by Frank Carey
"Mom?" Christa asked in a whisper. I noticed she had already moved into a defensive stance. I trained my kids well. Christa was tough, not as tough as her siblings were, but tough nonetheless. She could probably handle herself in a fight, but I was in no mood to test that hypothesis.
"Frasier, what brings you out this time of night?" I asked while watching for anything that would reveal where his friends were.
He furtively glanced to his left before answering, "How dare you come here and bollix up everything I've worked for all these years. First, you get me cashiered from the service, now you come here and think you're going to suit fight me? You make me sick!"
Even twenty feet away, I could smell the booze on his breath. A breathalyzer would commit suicide the moment it got a sample from him. I needed to slow him down while Christa made a speedy retreat.
He held up a device and made a show of pressing a button on it. Pressure doors dropped around us, sealing the three of us in. What a time for his training to kick in.
"Frasier, this is between you and me. Leave Christa out of this." I stepped between him and her and whispered, "Christa, find a way out."
"No, Mom, this is my fight too."
Stubborn kid. She gets that from her father.
"I think not," he replied with an occasional slur. "With you two out of the picture, those two morons are finished."
Only I call my kids morons. This asshole is dog meat. I went into a defensive position. Sort of a nonverbal "Come and get it, Asshole."
He laughed, then snapped his fingers.
Nothing happened,
He stopped laughing and snapped his fingers again.
This time two unconscious bodies flew out of the corridor on his left. Their flights were interrupted by the wall to Frasier's right. Adding insult to injury, the pressure doors retracted, as if telling him to get the hell out of dodge.
"This isn't over, McMurphy," Frasier said as he backed over to where his companions were stirring. Grabbing them by their collars, he got them up and the three of them took off down a corridor, leaving me and Christa wondering what the hell just happened.
We walked down the corridor the bodies had come from and found no sign of what had happened. Then Christa stopped, bent down, and picked up something off the floor. It was an earring. She handed it to me. It was a simple cut stone hanging from a gold wire hook. I put it in my pocket, intending to drop it off at the front desk in the morning. "Are you going to be OK tonight, being alone and all?" I asked.
"I'll be fine. I really don't think he'll bother us again."
"OK, then let's get you back to your room. Do me a favor, Call Bobby and tell him to keep an eye out for Frasier. Don't go into details, just give him a head's up."
"Copy that."
I dropped her off at her room, making sure she locked the door behind her, then headed to the suite. As I passed a side corridor, I was joined by Ashley and Grayson. "Well, hello there, you two. What are you doing out so late and where's Grandpa and Ruby?"
Ashley held out a bag filled with snacks and munchies while Bobby held out a twelve-pack of soda. "Movie night," Ashley said with smile. "Grandpa's back at the suite. Ruby had to head back to the Marta. They had some problem with the load." That's when I noticed her missing earring.
I stopped and stared at her while pulling the one Christa found from my pocket. "Lose something?" I asked while holding it out for her to see.
"Busted!" Ashley said while she took the wayward piece of jewelry and put it back into place. "Thanks, they're my favorite pair."
"Favorite pair?" I sputtered. "Those goons are twice your size! How the hell..." I stopped when I saw their eyes glowing brighter than usual.
"We can't allow you to be hurt," Ashley said in a voice that could make a Goranthi cringe.
"Cleth?" I asked.
Grayson tilted his head back and laughed. "Cleth is dead. Mom and Grandpa killed him and Hernog, remember."
"Then how are you doing this?"
Ashley shrugged. "Don't know. It just happens."
"At least we know how to stun, now," Grayson said. "Not like when we were babies."
I must have looked odd, standing there with my mouth hanging open. "You remember that?"
Ashley took my arm and got us moving again. "Some of it. I... We remember seeing those thugs come in and threaten Mom and Dad. We had to protect them, but we only had a limited set of tools to work with. The mercs left us no choice."
