins, Parthan and James River. The Brule called them by nicknames, Fork and Eddy. Brule trainers, they were highly skilled martial artists. Wovoka started to walk to the center of the battle deck and was surprised to see Cavaho waving his arms at the side on the higher spectator deck. Cavaho made four sharp gestures in pack hand combat code. Wovoka read the code easily - “Two first ball last.”
Wovoka nodded. Take the twins out first, save Bo for last. It was good advice. Both of the twins were as good as Wovoka, together they would be deadly. Wovoka now stood at the center of the battle deck and the three Brule surrounded him at equal intervals. The champions acknowledged the challenger with quick, short glances and broke to head for the weapons section. Wovoka followed. On the battle deck were four weapons - a solid steel baseball bat, a long three-meter pole, a steel billy club and a thick, heavy three-meter chain with a dull hook on the end.
On the battle deck the weapon of choice was the chain. It was the only weapon that could help a warrior stay on the deck as well as lay down significant body damage if properly used. The rules of the Brule Challenge were simple. Anyone to fall off of the battle deck to the floor below lost. Anyone standing alone on the battle deck, all opponents dispatched, won.
Wovoka picked up the long pole. Chatter rolled forward from the spectators. Each warrior took his position at one of the markers spaced evenly around the circumference of the floating battle deck.
Eddy stood at Wovoka's left, Fork directly across, and Bo at the corner to Wovoka's right.
A loud clear chime emanated throughout the arena, signaling the start of the match and triggering the battle deck into a steady flat spin.
The Brule champions stepped forward warily. As the start signal rang out Wovoka's legs were pumping. He surged forward with the pole held tight in his hands, as a pole-vaulter would carry it.
Each of the Brule understood that caution was imperative as the deck spun. A misstep onto one of the rungs would cause a trip, a mistake your opponent would not let you rise from. Wovoka ran, each step moving slightly right to counteract the spin of the battle deck.
Eddy and Bo realized what Wovoka was doing, but too late. Fork had not distanced himself from the edge and had little room to maneuver. Wovoka barreled down on Fork with the pole, clearly intending to spear him. With nowhere to run Fork raised the billy club. Wovoka continued undaunted. The second the pole was close enough Fork swacked it away. The pole sprang away but Wovoka had the target he needed.
Simultaneously, Wovoka let go of the pole and kicked his legs up and forward. He was moving fast now and Fork was just a half-meter off his course. Wovoka's legs, waist and torso passed Fork. With speed and precision Wovoka grabbed Fork with his left hand under the chin. Wovoka's body was now traveling with all his momentum over the edge of the battle deck. He used his momentum to haul Fork off his feet and over the edge with him. But as the two began to go over the edge (Wovoka feet first, Fork head first) Wovoka shot out his right and grabbed the handrail at the edge. Wovoka stopped his momentum with shoulder jarring force. Fork flailed his arms behind and beneath his back without success to grab the handrail. He did manage to grip Wovoka's pants. The cloth slipped from between his fingers as all his weight pulled him to the floor. His angry howl ended abruptly when he hit the floor shoulder first with a dull crunch.
Wovoka was already swinging deeper to the center of the bottom of the battle deck using the handholds. Above, Eddy and Bo exchanged a glance. Eddy’s fury showed. The champions were less than ten seconds into the match and they were already down a fighter. Eddy cocked his thumb, motioning for Bo to go below. The deck continued to spin. Bo jogged to the edge of the deck, skooched down and pointed his back-side out over the edge. He grabbed two handrails tightly and hopped, kicking his legs back and extending his arms. With one clean swoop he swung down feet first, ready to kick Wovoka away if he were there.
Wovoka was meters away waiting patiently with a broad smile. Bo swung away from him, moving around the edge of the bottom of the battle deck. Suddenly, what Bo had been waiting for happened. As if on a giant spatula, the battle deck flipped like a pancake.
The battle deck was sheer vertical when Bo released his grip from the handrails and dove toward Wovoka. His orientation to the deck carried him quickly and he crashed into Wovoka. Wovoka tumbled back with Bo catching at his clothes. The two started to roll down the battle deck but a handrail jammed into Wovoka's ribs, stealing momentum. The rest of his momentum was lost as the deck swung level. The two men were no more than a meter and a half from the edge. With a cry Wovoka rolled Bo to the side and skittered out from underneath him.
Bo stood and moved quickly a few meters away to where the chain lay, magnetically held to the floor. He yanked it up and took a few steps to the right to cut Wovoka off from the pole that clung on the deck. Bo began to swing a meter of the chain in his hand. Wovoka stepped toward him. Bo whirled the chain harder and let out slack. Wovoka circled but did not move back. Bo whipped the chain forward and Wovoka hopped back, the chain passing a quarter meter from his chest. As the chain passed Wovoka moved in, bolting toward Bo. Bo had anticipated this. Wovoka reached a good clip before Bo let the chain go. It flung noisily across the battle deck beyond the spinning edge, clinking to a stop at the force field that protected the Brule spectators.
