Blood Sabers

by Burbaugh, MF;

  Matawasa took out the sheathed sword, handed it to her, blade up, and bowed her head. Our Asian beauty took it and bowed.

  I had her remove the wrappings and hold it to the TV-- they zoomed, it was as beautiful a work as Latwasa had ever done. Deep, dark and rich.

  I blooded her blade and resheathed it. I told her that in our land she must draw blood if it is removed from its scabbard. She nodded. I wanted no voice recording of her.

  “Welcome to Camelot,” Matawasa said.

  She cried but said nothing, picked up her clothes, and walked to my wives who all kissed her. She went to our skybox were she would receive the rest of the set.

  The crowd roared.

  “We are done,” I said.

  I invited the final sensei for tea. He accepted.

  As the crowds left, a lone reporter came up to the box and knocked. I had her come in.

  “Sir, I heard your words and believe me I do not wish to die, but I know who she is. I recognized her the second she went to the field.”

  She turned and said, “I assume all here know you?” She said to purple-clad trainee, “Miss Mori, I ask nothing but that you grant me the honor and privilege of announcing you to the world when you are ready. That is what I ask in return for what may be years of silence,” she said.

  “Do you wish to do this because you are a reporter? You may be a happily married grandmother by then,” I said.

  “Hell no, I wish to do it because I am a woman and will finally have something to idolize besides some stupid bra burning spoiled brat that thinks all the women are as stupid as she is,” she said with a little venom in her voice.

  “Burning a bra isn’t necessarily a bad thing, my wives wear none,” I told her.

  “You can play your games, Sir, but you know damn well what I mean.”

  I snickered and turned to the Asian beauty, Looking into the pretty eyes behind the purple mask, “It is your call, my dear.”

  “Fine with me,” she said, and removed the mask.

  I said, “Also as time develops, may she, or we, pass on tidbits to help your news people sniff a story, if that is also agreeable?” I asked.

  “We never turn down tips.” She laughed and left.

  “Sensei, I turn our lovely creature over to your care and training. Teach her well. I also expect a maximum effort from you tomorrow. We will cheat; Linda may use her touch to ensure a most invigorating battle for a few rounds anyway. We will have a grand finish.

  “I shall like to take my wives to dinner tonight; might you suggest a suitable restaurant for our humble pallets?”

  He mentioned an excellent Chinese restaurant up town. The humor behind it was not lost.

  I called a limo, gowns or no? No, we were barbarians and I wished to act like one.

  The Sensei and his new student left, we all showered, I helped do hair.

  Rodel had converted some platinum and gold to cash along the way, which I had to get from the safe.

  We all wore our Camelot battle outfits and swords. The stretch limo took us to the restaurant and even Linda wore her white and blue battle outfit. Rodel had found the owner and quietly received permission ahead of time. He was out of country and promised not to interfere.

  I talked to the limo guy. He would wait, and no, he wasn’t afraid. He told me why.

  We went in and there was some problem with our attire and carrying weapons. I made it clear we did not give a tinkers damn what they thought, we came for food and they would provide the best service.

  We were seated immediately while someone called 911.

  Some ladies there were offended by our attire. I heard comments like barbaric, insolent, rude, uncultured, bingo. Linda was in her face. Well her beautiful breasts behind their thin veil were.

  “On our world it is rude, barbaric, insolent, and uncultured to talk of anyone we do not know. You sit there on your lard ass hiding your tits in a bra because they would hit your waist if you didn’t, and you mouth us as uncultured? If you so much as breath heavy or move your lips between now and the time you waddle your fat ass out the door, they will have to deliver your head to the police on a serving tray. She drew her sword and sparks flew as it crackled. We found another who could not hold her bladder as she waddled out the door.