"You both did what I would have done. You two would make good Marines."
They smiled, as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. "Thanks, Grandma. It's been bothering us for most of our lives," Grayson said.
"All three months of it," Ashley added.
I couldn't help laughing at the total absurdity of the situation. These two kids rescued their aunt, and me yet they were really only three months old. How insane was that?
"You two are doing just fine," I said, meaning every word.
"Is Christa scared of us?"
"Christa is skittish," I replied, not knowing how else to describe her.
They laughed. Hell, I laughed. What's there not to laugh about all this? I reached around them and gave them both a hug. They earned it.
Walking into our room, I found Harm sprawled on the couch while some sci-fi movie played on the viewer. Bags of snacks and bottles of soda covered the coffee table and two end tables. It looked like a vending machine had exploded. The kitchen was no better. Leave it to Harmon to bond instantly with a pair of sixteen year olds.
"Hey, Harmon, we're home," I said loudly. I gave him a shove for emphasis.
"What? Who? Where?" he asked as he struggled into an upright position. How long have I been asleep? Where are the kids?"
"Here we are, grandpa," the twins said as they sat down on either side of him while holding out their spoils.
"We ran into Grandma and Aunt Christa on the way back from the bodega," Ashley said.
"Yes, they were nice enough to walk Christa back to her room, then me back here."
"Cool. Any excitement I should know about?" he asked as he opened a bag of chips.
I sat down between him and Ashley, snagging a chip in the process. "Naw, just your usual suit fighting training. We saw Frasier tonight."
"How's he doing?"
"Other than being shit-faced drunk, he was doing just fine."
"His match, tomorrow, should be an interesting one. I wonder what it's like to run a suit with a hangover."
"He'll survive," I said, keeping my experiences to myself. "Whether or not he'll win is another story."
Harm rubbed the sleep from face. "I'm hungry. Anyone else up for a pizza?"
The three of us nodded vigorously.
Chapter 19 - Semi-Final Match
The stadium shook with crowd noise as thousands of people stood in their seats and chanted "Team Nina!" and "Team Luciana!" Harm had checked and every room on the station was booked as were the rooms on three Galactic Cruise Lines ships docked outside the station. Hundreds of private yachts ranging in size from small family ships to mega-sized craft parked around the station, watching the match over ultra-bandwidth InterWeb connections fitting a large-population planet. He said pizza and snack food sales had sharply increased while betting was pushing the bank computers' limits.
"Is this normal?" I asked my daughter as she joined me on the patio.
"Somebody leaked the fact that you and Frasier were together in the EMEF. His winning this morning is generating buzz of a grudge match if you win."
"Who the hell..." I stopped as Harm joined us with the twins in tow. "Harmon Aymar, you didn't, did you?"
"I didn't like the odds the bookies were giving you, so I spiced things up a little. No harm in a whisper here and there."
I looked at the kids. "Don't learn from him," I warned them.
They smiled back. "Grandpa taught us how to make a bet," Ashley said.
"Yeah, it was so cool!" Grayson added.
&
nbsp; Great. What’s next, piloting a smuggler ship through restricted space? My other daughter was going to kill me.
In front of us was the ring where Brenda and the suit from Team Nina would battle it out. Twenty-four feet square, the ring consisted of a Kevlar-reinforced canvas floor surrounded by three adamantine steel cables backed by floor-mounted repulsors. If a suit made it past those retainers, a force field would automatically kick-in to protect the crowd.
I looked over at the communications screen and saw well wishes pouring in. I reached over and stopped the scroll when I recognized a name: Queen Losira of Ventos prime. "Take that, Frasier, I bet you don't get well wishes from royalty," I said with a smirk. I opened the message--
Marta-
The whole planet is watching you. Give Team Nina hell! And when you face Team Kimbra, grind Frasier into the ground.
-Losira & Royce
"Harm, hug me," I said while grabbing the big lug. "Your sister's got the whole planet watching this match.