Bo spun with the arc of the chain and for a moment his back was exposed to the advancing Wovoka. With a burst of speed Bo lifted his leg high and rode the force of his full 360-degree turn. Wovoka had his right coiled back for a devastating punch. Bo’s kick caught Wovoka across the side of the head. He was pulled off his feet and he fell to the deck like a downed tree. Wovoka struggled to remain conscious. He could not move. Bo was moving toward him and Wovoka watched as the large Brule extended his arm out to grab Wovoka. Bo intended to throw Wovoka's now limp body over the edge.
Wovoka pushed forward all the fear and anger from his mind to his limbs. He reached up and grabbed Bo's outstretched hand and rolled, hopping his body off an impeding handrail. Bo's arm twisted unnaturally
and he fell to his knees as Wovoka rose to his feet. Bo's teeth were bared as Wovoka yanked his arm farther. His head went lower. Wovoka shot three fast hard kicks, one to Bo's stomach, one to his face and one to his ribs, without letting go of his arm. Bo was barely conscious and Wovoka kicked him hard over the side of the battle deck.
Sweat covered Wovoka's face and he ached from where the handrails had jabbed into his ribs. He thought about swinging down below but knew the spinning of the battle deck would disorient him. He stepped back slightly to his left and saw Eddy swing up onto his side of the deck. Eddy held the billy club. The fast, lithe Brule approached Wovoka.
Wovoka pulled back into the Kata III stance he had practiced a thousand times with Cavaho. Eddy came within a meter and a half and Wovoka decided not to wait. He flew a fast kick at Eddy's mid section. Eddy effortlessly slammed the kick away with the billy club and hit Wovoka with a hard jab to his face. Wovoka staggered back. Eddy whipped the billy club down at Wovoka's knee and connected. Wovoka felt the searing pain as his knee cracked.
Eddy followed with a knee to Wovoka's gut. Wovoka knew he could not match Eddy's hand-to-hand. Eddy would soon knock him unconscious, if not crack his skull like an egg, with the billy club. Wovoka felt his knee was barely able to support his weight. He could not let this fight end on the top of the battle deck. He had to make it through to the flip of the deck and then some of Eddy's advantage would be neutralized. Wovoka hit the deck and scramble rolled to the edge. Eddy followed, striking at Wovoka's hand as he scrambled away. The blow clanged on the deck and Wovoka struggled to move faster.
Eddy's second attack with the billy club was more successful and he landed a brutal hit to Wovoka's calf. It landed with a thick, sickening thud but did not break the bone. Wovoka passed by the baseball bat and grabbed it. On his back, he used the bat to ward off two more blows from the billy club and finally the battle deck flipped.
Dropping the bat, Wovoka rolled over and clamped onto two nearby handrails. Eddy staggered backward and had to drop the billy club to grab a handrail. The deck leveled and Eddy began to swing to Wovoka. Wovoka waited and did not dodge as Eddy sent a jab to his chin. The blow glanced off because the swinging Eddy had little leverage.
With one quick movement Wovoka swung into Eddy, pulled his knees up and let go of both handrails. Wovoka caught Eddy's jumpsuit with both hands. Eddy’s face showed surprise for a moment and he clamped harder on the handrails to hold both of them up. Then Eddy realized since Wovoka was holding onto him all he had to do was let go and they would both fall to the floor, both would be declared losers. Satyr would remain the Brule chief and Wovoka would have failed to prove, through combat, his status as White Buffalo. The thought of letting go flashed through Eddy's mind as he felt Wovoka yank hard on his jumpsuit. Eddy’s grip came loose.
Wovoka's yank was fast and calculated. As the two fell Wovoka pulled Eddy into him and did a short roll so that Eddy's back faced the hard floor. With force Eddy slammed onto the floor. His back and the back of his skull smacked onto the plasteel. Wovoka knees were tucked tight to Eddy's chest and he clutched Eddy's jumpsuit at both shoulders. Eddy's ribs snapped like twigs under Wovoka’s knees. Wovoka stared down intently at Eddy, ready to move his hands from Eddy’s shoulders and knock him unconscious if he moved. But the unfortunate tribal was unconscious, well on his way to death.
