Assault on Ambrose Station: A Seth Donovan Novel (22 page)

34.

The next day was a steep learning curve for both Zoe and I. We had almost no spare time, meeting up near lights out at night in our shared berth. The accommodation was usually reserved for officers and although fitting two people into a bunk reserved for one was a novel experience to say the least, the fact that we were both always exhausted meant we didn’t really care. We were just happy to be together still.

Zoe was working to set up the medical suite, which previously had only two enlisted medics running it, to facilitate cybernetics maintenance. Dr Montannis also tutored her on the cloaking system. Her experiences working on my own nanites gave her a head start.

I started out by inspecting the armoury. The collection of equipment they had managed to load up before getting away from Eridani Station impressed me and, although they were Special Forces, the multitudes of gadgets and specialised weaponry was astounding. I started out with the stuff I knew – the armoured suits.

Kekkin and Renthal helped me out by sizing me up for a custom load out. The M4 was always fitted to the operator and these variants were no different. It surprised me to learn that none of the suits came equipped with standard shield generators. Rental pointed out that Ghantri weapons weren’t energy weapons anyway so there was really no need. Instead, they had a portable reactor.

I was a little sceptical at first, but they swore by it. It had multiple uses, most notably the ability to charge power cells for a variety of weapons. They said that they could have up to three cells charging at any one time, and the suits could carry another six with little encumbrance. This ensured they would have a near limitless supply of ammunition for extended deployments.

The other use they had was powering various tactical equipment they could take into the field. I could see a sparkle in Renthal’s eye when he mentioned this and I couldn’t help but ask what he meant. With a grin he showed me.

“You see these buckles and niches on the armour? Those are anchor points.”

“For what?”

“Exo-rig.”

“On an M4?”

“Oh yeah. We’ll be going down riding DonCrest Power Assisted Tactical Nine exo-rig frames. Turns a soldier in heavy armour into a walking tank. The PAT-9 is the latest in battlefield armour designed to counter heavy assault mech deployments. Or Ghantri Heavies.”

I shuddered at the memory – a Heavy was slang for the Ghantri battle suit soldiers. They were elite warriors equipped with mobile artillery and anti-vehicle weapons. I once tangled with a Heavy in hand-to-hand combat and only survived because I had surprise on my side.

“I thought the idea was to stay hidden. Won’t these make us too bulky for stealth?”

His grin widened even further. “No, sir. I did mention they were the latest in technology, after all. The PAT-9 is built using a poly-carbon nano-weave with smart reactive technology.”

“And what does all that mean?”

“Human doesn’t really know,” said Kekkin, “Just reads the manual. PAT-9 is flexible material until powered, then nanite chains lock into place and turn the material as hard and strong as hyperdiamond.”

“Let me guess…Votus tech?” I asked.

“Garz’a.” he said, practically strutting.

“I’m impressed. They’ll make a huge difference.”

“We have forward base deployables as well,” continued Renthal, “such as gravity shields, sensor beacons, beam and mortar artillery, and radar pods. Drone stations, turrets and synthetic command AI Cores.”

“I have to ask, why all the heavy ordinance? This is more a load out I’d expect on a marine assault boat, not a Special Forces detachment.”

“Remember we told you about an op we had planned that ended up getting squashed?”

“Just before I met you guys?”

“
Naga-zak
must know,” said Kekkin, “This op is not sanctioned by the Protectorate. Garner seeks revenge against the
calak
and the withdrawal meant he would not get the chance.”

“Originally,” continued Renthal, “We were supposed to have a couple of platoons of marines backing us up. We go down, set up a forward outpost and the cavalry comes in when we have an objective in sight.”

“It was part of an invasion?”

“Yeah, whole lot of ships would have been used. The Astral Spider prototype was here to gather data on the stealth capabilities. Prove the concept works and next year a dozen Battlecruisers with cloaking systems deploy here. Would have been bloody awesome.”

“And now we’re pulling out completely.”

“Yup, trust Fleet to turn a good idea into a cluster fuck.”

“What’s the squad’s training regime like? I’m a little bit nervous, to be honest. I’ve been pretty active these last few years, but mostly it’s just been sparing and shooting up pirates, synthetics and Corporates. Or combinations of all the above.”

