Eve accepted the information and fell in behind Iaido as they made their way through the crowd.
Iaido couldn’t help but be impressed with the way Eve was handling all the chaos in her life these past few days. Maybe she was in shock. Or it could be that her partial Sylvan heritage aided her somehow. Either way, it was beyond him.
Diana was waiting for them at the door to the dojo. Iaido immediately noticed that lines of worry which marred her beautiful face. “Hiya doll. What’s wrong?”
“We’ve been hacked.”
“When?”
“Sometime in the last hour. They were good, real good but they still left footprints.”
“I had a feeling this was going to get nasty.” Iaido rubbed his chin. “Diana I want you to meet Eve. She’s the Sgt. Major’s daughter.”
Diana raised an eyebrow at that statement. “Iaido, there is nothing in his files about a daughter?”
“I know. It’s a long story and I only know bits and pieces of it.”
Diana knelt down so she would be eye level with the young lady. “Hi Eve, I’m Diana.”
Looking back and forth between the two adults, Eve finally said, “Hi.”
Iaido kept his voice low. “Eve, I need you to go with Diana. You’ll be safe with her. I will be with you in a couple of hours. I have a few things that I must take care of first.”
Seeing Eve nod, Iaido turned to his assistant and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Things are about to get rough, I can’t go into everything now. Initiate lockdown procedures and get to the safe house.” He handed her the scroll his Sensei had given him and added, “Also keep this safe.”
Diana lifted the young girl into her arms and disappeared into the crowd. Iaido had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut when he saw Eve wave goodbye. Pushing all thoughts aside, Iaido entered the dojo.
The lobby was crowded. Only the workout floor had any empty space due to the fact that only students and instructors engaging in cleaning duties or actual training were allowed on the mat, no exceptions. Several students and instructors were already sitting quietly on the sides of the mat, awaiting their turn to perform. Iaido moved into the locker room to change clothes, his mind filled with the implications the President had raised. Taking his place among the other students, Iaido watched some of the senior students perform katas for the visiting dignitaries.
Katas are prearranged patterns consisting of kicks, blocks and strikes designed in a certain pattern to train the student to react instinctively and without conscious thought. It was a formal way of displaying the techniques of Bushido and the skills of the student.
When the last of the senior students completed their performance, the Sensei clapped his hands twice loudly. Everyone bowed low as was the custom of the dojo.
With a slight wave of his hand, the Sensei signaled his youngest son forward. Leaning down, the Sensei whispered in his ear and Sam scampered off to do his father’s bidding.
Rising slowly, the old man bowed to his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored today to have a military legend in our gathering.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“Iaido Achilles Spartan step forward.”
Bewildered at his teacher’s opening statement, he answered while stepping forward to stand where indicated. “Yes Sensei.”
“Achilles is no mere student of Kenjitsu but an actual veteran of the war, one who used his blades in actual combat. How many confirmed kills with a sword do you have Achilles?”
Never in his lifetime had he been asked in public about his kill record. Most of his kills were still considered classified but to lie was wrong and without honor; to not answer was disrespectful. Iaido was in a quandary and hesitated.
The Sensei waved off the question. “Never mind. I know it is over two hundred.”
The gathering gasped and the murmur grew as it spread through the crowd.
Iaido could see the change in the way other students looked at him now. He was no longer one of them, He was apart. He was a killer.
The Sensei didn’t stop there. “I would guess there is no one alive that could stand against you blade to blade is there?”
Feeling a slight rush of anger and embarrassment at the Sensei’s words, Iaido couldn’t understand what he was doing but he steeled himself to answer the question.
“No, Sensei. There are not many who could defeat me.”
As the crowd gasped at Iaido’s bold statement, the Sensei grinned slightly. When he clapped his hands again, Sam came running forth with four stun bokkens.
Traditionally, bokkens are wooden practice swords that students use to perform their katas or to wield during sparring. A stun bokken was a modern version of the ancient practice sword. It was capable of producing an electric charge that would incapacitate any limb stuck or render unconscious those individuals touched on the spine or neck.