  Linda turned to the crowd; some were trying to leave. “Sit!” Her sword sparked and crackled. “We acknowledge with pride we are barbarians, we are warriors, we fight hard and we play hard. Unless you can prove yourself our equal or better, to say we are the uncultured ones is a sentence of death because we are our culture, not yours. Call us no names, keep your comments to yourselves and we can all enjoy what I was told would be an excellent meal.”

  The sirens wailed as we placed our orders.

  One brave, or stupid, Huston cop came in, gun drawn. Saw us and stared. They had heard, some had seen. He saw one bronze bombshell, one white girl, and three blue girls, all with swords, and one skinny guy in blue boxer shorts sipping Chinese tea and munching bread sticks.

  “Put it away or use it,” I said. “I am King Jake of Camelot and these are my wives, we came to enjoy a meal at this fine establishment. Back out and do what you think is right, but when we leave here it better be as quiet outside as it was when we came in or people are gonna die and they will all be cops. Now leave.”

  He holstered his peashooter and backed out.

  The restaurant receptionist found out 911 was not going to be of any use.

  The earbud picked up, “No, I saw them at the dome every day, fantastic, and they do exactly as they say.” He was talking to another young man behind us.

  Katawasa stood. “It was her, she took on two sensei and got them to a draw. She was perfect!”

  She smiled, “Thank you, you are most kind!” She picked him up and hugged him, laid a big warm kiss on him, and he was scared and happy.

  She sat back down. The cops were still outside, I suspected they were waiting orders. The lights had all been turned off.

  We ate an enjoyable meal, the cops found out about our special immunity—and our abilities—and quietly disappeared.

  I tipped the waitress who was scared, but competent, a $100, and on the way out Aawasa told the receptionist, “You ever call 911 on us again I will remove your head. We clear?”

  She nodded. She got patted on her cheek.

  The news said Huston had embarrassed themselves by calling our visiting Barbarians uncultured, and the person who did it was last seen waddling off with wet underwear.

  We went to a movie. The same thing, but 911 said treat them with respect and live. It was a love story with a sad ending and Matawasa cried.