“From what I hear, you should be fine. We’ll probably need to work on your fitness, but your bird says you have some fairly decent moves.”

“Crege? He told you how I fight?”

“Warrior had nothing but praise for
naga-zak
.” said Kekkin, “This one is looking forward to sparing with you.”

I smiled at him. “You fight with a
lurzak
?”

“Is all a warrior needs.”

“Tonight?”

“You would honour this warrior.”

“I think you just made the sarge’s day.” laughed Renthal, “He’s going to be giddy as a school girl all day now.”

“Human should not laugh, have not assigned cleaning roster for the week.”

“Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” Renthal was grinning from ear to ear.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“A friendly wager.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a…” I began.

“Warrior will take your money, human.”

“Who said anything about money? I reckon we put a little duty time on the line here.”

“If warrior beats
naga-zak
in first five minutes, human takes morning PT classes until Ambrose.”

“And if you take longer than five minutes – you have to do the morning brief in song.”

“Deal.”

I watched them banter to and fro, starting to grin as well. “And what if I beat Kekkin?”

They both stopped and looked at me.

“Warrior means no disrespect,
naga-zak
, warrior is
lur shirtan-zak.
”

“A what?”

Renthal was still smiling, but was trying to put a serious look on his face when he answered me. “The sarge is a blade master, sir. You’d have to kill him to win a duel.”

“I’m not familiar with the significance of the title. It has to do with the
lurzak
martial art? And please, don’t call me sir when it’s just us talking. You’ll give me a complex.”

“The sarge here is a bona-fide
lurzak
sword fighting champion. Attended the finest schools all the way back on Garz’en since he was nigh but a hatchling. He fought his way up through the
lur kit-zak
ranks, making
yendag-zak
when he was only twenty standard years old. He fought and defeated one of the
shirtan-zak
to take their place when he was thirty, and two years later killed the Votus-Eridani
lur shirtan-zak
in a duel.”

“You killed him?”

“
Lur shirtan-zak
must always duel to the death,” explained Kekkin, “Cannot become one unless warrior kills one.”

“That sounds a little extreme.”

“Have defended
lur shirtan-zak
seven times since.” he said, puffing out his chest.

“Always to the death?”

“The path of peace is littered with the bones of those who seek it.”

“What the hell does that mean? You pretty much just admitted to being a serial killer.”

“
Naga-zak
mistakes my pride for bloodthirst. Only one who is ready for death can challenge a
lur shirtan-zak
. Each
shirtan-zak
that challenged warrior was a noble Garz’a. They honoured me with their sacrifice, and warrior strives each day to continue to honour their life.”

“Why in the galaxy would you want to be a
lur shirtan-zak
? You would be forced to kill people all the time!”

“It is the only way to become
garz’ak,
the supreme warrior.”

“And why is that important?”

Renthal cleared his throat, “The highest rank of their crazy martial art is forbidden from killing anything, ever again. All their battles are non-lethal.”

“
Garz’ak
battle for peace only. Greatest of all battles.”

I thought about that for a while, wondering why Crege had never explained this ranked structure to me before. I wondered what his title was.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “I thought
garz’ak
meant child?”

“The nearest translation is innocent. Those who cannot slay.”

“Yeah, all Garz’a are crazy,” said Renthal, “that much you can be sure of.”

“Shit, did I just sign myself up for a duel to the death?” I asked, a dread notion suddenly dawning on me.

“
Naga-zak
does me an honour, but we are only sparing for practice. Warrior promises not to kill
naga-zak.
”

Renthal broke out in a fresh batch of booming laughter, “Unless he thinks you’re good enough to fight for real.”

35.

Word travels fast on starships, even as large as a corvette. By the time my match with Kekkin was due, a veritable crowd had gathered in the ship’s gymnasium to watch. Mostly it was off-duty enlisted crew, but all of Naga Team was there, as well as Zoe, Tac and Art. Artemis present made me do a double take, and when I asked about her being let out of her quarters she muttered something about allowances to work out, gesturing to her sweat towel.

Renthal, the bastard, was moving through the crowd taking bets, with Harris in tow hastily tapping away at a tablet recording the takings. There was entirely too many people here for what was supposed to be a practice spar, one in which apparently I was destined to lose within a few minutes of starting. If all that story about Kekkin was true, though, I was betting I was going to get my arse handed to me in no time.

