Express Delivery

"The Nor believe in accessibility and ease of use. Once you're familiar with one spacecraft, you can -- in theory -- fly anything, no matter if its a fighter craft, a civilian transporter or even a capital ship. You'll need more hands to manage all the systems on a tub like that-" I pointed at a battlecruiser close by, "but the general systems are the same."

"Fascinating. I was in a relationship with a bridge officer once and she told me how every ship in our fleet is unique, depending on when it was built, what hardware revisions the particular console is and how extensively jury-rigged the thing has been over the past couple thousand years. Learning to fly on one of those is more like an apprenticeship to a particularly eccentric master."

"The more you tell me, the more I want to see your fleet for myself. How long have you been drifting through space?"

"Ages."

I shot Jenala a sidelong glance. Her face told me I wouldn't get anything else from her. I sighed quietly and concentrated on evading the larger chunks of debris on our route.

* * * *

An hour later, we reached the coordinates San'yas has sent us. Her shuttle was almost invisible, hiding inside a gutted carrier hull. We parked our salvage rig next to it.

I opened a directed channel so only San'yas could "hear" us.

"So, we're here. What's troubling you?"

In reply, San'yas opened a video window. "This is a recon drone view," she said. "Watch."

The view showed the drone zipping from the hangar before it accelerated, easily avoiding debris and small asteroids. Near the edge of the debris field, a large, multi-sided Faceless ship hung in place like an obsidian obelisk, every edge highlighted in pulsating red. And parked next to it was, like a horseshoe flying through space prongs first, a Gravon mining ship. According to the drone's sensor sweep, the miner was a medium-sized one, just over three hundred meters long and maybe a hundred wide. Boarding clamps and a tunnel connected both ships and smaller vessels flitted about, dragging assorted chunks of material into the huge, gaping cargo hold of the miner.

A moment later, a blinding flash erupted on the monitor, only to be replaced with San'yas' concerned Zuthrian face.

"They shot down the drone?" I asked.

She nodded. "As you can see, they look incredibly organized for a bunch of scavengers."

"Looks more like a Clan ship than a random assortment of scrap thieves to me. And a frontal assault might be the last thing we do."

"I don't want them to steal this particular ship. It's one of my pet projects. I have spent at least ten standard years repairing the power conduits alone. The only reason the ship isn't fully operational is a lack of crew. They died when a Mentalist took down the ship's Queen and the resulting psionic backlash fried the brains directly linked to her."

"What would have been your angle of attack?" I asked her.

"The usual Faceless strategy. Infiltrate the ship, assimilate one of the scavengers and work my way from there until I can access their leader."

"How long do you need on average?" Jenala asked.

"Days, if not weeks," San'yas admitted. "I'm no trained Infiltrator. Thus my call for help."

"It might be a stupid question but have you tried... talking to them?" I asked her. "Maybe you can find a compromise which doesn't involve killing the whole outfit. Ask what they want exactly and offer them a trade."

"I guess I could try that," San'yas said. The monitor image split. San'yas' face seemed to melt and deform, until the androgynous Faceless visage had returned. The other half of the screen showed an elaborate kite shield, inlaid with guns, blades and a shovel as decorative elements. "Please stand by" was written in Gravon calligraphy on a scroll wreath underneath the shield. Suddenly, the shield vanished. A Gravon female, black-haired and red-skinned, glowered at the screen. Her eyes were of a fiery orange.

"Who are you?" she snapped without much in the way of greetings.

"My name is San'yas. I am the owner of this debris field and proprietor of the repair station at coordinates ninety-three mark sixteen mark fifty-one." The Faceless yanked a thumb over their shoulder. "You are trespassing on my property. I would ask you to leave the Faceless ship you are trying to activate and return from whence you came."

"Or else what?" the Gravon female asked. Her scowl had relented a bit as she beheld the Faceless but not by much. "What are you gonna do about my guys taking the Faceless cruiser?"

San'yas shrugged. "I asked politely. Now I am willing to trade. What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can provide it. Also, I would like to know who I'm talking to."

The Gravon woman made a fist. "I am Ezra. Leader of the Kadoshi clan, conqueror of Nelbia-Theta, killer of six-hundred and forty-two opponents and revered mother of five." She offered San'yas a little smile. "Again, what will you do to stop us? The way I see things, it's the three of you versus all two-hundred sixty eight of my warriors. You foolishly revealed your location by calling me! All it takes to get rid of you is a thermonuclear warhead right up that carrier's ass. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do it right now."