He hugged me and whispered. "You've got this, General."
He's right, I did. I let him go, straightened my fighting suit, then stepped out and waved to the crowd.
They went berserk. Over 15,000 souls with countless more watching remotely. I looked over at the other team and saw nothing but disdain. Good. I seem to have rattled them. Now, I was pumped.
"General, it's time," Trent said. He took my arm and led me to the platform. I stepped up and walked to the center while activating the harness. A geodesic force grid formed around me, lifting up so that I floated at its center. A modified sub-audible communications system--thank you Chasm and your people for bringing that tech with you from Crystal--activated, allowing me to hear Christa and Bobby as they went through the pre-match checklists. Finally, the visual overlay--think virtual heads-up display-- routed the visual feeds and status displays directly to my visual cortex. I glanced over, saw Brenda stand-up, and match my stance exactly.
A blond Tralaskan woman wearing a long flowing robe--a damn pretty thing--walked out to stand in the center of the ring as a microphone lowered from the ceiling.
"Beings, welcome to the Tryton Station Suit Fighting semi-final match!" She pointed at Team Nina. "On this side is Team Nina with their suit Gretchen driven by Elgin Murk of Tralaska.
The crowd cheered as Gretchen walked out into the ring and waved at the crowd.
She then pointed at us. "And on this side is Team Luciana with their suit Brenda driven by Elf Marine Expeditionary Force General Marty McMurphy!"
The crowd went freakin berserk as I walked out and performed a back flip before waving at each and every one of them.
I looked at Gretchen and saw a brawler. Her form screamed strength and power while Brenda's sang finesse. This was going to be an interesting fight.
The announcer was joined by a smaller suit--the ref. She motioned us to join them. I walked over, watching Gretchen as she did the same. We met an arm-length's distance from the center.
While the announcer held out the microphone, the ref reeled off the rules through his suit's external speakers and our fighter's internal network. Christa assured me that the official's network was completely separate from the audio mixer, so we didn't have to worry about any of Nina's shenanigan's leaking through to cause havoc.
Finally finished, the ref instructed us to return to our sides while the announcer made her way off the mat. Finally, the two off us stood there, alone except for the ref-suit waiting off to one side. "Fighters, ready!" the ref said over the intercom as the lights in the arena dimmed, leaving two pools of light. These were our designated starting points. We walked our suits over and went into ready position at the center of our pools.
We waited.
The bell sounded, signaling the start of the first round, while the two pools of light expanded to form a single pool that encompassed the ring. My opponent and I moved toward each other as we bobbed and danced, looking for weaknesses in each other's technique.
I watched Gretchen through Brenda's electronic eyes as status displays hovered around the periphery of my sight picture. Meanwhile, I could hear Bobby and Christa's play-by-play as they kept watch on the network and Brenda's systems. All I had to do was fight, plain and simple.
Brenda and Gretchen circled, each bobbing and weaving as Murk and I looked for holes in each other’s defenses. We started jabbing and the crowd went wild; I could hear them from inside my repulsor bubble. Finally, I found an opening that I filled with my fist. Soon, we were both punching and jabbing one another as we tried to deliver a knockout blow. Like living combatants, suits sustain damage as energy from the opponent's blows is absorbed by the suit's body. The arena's computers calculate this damage and award points to the suit delivering the damage. Meanwhile, negative points are awarded for infractions against the rules governing the bout. At the end of the match, the points are tallied and the fighter with the most points wins.
For the remaining time in the regulation five minute round, we sparred, jabbed, punched, ducked, and weaved while each driver looked for weaknesses and strengths in their opponent. Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the first round and the start of the one-minute intermission until the next round.
Trent ran up with a bottle of water as the repulsor bubble collapsed, slowly lowering me to the platform surface. "How are we doing?" I asked as I took a drink.
"Good. The graphs show you are on the curve to finish. Watch your left side; he seems to favor hitting it."
