Fair Fight (Tall Tales)

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=Fair Fight - By JA Baker=
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There's this story, a kind of urban legend, that's popular among MechWarriors across the Inner Sphere and beyond. There's countless variations, but the basic facts are always the same.
So there's this planet, usually agreed to be in Capellan space, that gets attacked: some people say it was the FedSuns, some the Leaguers, a few even the Terran Hegemony, doesn't matter. But this world is home to an order of Buddhists Monks who live in a temple atop this hill overlooking the capital, which puts them slap-bang in the middle of the raiders line of advance. Everyone tells them to get the hell out of there, but they're not having any of it: their faith is resolute and their spirits strong enough to defend their holy temple from any attack.
A scout for the raiders turns up and sees that the temple is s till occupied, so they likewise advise them to get with running away. And again, they're told that the monks aren't moving, and anyone who threatens their temple will pay the price. Well, the scout isn't getting paid to hang around, so they take off, giving the monks one last warning.
Now I get honor and defending your home and all: it's why I joined the military in the first place, but there's a very thick line between honor and stupidity.
So anyways, along comes the main force of the raiders: couple of companies worth of BattleMechs, all planning on making a straight line to the capital, regardless of who or what is in their way, and the head monk is waiting out front for them, head bowed, summoning up his Chi or whatever. He waits until the lead 'Mech, a BattleMaster Assault Mech in the version I first heard, is just in front of him. He suddenly drops his robes off his shoulders and charges forward, one fist pulled back ready to strike. He let's out a banshee like roar and let's fly with his fist, putting everything he has, mind, body and spirit into it... and promptly breaks every single bone in his hand.
Every. Single. One.
Even those little ones in his fingers.
Shatters them.
The 'Mech? Doesn't even notice him as it continues on through the temple.
Moral of this story? Don't try and punch a BattleMech, I guess.
I'm a aerospace pilot, so I seldom have to worry about crazy people trying to punch me while I zip around overhead. And I told you this story not only to get a cheap laugh out of you, but to better set the scene for what I'm about to tell you, which I can assure you is 100%, cross my heart and hope to be dispossessed, really did happen. It dates back to when I had a gig with the Explorer Corps, and we were making a stop off at Cyclops Station.
For those of you who've never been there, Cyclops Station is something else. Originally a Potemkin class transport called the SLS Cyclops, she was abandoned when she suffered one of those nasty little 'hiccups' during a jump that left half the crew dead and the KF-core a half-molten mess of titanium and germanium. They probably intend to go back and salvage her, but then the Star League fell and everything went to hell in a hand-basket. So instead she was picked almost clean by pirates and scavengers until she fell under the control of a surprisingly enterprising Pirate King who had the bright idea of turning her into a space station. He spent years and every single credit he'd earned doing it, but in the end he'd turned a derelict ship into one of the few relatively safe Free-Ports in that part of the Periphery. Lot of people make use of Cyclops Station as a way point headed into or out of the Inner Sphere, and that canny Pirates descendants get 10% of all the business done, right off the top.
The Explorer Corps stumbled upon it back around 3040 or so, and have kept a low-key presence there ever since. We were waiting for our jump-drive to recharge, so the boss lady decided to give us a few days Liberty, least those of us she felt she could trust on Cyclops Station. Thankfully, I was one such aerojock, which is how I found myself in a small bar on one of the gravdecks, sipping something they claimed was whisky and I wasn't in the mood to question. It was a relatively quiet place by local standards, which is why a couple of members of a Clan Diamond Shark trade delegation decided to stop by.
Now, don't get me wrong: I have no more desire to live under the jack-booted foot of the Clans any more than the next freedom loving Lyran, but the Sharks are actually kind of decent people. Still walk around like their shit don't smell, but you can actually sit down and do business with them. You can spot a Shark trade envoy easily enough: just look for someone dressed in a conservative but well-made suit, with either a lapel pin or signet ring bearing the Clan's insignia. Also helps that they tend to be accompanied by a couple of warriors, usually Elementals, especially if they're looking to make a statement. And very little makes a statement like two-and-a-half of muscle and belligerent intent.
