First Contact: Into the Arena

"Great, Jazz and I sold a couple of crates of stuff and got a handful of Diraki credits for our trouble, so if you guys want to stay here and drink beer, I think the girls are going shopping," I kissed Drell's cheek and headed for the airlock, Granger swatted Jazz on the ass.

The open market Anat had told me about was amazing, like something from an old movie, there were vendors selling all kinds of things, cloth, hand woven rugs, pottery, fruits and vegetables, even an open air meat market; I had assumed the Diraki were vegan. Jazz, and I both gravitated toward the exotic fabrics. To his dismay, Olan got to carry our bounty, "But how will I protect you," he had protested, I handed him the bolt of cloth anyway.

I knew she would be here and saw her as soon as she saw me, the look in Sira's eyes told me she did not approve of how I was abusing Olan in the least; a warrior such as he should never be delegated to carry a woman's things.

She moved through the crowd, shoving people out of her way, her entourage following as close behind as they could. I put my hand on Jazz's arm, "let it play," I whispered. Olan didn't say a word.

Sira and I were the same height, but her fur and small horns gave her a presence I could never possess," How dare you, you , you, you monster," her eyes flashed from me to Olan, "he is a warrior not a pack animal. If you want someone to carry your shopping, use a eunuch, that is what they are for. I will not stand for this any longer," she slapped me as hard as she could," I challenge you for him, you are not worthy!"

She had taken less encouragement that I expected, "I accept," I smiled and rubbed my cheek, "Come Olan," we turned and walked away, I could feel Sira's eyes burning into my back.

When we got back to the ship, the same group of young Males were loading casks of something onto a cart under the watchful eye of Tasik, he had accepted a dozen casks of the replicators best impersonation of Guinness Stout in payment for his services, I agreed it was a good trade.

Olan followed me to the replicator, "I will not fight her," the anger in his voice was fighting with his sense of duty.

"But you will, she has challenged me, and you are my Olan. It is your duty," I didn't even look at him. I finished putting samples of the cloth I had purchased through the replicator and left him standing there in his thoughts.

Word of the challenge spread through Daris like a wildfire, the Kilar's daughter challenging the stranger for her Olan; I had seen the same truth in the way they looked at each other that Anat knew was there. Olan fought with himself trying to protect me while at the same time wanting to strangle me for what I was forcing him to do.

The day came, the arena was packed, screens had been set up outside for the overflow crowd, none had expected I would have Olan fight the young girl; they wanted the cat fight. I watched the undressing ceremony, the conflict on their faces was almost too much to bear, they chose their weapons and I returned to my place on the dais above the arena; Olan would enter from directly below me.

The announcer read the challenge and introduced Olan and Sira. The crowd roared its disapproval as they entered the arena, half empty drinks, and assorted other projectiles pelted our platform. I leant over the railing, "Olan," he glowered at me, "protect her honor, as I protected yours," It hit him what I had really done.

Sira didn't know the truth of what was happening and attacked Olan with a fierceness I recognized; she was fighting for the one she loved. I would have been hard pressed to stand up to her attacks. Olan moved and parried, knocking Sira down a few times only to see her spring back to her feet and renew the attack, her only chance to save him was to dominate him, just as I had done. While she was more than capable with her talif, her inexperience as a fighter showed in her aggressive technique.

They fought and parried, Olan doing his best to fend off her ferocious attacks without hurting her. When she finally started to show signs of tiring, Olan let through a vicious strike to his ribs, Sira smiled as Olan went to one knee, and then screamed as he swept her hoof and took her down. Rising over her as she scrambled to get clear of him, her hooves sliding in the loose dirt of the arena, Olan placed his talif over her neck, looked up at me, I nodded, he smiled and shouted, "I claim you," and took her violently. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

I looked across at Anat, his smile was almost as big as mine. The chiefs sat behind him, Pasit's expression was difficult to describe, whatever he was thinking, fear and a touch of panic were definitely in there.

It was complicated but according to tradition, a member of the Kilar's family could not serve as another's champion. As Pasit's champion, Olan could only challenge for Sira's hand with Pasit's permission and Pasit would not give it. Since I had forced him to fight her, I had given him implied approval to claim her. By claiming Sira, he had protected her honor, become the Kilar's son in law, and broken his bond to me.