  We headed back to the dome; it was late and we’d had some fun. I tipped the young driver a substantial amount and we called it a night.

  ~~~

  Final Battle day:

  I awoke to Rodel saying there was someone entering the dome, unknown and alone. No weapon.

  I told him to show him in. It was 0530, we would have been getting up in 30 minutes anyway.

  He was a secretary for the new President of NASA and wanted to set up a private meeting at our convenience.

  I told him that all we really needed was the unconditional surrender of NASA and we can get about our business, but if this President wasn’t a coward, we were here and he could feel free to drop by for tea any time.

  “That would not work, security,” he said

  “Inform him if I want him dead to ask the previous President how well his security or Mars’ security or Earths security did, and that I am available any time. “He may bring as many armed men as he likes. I have a show to prepare for. This meeting is ended.”

  I said to Rodel, “When the President shows he will be alone, maybe one guard, ensure the place is presentable and he is greeted with respect.”

  “Yes, Sire,” he said.

  “We still must talk,” I said

  “Yes, Sire.”

  At 7AM I told a certain reporter a certain sensei was a
bout to put on the longest, and grandest single combat ever seen on Earth, with wooden swords, no exceptions.

  8AM sharp, “Ladies and gentlemen of the planet Earth and the Moon and the planet Mars. I feel, based on the exceptional swordsmanship of the Earth’s sensei so far, today’s final match shall be a spectacular one.”

  “My wife, Matawasa.” I bowed as she came forward and the massive crowd roared.

  “Ladies and gentlemen our final challenger, Sensei Kojiro.” I bowed to him as he came forward.

  The crowds on two planets and a moon went wild.

  “My dear wife, no matter the outcome, you have stood us proud and Camelot salutes you.”

  I bowed, and gave her a, umm, healthy kiss.

  “There goes my damn concentration again…grrrr,” she said, and they ate it up.

  ‘Then he has a chance!” I smiled. “A good fight, pull a hit, you lose. Stop if a sword breaks, it is a contest of skill, not luck.

  “Announcer, all yours,” I said.

  “Linda, heal them and invigorate them between rounds please?” I asked.

  “Of course, my husband. Is it my turn tonight?” she smiled

  “Ask Aawasa, you all deserve it,” I said.

  “I would think our Champion would claim first favors, no?” Aawasa said.

  “Shucks,” Linda said, and they all laughed.

  A certain lady sat embarrassed, on a bench by herself, wearing purple.

  I sat by her for a while.

  “I do right?” I asked.

  “About what?” she said.

  “Choosing you as Samurai, it is hard, grueling work,” I said.

  “I will try to live up to your expectations,” she said.

  “That is what I mean, I want you to live up to yours, not mine.”

  She just looked at me.

  I finally got up and went to the announcer’s area and sat down.

  Rounds one through three were whirlwinds of smash and slash, high and low, spinning and every possible combination of moves there are. Finally round four ended, they had both agreed one through four were warm ups and show, the start of round five was balls to the wall.

  I checked with Matawasa.

  “He is good, he is really, really, good,” she said.

  “He will try a Musashi move at the open, be ready, after that you’re on your own,” I said.

  “How do you know that, my husband?” Aawasa asked.

  “Because he knows it, and it is what I would do,” I told her.

  They were called back to start. “Ready? Begin!”

  They circled each other, he was going into a regular stance then switched and attacked. The attack was indefensible because it was a move that could not be done. The defense was impossible because there was nothing to defend against. Everyone knew they saw something spectacular, but had no idea what it was.

  My wife immediately countered with two back-to-back Musashi of her own, the second struck. He froze, turned and bowed, reset, and he knew he was doomed, he could not do two in a row, nor counter two. She did not use it again.

  Round five ended one zip.

  Round six went by with no hits. I told Linda let them finish on their own steam.

  Halfway through round seven Matawasa got a little flick in, just clipped his elbow.

  Two zip.

  Round eight, they were both winded, the announcers around the world were just now able to keep up with the moves they saw.

  “Another jodan kamae or high guard was successful against his gamen ate or head strike! My god these two are fantastic. There, she came back with a yokogiri, look, there was chudan tsuki. Damn, a kesagiri!” And so it went, often no time to even try to name the attacks and defenses being used. I watched in awe, I swear they ripped through at least fifteen different moves and counters in minutes.

  The crowd had been on their feet since round five, hooting, hollering, cheering. They just knew they saw something spectacular.

  Round eight was a fury of hits, counters, and a loud crash. A power down was caught by a power up, two wooden swords gave their lives for the cause.

  They received new bokken and standing ovations. They finished the round, no hits.

  I talked to Matawasa and went to the mike. “My wife would normally continue until defeat or victory, but she is mentally and physically tired. It has been a hard three days, as you well know. The score is two to zero and she asks a draw from the sensei. If he will not do so then she withdraws and he is the winner.” My wife bowed deep and appeared to wobble a bit.

  “Sensei, it is your call,” I said.

