by C. R. Daems
“I’m Tasmanian Luan,” I said when everyone was in the room. “I’d like to personally thank Colonel Martinez for allowing you to attend my…challenge, and you for coming. The thugs, who call themselves the Iron Hand, challenged my father. The man who deems himself a master in the martial arts brought eighteen men with him. Together they crippled my father and stole his home and school. Now they are preying on the men, women, and children of this town. I mean to see it stopped. You are here to ensure they don’t cheat.”
“What do you mean by cheat?” a gunnery sergeant asked.
“The chief thug and I will agree on some rules. Breaking the rules is cheating, and the punishment is death. Oh, none of the thugs are to leave without mine or the colonel’s permission.”
* * *
Two hours later, they showed up, fifteen strong. A tall man in a black Gi with a red belt led the men into the main room. I stood and put on my beret.
“So, you’re the cripple’s daughter. I guess he took you in after we taught you we didn’t want you in the orphanage or on Harjar. I thought we had killed you. I’ll rectify that problem today. You were a disgusting animal back then and you haven’t improved.” He spoke loudly so all his junior thugs could hear.
“Rickie, you’re the same coward who needed seven other teens to help you beat me up. Now you need fifteen. I guess you grew up to be a bigger coward than when you were young.” I also spoke loudly. “I doubt a coward like you would fight me one-on-one, so here are the rules:
One,” I said, holding up one finger, “knives only with no restrictions on their use. And two, if anyone draws a gun then guns are in play.”
“Fine. Take your gun off and we’ll get rid of ours,” he said. “You first.”
“You can keep your guns because I’m keeping mine. But the first one I see draw one will cancel the no gun rule and allow me to use my weapon.”
“You think you can kill all fifteen of us?” He laughed.
“You’ll never know because you’ll be first.” I smiled. “I can guarantee my Jericho is a precision weapon and I don’t miss.”
“All right, knives.” He frowned. “You think you can win against all of us.” He laughed. “Your father couldn’t.”
The thought of my father softened my words. “My father is a gentle man who even when confronted with your cowardly treachery tried to win without using crippling or killing blows. His daughter, however, is a Tasmanian Devil, who only uses crippling and killing blows when fighting. Whether I win or lose is not as important as how many I will cripple or kill before you can kill me.” I paused and noted several individuals with smiles on their lips. I smiled too. “Unfortunately, the treachery you cowards are planning won’t work. Unlike my father, I know you are thugs and cowards and can’t be trusted, so our fight will be refereed by Airborne Rangers.” As I spoke Colonel Martinez with his ten Rangers entered and took up positions along the wall, armed with their Adaptive Combat Rifles.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. This challenge is not optional. Anybody attempting to leave without my permission will be shot. I’m ready anytime you are, Rickie, or is it Grandcoward Rickie?”
“Surround her,” Rickie shouted and his thugs began forming two lines, one going to my left, one to my right. I reached down and pulled my combat knife out of my right ankle sheath and a throwing knife out of the sheath on the left ankle—and charged straight forward into a small gap between two thugs. Thinking I was after him, Rickie, who had been standing safely to the rear, fled to the right. My charge was so fast and unexpected the two men froze as I ran between them, cutting both their throats as I passed. I immediately spun around and attacked the man in line on my right. The young thug stood there weaving his knife back and forth as if he hoped I would run into it. My throwing knife caught him in the left eye. The man immediately behind him thought he was a knife fighter, crouching low with his arms spread wide with a knife in each hand. Ignoring him, I spun around to see two men charging at me, knives held for a downward stab. I reversed my combat knife, folding it along my right forearm, and blocked the first man’s arm as it descended for my head and almost severed it at the wrist. I stooped to retrieve another throwing knife, spun upward turning one hundred eighty degrees, and threw it into the throat of the crouching man, who was now running toward me.
Five down and ten to go. I spun back around, attempting to keep both sides off-balance. As I charged forward, the closest thugs stepped back in shock. They had expected one-on-one confrontations where they could gang up on me, not a fast and aggressive charge into them. I ran toward the closest one, who swiped at me. My left forehand blocked his arm as the knife in my right hand slid into his heart. I spun left, catching the man behind him off-balance and cut his throat. I dropped on to my left leg and swept the legs of the man coming up behind me. He went airborne. As he hit the ground I stomped on his throat as I moved toward the next man in the line.