I spent a few minutes warming up, getting used to the weight of the
lurzak
in my hand again. It had been a little while since I’d used it – while sparing with Art on the Dreaming we had used practice blades at Max’s behest, after she cut me about seven weeks ago. Zoe and Tac were chatting with me while I went through my exercises.

“I’m detecting an unusual amount of anxiety from you,” Tac was saying, “Judging from your perspiration and heart rate. Are you nervous, Seth?”

“Yeah I am. From what I hear, Kekkin is another whole level above Crege in skill. This could go very badly for me out there.”

“Then why do you have to go through with it?” asked Zoe, concern clear on her face.

“Because I said I would. I need to show these men that I’m not afraid.”

“Well you clearly are, so you need to calm down, I think.”

“I’m trying to, but this bloody robot keeps reminding me I’m about to get hammered out there.”

“I am not a robot, Seth, I am an organic shroud…”

“I know, I know. Sorry, I’m just peevish.”

“Focus on your breathing.” offered Zoe, “Ignore Tac for now. Just listen to my voice.” Zoe start to drone a mantra that I knew she’d learned from Fel. The words themselves were meaningless, but their flow and their rhythm were soothing. Their cadence in time with my breathing. Say what you will about philosophical debate,
The Way
had some effective techniques for focus and concentration.

“They’re waiting for you, try your best.” she said, simply.

Without waiting any longer, I walked up to the gym floor and climbed into the sparing ring. I did my best to ignore the cheering and jeering going on around me, finding Kekkin in the crowd as he climbed in as well.

He was adorned in a leather strap affair, much like an athletic would tape up various joints and limbs during a sport, with several sections covering vital spots on his body. I’d seen this kind of gear before, on professional swordsmen in competitions. He stood casually, balanced on his feet with his arms apart, forearms facing me.

I tossed him a salute with my
lurzak,
which he returned.

“What are the rules here?” I asked.

“Fight until it is no longer safe to do so.”

“Ha, that’s pretty vague.”

“
Naga-zak
will know when he is beaten. As will warrior.”

“All right. I’m ready.”

“
Ur kah lem, kitrak.
”

Like a panther, Kekkin began to circle me, his eyes never leaving mine. I chose to play it safe, at first. I matched his motions, keeping the breadth of the ring between us. I watched his movements, noted how graceful they were, kept an eye out for some clue, some
tell
that would give away his first move. I was never the silent fighter, so I decided to play to my strengths.

“We keep circling like this, you’re going to lose your bet.”

Kekkin said nothing, just kept circling. I stopped, adjusted the weight on my feet. Kekkin stopped as well, then took half a step forward suddenly. The quick movement made me jump back, rocking onto my rear foot and bringing my guard up reflexively. I blew the breath out of my lungs and tried to focus on my breathing again, I could feel my heart start to race. Kekkin smiled.

“Warrior knows most of a battle lies in the heart, and the head. Win your fight there, and warrior will win every time.”

He was toying with me on purpose, trying to use my nervousness against me.

When he saw me steel myself, he started to run towards me, blade held high. I side stepped, went wide and evaded rather than met his strike. I spun about and put distance between us again. He rushed again, blade held at chest height and pointed right at me, only this time he sidestepped as I tried to once more get past him. Like a snake his blade whipped out at me, forcing me backwards as I brought my blade up to deflect his strike. He pivoted on his foot, bringing his other out and lifting it in a lightning snap kick. I ducked and rolled under his leg, sending a backhand slice towards his leg. He moved like liquid, completely avoiding my clumsy strike. I rose, leaping into a triple cross that ended with me spinning backwards into the ring’s ropes. My chin was numb and my head was spinning. It took me several seconds to realise I’d been elbowed in the face as I came at him. He had pulled back to allow me to recover.

“
Lurzak
is not
naga-zak’s
weapon.
Naga-zak
is weapon.
Lurzak
merely the means of delivering your will.”