I'd heard enough. She was right, of course. In terms of sheer firepower and head count, Ezra had all the aces. But thankfully I knew something which might get us out of this predicament.

The Circle of Truth. A ritualistic way of settling disputes. The Gravon had invented it as an on-the-spot method of arbitration but it had proliferated through the galaxy and was very popular among mercs, smugglers and criminals alike. It boiled down to a battle inside a six-meter circle. Whoever won was assumed to be in the right and most Gravon were too honorable to refuse. I hoped Ezra was more honorable than Neira.

I opened my mic. "My name is Salvador Rios of Earth. My ship has taken down four interceptors and a Class-2 Nor frigate recently. On behalf of my associate San'yas, I challenge your clan to a duel in the Circle of Truth. If we win, you will get your shapely ass out of this system without complaint. If you win, you shall have the ship and every bit of assistance to get it moving San'yas can offer. Are these terms agreeable to you?"

"What?" San'yas and Ezra snapped in unison.

Despite my innards trying to crawl all into the same corner to hide, I forced a cocky grin onto my face. I hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. "It's simple. Gunning down an inferior force is hardly honorable and we don't have much in terms of firepower to rival you. So a simple, honest mano a mano duel should be the most honorable way to settle the dispute, right? Think about it -- if your champion wins, you not only get the ship, but all the help we can offer to get it going. I bet San'yas here knows the activation codes, how to unlock the security system and the like."

San'yas froze the connection to Ezra and glared at me. "Are you out of your fucking mind? You are pokering my ship away! What makes you think you can beat a Gravon soldier? Or any Gravon, for that matter? Your thoughts are full of a certain Gravon woman and you can't even deal with her!"

Ouchie. "Her honor will make sure she accepts the duel. And I'm not the one going into the circle. That job will fall to Jenala. I've seen her fight."

"Me?" My co-pilot raised an eyebrow. "Do I get any say in this?"

I bared my teeth. "Sure. As part of the challenge, you can set the framework of the duel. Submission, first blood, lost limb, death, you name it. Just be prepared that your opponent may choose the weapons."

"I understand." She fixed me with a stern glare. "But I don't approve."

"Can you beat a Gravon?" San'yas asked, her voice at the edge of a full-blown panic. "Tell me you can beat a fucking Gravon."

"Depends on what kind of monster they'll throw at me. In general, they are bulky and slow so I should have a decent chance of evading him or her."

"Unless they have reflex wires or some other cyber mod," I cautioned her. "Gravon love their cybernetics."

"We should have tried the stealth approach," San'yas muttered. "You have doomed us all, Salvador." The shapeshifter unfroze the connection.

"About time," Ezra snarled. "I accept. As recipient of a formal challenge, I hereby offer you safe passage. No harm shall befall you before or during the duel."

"That's probably the best we can hope for," I said. "Let's go."

* * * *

Most of the inside of the horseshoe-shaped Gravon miner reminded me of a factory. The space debris their semi-autonomous Gatherers brought in were crushed and transferred into huge furnaces where they were melted into ingots. Huge, thundering machines ate those ingots and produced sheets of metal, weapon chassis or whole armor pieces. It was hot, it was claustrophobic and it was very crowded as our escorts brought us into a large gathering hall.

Banners displaying the same elaborate shield design hung from freaking pillars and Ezra, garbed in a light vest and what could only be described as harem pants, lounged in a throne chiseled from golden sandstone. A Zuthrian male, naked save for a loincloth made from a gold-shot fabric, sat on the steps leading up to the throne and two massive Gravon males, their naked chests very blocky and cratered -- a sure sign of subdermal armor - brandished massive two-handed swords, their faces hidden behind polished silver masks. They guarded the throne but getting there would be almost impossible anyway thanks to the four dozen Gravon between us and Ezra. Going by their clothing or tools, they were everything from soldiers to techies to skimpily clad pleasure givers to simple civilians.

Ezra rose from her throne and swept a disparaging glare across the three of us.

"Welcome to my ship. I hope you are prepared because this Circle does not tolerate weakness!" The throng parted, revealing a permanent Circle of Truth, the outer edge lined with silver, carved into the deck plating. "Who among you will fight for your side?"

Jenala undid her weapons belt and handed it to me. She stripped out of her flight suit and tied her hair back with a simple bit of fabric. Locking gazes with me, she drew her sword from its sheath. Wearing only her glinting battle shell and a determined expression, she turned to face the assembled Gravon. "My name is Jenala and I will be San'yas' champion."