Sam presented Iaido a stun bokken which he accepted with a short bow.
Then the young boy moved over to the three most senior students who each accepted the offered weapons and stepped onto the mat. With a loud shout, the Sensei ordered the kumite to begin. The three senior students advanced slowly, holding their bokkens in the high aggressive position, tip pointed skyward and the blades at their right shoulders while they spread out to flank Iaido.
Closing his eyes, Iaido concentrated on his breathing for a few seconds to help him find his center and he listened to the world around him. The crowd was quiet, only the shuffling feet of the three students could be heard. Opening his eyes, Iaido strode confidently forward. His weapon gripped tightly in his right hand but held low in a relaxed position.
The middle student attacked with a downward slash and a loud ki-hap.
A ki-hap can be roughly translated as a ‘spirit shout’ and is used to disrupt your opponent or to focus the attacker’s energy in to whatever technique a practitioner is using at the time.
Unfazed by the shout or the speed of the attack, Iaido stepped to the side and casually brought his weapon down on the student’s neck. A flash of blue sparks engulfed his head before he dropped unconscious to the mat. Without changing strides, Iaido turned to the nearest opponent which left his back fully exposed to the third student. Seeing his opening, the third student charged at Iaido’s back. Without being able to see his fellow student’s attack, the second student swung his bokken sideways thinking that Iaido will be unable to sidestep such an attack.
Iaido dived to his left over the slashing blade and out of the path of the thrust from behind. Unable to stop their charge, the two students collided with each other in a blinding flash of sparks as both attackers fell unconscious.
Facing his sensei, Iaido bowed to his teacher as was the custom following kumite in the dojo.
The Sensei clapped his hands twice, signaling the junior-most students to rush onto the mat and drag the unconscious students away.
“Simple and efficient but not really a good display of your talent, was it? I wonder where we could find someone to give you a true challenge?” Holding out his hand to Sam, the Sensei never looked away from his prize pupil when he said, “I guess it is up to me.”
Quivering, Sam placed the hilt of a stun bokken in his father’s hand.
Unhurried, the old man moved to the center of the mat and raised his weapon to neutral ready position; sword held in front with both hands, the tip pointing at Iaido’s centerline.
Looking into the eyes of his master, Iaido saw no compassion in them. Nor did he see any spark of life or recognition; they reminded him of a shark’s eyes…cold and lifeless.
Iaido readied his own bokken and awaited the attack from his master and friend.
When the strike came, it was lightning fast. Seemingly faster than any non-augmented human should be capable of performing but then the Sensei was no normal man; he was a grandmaster of bushido. He had been walking the ‘Way’ long before Iaido was conceived. Of course, Iaido wasn’t just anyone. He too was a master of bushido and his r
eflexes were augmented by science and honed by constant use. Meeting the strike, Iaido countered, which in turn was parried and countered, until it became a blinding flash of blue sparks and clashes of blades. No spectator would ever forget the dazzling display the two masters of bushido were creating. After several minutes, Iaido found himself moving into zanshin.
Zanshin has been called many things over the years: the zone, the empty mind, Zen mind and enlightenment just to name a few. It is the mindset of body and mind working in perfect harmony. Sports celebrities talk about how their game was ‘on’ and everything was just right. The golfer’s swing is perfect and the distant hole looks ten feet big or the basketball player is shooting from the outside and hitting every shot. But to warriors it is more than that. It is a time when conscious thought disappears and the body reacts without thought. It is a beautiful thing when it happens but to your opponent, it’s deadly.
Once Iaido entered the state of zanshin his more deadly instincts kicked in.
Sensing an opening in the Sensei’s guard, Iaido threw a low kick toward the Sensei’s groin. As the Sensei reacted to the kick, Iaido moved inside and with a flick of his blade, struck the forearms of his mentor. Blue sparks leapt over the Sensei’s arms, causing them to twitch violently as his bokken went sailing into the air. Iaido paused instead of delivering the coup de grace, the death blow.