The next man in the line came at me with an overhand strike. My left hand pushed his arm away and I drove my knife into his armpit. Blood gushed out as the knife tore through his artery. I spun around in time to see two men were running hard toward me. A roundhouse kick to the man on my right spun him into the other man. Off-balance, they tripped and went down. I put a throwing knife into the man’s neck as he scrambling to get up. I dove toward the second downed man, rolled, and cut his neck as I came to a standing position. I scanned the area.
“Well, Rickie, it appears your well-planned treachery has gone to shit. You now have only five men to hide behind. You must feel naked,” I said.
The five men’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the Rangers lining the walls. Just then two men broke for the doors behind them. The third man made the mistake of drawing a small revolver. Before he could bring it to bear on me I shot him and the two next to him in the head. Two more shots rang out as the Rangers shot the two men trying to leave.
“I did warn them that nobody could leave without my permission and guns were not permitted. It’s just you and me, Grandcoward of the Iron Hand,” I said, as I put my combat knife back in its sheath. Rickie saw that as his opportunity to get an advantage using his twenty-kilogram mass and sixteen-centimeter advantage to charge me. His arms spread wide so that I couldn’t get around him. He smiled when I put one foot back as if to retreat. But the move was to balance myself. As he got within one step of me I launched my shoulder into his solar plexus. Rancid whiskey breath sprayed over me as his lungs exploded from the impact. Rickie stood suspended, gasping for air. I lifted my right foot and drove it down his leg into his instep and felt the satisfying crack of bones. Then I repeated the move on the other side. He sank to his knees, wanting to scream but unable to as he fought for air. I twisted left, driving my elbow into his temple then back again to the right, driving my left elbow into his right temple, and I felt the bone cave in. His body fell backward.
“Luan, we need you to get you to Liberty and have a doctor take a look at you,” Martinez said. I felt weak, tired, and in need of rest, not a doctor. But when I looked at my uniform there were cuts and blood everywhere. I thought most were shallow cuts except for maybe one or two which appeared to be leaking blood. I felt dizzy and needed to sit.
* * *
I woke in bed… obviously on the Liberty judging by the steel walls and advanced medical equipment in the room. My father sat in a chair on the right side of my bed.
“I saw the video Colonel Martinez made at our home. Was that revenge for me?” he asked. I didn’t answer right away as I tried to sort through the last couple of days and my subsequent actions.
“No, Father, that was to stop the evil that they brought to the people of Harjar,” I said, although I had to admit there was a certain amount of satisfaction in killing them.
“I thank you, Daughter, for the town and me. It was a humbling experience to be at the mercy of others. Perhaps I failed the town in not trying to defend them from the evil. Maybe giving in to evil is evil.”
I s
pent the next ten days with my father talking about old times and visiting people in the town who were grateful to see Rickie and his thugs gone and wouldn’t let me pay for anything, including the food when we ate out. My father looked to have almost completely recovered and was reasonably mobile.
“Your techniques are not unique but your approach was,” my father said as we reviewed a copy of the video the colonel had made.
I gave a short laugh. “The Tasmanian techniques are basically the same ones you taught me. The differences are because they throw out all the ones that are not crippling or killing techniques. Each confrontation is a life or death clash rather than a competition to see who’s the best.”
My father sat in silence for a long time considering what I had said before speaking. “Yes, when you are at war, time is as critical as winning. In the classroom we search for the other person’s weakness and techniques to take advantage of that weakness. Time is not a factor.”
I stayed for ten days, pleased I had decided to visit. I planned to return often as I knew my father would never join me on Delphi.
* * *
Back on Delphi, I found that Colonel Martinez’s tape had beaten me home. When I entered the Tasmanian club the next night, everyone stood and clapped, causing me to turn red from my toes to my hair.
“Sister,” Smitty said as he approached me, “you have just made the Tasmanians legends. Everyone’s thinking if a female Tasmanian can do that, imagine what the male Tasmanians can do.” He laughed and I could hear the beating on the floor and tables from everyone in the club. He held up his hands for silence. “We are not going to contradict them but quite frankly none of us are crazy enough to take on fifteen opponents with a knife.”
It was good to be back in Fort Endeavor with my Tasmanian brothers. I was looking forward to my next assignment.
