by Reiter
Nulaki looked into the rear view mirror while swerving sharply to the right. He could see the same slender figure coming away from the fire, a slight limp in his walk. An arrow tore off the driver side mirror and the man who called himself the Black Scarab noticed a slight splash at the point of impact. “Old School!” he said softly, turning the corner. It was not the street he wanted to take, but he did not want to endanger Tehdi any more than he already had.
“That would’ve scored Tehdi,” Nulaki estimated, gripping the steering wheel.
“So what’s this?” Tehdi said, looking at the vehicle.
“It’s an air-car I stole,” Nulaki informed. “The crash back there was a rental.”
“You crash a rental and steal a getaway?!”
“Too many safety features in air-cars these days. The goods are in the back, Tehdi,” he said after tapping the man on his shoulder and pointing his thumb to the back seat. “If you engage the auto-drive, it will take you to a duster I’ve got waiting to take you to Kwylun Station. That’ll take about two days, but you’ll be in good hands.”
“Why can’t I just take public transport from here?” Tehdi asked.
“Because an Imperial TC got fragged! The IA is going to be all over this joint come sunrise,” Nulaki explained. “I need to make sure you’re in the clear before I shadow out.”
“I heard about the Chevalier,” Tehdi said. “Word has it that he’s critical, but still kickin’. His Gallant saved his life.”
“Kudos to the Junior Department,” Nulaki muttered. “Of course, that’s even more reason for you to haul ass out of here my way.”
“You might have to look over your shoulder for Imperials, but I doubt the IA has even been alerted,” Tehdi offered. “Not like the Empire to go bragging that one of their TCs had trouble with some street trash.
“Anyway, I’ve got something for you,” Tehdi said as he reached inside his jacket. He produced a small, black lethur packet. “I’ve got a cred-stick here for you, three fifty K and code crystals for a little Cobra-Nine I’ve got parked southwest of the township.”
“A Cobra-Nine?!” Nulaki repeated, taking another high-speed turn as he chuckled. “Your anniversary gift is in the bag.”
“I thought we agreed, I’m supposed to get YOU gifts, not the other w–”
“It’s the sponsorship package for your son,” Nulaki interrupted. “No way will the Academy turn this down. Your boy is IA bound! Just tell him not to come chasing after me, okay?”
The gray eyes of the would-be accountant stared at a man he had only known for six seasons. It felt more like six lifetimes. Sanjen had told Tehdi that this boy would impress him. The crafty old thief was never the sort of person to exaggerate a matter. On that occasion, which would be the last time the old man would ever speak to Tehdi, or anyone for that matter, he had undersold the item. Nulaki had appeared to be too young and too wide-eyed, but Tehdi soon came to realize that was what he wanted people to think of him. He was young, and it would be foolishness not to use what had been given to him.
“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Tehdi replied. “But we both know he could never catch you. I love that boy, but that doesn’t make him a genius.”
“Yeah, but it beats the hell out of a number of other starting places,” Nulaki said, looking in the rear-view mirror again.
“It is getting crowded around here,” Nulaki considered. “And boy do I mean fast!
“On second thought,” he said, taking one more turn. “… I’m not giving you the option. Engage auto-drive option and lock out changes!” Nulaki reached over and took the small packet. He flashed a smile at Tehdi and the man winced at hearing so many of Nulaki’s joints unlock. Quickly slithering out from behind the controls, Nulaki secured the packet and then jumped from the car to the roof of a building, rolling to dismiss the momentum his body had acquired. Tehdi was still cussing him out when the car raced out of sight. Nulaki looked around. The speed of the car had given him a good measure of distance from the shadows that now gave chase; it had also afforded him several paths of escape and he smiled at his advantage.
“Mathari finds the best people,” Nulaki whispered. “And it doesn’t look like they’re going to give up.” Nulaki had learned the formula of the perfect chase: make sure the others are working hard and not smart, and he chuckled at the effort that would need to be given just to catch up to him.