Since this was just a demonstration, a kumite, the match should’ve ended with the disarming. However the Sensei had other ideas. Rolling out of the disadvantaged position to a nearby weapons rack on the dojo wall, he pulled down a katana. Ripping the blade free from the scabbard, the ringing of the steel filled the dojo as he moved quickly to the attack.
Parrying the wild attack, Iaido once again struck the Sensei with his bokken. Even though blue sparks filled the room, the Sensei seemed unaffected by the stun properties of the training weapon and again pressed the attack. If anything, his attacks were more furious and faster than earlier. The Sensei had abandoned all pretenses of defense and Iaido struck him a dozen times but to no effect. Iaido was forced to use every trick and skill he possessed to dodge or block the Sensei’s wild yet deadly attacks.
The change in Iaido’s mindset was simple. His unconscious mind recognized that the earlier attacks to be non-deadly. Now that the Sensei was wielding a ‘live’ blade, his responses were different. The philosophy of an ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ scenario was drilled into him during his military days. Stepping up his own attacks, Iaido forced the Sensei back with the force of his blows. Even if the stun aspect wouldn’t work on the Sensei for some reason, a sharp whack to the side of the head should do the trick.
One of the Sensei’s wild attacks clipped Iaido’s shoulder, drawing first blood and knocking his bokken out of his hand. With a spin, the Sensei lashed out with a wide slash parallel to the ground with the intent of disemboweling his opponent.
Reacting without conscious thought, Iaido stepped inside the swing and wrapped his left arm over and around the arms of his master, while his right hand moved to the pommel of the katana. Rotating his grip slightly and pivoting quickly, Iaido wretched free the blade. Continuing the momentum of the turn, Iaido counter-attacked with a horizontal slash that was perfection in motion. No one alive could’ve executed that move any cleaner.
The razor sharp katana slid through the flesh and bones of the Sensei’s neck easily, separating his head from the rest of his body. Due to the direction of Iaido’s spin, the blood flew off his blade to splatter the wall and sling a line of blood across the ancient flag of Japan which hung in a place of honor in the dojo. Unfortunately, the Sensei’s disembodied head flew through the air to land at Sam’s feet with a loud thud.
The dojo was silent. The only sound was the slow moving ceiling fans.
Iaido dropped the katana and fell to his knees. As he stared at the headless corpse of his mentor and friend, a mixture of screams and shouts filled the air.
It was only a matter of minutes before the police came rushing into the dojo. Surprisingly it wasn’t just a few beat cops but a full SWAT team in tactical armor led by Agent Smith.
As the SWAT team surrounded the mat, Iaido remained on his knees just staring at the headless corpse before him. It could’ve been hours or days for all that he noticed. One image froze in his mind’s eye; the twin marks of puncture wounds on the base of his neck right over his mentor’s spinal cord. One part of his mind remembered Diana mentioning similar marks had been found on Amy’s body. What that meant, Iaido had no idea, yet.
Two SWAT grunts moved forward and slapped a pair of handcuffs on the unresisting bounty hunter. Once he was restrained with his hands behind his back, Agent Smith stepped in front of him.
“I knew you were trouble from the moment we met.” Without warning or provocation, Agent Smith slapped Iaido across the face.
Several of the SWAT officers winced at the unsolicited blow but were unable to interfere since the FSA agent was of a higher authority and possibly had different rules of engagement. No police officer could justify striking an unresisting, cooperative subject that was handcuffed and keep their job, especially with a crowd watching.
Iaido looked up at the agent and narrowed his eyes. “Strike three, Junior.”
Moving faster than anyone could prevent, Iaido leapt up and spun around in a full circle, lashing out with his right foot striking the Federal Agent on the side of the head. Since Iaido had no intention of killing or even injuring the young agent, he had opted to use a spinning crescent kick instead of more damaging techniques. The kick was still powerful enough to knock the agent to the ground and leave a large red welt on the right side of his face.