I shook my head and started to circle again. Kekkin just stood there, legs shoulder width apart, arms open with forearms up. I came at him from his left, forcing him to pivot on his legs to bring up a cross guard. I made to push him off his balance, except when I shoved he wasn’t there. As I stumbled past him his blade whipped out and slapped my foot. I went sprawling to the floor. I could hear his padded feet rushing towards me so I used my momentum to roll, then activate Spatial Translation and appeared a few metres behind him. I caught my balance, rushed at his back while he spent a moment of confusion. I landed both feet in between his shoulder blades and sent him tumbling across the ring. I climbed back to my feet, to see him leaping back at me. I met his blade on my own, then struggled to keep his blade away as he executed strike after strike. High, high, low, high, middle, low. A classic
galab
form. I jumped his last strike and shoved a knee into his chest, using the force to start my own attack. A double cross, followed by an overhead slice that bounced off his cross guard sending me backwards as he kicked me in the thigh. The pain made me call out. I realised he’d hit me in my burn mark, which had only just healed.

“Warrior watches for weakness in
calak
. Strike where blow would give pause to foe.”

“You’re full of advice.” I said between clenched teeth.

“
Naga-zak
has much to learn.”

“Warrior is running out of time.” I tried to mimic his accent.

There are two ways of fighting, in my opinion. Kekkin, I could tell, was a professional swordsman and an exceptional martial artist in his own right. His type of fighting was one way. I was far from being a professional. Almost all of my fights were a matter of life and death - there was no time for niceties and fancy moves. I had to calculate the most efficient way to dispatch my adversary, as chances were I had to contend with more than one.

I had seen a brief glimpse of Kekkin’s weakness – his reliance on his method and technique. Several things leapt to mind then. Crege always insisted that any move you make can win you a fight, regardless of the fairness of the attack. He believed there was no such thing as dirty fighting. If the move won you a fight, then you lived and your opponent did not. Another thing that came to mind was my time in Gossamer previously.

The way the Ghantri fought - there were no fighting schools, no training camps or practice rings. They instinctively knew how to fight, and they did it well. Their tactics were brutal, savage and utterly effective. They had an uncanny knack for striking when you were unprepared, springing traps when they were not yet ready, spoiling plans and sowing chaos. Our first ground casualties of the Push were due to our defensive lines being overrun by hundreds of Ghantri rushing our positions. We simply could not believe that they would do it.

Kekkin was already playing out my defeat in his mind. He knew which moves he would perform next, how he would disarm me. He had played the match with the time in his mind. He would wait until the last moment to delivery his victory blow, building anticipation with the crowd. For him to lose was utterly alien, it wasn’t even part of his mindset right now.

The next few minutes were edge of your seat close call after close call. Once I’d seen Kekkin’s plan in my mind, however, I knew that I was safe so long as I put on a good show. Kekkin held back in his strikes, not aiming to dislodge my weapon, or hurt me too much before the end. I could tell he was trying to teach me, but I had a lesson to teach him too. When there was less than thirty seconds to go before his five minutes was up, the tempo changed and I knew that his final play was coming to fruition.

I was panting heavily, face and chest soaked with sweat and blood from several small cuts on my hand, arm, forehead and lip (I bit it myself by accident rolling away from him). He kicked my sword arm, forcing me to roll with it or risk numbing my arm.

I went into a one handed cartwheel to my left, I tried to clip his hand with my foot as a I flipped but he held back from his follow through for a split second. As I came up, I saw his footing shift, digging his toes into the gym floor as if to push off. Time seemed to slow down as I knew his attack was about to finish me off. My
lurzak
was on the far side of me, if I was to deflect his attack in time I’d have to commit my block to taking the full weight of his blow, a move that would surely leave my hand numb from impact. Instead I brought my left arm up, popped my hidden gun up and shot his
lurzak
square on the cross guard.

Disarmed, disoriented, he stumbled forward and came face to face with my
lurzak
as I brought it around.

“Here we are not
galab
. Here we are Ghantri, or we are killed like
bezak
. Like the Fleet during the Push.” I took a few breathes, trying to stop my panting, “One thing I learnt during my time here was to never stop thinking that the fight was over. Every moment we are here, the Ghantri could be about to strike. We may be invisible, but I found the Astral Spider – who’s to say that right now a Ghantri raiding party isn’t cutting their way into here. They could be right outside this hatch, in the passageway, waiting for us.

“If there was one thing that I could pass on to my fallen squad mates, it’s not to underestimate an under trained, under armed or less experienced foe. The Ghantri didn’t defeat us, we did it to ourselves.”