The Duellist

He pulled the fabric down, stripping her naked, his mouth descending to her neatly trimmed mound, kissing her, licking her. She gasped lightly and his tongue slipped inside her, feeling the soft flesh inside her cunt, licking her so that she moaned her pleasure in small gasps, her hands pulling him into her.

Before she could cum, when he could sense her body was close, her flesh wet and slick with her juice she stopped him, her hands pawing at his head, whispering hoarsely, "Jay, stop, please... I want to feel you inside me."

He looked up, meeting her shy smile with a grin of his own. Quickly he discarded his jogging pants, his cock already hard. She hadn't moved, her legs spread open before him, her cunt slick and wet.

For a moment he stood before her, hesitating, the moment heavy between them. She was watching him with a serious face, her eyes unreadable. He entered her slowly, hearing her moan as her flesh parted around him, sliding easily into her. Her hands held him, brushing over his skin caressing him as he fucked her. Finally, when he was deep inside her, she wrapped her smooth legs around his back, her arms around his neck. She pulled him close, her body rocking against him as they fucked gently.

"I've made up my mind, Jay," she said seriously, her face close enough that her lips brushed his skin as she spoke, her lips kissing his between her words.

He looked at her, waiting, his body crushed against hers, the sound of their breathing heavy, filling the silence, their lips slick with one another's saliva, the taste of her juices.

"I want..." She broke off, moaned softly. "Oh, Jay... I want to be with you."

He kissed her neck, luxuriating in the softness of her skin, breathing her scent and made no answer, the room full of the gasped sounds of their fucking. When she came she thrust hard against him, moaning gently, clinging to him as her climax built, her body tight against him, then relaxed as it receded.

Jayden smiled, kissed her, stroking her hair back from her face. Gradually her seriousness faded and she returned his smile, pulling him down on the sofa next to her. With a small contented sigh she burrowed into his embrace, curling up next to him. Jayden held her, staring off into space. It seemed that he suddenly had a thousand things to worry about.

******

The three of them stood in the dressing room, sizing one another up. Around them duel officials strode checking and double checking armour, weapons, drugs.

Stanislav looked huge, a massive man in bulky Kalashnikov armour, its Eastern European robustness adding to his already substantial bulk. Its surface was scarred and pitted, scratched from repeated use and he looked comfortable and at ease wearing it. He smiled at Jayden, hefting an ugly looking battleaxe in his left hand and staring meaningfully at its gleaming edge. Jayden smiled at him easily.

Niamh had chosen armour from Saddachi, the Italian duel house, its surface a glossy lacquered black. Lighter and more manoeuvrable than the Kalashnikov suit, better suited to Niamh's speed, her gymnast's body shape. Jayden had to concede that it suited her, tightly cut to show her body to its best effect. When he looked at her, she stared back, her face neutral, but he could see hurt in her eyes, nascent hatred.

Jayden couldn't hold her gaze, afraid of what he might find out about himself in her eyes. Instead he turned his attention to his own armour. The grey of brushed steel, it was designed and built by Draken, the Swedish duel house. In weight it fell somewhere between the armours of his opponents.

"Duellists, listen in." Duel referee. Squat, fat man with a thick moustache. "Weapons check..." He looked at each of them in turn making sure he got an acknowledgement from each of them before continuing. "Okay. O'Hara, Stanislav, you each get a single round for your duelling pistols. Carney, you get two rounds on account of you having two opponents. Right, you are each entitled to two additional weapons... Stanislav?"

Stanislav hefted his axe. "Battleaxe." He patted a knife on his belt, as long at Jayden's forearm. "Longknife."

"Noted. O'Hara?"

Niamh pulled a short stabbing spear from a sheath on her back. "Assegai." She indicated a knife in her right boot. "Knife."

"Okay. Carney?"

"Katana." He tapped the slightly curved sword strapped across his back, heard Stanislav snort. Pointed to his boot. "Fusion torch."

The referee raised an eyebrow at the last. It was legal within the rules but an unusual choice - a welding torch about the size of a cigar case and a cutting beam of about six inches. Its battery would last mere seconds. "Noted. Okay, suit up for final checks."