Landing lightly, Iaido immediately dropped to the ground as three SWAT officers rushed forward, placed their R-Guns on him and yelled, “Don’t move!”
Even though the SWAT grunts had acted in a predictable fashion, Iaido thought he could see a glint of amusement in their eyes. One of the police officers handed the FSA agent a wet towel and helped steady him as he stood back up.
A moment later when two Galactic Marshals stepped into view, he did his best to regain some of his wounded pride as he said, “My partner didn’t want to arrest Mr. Spartan this morning when we had the chance. If we had, this old man would still be alive.”
The two Galactic Marshals moved forward. They were both dressed in black body armor with several weapons visible along their waist. The larger of the two spoke first; his voice was a deep baritone. “Mr. Spartan, I’m Marshal Brutus and this is Marshal Cassius. You are a suspect in several crimes committed against the Sylvan Empire which places you in our jurisdiction.”
Iaido ignored their implied threat. Being under the authority of the Galactic Marshals meant that the normal rights a person could expect while incarcerated were null and void.
Marshal Cassius stepped up to the headless form of the sensei and nudged it slightly with his foot. “You would think that there would be more blood from a beheading.” He shrugged. “I guess it dries up as you get older.”
As they began to escort him out, Iaido looked around the dojo and took in the stunned faces of the students and spectators until he spied Sam. At first glance, Iaido could see the effects of shock in his young eyes but then he noticed something else. The tilt of his head and the squint in his eyes had changed. The wide-eyed innocence of youth had fled to be replaced by a look that could only be called hate, pure and simple.
One part of his mind registered the argument between the dignitaries and the police. Even though they had witnessed Iaido killing the Sensei, the dignitaries were outraged at his treatment. They explained what happened. Even furnishing a digital recording of the kumite, surely this was a clear case of self-defense. The Galactic Marshals ignored the ongoing argument and escorted him through the gathering crowd to a waiting skimmer. Placing him in the back seat, Agent Smith climbed in next to him while the Marshals took the front and they were off, leaving behind the dojo, the dignitaries and the poli
ce.
Less than two minutes into the trip, Iaido realized that they weren’t heading toward the starport and the headquarters of the Galactic Commission, but east…away from downtown and large crowds of New Atlanta. He turned his head slightly seemingly to stare out the window as he used his skills to pick the lock of his handcuffs while surreptitiously studying the Galactic Marshals.
Brutus was a squat, muscle bound, body builder type. While his partner Marshal Cassius was a wiry, fidgety type that constantly played with a silver coin, making it dance around his hand. Two things jumped out during his inspection, a small tattoo at the base of their skulls and an interface port.
Iaido had a similar port in the back of his neck which allowed him to hook into nearly any network in the known universe. It was a common augment for those in the SPEC OPS divisions of the military during the war but was rarely found in Law Enforcement or even in soldiers after the Armistice of 2125.
Iaido knew one thing for certain; the two men in the front seat of the skimmer were much more deadly than the bumbling Federal Agent sitting next to him.
CHAPTER 10
Finished with the day’s clients, Talia moved through the lower parts of the Sylvan Embassy.
The Empire had chosen this location carefully. The storefront was only a small part of a much larger complex. Talia knew that the lower sections extended into the ruins of old Atlanta but hadn’t had the time to explore. However, it was to these lower chambers that her mistress had summoned her. Arriving at the innermost sanctum of the embassy, Talia paused to smooth out the folds in her dress and to check the placement of her hair. It wouldn’t be good to seem harried in front of her new mistress; not after the visits they had today from the Galactic Marshals, Federal Agents and the bounty hunter Iaido Spartan.
Talia felt her pulse quicken slightly at the thought of the grey-eyed bounty hunter. Sure, he was a barbarian compared to the Sylvans. The whole Terran race was barely six millennia old, whereas the Sylvan Empire spanned over two-dozen millennia. Still, there was something special about this race, something…
The Last Spartan: Different Paths Page 8