"What about him?"
"He's on the wrong side of the damage curve. It seems he sacrificed longevity for raw strength--a common mistake by newer teams. It looks like Gretchen is developing a weakness in the left side of her neck."
"Wait. Does that mean I could knock her..."
"Stop! You don't know how many times we hear that."
The ten-second chime sounded. Trent took the water bottle and stepped away as the repulsor field re-energized, lifting me off the platform. The bell signaled the start of the second round.
For the next three rounds, each separated from the next by a one-minute intermission, the two suits pummeled each other with blows which could kill a full-grown Malthusian wombat, each blow damaging the receiving the suit while giving the aggressor points.
The bell ending the round sounded.
The field collapsed and I almost followed it. I was beat. I never imagined how much energy it took to drive a suit under these conditions. No wonder they give the drivers a week to recover.
Trent was there waiting with water. As I drank, Christa came on the line. "Mom, your left side actuators are nearing their limits. It's a good thing you're protecting that side so well."
Ah ha! That's the game they’re playing. "Bobby, how many more direct hits to the left would it require for Gretchen to take out Brenda?" I asked over the SAC circuit.
"One big one, but you've been deflecting all the ones Murk has thrown at you. I'm surprised he hasn't given up."
"What if I didn't deflect one?"
"Brenda would be toast...shit!" he replied. I could hear his sister's face palm.
The warning chime sounded. "Kids, flash my display red if you detect an ultrasonic pulse. I'll take care of the rest," I said as Trent jumped off the platform. Yes, I have a plan.
Though we were both exhausted, Murk and I fought as if our lives depended on the outcome. Warning colors flashed across my field of vision as systems were stressed almost to their limits. With one minute to go, I opened my left side as I feigned a strut failure. Immediately, my display flashed red as Gretchen aimed a haymaker at my left side.
As he swung back to increase the force of the blow, Murk exposed his neck and head.
I suddenly twisted, sending my right fist into the side of Gretchen's head with enough force to tear her head clean off. I danced out of the way, as her body collapsed while her head flew over the ropes and repulsors to hit squarely on the force field where it bounced before landing on the floor, a spitting and sparking
piece of scrap.
I stood Brenda up and walked her back to my side of the ring where I waited for the ref to finish his ten-count. Satisfied that Gretchen was out for the time being, the ref's suit waited for the judge’s decision. Shortly, the ref gestured for Brenda to join him. I walked her up to him and waited next to him. After a pause, he took her hand and raised it over his head, the sign that Team Luciana had won the semi-final match. The crowd went berserk as he turned her around to face all four sides of the ring. I looked up at the skybox with my family in it and saw everyone inside jumping up and down, screaming their fool heads off. When I looked at Team Nina's box, I saw a bunch of very sullen Tralaskan nobles glaring at me. Spoilsports. That's what you get when you try to fix a fight with an EMEF Marine.
When the ref finished with me, I walked Brenda back to her charging rack while I waved at the crowd. Once she was safely put away, I stepped off the platform and into the arms of my kids. Seeing Trent standing there a little uncertain as what to do, I waved him over to join us, much to the joy and consternation of my daughter.
As I said before, Christa was a little skittish.
With a final wave, we left the stadium, the boys heading to the reception while Christa escorted me to the showers.
Chapter 20 - The Reception
Christa and I could hear the party three corridors away. It sounded like the whole stadium had been somehow jammed into one room while all the doors had been opened to let the sound out. We had changed into cocktail dresses before heading out, and I have to say, we were turning heads as we walked down the corridors between our rooms and the reception hall. People were congratulating me as we passed them. Goranthis, humans, elves, Alturans, Sokuhl, hell, even a group of Tralaskan high-borns stopped to shake my hand. I needed to watch out because I could get to like this.
The two of us stopped outside the reception and checked each other. I stopped and just looked at my daughter. She was beautiful.