There were appreciative whistles and murmuring.

"Interesting," Ezra boomed. "Well then. Face your opponent. He's the strongest warrior among my elites. Father of my children, killer of hundreds, conqueror of two cities and unbeaten in the Circle. I give you Kevros Wallbreaker!"

From the left side, a veritable mountain of a man strode towards the circle. He wore some kind of loose shorts along with a metal-studded harness. His skin was of a strange golden hue and his hair a striking copper color. Even without Ezra's introduction, it was obvious he had seen many battles -- and didn't win every one of them. His left arm was a prosthetic, an engineering marvel made from gunmetal and elaborate inlays in gold and silver. There were some glowing bits, probably energy cells or conduits. The left side of his face had also been badly hit. The damaged tissue had been replaced with metal as well, his left eye a whirring camera lens. Kevros even towered over his fellow Gravon, easily two and a half meters tall and built like the proverbial brick wall.

I expected cheers and applause but there was only half-hearted muttering, especially from the female part of the audience.

Another Gravon joined us. He was ancient, using a beautifully forged walking stick to keep his bent form upright. His body was wrapped in a tattered robe He was the first Gravon I've seen to sport facial hair, a long, bushy silver beard going down to his terracotta navel. He kept his hair cropped short and despite his obvious age, his eyes were bright and alert.

"Who let you out of your cell, old man?" Ezra snapped.

"The ship's AI, dear," the old man replied, his sonorous voice easily carrying through the large hall we were in. "A formal duel was invoked. The ship recognized the Oathkeeper was needed." He turned his attention to us. "Welcome. I am Oathkeeper Tengur and I will be officiating this contest."

Tengur walked into the center of the Circle of Truth and slammed his cane onto the deck plating. "On day six-thousand-three-hundred and eighty-four since our Ancestors left Gravo Prime behind to settle the stars, another dispute shall be decided through strength, cunning and grace." He extended an arm in our direction. "You have invoked the rite. State the stakes."

"Can't we dispense with all the ritual bullshit and get this over with?" Ezra barked from atop her throne. "I don't have all day."

Tengur shot her a stern gaze. "I didn't know you finally lowered yourself to the level of common scavengers. Your father would be ashamed."

"My father is dead, Oathkeeper. And ever since his passing, our clan has flourished under my leadership. The freaking short version, if you please. We all know what's at stake. We win, the shapeshifter will help get the ship ready. That's all that matters."

"A battle always involves two sides," Tengur said, unfazed by Ezra's open hostility. "Your stakes, please." He nodded our way, smiling gently.

"If we win, your clan will leave this system without making a fuss," San'yas said. "I'll happily trade resources but the Faceless battlecruiser is mine."

"The stakes have been set," Tengur said. "How will this battle be decided? Please consider the gravity of the situation before announcing the stipulation."

"This is a rather small matter," Jenala said. "I think 'first blood' should be enough." She accentuated her speech with a slash of her blade.

"First blood it shall be," Kevros said, nodding. His voice was much gentler than his fearsome appearance would have suggested. "I think blades will be fine." He held his hands in front of his chest and turned the fingers upwards. Long slicers slid from subdermal sheaths under his fingernails.

"Are all present aware of the stakes and the stipulations?" Tengur asked. A chorus of 'aye's answered him, a very annoyed one in Ezra's case. The old Gravon shuffled from the circle. "May the gods grant you victory!" he called, slamming his cane onto the deck once more.

Jenala and Kevros entered the circle on opposite sides and carefully sized each other up. The golden Gravon made a 'come hither' gesture.

"As if I would fall for that," Jenala said. "Afraid to hit a girl?"

"Get it over with, damn it," Ezra snarled. "One solid hit and the ship will be ours!"

Kevros shrugged and dashed across the circle, much faster than a man of his considerable size should be able to. His hand came up, swiped down -- and whiffed. Jenala nimbly evaded his attack, a look of utter surprise on her face.

"Reflex wires," San'yas and I said in unison.

"What happened to your Zuthrian shape?" I asked the shapeshifter.

"I thought -- wow, close! - my true form would give them pause."

Jenala evaded a quick series of slashes before riposting. Her sword connected with Kevros' cyber arm. A large curtain of sparks erupted as her blade screeched along the metal.