Well, this Shark was a stern looking woman sat at a table with some guy dressed in the ubiquitous jumpsuit of a spacer, unsurprisingly devoid of any unit patch or rank insignia. He'd evidently been drinking harder and longer than she had, gagging by the somewhat glazed expression on his face and the way his hand was creeping closer to her knee. I gave him about five centimeters before it was removed, possibly permanently, by one of the two warrior cast members riding shotgun on the merchant. The first was a striking woman, skin as black as night with a faint fuzz of copper colored hair. I know enough about Clan insignia to tell she was a MechWarrior, a Star Captain by the gold and green shoulder patches on her field uniform. And she was all business, keen eyes constantly scanning the room, her back against the wall so nobody could sneak up behind her.
Honestly, I was kind of impressed.
Her companion, on the other hand... look, every military in human history has a few examples of people who have no right being in uniform and the knuckle-dragger sat on the other side of the merchant was a prime example. He was clearly an Elemental, and a big one at that, his battle-scared head shaved bald. But if it wasn't for his ill-fitting uniform, I might have mistaken him for a pirate: while the other two Clanners sat up straight with near textbook posture, he was slumped back in a chair that was only just big enough to hold him. There was also a look about him, almost like a wild animal that knew with absolute certainty that he was the single deadliest person in the room, if not the station. Cyclops Station has very strict rules about bringing weapons on board, and I doubted anything on the acceptable list of would so much as slow him down.
I found my checking how close the nearest exit was.
Truth is, I wasn't paying them much attention: I was more interested in finishing my drink before I had to get back to the waiting shuttle, so I didn't notice that the 'waitress' serving their table was dressed in ill-fitting clothes and was lacking even the faintest hint of makeup. I did, however, notice the Bondcord on her right wrist, and the somewhat sullen look in her eyes. She placed four glasses down on the table and took half a step back, only to let out a surprised shriek as the Elemental grabbed her and pulled her down onto his lap. He lent in close and whispered something into her ear that made her eyes go wide and what little colour there had been drain from her face, which only made the Elemental laugh.
What can I say? It's a rough, unforgiving universe, especially that far from 'Civilization', and I wasn't about to get my neck snapped for a total stranger.
"I do not believe that the young lady is seeking your attention." a strong voice called out from across the bar, which suddenly became very quiet.
If the Elemental heard, he made no sign.
"I would ask that you remove your hand from her shoulder and apologize for whatever it is you said to her." the voice called out again, and this time I was able to zero in on who said it.
It was a tall man, at least by non-Elemental standards, dressed in a grey tunic with some kind of cape sling over his shoulders, the clasp of which was fashioned like a coat of arms. But hey, the Periphery is home to countless worlds, each with their own idea of what's fashionable. He had piercing blue eyes and greying hair, but he held himself with an aura of authority and nobility that you don't expect to find somewhere like Cyclops Station. His companion was a younger man, dressed the same, but sitting back in his chair, a stein of beer in his hands, an amused expression on his face.
"FREEBIRTH!" The Elemental hissed as he stood, something that took a while, given how tall he was. He stalked over to the other table, looming over the older man like an advancing glacier, "She is my Bondswoman, taken in battle, and I will say and do to her as I wish."
If he'd been looking to intimidate the Good Samaritan, he failed, as the man stood, his expression calm and composed.
"You are a warrior, a man of honor, or at least you claim to be." the old man locked eyes with the Clanner, "Tell me, is this how an honorable man treats a defenseless young woman where you come from?"
The Elemental sneered in response, drawing back a fist the size of a sledgehammer, ready to strike.
"Giddion." the Star Captains voice sounded like a crack of thunder in the silent bar, the unspoken order behind the name breaking through her subordinates rage and making him relax slightly.
"So, you consider yourself a man of honor?" the sarcasm dripping from his voice was almost palpable, "Care to prove it in a Circle of Equals?"