“They never give up,” he said softly. “… like so many unsung heroes that do the do in the name of a master or mistress. Speaking of doers…”
Nulaki had been called to the lander-shuttle as JoJo was at the controls going through the pre-flight checks.
“What do you need, Z?” the talented thief had asked.
“A moment of your time,” the Malgovi had replied. Nulaki approached, still uneasy with something possessing Z’s frame being soft spoken; soft, but very direct. His meaning was never missed. “I realize you are not a member of the crew, but seeing as how we are supposed to be working together, and you are relatively unarmed, I would make these available to you.” Nulaki looked over a floating tray of devices that looked like he was in the middle of an Imperial arsenal, the Research and Development Division!
“I realize these are crude,” Z had continued. “…but we were pressed for time.” The large blue-skinned man held up a sturdy looking belt; several pockets had been sewn in on the inside and outside of the belt. Each pocket was shallow and tight against the belt itself. It made the belt ideal for one thing: carrying shuriken! Nulaki pulled out a black star shuriken and marveled at the detail of the weapon.
“These are almost perfectly balanced!” Nulaki had exclaimed.
“As I said, Satithe and I were pressed for time. She is working on another set that will be of a much better grade.” Nodding at Z’s words, Nulaki had examined the throwing star and squinted his eyes. “Aahhh, I can see you have spotted the change Satithe made. That is a type of xelectrium plating she used instead of gold.”
“Xelectrium?” Nulaki had repeated.
“Yes,” Z had confirmed. “According to her research it keeps a better edge and is much lighter.”
“Z, I don’t know what to say,” Nulaki had sighed, shaking his head. “Wait, I do know what to say!” Nulaki had stood there, making it a point not to look at Z as he held out his hand.
“We don’t use receipts here,” Z had advised. “Record of your account has been uploaded to your wrist-com.”
“You people don’t immediately give off the pirate shtick… not immediately.”
“I am sure,” Z had nodded as Nulaki wrapped the belt around his waist. “There is free advice which comes with it, and again, you did not request it, so I will understand it if you refuse my words. All I ask is that you hear what I have to say.”
“Whoa!” Nulaki had replied, suspending the donning of weapons belts. “You just changed up everything on me. Your tone, your stance… hell, you even feel different.”
“And someone with that level of perception should use it on themselves more than you do,” Z had suggested. “You are a gifted individual, much like my sister, Danatra. She is no acrobat, however; she is a musician. She has several times played for our Queen.”
“Wow!” Nulaki has said, respecting the talent one must have had to carry a Royal command performance.
“Indeed! She took to her first instrument and came to be able to play it very quickly. The moment she mastered it, she did not stop playing it, but she took up another instrument. I thought she was being irresponsible, perhaps even arrogant, trying to present herself as something she was not.
“I asked her one day why she had tried to learn so many instruments when truly mastering one was inherently a wiser course of action. She said, ‘It would be, if I were mastering the instrument and not music’! That leads me to ask you, what is it that you are mastering? Is it movement or is it running? The former I can fear. No one fears a runner.” Z had turned toward the shuttle, leaving Nulaki there with his though
ts. Nulaki knew that JoJo was not the most patient of women, and had decided to just grab the tray and take it aboard the lander with him. He could make much slower choices without holding up JoJo or rushing himself.
After he had given the good Captain and her First Mate directions on where they could find crewmen, Nulaki went to the hotel where he had been staying. He had made his way into a room that was not his and retrieved his things from the lavatory. He could not help but see the shoulder pouch holding his reader. He had activated the device and quickly looked at the scroll he had uploaded.
“Shikari,” he had thought, remembering the name his Sensei had given the technique. With everything that Nulaki could do, he had only read one of the four scrolls his teacher had given him. He had taken in a deep breath and glanced at the first page of the second scroll. Nulaki knew the system of writing his master had used very well, and he quickly recognized the word ‘defense’. Nulaki had hastily deactivated the reader and stuffed it back into the shoulder pouch. Taking Z up on his offer, Nulaki had summoned a robotic drone and stowed his personal effects inside the drone before leaving to make preparations for his rendezvous with Tehdi.