Jayden pulled his lightweight helmet on, settling it comfortably onto his head, tightened the chin strap. Saw Niamh do the same, her name, O'Hara, etched in gold on her forehead, followed by Stanislav, his name in the same location. The officials made their way about them, checking straps, tightness, weapons.

"Okay, you're all good. Proceed to embarkation."

There were a number of separate tunnels leading from the room, each one numbered. Nobody knew where they were going in advance to avoid any chance of cheating, the killing ground only revealed as they landed.

"Niamh," he said. "For what it's worth, I didn't want this."

She looked at him, her eyes as hard as her face. "Well you got it, Carney," she spat. "I'm going to kill you myself, you faithless bastard."

Stansislav chuckled. Jayden didn't answer, making his way over to the first tunnel. Niamh and Stanislav took up similar positions at the mouths of the other two adjacent tunnels. Jayden faced the entrance doors without expression. Unremarkable, nothing more than large sliding elevator doors stencilled with a large number one in yellow paint.

"Embark," the referee said, his voice now electronically transmitted to Jayden's helmet.

The doors slid open, revealing the tunnel beyond, low level lights leading away in a twin row towards the shuttle at the end, above him natural rock. He stepped through, waiting until the doors slid shut behind him before proceeding to the shuttle entrance.

It was a poor way to begin a duel, he knew. His mind was already chewing over his past with Niamh, recalling small details of the things they'd shared. It wasn't love, but it was close enough to make him wonder if, when the time came, he could finish her. The trouble was, of course, that even if Niamh was similarly conflicted, Stanislav would kill him without a second thought.

If he had the chance.

And there in a nutshell was his working strategy, he thought. Stay clear of Niamh, kill Stanislav, force Niamh to yield.

Simple.

Yeah, right.

He chuckled bitterly as the shuttle's door slid open in front of him. It was smaller than the regular orbital shuttles he was familiar with, smaller than the Earth shuttle he had taken. A bare half dozen seats in a sealed passenger compartment that left no access to the pilot. There were a couple of small windows and he took a position near one of these as the shuttle gently drifted away from the orbital.

In his ears the bland recorded voice of the duel's monitors started relaying the standing instructions. "...will enter from separate entrances. As soon as you arrive in the killing zone your suits will begin to transmit your locations..."

He tuned it out. He knew what he needed to know. Niamh and Stanislav would enter through separate entrances, they would have to find one another much as he did if they were to coordinate an attack on him. That was his one advantage, he thought. Niamh would be unfamiliar with the system. He was under no illusions about her ability as a combatant - he'd seen her strength and athleticism first hand too often to doubt it. Plus she was a young junior partner, she'd had to kill her fair share to get there.

He felt his weight increase as the ion thrusters kicked in, accelerating them into the void. Beyond the window Planet Earth swung into view, huge and imposing - a giant poisoned fruit rotting in the night. He could make out the swirling purple clouds of a mother storm ripping across the surface, from this range a beautiful and arresting sight.

To his surprise the planet kept getting bigger. He had anticipated that the shuttle would turn shortly after leaving the orbital, make for one of the reclamation estates - huge floating junkyards, orbitals full of spare parts and broken people - the usual killing ground of choice.

When the shuttle tilted, presenting its shielded underside to the atmosphere, it confirmed his suspicion - the killing zone was to be on Planet Earth.

******

Emma and Wim sat in stony silence, on opposite sides of the table, not looking at one another. Around them the atmosphere amongst the others present was tense, anticipatory.

At the far end of the UN building's conference room a floating screen brought them full 3D views of the shuttles as they sparked off the outer atmosphere. Over the room the bland, informed tones of the commentator kept up a running patter - describing it in overblown tones as the first duel to be fought over Planet Earth and the first duel to be fought on Planet Earth. They'd already sat through a political pitch by President Carla Nyquist, first President of the Orbital Federation and near enough twenty minutes of advertising by different corporations - all under the rather arch umbrella of sponsorship by Achilles' Corporation.

