by C. R. Daems
Before the chief finished the word or could move back, I sprang into motion, driving my shoulder into his chest as my left arm guided his right knife hand away. The impact lifted him off his feet and drove him to the floor. He lay there with multiple red stains in the area of his heart, lungs, and throat.
“I wasn’t ready,” he complained as I turned and threw my knife to the chief.
“Yes, you were,” I said. “You’re expecting a contest where the best person would score a cut to an area which would eventually cause death. I was expecting a life or death clash where one of us would die instantly. I do not have to time to dance with you for two or three minutes while you shout for help or to wait for you to bleed out or to leave you wounded and capable of causing mischief.”
“That was rather dramatic.” The chief snorted. “She’s right, Clifford, you were ready for a contest but not a life or death clash.”
* * *
The city of Madaza looked exactly the same as it did when I left two years ago. Back then, to the eyes of a young girl who had grown up in the mountains, it looked like an ultramodern city full of technological wonders. Today it looked like what it was—a large city on a backward planet twenty years behind the latest technology. By the time I arrived planet-side it was too late to find transportation to my father’s small city in the mountains so I rented a hotel room, freshened up, and decided to explore the city.
“Where to, ma’am?” asked a little brown man when I entered the cab.
“Downtown,” I said, having been told by the hotel clerk that was where the entertainment center of the city was located. I exited the cab ten minutes later in my Tasmanian uniform, since I had little in the way of civilian clothes. On Delphi it was normal for the military to wear uniforms when one went out at night so I didn’t give it much thought. I spent the first hour just wandering the streets looking at the nightclubs and theaters to see the type of entertainment available. I had stopped to read the advertisements outside the club Dragonfly when I was approached by three women in army uniforms, two corporals and a sergeant.
“Ma’am,” the sergeant said hesitantly, “we had heard rumors that a female had passed the Tasmanian qualification school. Are you the one?”
I could tell from her hesitant approach and speech they weren’t sure if I were a real Tasmanian or not. Over the years the Tasmanians had made brutal examples out of people who pretended to be Tasmanians, even going so far as to cut off the arm of someone who had a lookalike Tasmanian tattoo. But on a backward planet like Surbaya someone might think it was worth pretending to be a Tasmanian as they were magnets for women.
“I’m Luan,” I said. “The rumor is true and I’m the one. I was raised in Surbaya and I’m on vacation to visit my father.”
“Luan, we would gladly treat you to dinner and some entertainment for some information about the Tasmanians and what’s going on in New Delphi,” the sergeant said. ‘We’ve been on Surbaya for two years and are starved for information.” They dragged me into the Dragonfly Nightclub, paid for a private table, dinner, drinks, and several hours of entertainment.
“Do you think the Tasmanians are now going to have a lot more women qualify?” Corporal Julian asked.
“No. The qualifications school is designed for physically fit young men who are smart and driven to succeed. Women have several handicaps, which makes it extremely difficult for them to compete with the men.” I went on to explain that being raised by a master of martial arts gave me a unique background and was the main reason I was able to qualify.
I was on my way back to the table from the ladies’ room when three young men stood blocking my path. Judging by the way their suits fit they must regularly work out with weights.
“I’m told that you are wearing a Tasmanian uniform,” said the shortest and most muscular of the three as his eyes roamed my body. “Which is interesting since the Tasmanians are all men. You would be in a lot of trouble if we were to report you.”
“I think we should take her into custody and hold her for the Tasmanians,” said the tallest of the group, looking like he would enjoy having me restrained and under his control. The third man stood there saying nothing, his eyes excited and his head bobbing up and down like it was on a spring.
“You boys,” I said with emphasis on the word boys, “have an interesting dilemma. You have chosen to get involved in something that is none of your business. Restraining me is kidnapping even if I am impersonating a Tasmanian. And if I’m not impersonating a Tasmanian, then you have an even bigger problem. Because even if you could subdue me you would have my brothers seeking revenge.” Looking around, I saw I had the attention of at least half the people in the club. “What do you suggest?” I asked, opening my arms toward the customers. “Apologize or beat a hasty retreat before they make more fools of themselves?”
“Retreat… Apologize… Fight…” people were shouting as the entire nightclub was now involved, sensing some unexpected entertainment.
“I like that alternative,” the shortest man shouted, his face alight with excitement.
“I have no reason to want to hurt you—”
“See, the bitch is no Tasmanian,” the shorter man said, leering in my direction.
“But if you insist, let’s make it interesting,” I said as I walked to the middle of the dance floor. “if I lose I will be terribly embarrassed and feel obligated to buy everyone in the club a drink of their choice.” That elicited shouts and cheers and lots of side comments. “Then it’s only right that if I win these boys owe each of you a drink.” Now everyone was standing and shouting, “Fight, fight, fight.”
The boys entered the dance floor smiling, but it looked forced. Their efforts to intimidate this young girl had not only failed, but she was offering to fight the three men simultaneously. As they approached, they spread out to encircle me.
“You’re going to pay for this, bitch,” the shortest man said. I heard the words but they had no meaning as I was in fight mode, relaxed, focused, with no expectations.