Olan helped his new bride to her feet, the look on her face a mix of surprise and elation. They started to walk out of the arena together, Olan looked up at Anat for his approval and stopped in his tracks when he spied Pasit, kissing Sira and urging her to leave without him. What Pasit feared most and what Anat had wanted was about to happen. No longer bound by his role as a champion, he turned to the chairs of the Chiefs, "Pasit," he roared, "I challenge you," the bottom of his talif struck the ground in a fierce motion, the silence in the arena was deafening!

A challenge for leadership had to be answered immediately, to not respond would be a sign of weakness that would lead to further challenges. It had been a long time since a sitting clan chief had been challenged, it would be a good fight.

Pasit had not had time to organize a tournament of champions to replace Olan, so he would be forced to answer the challenge himself. Olan sat down in the arena and waited for Pasit to disrobe and choose his talif.

Pasit flaunted the traditions, leaping from the dais of the chiefs into the arena still in his robes and brandishing the sword he had used to claim Duros' horns, the rage in his face evident to everyone. Olan rolled out of his way, barely avoiding a vicious strike by Pasit's sword. Rolling to his feet, he turned to face his chief.

I could see the difference in Olan, it was as if for the first time he could remember, he was fighting for something he believed in, keeping his distance from Pasit's sword, he moved with a style and grace I had never seen, guiding his opponent around the arena like a dog on a leash, dodging and parrying Pasit's attacks waiting patiently for his openings. I was glad I had not faced this Olan. When Pasit would over swing, Olan would strike hard and fast, to the ribs or to the knee or elbow, slowly weakening his opponent, Olan's parries always brought damage.

Pasit pressed his attacks trying to get close to Olan, only to be rebuffed or redirected, his frustration grew and Olan's opportunities to strike increased. Pasit slowed and grew more cautious, it was Olan's turn to press, with a violent flurry of strikes, he pummeled Pasit, driving him back almost against the wall. In the same spot where I had claimed him, Olan faltered and Pasit struck, splitting Olan's talif in two. Olan looked dazed as Pasit raised the sword to strike again, pausing as he smiled at Olan; It had been a ruse. In Pasit's brief moment of glory, Olan pinned Pasit's sword arm to the wall with the end of his severed talif in his left hand, striking with his full force with the half in his right; he broke Pasit's arm, dislocating his shoulder.

The sword dropped to the ground as Pasit clutched his broken arm with his other hand falling to his knees, his eyes filled with disbelief. Olan pinned him to the wall with his talif, smiling as he dropped the straight end of the talif from his right hand and picked up Pasit's sword. Two quick strikes and Pasit's glorious horns lay in front of him.

Taking the horns of your victim was an archaic tradition, the ultimate humiliation for an adult male Diraki, it had fallen out of favor and was only used by Pasit; it had been used for the last time when Olan claimed his clan.

There would be no need for Olan to take him as he had Duros; the victory and the humiliation were complete, Pasit had lost everything.

Sira met Olan halfway across the arena, leaping into his arms, grabbing onto his horns and wrapping her legs around him as she buried her lips in his, Olan dropped to his knees, falling to his back as she claimed him, the crowd erupted in raucous cheers as Sira rode him with all of her passion, the white and rose pink of her fur blending with the deep burnt umber of his; there was nothing violent about what they shared at all.

Olan stood naked in the center of the circular table as if pleading his case, he bowed as Sira placed a single strip of cloth across his shoulder in the colors of the mountain clan before kneeling in front of him showing her devotion. He lifted her to her feet and kissed her sweetly accepting her pledge to help him in the task he had undertaken, Sira stepped to his side. Family first.

Olan bowed as each of the seven chiefs approached in turn, draping a similar piece of cloth over Olan's shoulders until he was fully covered in the colors of all the clans, signifying his role on the tribunal as serving all the people and wrapping him in the strength of all Diraki. Olan knelt as Anat presented him with a talif, decorated in the colors of the mountain clan, signifying his responsibility to protect the interests of his own clan, he then waited patiently as, one at a time, each of the other chiefs moved to their seats.