Kevros shook his head like a dog being poured with water. Jenala used his momentary distraction to dash in and slice upwards, landing a solid hit on his stomach. The skin parted, but no blood came. A dull, gray plastic-like substance could be seen, along with a clean vertical line where Jenala had cut.

"Subdermal armor," I muttered.

Kevros lunged forward, his hands a blur as he buried Jenala with attacks. Those she didn't evade, she blocked with her blade. None came even close to touching her. There was a chorus of clicks and suddenly, Kevros' foot came up in a glinting arc, his toes adorned with more metal slicers. Jenala executed a beautiful back flip to escape his talons -- and Kevros launched himself into a murderous drop kick. Jenala managed to evade, literally by a hair's width. Strands of her silver mane drifted to the ground as Kevros crashed to the floor, shaking the deck. In a flash, Jenala was upon him, jabbing her blade into his thigh. Hot, red blood oozed from the wound.

"The gods have spoken!" Tengur entered the circle and urged Jenala backwards. She shook blood off her blade. "The winner is Jenala."

Kevros came to his feet and checked the rear of his thigh. "You got me." He licked blood off his finger.

"I hope I didn't cut too deeply," Jenala said.

Kevros shook his head and extended his metal hand. "Well fought. I'd like to do that again, without weapons." A lusty grin tugged at his lips.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ezra shrieked. She stormed down from her throne, nearly kicking the Zuthrian boy toy in the head as she passed by. She yanked a blade out of a guard's hand. "Did you go easy on her? You were supposed to beat her, not offer her a fucking ride on your oversized cock, you simple-minded moron!" She tossed her head back and screamed. "And now kill these idiots already!"

"Is she always like that?" Jenala asked Kevros. The copper-haired giant just shrugged and withdrew from the Circle.

"Why are you not attacking her?" Ezra snapped, charging Jenala.

"I have fought and lost. I will not dishonor the Circle by breaking the truce," Kevros said. "And neither should you."

Around us, weapons and tools were drawn but much slower than I expected. I already had my concussion gun out but the Gravon around us seemed conflicted. I looked to the side. San'yas was gone.

"I paid a small fortune for the location of this Faceless ship and I will not let a stupid, old-fashioned ritual get in the way of my payday," Ezra shrieked, crossing blades with Jenala. "How often can you find a deck full of working cloning chambers? They will be invaluable in our future conquests!"

Jenala fought back valiantly. During the bout with Krevos, her sword had lain dormant but now the purple crystal blade flared angrily. She broke the lock and pushed Ezra back with a rapid series of slashes, her weapon weaving a web of purple energy.

A lightly armored Gravon female came my way, a humming shock rod at the ready. I raised my concussion gun but before I could pull the trigger, Tengur intervened, his metal-shod staff a blur as he slammed it into the attacker's stomach. Gurgling helplessly, she crumpled to the floor.

"Enough! Behave like the honorable warriors this clan used to be-" he roared. Something metallic hit his skull, cutting off his words and sending him to a knee. Blood trickled down his temple. I saw a techie pull another fist-sized nut from a bag on his belt. Grinning fiendishly, I fired a concussion blast his way. The hit was solid and he too joined the ranks of those barfing their guts out.

Around us, several brawls had broken out. Ezra abandoned the circle and waded into the midst of a tangle, headbutting Gravon as she went. "I won't tolerate this insubordination!" she roared, felling a half-naked dancer with a ferocious haymaker. "Kill them already!"

Jenala shrugged, lowered her blade and returned to my side. "Are you all right?" she asked. I raised my concussion gun and felled another Gravon. That one had one monstrous slug-thrower aimed at us.

"Ezra, stop this madness!" Tengur boomed. "You are not only shaming yourself but the memory of all the Ances-" A hulking warrior clamped his paw over the Oathkeeper's mouth from behind, ready to choke him or break his neck.

"It's time your ancient ways are retired -- permanently," the warrior growled, the veins on his neck bulging as he exerted torque. Tengur fought back, jabbing his thumbs into his attacker's eyes.

Enough was enough. I grabbed my plasma rifle, adjusting the intensity so that it would fire off a thin stream of heated plasma. Snarling, I dropped to a knee and aimed through the scope. Shooting into a melee always was a dicey proposition but both combatants had locked up so badly, they barely moved. The warrior trying to break Tengur's neck tossed his head back, giving me just the gap I needed. My index finger feathered the trigger and a burst of superheated plasma vaporized the warrior's eye and everything behind it. He fell to the deck.