The tallest man made the first move, appearing to be darting in from my left. I sensed he was a distraction for the shortest man, who was coming in from my right looking as if he was going to grab me. The shortest man’s face split into a wide smile as his arms opened wide to snare me in his grip. At the last second, I collapsed onto my left leg and sent out a right sidekick into his knee. He had all his weight on the leg when I made contact, and it gave a loud crack as it bent inward. He screamed as the leg gave way and he sprawled and slid across the wood floor.
Next, I hopped onto my right foot, leaned back on both my hands, and delivered a driving front kick into the tallest man’s groin as he reached me. His forward speed combined with the speed of my driving front kick sounded like a fifty-kilogram slab of meat had fallen five stories onto cement. Red, yellow, and green gushed from his mouth and he hung suspended like a wet towel on my leg.
I jumped to my feet and found the center man standing in the same spot smiling with a revolver pointed at my chest. I dove to my left, tucked into a ball, reached for a throwing knife while rolling to a standing position, and threw the knife as the center man shot. He missed. My knife protruded from his left eye.
I collected each of the men’s wallets and walked over to the bar. “Bartender, they lost the wager so they are paying for everyone’s drinks,” I said and then walked back to my army friends.
* * *
The next day I booked a taxi skimmer to Harjar, where my father lived and I grew up. I felt my heart racing as I walked down the familiar streets towards my father’s home and school. Nothing had changed over the past two years and the town appeared frozen in time. On reaching the entrance to the school, I paused, excited to be home and to see my father. When I entered the large open training area, a lanky youth was demonstrating a crippling technique. I found that strange, as my father was nowhere to be seen. The boy looked up and glared at me.
“I’m looking for Master Luan,” I said while n
oting the eight boys and two girls who appeared to be students.
“He no longer owns the Iron Hand House,” the young man said. “These are private classes.”
“Can you tell me where I can find Master Luan?”
“Master?” The young man sneered. “Old cripple is more like it.”
It took all of my years of training to keep my voice calm. “The old cripple then.”
“Who knows or cares. He knows his place and stays out of our way.” He laughed. I turned and walked out barely able to dampen my rising anger. “Don’t turn your back on me, you bitch,” he shouted but I ignored him and continued walking, while fighting to stay calm. Later, I told myself, when I understood what was going on. My father would never have sold the school. He may have shut it down if he could no longer conduct classes, but he would never sell it. I heard footsteps running after me and the man shouting “Stop,” but continued walking. Another time, I told myself but couldn’t help hoping he would catch up.
I walked in the direction of the center of the town, not sure where to start looking. My father had been a well-liked man and was well known so I hoped getting information would be easy. A mile later I found a small local coffee shop my father frequently visited with friends. When I entered, it was an hour past normal breakfast and only two tables had customers. I approached the first table where two old men sat. Two cups of coffee and two partially eaten desserts lay on the plain wooden table. The two men looked familiar but I couldn’t place them. Both looked about my father’s age, sixties, with brown wrinkled skin and thinning gray hair.
“Good morning, sirs,” I said. They looked at me but said nothing. “I’m looking for Master Luan and was wondering if you could help. I know he used to visit here frequently.” I saw recognition in their eyes but they still said nothing for a long time. A look passed between them and the youngest of the two nodded. “I came to visit him but was told he no longer lives at the school.” I was hesitant to give too much information after that…thug’s comments at the school. Something bad was going on. I could feel it in my bones.
“You’re not with the Iron Hand,” the man said but it was more a question.
“Who are the Iron Hand?” I asked, then added by way of disassociating myself from them, “The thugs at Master Luan’s school?” I had seen enough to know they weren’t my father’s students.
“If you will buy a breakfast to go, I will show you where you can find him,” the man said, appearing to relax a little. “The Iron Hand provide protection for the town.”
Now I understood why the men were hesitant to say anything. They were afraid. The gang operated by fear. A few minutes later the thug who had been teaching the class came in with two other younger men.
“Get her and take her back to the school,” the leader said. The two youths each grabbed an arm. As they led me toward the door, I looked over my shoulder.
“Keep my breakfast warm. I’ll be right back,” I said. The old thug laughed. They walked me down the street toward the school.
“You need to be taught your manners—”
“From someone who needs help to abduct a small girl like me. Your helpers are blushing—” He spun around before I could finish, his face twisted in rage. As he lunged for me—a really bad move, which caused his helpers to let go and move away—I twisted at the waist while my left arm guided his right arm, which was reaching for me, past me and then snapped back my right hand, delivering a trachea-crushing strike. He stumbled past me and dropped to his knees while trying unsuccessfully to breathe. His two helpers stood gaping at him, then like Greyhounds released from the starting gate darted away. I turned and walked back to the restaurant.
“I’m ready,” I said, while picking up my breakfast package.
“Lady, you’re going to be in real trouble,” the younger man said. “They are vicious young men.”
“Then you won’t mind them leaving town,” I said.
“You’re Master Luan’s daughter… Jolie.” A ghost of a smile flashed across his lips.