When all seven were in place, Anat helped Olan to his feet and led him to his seat at the table before moving to his own; Anat being last signified his duty to serve the other chiefs, not rule over them. I learned that the height of the Kilar's seat was not indicative of his power but as a reminder of his responsibility to watch over all the clans. Only when all nine of them were in place did they sit, in one motion, a sign of their unity of purpose.

The ceremony was simple and powerful, I felt tears welling behind my eyes as I looked around the table; it hit me just how out of place Pasit had been in this room. Anat raised his talif and struck the floor, the room erupted in applause for the new tribunal.

The party that followed was epic, even by Marine standards. We had brough casks of Guinness and Anat had provided plenty of Diraki ale, musicians had appeared out of somewhere and the tribunal chamber erupted into a happy chaos. My crew and I lost ourselves in the festivities. Sira grabbed me and hugged me, apologizing profusely for slapping me. I explained that her father and I had set her up, "Father," she screamed, turning away, and disappearing into the crowd. I laughed and grabbed another beer.

Granger and Jazz were dancing to the music and Drell was lost in conversation with Tasik, I found Olan and congratulated him.

" I hear you and Anat have been busy," he smiled at me.

"So, are you complaining," I returned the smile?

He shook his head, "How did you know?"

"Are you serious, do you not see how Sira lights up when she sees you?"

He laughed.

"And Anat told me about what Pasit did to your family when your father died, it was the only way to put it all right. What happens to Pasit, anyway?"

"He will have a choice, to either serve in the arena as Duros does, or to go into exile."

"Great, someone like him on the loose out there. I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"It is our way," the tone of his voice told me he didn't like it either. His face lit up and I knew Sira was on her way. I disappeared back into the crowd, making my way over to Drell and Tasik, sliding my arm through Drell's and just listening as they chatted like schoolboys, only about physics instead of girls.

Granger and Jazz found us and dragged us out onto the dancefloor, I had no idea how long we lasted and had no idea where I was when I woke up. The room was full of bodies, most naked. I saw Anat and his wife Anaya, curled up in the center of the room, surrounded by other couples and several singles; this was their family. A few of the couples had awoken early and were actively having sex. Olan and Sira where nowhere in sight.

Drell tried to pull me back down next to him, but I had a feeling something wasn't right. I found Granger, but couldn't find Jazz, "Granger, Granger wake up, where's Jazz? Dammit, Granger, wake up! Where's Jazz?"

His eyes shot open as he sat up, looking frantically around the room," she should be right here."

The commotion started to wake others, Anat came over with a look of concern on his face.

"Jazz is missing," my eyes pleaded with him.

He barked a command and the males in the room got up, Olan came in from another room; evidently newlyweds did get a little privacy. Small groups were organized with Granger and Drell assigned to help. I was not allowed, mostly because Anat could see how upset I was, but also because what might need to be done was work for the men, another Diraki tradition.

Anaya wrapped me in her arms, her light blue fur felt good against my skin, my eyes filled with tears, I had no idea what I would do without Jazz, right now, I was no warrior but if something had happened to Jazz, I would find my vengeance.

The other women busied themselves making breakfast while Anaya just held me and rocked me like one of her grandchildren.

A few hours later, Anat and the men came back, Granger and Drell were not with them. I stood to face Anat," We found her not far from the tribunal, Granger and Drell took her back to your ship, I sent a few with them. She has been beaten pretty badly, but there was one Diraki next to her, his neck was broken, he was one of the ones with Pasit's son."

I thanked him and ran to the door as fast as I could, Olan was waiting for me with a Diraki speeder, I climbed in and we were at my ship before I knew it. Drell and Granger were with Jazz in the med bay, she looked like shit, but she would live. I knew firsthand that the med bay would do its job.

Suddenly I laughed, Granger looked at me like I was crazy, Drell just looked confused, "Galactic Conquest."

"Oh shit," Granger laughed with me.

It started to dawn on Drell, "Her character is bigger than Olan, and very male," I told him, and he smiled. I had to tell Olan the whole story, even he thought it was funny.

"What's so funny," it was Jazz?

'Galactic Conquest," Granger snickered.

"Ouch, no fair," Jazz tried to laugh.

"Who did this," I took her hand?

"Pasit and his son, even drunk I got one of them," she smiled.

