Have to watch those, Valentina cautioned herself. She knew she could have chosen one of the many weapons arrayed on the table when she entered the arena, but decided not to. She had plenty of experience with knives and had trained with swords in various styles, but for one on one combat, the weapons she knew best were those that were already part of her body.
She suspected that the opposite was true for her opponent. Everything Valentina had read and seen during her brief time here indicated that the Kreelans greatly preferred edged weapons in combat. While hand to hand fighting wasn’t unheard of in combat reports, it was rare.
She hoped fighting hand to hand without weapons would help achieve her main goal, which was to draw out the fight as long as she could. She felt confident she could kill the warrior quickly if she wanted to, but the longer the fights went on, the fewer people would have to set foot in the arenas before the fleet arrived.
She stood still, her body relaxed but ready, waiting for the warrior to attack.
* * *
Ku’ar-Marekh watched as Ayan-Ye’eln lunged at the human, trying to grab the animal with her leading hand before impaling her with the talons of her trailing hand. It was a basic attack that typically worked well against the humans, who seemed universally afraid of the talons of the warriors.
The priestess was impressed with the speed of the attack, but was more impressed with the human’s response. In a smooth motion, the human animal sidestepped Ayan-Ye’eln’s strike.
Then with one hand the human grasped the warrior’s leading arm, immobilizing it, before slamming the elbow of her free arm into Ayan-Ye’eln’s head.
That probably would have been enough to put the dazed warrior on the ground, but in a seamless continuation of the elbow strike, the human wrapped that arm around Ayan-Ye’eln’s head, twirled her halfway around, and flipped her backwards onto the ground in a spray of sand.
It was a fluid, beautiful move, the likes of which Ku’ar-Marekh had never seen.
The human, who clearly hadn’t even exerted herself, backed away a few paces as the young warrior fought to regain her senses.
A roar went up from the gathered warriors, not of anger, but of approval. Like Ku’ar-Marekh, none of them had ever seen such a fighting style, and they knew that whoever bested this human, who was clearly a formidable warrior, would bring great glory to the Empress.
That honor shall be mine, my children, Ku’ar-Marekh thought, for she did not believe that any of the warriors here could beat the human in a fair match.
Ayan-Ye’eln got to her feet, and with a roar of anger charged the human again.
* * *
Valentina continued to spar with the warrior, who became increasingly frustrated at her inability to inflict even the slightest injury on her human opponent.
The Kreelan had stopped charging like a bull, but no matter what she did, she always found herself up on the ground, spitting sand from her mouth.
Valentina had no idea how much time had passed, but she knew that the other combats for her group had ended. Seven men and women stood near the entrance to her arena, the survivors of the nineteen who had come with her to fight.
The other warriors, too, had moved in as close as they could, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening in the central arena.
The warrior, her lungs heaving now from exhaustion, came again at Valentina, and again Valentina easily deflected her attack. She hammered the warrior twice in the face with her fists, further bloodying the Kreelan’s mouth and nose, before sending the warrior flying face-first into the sand.
“Kazh!” The warrior leader bellowed as she raised her arms in the air, and the warriors watching the fight instantly fell silent.
* * *
“Stop!” Ku’ar-Marekh called as the human flung Ayan-Ye’eln to the ground yet again. She did not understand why the human had not simply killed the young warrior.
A strange creature, this one, she thought. But they were all strange to her, their motivations well beyond her understanding or caring.
But it was time for honor to be measured. “Ayan-Ye’eln.”
The young warrior pushed herself to her knees, bloodied and exhausted. Her head bowed in reverence to her priestess, and in humiliation, as well. She had fought as best she could, but in this Challenge there was but one acceptable outcome.
“You may choose.”
“I choose by her hand, my priestess.” Ayan-Ye’eln mustered some pride into her voice as she spoke through her battered lips. Blood ran from them and her shattered nose down her bruised and swollen face as she gestured toward the human.
It was as Ku’ar-Marekh expected, and she nodded her affirmation. “You honor the Empress, my child.” She stepped from the dais and strode toward the human, her ceremonial cloak fluttering behind her.
As she drew near the animal warrior, Ku’ar-Marekh drew her sword.
* * *
Valentina tensed as the warrior leader approached, drawing her sword. This one, she knew from her very brief encounter the night before, would be an incredibly hard fight, assuming Valentina was given a chance at all and the alien didn’t use her strange powers as she did before.
But fighting now wasn’t the alien’s intention, Valentina saw. The warrior held out her sword, handle first, toward Valentina, and nodded her head toward the young warrior, who had remained kneeling.
“Kill her!” One of the men shouted from where he and the other six survivors stood, watching the spectacle.
Valentina reached out and took the sword, whose blade shimmered in a way that she had read was peculiar to Kreelan edged weapons. Metallurgists had tried to replicate the metal, which had proven to be far stronger than any man-made alloy, but thus far had been unsuccessful. It was similar in shape to the Japanese katana, with a long, gently curved blade and a long handle intended for two-handed use, although the sword was light enough and so exquisitely balanced that it could easily be wielded in a single hand. The handle itself was a work of art, made of a clear crystal, perhaps even diamond, with golden fibers woven within it. While it looked smooth and should have been slippery, it wasn’t. Even with her sweating hands, she could grip it easily. The handle also had an unusual shape, and as she changed her grip slightly, she realized that it was instantly reforming itself to give her the best possible hold, as if it were alive, anticipating how she would hold the weapon.
