« ^ »

THEY CAUTIOUSLY CIRCLED EACH OTHER FOR A FEW moments. Dalden allowed the break, which was what it was. Jorran was breathing heavily. Sweat beaded his brow, soaked the silk shirt under his armpits, down the center of his back and chest. It was hard work, trying to slice someone to bits. Dalden's exertion so far had been minimal in comparison.

"Surrender is an option you may want to consider," Dalden remarked casually.

"Are you offering to do so?" Jorran replied.

"I am not the one losing."

"Nor am I."

"Are you not? Warriors learn from witnessing mistakes. Having seen the effectiveness of your razor sword, Falon and I both have trained to deflect it."

"Practice does not equate to a razor intent on your life," Jorran smirked.

"True. But nor does your own experience prepare you for a Sha-Ka'ani warrior intent on yours.

Jorran wasn't expecting an aggressive move, when Dalden had shown him only defense thus far. Nor were his reflexes quick enough to avoid being lifted and tossed a dozen feet across the room.

Dalden added when he came to stand over Jorran, "Your fight with Falon was not to the death, from his perspective. Have you realized yet, there is a difference?"

This fight wasn't going to be to the death either, if Dalden could help it, but Jorran didn't need to know that-yet. And he was furious now. The toss had rattled him. It was not something one did to High Kings, tossing them about like so much refuse. The resulting anger was yet another point in Dalden's favor.

Jorran rolled away from him, went immediately on the offensive again. It was nearly a blur, the movement of that razor sword now.

It was finally an effort to keep up with the raging razor. Good. The fight had been too easy up till then. And he didn't want Falon, who was sure to be furious that it was not he facing Jorran here, to feel less able, because his previous fight with Jorran had not been as easy. Of course, Jorran's advantage then was that Falon had tried to use his heavy sword, while Jorran's weighed next to nothing. They knew now how to defeat a razor sword.

The anger was Jorran's downfall. The furious burst of energy it had produced brought him quickly to exhaustion. And the moment his swings slowed down, Dalden made his move to end it.

Instead of just deflecting the next swing, he thrust it away from him, throwing Jorran off balance. In quick succession, he then smashed Jorran's kneecap with the flat of his own sword, further unbalancing him, and while Jorran was absorbing the shock of that, Dalden disabled him completely by twisting his right arm behind his back until it broke.

It was overkill. At almost anytime during the fight, he could have snatched the contamination shield and let Martha take over. There would have been no punishment in that, though, merely defeat. Jorran deserved more than that. Dalden now ripped the shield from Jorran's belt and tossed it to Corth II, who smashed the metal in his hands as if it were a wad of paper. Only then did he let Jorran drop at his feet.

"He is yours, Martha."

"N-!" Jorran began to shout, but was gone before he could finish.

"And no meditech for him," Dalden instructed, ignoring the collective gasp that went up in the crowd when Jorran disappeared before their eyes.

"Wasn't planning on it," Martha agreed. "The slap on the wrist he'll get when we take him home isn't nearly enough for what he's done."

"Your silence was appreciated," Dalden felt the need to add, after spending several days with Martha's constant input, wanted or not.

"I know when not to distract, warrior," Martha said in unmistakably smirking tones. "And now you need to gather up all remaining evidence of our presence here, before we depart for our sector of the universe."

"What of the mayor? Is he still under Jorran's control?" Dalden asked.

"He was moved safely back into his office soon after the fight began, but Corth II got to him first with the forget-Jorran suggestions, as well as a few others. Amusing that some of the people present actually thought their mayor was pulling a publicity Stunt, since they'd been rod-told that Jorran was the mayor already. Corth II will do a little more clean-up in that regard later today, while we're collecting the rest of the rods from Jorran's people."

"What other evidence, then, do you speak of?"

"Unfortunately, your entire fight was recorded by the news crews. We can't leave these people anything that's beyond their own technology to understand. Those here will discount what they've seen as illusion, like a disappearing act in a magic show, but any experts who could study those tapes would know better. So get rid of the tapes before I take you out of there. There are two of them, from the two shoulder-held cameras. The big television camera you don't need to worry about, it's still inoperative."

Dalden glanced toward the newspeople, but first saw Brittany, standing behind them. She was staring at him as if he weren't real.

"Is my lifemate all right?" Dalden asked Martha, his concern rising.

"She's fine, just a bit amazed over the violence she just watched you dish out. She'll get over it."

"Take her to the ship now, in case I need to get violent again in the recovery of evidence."

"I really don't think you're going to have any more trouble, kiddo. These locals are pretty much in awe of you at the moment. But you're right, the rest of Jorran's crew is going to disappear in seconds, and with her standing among them, she won't be able to help but notice. Better just one nervous breakdown than a bunch of little ones."

"You will explain and calm her, yes?"

"Sure I will. Don't give it another thought. She'll be waiting for you in your quarters."

Martha's glib reply, for some reason, was not very reassuring. But the sooner he finished here, the sooner he could see to Brittany himself.

He watched her Transfer, along with Jorran's remaining people. Corth II and the half-dozen warriors at the exits remained, in case they were still needed. He then turned toward the newspeople.

Their cameras were still pointed at him. They tried to back up as he approached them, but there wasn't much room for that. And they were still recording, even when he stopped in front of them.

One of them, though obviously nervous, said, "Man, that's about the best special effects I've ever seen. Want to clean up some?"

A cloth was tossed at him. He looked down at his torso to find what might need cleaning up. He hadn't felt the cut that ran from his upper left side across his abdomen to his right hip until he saw it now. He patted the cloth along the line. It did no good. More blood immediately oozed out to flow down and soak into his jeans.

The cameraman, however, had expected the line and blood to be gone, was staring wide-eyed at the new flow. "That's-real, isn't it.

Dalden looked back at him, and said only, "I require the evidence you have recorded. If it can be removed from your camera and given to me, then I will not need to destroy the camera."

"Ah, sure, whatever you want, guy. No problem."

The man couldn't get the film out of his camera and into Dalden's hands fast enough. The other camera holder was still backing away, though not in nervousness. He was apparently looking for an exit. He had no intention of giving up his evidence.

Corth II became a solid, immovable wall at his back. "The big guy requires your film, bud. His option was to not destroy your camera to get it. My option is to not destroy you to get it. Which of us do you wish to deal with?"