We let her rest and Olan sent a message to Anat, letting him know it was Pasit; no one was surprised. Pasit had disappeared with his son and a couple of his friends, a ship from one of the mines was missing, he had chosen exile.

Olan took to his new duties as chief of the mountain clan as if he had been born to the job, he had had five years of watching Pasit to learn everything he should not do and took those lessons to heart. His tournament of champions lasted three days and by the time Olan's cousin Jeral claimed the position, there was no doubt that challenges to the Mountain Clan would be fiercely met.

It took a couple of days due to the nature of some of the injuries she had endured, but Jazz was fine; if any of us ever found Pasit, he would not be, she had been 'claimed' by five different Diraki.

By the time we finally left Dirak, we had built a strong friendship with Olan and Anat and the mountain clan which had officially adopted all four of us. Drell promised to help the tribunal establish trade relations with the Trellians once he had his throne. I promised to do the same when I got back to Earth.

Granger watched the core closely as I started to accelerate toward FTL, "Boss, we got company, coming out of the yellow sun," Jazz shouted.

"I see them," I adjusted the polarization of the view screen just in time to hear Pasit's voice cursing me over the com followed by a dozen small impacts hitting the hull of The Phoenix.

" I guess Pasit doesn't want to play nice, and it looks like he got help," I turned toward the two ships and continued to accelerate, "Drell? Granger?"

"Ready when you are, Sarge," there was an eagerness in Granger's voice.

"Charging the hull, captain," Drell had just promoted me on the spot.

"Jazz, what are they throwing at us?"

"Some kind of small energy charges, no real damage, our armors pretty tight and with the magnetic charge, we could take a lot more," she paused, "not suggesting we test it, just saying..."

Pasit fired again his wing man following suit, I didn't like the sound of things hitting my ship. I dove under Pasit, splitting the two ships, rolled and came up above and behind the wingman, "Granger, shot's yours, make it count," The sound of the photon cannon was followed immediately by two shots each from the rail guns, large holes appeared in the hull of the ship. We flew through the debris field as it came apart in front of us.

Pasit had turned hard, coming at us from our port side, his guns splattering across our hull.

Granger saw him and fired the photon cannon, barely missing. Pasit screamed past followed by another shot from our cannon.

I banked hard pulling behind Pasit, he was making a break for it, I accelerated, "Granger, if he goes FTL, we've lost him," I shouted.

As soon as the words had left my mouth, the rail guns came to life, two shots missing, two more ripping into Pasit's engines and two more tearing holes in his hull. A third shot by the photon canon and his ship broke apart.

"I've got a signal," it was Jazz. We searched the wreckage for over an hour before we found the life capsule, finally maneuvering it into our cargo hold, it was Urit, Pasit's son. Everyone else on board the two ships had been killed.

"Let Olan know we're coming," I said softly, "and why." Jazz sent the message.

No one said a word as we returned to Dirak, the victory had been swift and decisive; Granger, Jazz, and I were soldiers, it was what we were trained to do, but it had been so unnecessary.

Anat and Olan were waiting for us when we landed, Anat representing the tribunal and Olan our clan, "What would you have us do with him," it was Anat that asked?

I looked at Urit, still proud but understanding he was beaten, "he's just a boy," I could see Urit bristle when I said the words, while it was true, he did not want pity, especially from me.

I looked into Olan's eyes," I offer him to my chief as tribute. He will serve you well or I shall take his horns myself when I return," I shoved him toward Olan. Urit glared at me but nodded his understanding that I had given him a chance, he just had to earn it.

The damage to The Phoenix was minimal, she had done well in her first combat and we were all in agreement that we would prefer it to be her last. Drell assured us that the weapons the Diraki had thrown at us were what we could expect once we got through the gate and as long as we didn't go toe to toe with a battlecruiser, we should be able to hold our own. The rail guns would be a big surprise for anyone we faced.

Jazz plotted our course, and I took us to FTL, accelerating to 2.0, Granger tuned the core, and I made the jump, admiring the now familiar view. Smiling and engaging the autopilot, I slipped from my seat and into Drell's lap, leaning my head against his shoulder as he wrapped me in his arms, the rich complex scent of apricot filling my senses; another thing that would never get old.