“My God.” She wondered at what magical technology must be at work inside what one could easily mistake for a mere sword.
She looked up at the warrior leader, the one with the dead eyes, who again gestured toward the kneeling warrior, making a chopping motion with her hand.
“Do it!” One of the surviving women called out. “That’ll be one less we have to kill when the fleet gets here!”
In her mind, Valentina knew that the woman was right. And while she had killed plenty of human beings, some of whom had been as helpless as the battered warrior now kneeling before her, she had given up a small piece of her soul with every life she had taken that way.
The young warrior who had tried to fight her, if Kreelans aged anything like humans, looked to be little beyond her teens. She would almost certainly die when the fleet arrived and the Marines landed to retake the planet. But she wouldn’t die now, at least not by Valentina’s hand.
“No.” She held out the sword to the warrior leader, who reluctantly took it back.
* * *
Ku’ar-Marekh took back her sword from the human, who stepped beyond the reach of the blade.
The other humans, the survivors of this round of the Challenge, made noises in their language, clearly displeased.
“The animal does not understand the Way,” Ku’ar-Marekh told Ayan-Ye’eln as the warriors around the arena again fell silent, straining to hear her words. “She refuses to take your life. She does not understand the honor she would render upon you, if she understands the concept of honor at all.”
Ayan-Ye’eln looked up at the human, then r
eached out a hand to her, palm up. Moving forward on her knees, she came close enough to touch the alien’s hand. The alien tensed, but did not move away. Ayan-Ye’eln took the human’s hand in hers, then reached out to the priestess for the sword. Ku’ar-Marekh gave it to her, and Ayan-Ye’eln placed the handle in the alien warrior’s hand, closing the human’s pale fingers around the gleaming living crystal.
Looking up one last time into the human’s unreadable gaze, she bent forward, offering her neck. She shivered not with fear, but with anticipation, for when alive all of Her Children, even the males, felt the power of the Empress through the Bloodsong. But in death they became one with it, immersed in Her power and love.
And to die at the hand of a worthy opponent, one who might even challenge the high priestess of the Nyur-A’il, was an honor that few among her race had known since the last great war, fought among the stars many millennia before.
She steadied her breathing, awaiting her release.
* * *
Valentina stood over the warrior, the alien sword now clenched in her hand. She looked up at the other survivors, who had fallen as silent as the alien warriors around them.
How can we fight a race of warriors that wants to die? Valentina wondered. Did winning a battle even matter to them, or did they simply fight until they finally found someone who could beat them.
What if, to them, death was the ultimate victory? What if territory, resources, ideology, or any of the other reasons humans had traditionally fought one another had no meaning to them? How, then, could humanity win, other than by killing every single Kreelan in the universe?
The thought chilled her, more because no one had any idea how large the Empire might be. Even if the Confederation could somehow manage to kill the Kreelans at a ratio of hundreds to one, what if the aliens had thousands, or tens of thousands, of warriors for every human, warriors who simply wouldn’t stop until they died?
Valentina looked at the warriors who were intently staring at her, waiting to see what she would do. She realized that in this war, even on as grand a scale as it was being fought, every life would count in the end. On both sides.
With one last glance into the warrior leader’s dead eyes, Valentina gripped the sword in both hands and brought it down in a slashing arc, cutting cleanly through the kneeling warrior’s neck.
The warriors around them roared their approval as the Kreelan’s head fell to the sand and her body toppled beside it. Valentina flicked the blood from the blade before handing the sword back to the warrior leader.
The huge gong sounded again. This round was over.
The warrior leader bowed her head slightly, then gestured with one hand toward the entrance to the arena as she replaced the sword in its gleaming black scabbard with the other.
With a last look at the dead warrior’s body, still pumping blood onto the white sands of the arena, Valentina rejoined her fellow humans for the march back to the camp.
Behind her, five other warriors reverently lifted the body of their fallen sister and carried her to a nearby field where the funeral pyres were already burning.
* * *
“Valentina!” Steph shouted as the warriors appeared at the gates and released the eight survivors of the second group. Steph wrapped her arms around Valentina and hugged her fiercely. The men and women of the third group gathered around the survivors, peppering them with questions about how the Kreelans fought.
“I’m okay.” Valentina returned Steph’s hug briefly. “How long? How long were we gone?”
“Almost thirty minutes. You were gone almost half an hour.”
“That was all?” Valentina felt sick. Combat had a time dilation effect, where seconds could seem like hours, and minutes stretched on to eternity. She looked past Steph to the next few groups of fighters lined up, waiting for their turn in the arenas. “We’re going to need more people.”
Steph ignored her last comment. “What do you mean, ‘That was all?’ Thirty minutes against them? That’s incredible! The first group was gone only ten minutes, and only one survived!”