  He walked around in a circle, four times, shook his head and came to the mike.

  “I could never accept a withdraw. I have truly had the fight of my life, I was never in control, always on the defense. I know in my heart I would have lost to this fantastic warrior, yet she has brought out of me moves and speed I never saw, never knew I could do, only the truly challenged can develop to their peak. I have had the greatest honor to fight a true Samurai Warrior, I accept a draw!” He turned and bowed to her, deep. They came together and held each other up, totally exhausted, and it is just as impossible to describe the crowd’s reaction as to describe a move that can’t be done.

  “We have conquered Earth; they just don’t know it yet,” I told the girls.

  After the crowed subsided, I presented him a medal, one extra clasp, Earth winner; Matawasa’s said Camelot winner.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Earth, we came to test your mettle, your skill, and your honor, we have found all acceptable.” I looked around. “I would normally present the gold and platinum, I instead offer him a check for 20 million as his share, plus the 1 million for training.” Huge rounds of applause. “This money is tax free to all winners. Any attempt to collect a penny by this government, which has so far earned nothing but dishonor, will result in the removal of every head that works for the organization called IRS and any court that tries to claim they, in any way, deserve anything but our spit.” Roars of laughter and applause.

  “To wrap this up, we of Camelot have a small, frail girl we call Latwasa, she has made all our blades herself, by hand.” A picture of her banging at a hot forge was shown. “The bokken are also from her hands.”

  “My wife wishes to offer the sensei a gift.” I gave her the mike.

  “My life has been short, but fifteen and one-half years, yet I feel as if I have fought a lifetime of battles these three days. I wish to say, after consultation with our other wives, the true warriors of my planet, and they agree, this sensei is the best male fighter any of us has seen. We wish him to honor us by accepting one of our sword sets just arrived from Camelot last night.

  “You may choose: our ornate one,” she held up the orange sword, bejeweled and inlaid with gold. The TV did a close up, even our crowd ogled and goggled.

  “Or our fighting set,” she said.

  She held up the beautiful deep blue katana. Gold dragons down each side of the scabbard and twin dragons making up the tsuba. A single ivory inlay in its handle.

  He, of course, chose the dark blue. Function over beauty.

  He removed the sword and its wrappings, admired its blade and nicked his finger before inserting it.

  He bowed and had tears in his eyes. “I am truly unworthy of such a gift,” and he bowed a second, long time.

  “That concludes Camelot’s challenge to Earth. We thank all for coming and we bid all a good night,” the announcer said.

  Later we sent all the honorable sensei who fought the difference to bring them all to the $9 million mark; they were not any less deserving.

  As the crowd started leaving, I asked our people, “Anyone for tea?”

  I asked Matawasa how tired she was. She lowered her head, tilted it a bit and batted her eyes, “You horny, yes?” And they broke into laughter, answering my question.

  We all sipped tea and chatted. The sensei did not stop by, he and his protégé had left, rumor was he was still in tears.
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br />   Linda and all my wives but Queastra, who was still in Australia, had decided to get a close-up view of the moon. As we engaged the next part of our plan. A UFO was spotted, a huge lion, with a bronze bombshell and a rope in her mouth was pulling a bubble full of almost naked women wearing swords to high orbit.

  Matawasa wanted some big storms. Forty percent of all the women of Earth reported a strange new sickness. They spent two days and nights in tormented ecstasy, having non-stop orgasms. Somewhere, a girl wearing purple reveled in exquisite agony, dreaming of riding hurricanes. Me? I finally rode a monster home.

  Matawasa smiled so sweetly, wringing wet. “My husband, you are so kind to us all. I am glad Linda brought me to a real man. If there is ever anything you really need, just ask. We play our little games, and they are fun, you are fun, but we really don’t know our husband or his real needs. Every time you kill someone who hits a woman, we truly know we do not yet reach your tortured soul.”

  “I doubt any can, I don’t even see it. I will overcome someday, each time my control is a little better,” I said. “Right now, just laying here, I am as content as anyone in the Universe could be. The others will return soon.” I was so blessed, or cursed, never sure which.

  Forty minutes later, some very tired ladies came back from their space jaunt.

  Almost immediately a smiling, but tired reporter wanted to know just one thing, “Was it you?”

  Aawasa said, “Why do you think he has six wives?”

  Katawasa said, “You should have seen what he did to us and three-fourths of our planet when they went five and a half days.” She smiled weakly.

  Just then a knock on the door came, a lone man with one other who remained seated on a chair below, said, “May I speak to His Majesty?”

  “Give me one minute for some to get presentable,” I said, and he backed out and waited.

  “Reporter, want a scoop of the year?”

  She nodded.

  “Then keep silent.”

  I asked him to come in.

  “Ladies, may I introduce you to the President of NASA?”