Although not full, there were a number of staff gathered about the room, sitting along the long table or in chairs pulled up alongside, a few standing along the walls - apparently en route to or from some other function, caught up in the interest being generated by the media, by their own staff - some arriving, some leaving but definitely more in the former group so that the room was gradually filling as the duel got under way.

"What do you reckon, Wim, will our unlikely champion win through?" The speaker was Peter Dalton, a squat scientist from the environmental monitoring project. As he spoke he pulled up a chair seating himself at the end of the table, between the both of them.

"To be honest, Pete," Wim said, glancing briefly sideways at Emma. "I don't see how we can lose either way."

Emma sighed. She'd hoped that this could have been amicable, at least today. She was feeling vulnerable enough with Jayden taking part in the duel without having to cope with additional jibes from her recent ex. For a long while she'd debated the wisdom of coming here at all, she had keys to Jay's apartment and could have watched the duel there in peace, but the thought of being alone was too much. She could have gone home, of course, but her father detested Jayden and she couldn't face having his running commentary any more than she could have faced it alone.

Now she was beginning to regret her weakness. She pulled her cellphone out, started glancing through the numbers of her friends...

******

Slowly their destination became clearer.

It seemed to take forever for the reentry procedures to be complete, an age before the shuttle levelled out over the heaving plastic soup that was the ocean. When it did, Jayden had peered anxiously through the small window, trying to orientate himself. When he had it had become clear fairly quickly where they were. About five minutes out from the site of old New York city.

He leaned back, considered his options. He knew of course that the heart of Manhattan had been ripped out, the gravity drive being installed in a specially created chamber below the city, the massive engineering feat of converting the centre of the city into a domed orbital demolishing most of the surrounding buildings. What was left was largely waste now, twisted piles of concrete and steel slowly being reclaimed and shipped to the reclamation estates in orbit. A few new domes were starting to emerge, impermanent makeshift structures in the ruins of Jersey, but of Manhattan itself nothing remained.

The shuttle made straight for it. He watched it emerge.

It was worse than he'd expected. The skyline was a gap toothed line of ruins, the broken stumps of once might buildings reeling at alarming angles, a cloud of low lying mist hanging about their ruined crowns bringing a premature twilight to everything. There was no sign of life, he noticed, no lights, no movement.

The shuttle's rapid approach confirmed his worst fears, it was impossible to orientate himself at all in the ruined mess, no landmark worth mentioning remained visible. The shuttle overshot the remains once, banked above the murky surface of a river, its colour that of the mud dribbling from the nearby banking, and swooped to land on an area of roughly cleared land.

Even before the shuttle had fully settled the ramp was descending, the door hissing open in the side. He exited without ceremony, striding confidently from the shuttle. A pair of floating camera drones followed his every movement, circling slowly at low level. He ignored them, taking a moment to appreciate the oppressive heat, the syrup like quality of the air. It tasted bitter as he breathed it, its humidity far above that of the filtered and conditioned shuttle or orbital habitats and he struggled initially to draw enough into his lungs in single breath. Bad place for a fight, he thought.

Around him a number of broken buildings formed a natural amphitheatre and, peering over the low walls, were the twisted iron remains of a bridge. There was little noise, but further in to the ruins he could hear some kind of rhythmic pounding, metal on metal, echoing across the space. It sounded unsettlingly like a call to arms...but for whom.

Slowly, beneath the sound, he became aware of the low bleep of the locator scanner fixed to his wrist. Two dots, one for Niamh, one for Stanislav - blinking away at a distance from one another but already starting to move together.

He looked about one last time, shrugging off his reluctance. Slowly, easily, he broke into a slow jog, conserving his energy but trying to force the pace - the closer he got to them before they linked up, the more pressure he hoped to put on them. Niamh in particular. Time to go to work, he thought.

******

"...Carney is already running, that's going to cost him later we think. You've got to remember, viewers, this is Earth, what he's breathing isn't air like you and I know it. It's a polluted soup that is slowly going to poison him - so the more you breathe the more likely you are to start to suffer ill effects, and you have to remember the humidity too, isn't that right Terence?"

The camera cut away from a view of Jayden jogging through the gloomy ruins to a large man in a suit sat in the studio, his face tattooed duellist style, his hands dotted with flowers and rings. A caption at the base of the screen identified him as Pressure Wilkins, former duellist.