“The next group will do even better.” Jackson came to stand next to Valentina, giving her a brief pat on the shoulder. “It’s made up mostly of my people, and all of them have fought hand to hand before.” He looked at the warriors, who waited expectantly. “We’ll give a good accounting of ourselves, I think.”
“You’re going?”
Jackson nodded. “I’m not a young buck anymore, but I think I can hold my own in a reasonably fair fight. I’m not just going to sit here on my ass.”
“Have one of your people sit out.” Valentina headed back toward the waiting warriors, as both Steph and Allison opened their mouths to protest. “I’m going back in.”
“Sorry, Valentina.” Jackson matched her stride, gesturing for the others in the next group to move up. “You can come along if you like, but none of these folks are going to back out.”
The other nineteen people moved past Jackson into the box formed by the warriors, and Jackson joined them.
Valentina walked forward to join them, but the warrior in charge put her hand on Valentina’s chest, holding her back while bowing her head.
“I’m going.” Valentina’s growl did not dissuade the warrior, who held fast while the others turned about and marched out the gates with Jackson’s group.
“Don’t be a fool, Valentina.” Steph took her by the arm and gently pulled her back. “I know you can fight better than any of us, but you can’t save us by yourself. That’s something we all have to do together. And we’re going to need you when Mills gets ready to break us out of here.”
Valentina shrugged off Steph’s hand. After a moment more of glaring at the warrior who still stood there, barring her way, she turned away and walked back toward their shelter, a silent Allison and Steph following close behind.
The warrior watched her for a moment, then turned and followed her sisters back toward the arenas.
“Here, take this.” Steph handed Valentina her vidcam headset. “Mills is talking again.”
Valentina put it on and looked out into the woods, where she saw the laser light blinking.
* * *
The half hour that Valentina had been in the arena had been one of the longest of Mills’s life. He had cursed her for a fool the entire time using every foul word he could conjure up, knowing all the while that she was doing it to buy time for the others.
Steph and Allison had waited for her along the fence by the gate, now that they weren’t afraid of the warriors picking people out at random.
For thirty minutes Mills held still, his eye to the scope as he trained the sniper rifle on the gates. His gut churned, his stomach alternately filled with butterflies and acid.
When Valentina and the others were marched back, he breathed a long, ragged sigh of relief until he saw the altercation between her and the black man. He didn’t have to guess what it was about, and he started cursing her again when she tried to join the next group to go to the arenas. Between one of the warriors and Steph, she had her mind changed and turned back to walk deeper into the camp, toward one of the empty shelters.
That’s when he started flashing the laser at Steph to get her attention, and Steph gave Valentina her vidcam.
* * *
Valentina tried to smile at the quick pulses of the laser, but couldn’t. Instead, she felt an unfamiliar moist warmth in her eyes, and a moment later tears were rolling down her face. She felt Allison’s arms wrapping around her, and Valentina hugged the girl tight.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly to Mills, taking care to form her words slowly in hopes he would understand what she was saying. “I want to save them. I want to save all of them. But I can’t, can I?”
A pause, then one blink of the laser. No.
That was when the gong sounded once more, its deep tone echoing across the camp to signal the next round of bloody combat.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
“Stand by for transpac
e sequence in sixty seconds.” The artificial female voice of Orion’s navigation computer echoed through the ship.
Sato was strapped into his command chair, his eyes fixed on the flag bridge displays that showed the computer’s estimates of where the other ships in the fleet were in the hyperspace around them.
To the crew on the flag bridge he appeared calm, but his heart was hammering and his stomach churned. He had served aboard three ships that had been lost, two with all hands other than himself. He knew that Orion and her sisters would perform well, and that, unless he had completely underestimated the Kreelans, the battleships would outmatch anything the enemy could throw against them. Yet the ghosts of his dead shipmates haunted him still, a peculiar feeling that he hadn’t been able to dispel.
His crews thought him a slave-driver, but he had also heard the scuttlebutt, the rumors, that he was a lucky sailor to have survived all that he had. His lips curled up slightly at the thought, wondering if the crew would still think that if they knew how many men and women had died on those ships. In a different age, he might have been considered a Jonah, a curse to his ship and crew.
Not this time, he told himself sternly. This time it’s going to be different. The ships and crews were the finest in the fleet and the Kreelan forces awaiting them would be terribly outnumbered. This engagement wouldn’t be decided by luck or blind fate. It would be decided by superior planning and overwhelming weight of fire.
“Ten seconds.” The tension on the flag bridge rose even higher. “Transpace sequence in five...four...”
“Stand by!” Sato’s hands tightened on the grips of his chair. The 1st Battleship Flotilla and its escorts were scheduled to jump in first, with the rest of the fleet right behind them.
“...three...two...one...” The computer voice paused. “Transpace sequence complete. Normal space emergence.”
The computer generated display on the main flag bridge screen changed to show the actual view of the system, with Alger’s World a bright disk taking up nearly half the screen. Green icons representing the other ships of the task force appeared around Orion and the three other battleships. They had all made it, and were in tight formation.
In Her Name: The Last War Page 100