The spectators roared. The White Buffalo had been defeated. He had fallen to his defeat. But the other half of the crowd was pulling the cheering tribals back down to their seats pointing at the battle deck, which was still spinning. The tribals stared at the spinning battle deck's blue lights shining brightly on all sides. When the match was over the battle deck stopped spinning and all the edge lights turned red. The Brule watched as Wovoka stood, carefully keeping his feet on Eddy's body, not touching the floor. Wovoka’s pain was evident but he determinedly forced himself to stand, placing his weight on his good leg. He stood precariously on Eddy's hips until the deck flipped again. Wovoka's arms were outstretched as the deck hit him from behind. The breath was knocked out of him but he clutched a handrail and the deck carried him up.
When the battle deck leveled it stopped spinning and the red lights came on.
Wovoka lay on the floor for a moment before he was able to breathe again. Slowly, fighting through the pain, he stood.
A Brule medic bounded over a three-meter bridge that had been extended out from the spectator area to the battle deck. Wovoka gestured for the medic to give him his comp set. Wovoka’s voice was carried to every lodge ship. “Satyr, I have won your chiefdom.” Wovoka coughed and blood sprayed onto his hand. “I am the White Buffalo because the Elder Shaman speaks the voice of the Grandfathers and the strength of the Grandfathers passes through me now. I am ready to lead the AmerIndian Confederacy to the Homeland, the first of many lands our people will live in peace and harmony with nature upon. If we are to be successful we must act as one spirit, one body, one mind.” Wovoka spit blood and continued, “No tribal can distrust another. No tribal can doubt the intentions or the sincerity of another. No tribal can give another a reason for doubt. We must all work tirelessly toward our goal. We must all believe that together the homeland will be ours. Satyr, I need the support and loyalty of every chief. I will not give your people a command to join in the invasion. Instead, I give you back your chiefdom and I ask you as a brother to command your people in the way you see fit. Do not command out of deference to the position of legend I now hold. Command them because you know the other tribes need you to succeed.”
Satyr stood and cried, “Invasion.”
The crowd roared and the Brule scattered in every direction to prepare for war. The navcomps continued to calculate correspondence planes. Destination Naanac.
Grey halls slipped past Jaret. He nodded at the brig officer as he passed. Lige had made sure to keep Alexa Sullivan's identification a secret. The prison guards saw her simply as another prisoner, although female prisoners were unusual. The official roster showed her as a crewmember of the prime ship Silke who was waiting to be transferred to a penal outpost in the Privilege system for a one-year incarceration for insubordination.
“Code lock to voice pattern Jaret Tucker. Delta Zeta storage protocol.”
Jaret was hiding the video feed of his meetings with Alexa in Lige's processed intelligence database. He entered the cell to find Alexa poring over a bubble display on the wall. He had cleared access to the literature sections for Alexa. She read voraciously. Once a day she was let out to use the gym facilities, alone. She used that time to swim. To Jaret's knowledge, he was the only person who spoke to her. The guards were under orders to stun her if she spoke a word in their presence. Alexa had learned silence quickly.
Jaret sat down at the end of the bench. He took out some chocolates. She smiled, took one. Jaret looked at his boots as he spoke, “I see you read all of Dicken's work. I read a bit of ‘Martin Chuzelwhit’. His work is slow and dry. What do you like about it?”
“The time,” she said. “There lives were simple. Confrontation revolved around reputation and status, not bloodshed. I find it quaint, relaxing. I think it disturbs you because you are a killer.”
He looked down at his hands. “I am not a killer. I am a soldier. You should know the difference after being with the AC for that long.”
“You have a choice, Jaret. You don't have to do what you do. Or at least you could serve a cause that matters. Leave Lige. Go to the AC. With your knowledge of Lige’s fleet the AC could launch a rescue attempt for me in twenty-four hours.”
“I wouldn't need the AC to get you off this ship.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“But that is not something I will be doing, Alexa.” It was difficult for him to understand. He realized he was her jailer. He was the only social contact she had. Jaret could tell she was attracted to him, maybe even felt something approaching affection for him. Yet she did not make any invitation to him, no requests. She never
even promised anything for her release. She simply continued to tell him her release could help him if he would defect to the AC with her. He liked her measure of self-control.
Alexa put her hands in her lap and became quiet. He thought for a moment and all of the feelings surged back. He pulled closer. “I am thinking about freeing you.”
She looked at him. “Would you go with me?”
He was struck by the bluntness of the question. He had thought of many different responses she would have to his statement but her question surprised him, excited him. “No, of course not.”
“Why are you considering this?”
“Isn't it obvious?” Jaret leaned in closer.
“Say it.”
“I love you.” He looked at her. What had gone unspoken was now overt.
“I love you,” Alexa said.
Jaret let the words wash over him like cool rain. He leaned forward to kiss her and she slapped him with all her strength.
“I do love you but there can never be anything between us. You choose to kill my people, who wish only for peace. There can never be anything between us.” With that she turned from him.
He stood abruptly and left without another word. He had work to do to affect her escape back to the AmerIndian Confederacy.
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