Nulaki’s eyes blinked rapidly as he looked once more at his escape routes. The shadows were drawing closer; he could feel them – feel their anger and ambition.
“And someone with this level of perception should use it more on themselves,” Nulaki whispered as he closed his eyes and took to his metered breathing. While he did not lose his awareness of the moment and his immediate area, Nulaki’s thoughts returned to the Bridge of the Xara-Mansura.
“I put everything into being the artful dodger,” he had said to JoJo. “…never stood my ground and stapled you to the pavement.”
“You think you could have done that?” she had asked.
“We both know I could have.”
“Did we both know?” he pondered. “Did I?! Yes, I am certain I could have… but I was so busy flying that I didn’t do any fighting. I was being the escape artist… like Sanjen. And damn if he wasn’t the best. But that’s all he could do!
“Escape,” he thought. “That is my thing, isn’t it? And as long as that is my thing, the only thing they’ll ever do is give chase. No one fears a runner! Perhaps it’s time they learned to fear the Black Scarab!
“You boys just going to stand there all night?” Nulaki asked before opening his eyes and smiling at the four men who had assembled on the western edge of the roof. Self-styled wannabe tech-ninjas that had been dubbed Marathi’s Manglers; half decent martial artists with inflated egos and incredible resources. They normally came in packs of five.
“Cinco de idiota must be using a flight pack and has taken up a perch with a sniper rifle,” Nulaki suspected. “But none of these guys use archaic weaponry. Something else is up tonight, and I’m just the most popular thing in town! Nulaki tapped his finger against his wrist before stretching his fingers.
“You must not be right in the head,” one of the four spoke up, crossing his arms. “Either that or you lucked up on a heap of cred.”
“If I had, you guys would just kill me and divi-up the haul amongst yourselves,” Nulaki replied. “I know Fat Fidi’s not interested in my money.”
“Then why did you stop running?”
“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” Nulaki said as he charged forward one step and then stopped. He heard the blast of the rifle and saw the low light energy burst pass in front of his face. “Figured you’d have the sniper set up on my flank. Tell ‘em they lead the target too much!” Nulaki dropped to one knee and slapped down one of his smoke bombs. Another blast passed over his head and Nulaki rolled into the smoke.
“Go for ultraviolet,” one of the men commanded and Nulaki’s throat drew tight. He swallowed hard as he set his feet. He did not have anything to say, but he took the first stance of Shikari and bound forward.
“Here he comes!” one of the men shouted, drawing his gun.
Nulaki landed on his hands as another sniper shot missed. Rolling forward, he jumped up with an uppercut, catching one of the men on the chin. As both men ascended, Nulaki was in control of his movement and pushed off the dazed man’s chest. The thug might have gone over the edge from the force of the blow, the quick stamp guaranteed it.
“Layout,” Nulaki thought as he threw his hands into the direction he was moving. He was able to develop a spin from the movement and he landed on his left hand, still spinning and landing three spinning kicks on the man who had shouted the warning. His back was to the men, but at least he was in the smoke again. He ran for the far edge with laser fire escorting him the entire distance. He jumped over the side and cackled.
“Little bastard thinks he’s got some grit,” one of the men concluded as he started after Nulaki. Off in the distance, the flight pack was activated. “Come on, boys, he’s back on his bike.”
“No he’s not!” Nulaki cried as he came swinging back up over the ledge, planting both feet into the man’s chest. The man grunted from the impact as he flew back across the rooftop where he collided with another man and they both fell over the side. Nulaki landed and looked up at the last of the four. “Wow, it really sucks to be you!” he said as he started his charge.