“Yes. These thugs are about to meet his bitch of a daughter. Let’s go see my father and see just how bitchy I’m going to be,” I said. He was silent as he walked through town and continued another two kilometers out of town on a small dirt road. He suddenly left the road and pushed himself past bushes to a giant old oak tree at least sixty-five centimeters wide. Hidden behind the tree’s massive trunk was an old man. His legs were twisted unnaturally, fingers mis-shaped, and he could barely stand. My legs felt like Jell-O, my stomach burned with boiling acid, and my heart ached from a hundred cuts. I fell on my knees and hugged him, wishing I could trade him my youth.
“Clear your mind, my daughter. Nothing good ever came from revenge or rage,” he whispered. I did as I was told, but I didn’t let go. Sometime later I rose, opened my TCom, and tried for a connection with the Liberty. I was somewhat surprised when I got a connection.
“Good day, Tasmanian Luan. What can I do for you?” he said.
“I’m surprised I could get a connection.” In truth I hadn’t expected one but was desperate.
“I have to admit I was tracking your TCom, in case you needed help.”
“I’m in your debt, Captain Landino. I do need help. My father has been crippled by some thugs. I need to get him to a good hospital—”
“How about the Liberty? We have an excellent facility. I can drop a shuttle in a couple of hours,” he said to my infinite gratitude. “Would you like a few Rangers to keep you company?”
“Yes, sir.” He connected me with Colonel Martinez and I explained what my father had told me. “This local thug had challenged my father to a contest. It’s a long martial art tradition, one master challenging another. It established the hierarchical structure of the schools. When they were preparing to fight, eighteen other men showed up and attacked my father. He might have won but they attacked en masse, and he chose to use non-lethal and non-crippling techniques. When he was beaten, they crippled him and made him beg in the streets for his food.”
“I have fifty volunteers, but by law I can’t release them for planet-side leave,” the colonel said.
“Four or five to referee. I am going to challenge the ringleader and his thugs and introduce them to Master Luan’s Tasmanian daughter, who sadly has forgotten all the non-lethal and non-crippling techniques my father taught me.”
* * *
Three hours later, a combat shuttle landed on the small nearby dirt road, and ten Rangers, a doctor, and Colonel Martinez exited. The doctor went directly to my father and conducted a rather extensive examination.
“Good evening, Jolie. I hope you don’t mind me coming along. I’ve listed this as a training exercise.”
“Thank you, Colonel. These thugs can’t be trusted. I just want to make sure they don’t cheat,” I said as the doctor walked over to me.
“We will do the best we can, Tasmanian Luan. He won’t be perfect, but he will be much better,” the doctor said, as four techs loaded my father on a stretcher and marched toward the shuttle.
“Don’t worry, Luan. Dr. Thomas is excellent and our medical unit has state of the art equipment,” Martinez said. “What do you have planned for entertainment?”
“The local head thug pretended to be a martial arts master when he issued my father, Master Luan, a challenge,” I said, imagining the horrible scene in my mind. “But when he showed up for the contest he brought eighteen thugs along with him. They ganged up on him and crippled him and then put him on display for the townspeople as an example of would what happen if they didn’t cooperate. Then they confiscated my father’s school. I am going to issue him a challenge.”
“But isn’t he likely to turn up with eighteen thugs again?” Martinez asked. “Oh, and the Rangers would shoot them.”
“No. I am going to set some rules,” I said. “Shoot them only if they break the rules, or if they manage to kill me.” I waited for Martinez to close his slack jaw and nod. “I want you and your troops to make your
way to the school unobserved—I’m planning a surprise challenge. When you’re there I will let you in and give you places where you can stay out of sight.” I proceeded to bring up a map of the area and explained what I thought the best route to get to the school unseen. I used main roads through the town to get to the school. When I arrived at the school, there were several men talking in a group but no classes.
“This school is officially closed,” I said and waited for the knee-jerk reaction.
“Who do you think you are, girl?” said a muscular man of average height. His head was bald and heavily tattooed. As he strode toward me his eyes roamed my body. His face had a silly grin. As he neared he reached out to grab my shirt, my left hand brushed his arm away as I stepped past him, delivering an elbow between his eyes. His head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.
“And take this piece of trash with you,” I said, nodding to the man on the floor. “Tell your head thug that Master Luan is here to challenge him… unless you four thugs think you can throw me out.” I smiled at the idea. So did a tall muscular man as he drew a knife from his boot. He walked slowly toward me, grinning as he waved the knife back and forth. His eyes gleamed bright with excitement.
“So, you’re the cripple’s daughter. I think I’ll make you the Iron Hand’s pussy,” he said while making several feints with his knife at my chest. He frowned when I didn’t react, then lunged at me as his right arm with the knife came around toward my neck. A right crescent kick met his arm well short of me and the impact sent the knife flying into the air. As his eyes and head followed the knife, my leg shot out into his throat. He stumbled backward gasping for air that would never reach his lungs. He thrashed for a full minute before dying.
“Unless one of you thugs would like to challenge me, please leave and take the trash with you,” I said. When they had managed to drag the two dead men out and off school grounds, I went to the back and let in the Rangers.