"That's right Jeremy," he said, his voice slow, halting. "Duelling is about the long game, it could be that Carney has gone too soon... Of course, he needs to try and stop O'Hara and Stanislav linking up..."

Emma winced. She knew what Jay intended, had lain awake for hours the night before with him, talking it through. Now, seeing him so close in the wreckage of the ruined city all the plans seemed so utterly inadequate. Around her she noted the heightened level of interest in her colleagues, the earlier buzz of conversation tailing off as the cameras had started to show old New York.

"This has got to be good for your project, Wim. Look at the mess of that city..." Dalton whispered.

Wim nodded, his eyes fixed to the screen.

The camera shifted to show Stanislav walking slowly but steadily through the ruins, his demeanour calm, professional. He had his axe in his hand, the bladed end resting over his shoulder as he walked, for all the world as if he was taking a stroll through a park. The street he was walking was choked with rubble, claustrophobic with high dark walls hemming him in, gloomy and shadowed from the glowering cloud base, a steady misty drizzle soaking everything. There seemed to be little sound from the scene, an occasional shifting of rubble or falling masonry, and the persistent clanging rhythm that had been apparent when the shuttles had set down all that could be discerned.

Although he showed few outward signs of wariness, Emma couldn't help but notice that his eyes flicked steadily left and right, taking in all the possible vantage points an attacker might use, all the gaping dark holes where windows once rested. He was the consummate professional, she thought. With the admission, she felt her anxiety pick up once again. Nervously she watched for the next cut to Jayden.

******

Using the streets held few advantages over passing through the buildings Jayden thought. The streets were as likely to be choked with rubble or blocked by a fallen wall as the buildings were likely to be clear. After twenty minutes of jogging he was starting to feel a little giddy and had had to slow down. When he reached a crossroads he stopped, breathing hard, taking a moment to double check the monitor. Both dots had moved closer together, but not as close to one another as he was to them both.

His chest felt tight, irritable, making his breath wheeze. For a second he had to stop, coughing, his chest heaving, unable to do anything but hack and cough until he retched. Gradually it subsided, his breathing returning to normal. He hawked up a gobbet of yellow phlegm, lifting his helmet to spit it on the side of the street. His mouth felt oily, tasted bitter.

Walking slowly now he climbed a pile of rubble, the remains of what was once a substantial building, leaning on the blackened stump of a remaining wall to assist himself. Just the other side the crater yawned. Despite himself and the urgency of his need he found himself gaping. It was as if, just beyond the building line he'd breached in his climb, God himself had reached down and scooped the city away. The crater was huge, stretching to the misty horizon in all directions before him, its base a substantial lake of filthy water, its shores piles of rubble and twisted metal from collapsed buildings. All about it a mouldy picket fence made of the hollowed shells of broken buildings stretched in an unbroken circle.

At intervals about the crater's high walls he could see tunnel mouths emerging like broken pipes, water leaking in an unbroken stream from most like a hundred miniature waterfalls. Probably the remains of the old subway system, he thought, cut off when the engineers had cut away the core of the orbital from the bedrock.

He checked his monitor, the two dots were moving together slowly. He picked out Stanislav moving off to his left somewhere, turned to orientate himself on the direction, picking a distinctive part of the ruins that resembled a set of fangs as his orientation point. With more care than speed now he set off in that direction, working his way between damp, slick piles of rubble back from the edge of the crater.

Something moved. On the edge of his vision. He froze, dropping to a crouch. With a metallic sigh the katana was in his hand. A quick glance at the monitor told him that whoever it was, it was neither Niamh nor Stanislav. Above and behind him the floating cameras drifted, dark lenses focused on him. He scanned the encroaching ruins - nothing moved, no sign. Above him the mist seemed thicker, clinging to the tops of the building stumps like ethereal foliage. In the distance he noticed that the hammering metallic rhythm had ceased.

He resumed, moving at a distance eating lope, his stance wary now. He wasn't alone and whoever was tracking him was on familiar ground. An added complication.

******

"...spooked him there. Don't know if he could see something we didn't..."