The man drew his gun and fired; Nulaki squatted under the shot. “Too high!” he cried as the man aimed and fired again. A no-hand cartwheel foiled that shot. “Too low!” Nulaki hit the ground running and the third shot missed in front of him. “Too quick and now you’re too – whoa!” It had been some time since Nulaki had been truly surprised. But he put his feet down in an effort to adjust his base and alter his center of gravity. He knew it was too late to stop to avoid what he had perceived, but once again a change in altitude seemed to be a working solution. He knew his momentum would carry him over the side, but a long fall seemed wiser than a bad stand. As he passed by the last rooftop Mangler, another figure came up over the side, swinging a single-edged blade. He was fast, moving faster than Nulaki at the moment. The attack took the head of the Mangler off his body, and nearly cut Nulaki as it was brought back.
“That’s what happened to Old School,” Nulaki thought as he looked at a figure dressed in an Old Earth approach to a gi. It was a charcoal gray and came complete with a mask. “Yeah, joke all you want, Nulaki. You didn’t detect him, only his attack!”
Using his hands, Nulaki caught the ledge of the adjacent building. “Move, son!” he thought, rolling along the wall of the building. Two arrows just missed his back and lodged deeply into the wall. “This man is very serious!” Nulaki realized, releasing the ledge and allowing his body to drop, avoiding a third arrow. He pushed off from the wall, avoiding the fourth. He propelled himself across the alley and into a window of the building where he had decided to make his rooftop stand. The glass cut into his shirt, but not the material of the bodysuit Z had given him. Nulaki landed on a desk and barely managed to stick a decent landing. He looked up to see the man in the gi come swinging down the side of the building and into the broken window. Nulaki went to kick the man’s legs, but he nimbly tumbled over the attempt and landed on his feet.
“Yeah, I’m thinking flight on this one,” he said softly, back-flipping out of the broken window and down toward the ground.
“Get back here and fight!” the man screamed as he came out of the window, reaching back for his sword. He gasped to see Nulaki clinging to the wall, his head pointed toward the ground.
“Changed my mind!” Nulaki said as he grabbed the ankle of the man and swung him into the wall of the building. The man was stunned and dropped his barely drawn sword. “Nah, you’re a two-lump man!” The thief swung the man up and hammered him into the wall above the window. He started to plummet to the alley below, and Nulaki was kind enough to get out of the way.
Nulaki waited for the man to collide with the ground, spotted his landing, and released his hold of the wall. He landed with both feet solidly in the man’s chest.
“I’m sorry,
you’re not on my dance card, and I don’t want the others to start thinking I’m easy!” Nulaki said. “So please be so kind as to tell me who sent you?”
“Th-Thessare,” the man struggled to say. “He w-w-wants the s-scrolls!”
Nothing registered on Nulaki’s face as he glared at the man. “How did you find me?”
In between panting for air and moaning in pain, the man strained his voice to respond. “You can f-f-fool the eye with your s-s-shadows… you can f-fool machines with y-your tech… b-but you will never be able to hide your Chi f-f-from the Manchu Kanos Geem!”
“Farewell, brother, and bless you!” Nulaki said before stamping the man in the face. He stepped off the body, slowly walking toward the street. Thessare was a name he had not heard in almost a year. Rival students from rivaling schools, they had managed to carve out a niche of respect for one another. Even when the schools had met in a not-so-friendly tournament, when the two of them had to face one another, still there had been respect. Nulaki had taken a few lumps that day, part of the reason why he had developed a taste for agility, speed and avoidance.
“Only to find out my master and Thessare’s mistress came from the same school, the same teacher,” Nulaki recalled. “That guy must’ve been a freakin’ wonder! At least two of his students went off to become style-developing grandmasters in their own right. But when he died, he only chose one to leave his–”
Nulaki’s body locked in pain as he was blasted to the alley floor. The sniper! His chest slammed against the pavement and the world went blurry. He could not hear anything, not even his own heartbeat. Burning light sparked against his face as debris fell over his head and shoulders. A headshot! That was some yield the guy was using, but somehow the sniper had missed. Multiple flashes of light flared over his head, but there was no pain , no sensation whatsoever, just sound and light.
“Must’ve hit the spine,” he thought before his head came away from the alley floor and his body was dragged to the sidewalk.