"Ah, one of your Trials of Possession?" a faint smile flickered across the shorter man's face, "And the stakes?"
"Her freedom." the Elemental clocked his head towards the startled young woman, the looked at his opponent with a killers eyes, "Your life."
"I believe that the phrase is 'Bargained Well And Done'." the Good Samaritan took off his Cape, folded it and laid it across the back of his chair, before gesturing towards an open area where, on occasion, live music might be performed, "Shall we?"
Bar patrons moved out of the way, but only so they could get a better view of the free entertainment while the barman started taking bets. If I haven't made it clear by now, Cyclops Station isn't your usual port. The kind of people who gather there tend to have a somewhat fatalistic outlook on life, knowing full well that it is often short and violent. The Good Samaritan reached the stage area first, turning to wait for the Elemental who was approaching like a malevolent storm. He eventually reached the open area and smiled.
"We call upon all those present to bear witness to what follows." he announced, holding his arms wide open, "One battle has started, let none interfere until honor is satisfied."
"Seyla." the Star Captain and the Merchant spoke as one.
The older man simply nodded, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
With a roar that seemed to shake the bulkheads, the Elemental charged forward, his right fist swinging round like a wrecking-ball. The Good Samaritan simply lent back and to the side, allowing it to sail past him without so much as rustling his hair. The Elemental staggered to a halt, seemingly surprised to have missed his target, only to find the other man standing behind him. Clenching his fists together, the Elemental spun around, clearly intending to take the other man's head clean off his shoulders, only for his opponent to drop down and reverse direction, once again popping back up behind his far larger opponent.
And that was how the fight went on: the Elemental telegraphing strikes that would probably kill if they ever actually connected, and the Good Samaritan simply not being where his opponent expected him to be, moving with a fluid grace at odds with his apparent age. The longer the fight went on, the angrier and sloppier the Elemental became. I have to admit, I found myself impressed with the older man's technique: all he had to do was wait until the neanderthal he was fighting committed to a strike, and simply move somewhere else. It was a skill any soldier in their right mind could appreciate, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he had impressed the Star Captain, if not her subordinate.
"Savashri!" the Elemental spat, showing no sign of tiring, "Fight me you dishonorable, Surat!"
In response, the Good Samaritan waited until his opponent swung another wild punch, then finally struck back. His hands moved almost too fast for my eyes to follow. I saw him jab the bigger man three time; twice in the upper arm, once in the shoulder. The moves were measured and precise, and the result was instantaneous.
The Elementals arm suddenly dropped to his side, limp and non-responsive. He looked at it in utter bewilderment for a moment, shaking his shoulder to try and get it to respond. But it just hung there, uselessly. He let out a mighty roar as he swung his other arm round, but the Good Samaritan simply ducked under it and came up the other side, striking at that arm as he had the first, leaving it to hang just as lifeless.
"The paralysis is only temporary." he stood before the confused Elemental like a school teacher addressing a particularly unruly pupil, "It should wear off in an hour or so. But I believe I have won this contest, and as such, the young woman's freedom."
The room was silent, save for the omnipresent hum of the air circulation system and the distant chatter of voices out in the corridor. Nobody knew what to think: they had expected to see an Elemental do what he had been bred for, not see an older and far smaller man make a mockery of him with little to no apparent effort. The universe just didn't work that way, not in real life. But we had all seen it with our own, mostly two, eyes, and there was no debating who had won the fight.
The Elemental disagreed with that last part.
Swaying back, he rocketed his head forward, intending to crash it into his enemy like a hammer blow from the gods... only to find himself instead encouraging the Good Samaritans hand coming the other way, his outstretched finger jabbing the Clanner almost dainty on the temple. The Elemental staggered back, more out of shock than anything, his disbelief quickly turning to fresh rage as he realized that his opponent had turned his back and was walking away.
"Get back here!" he demanded, not seeming to notice the faint trickle of blood that was starting to run down his head from his nose and ears, "We are not finished yet!"
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"The fight is over." the Good Samaritan paused, a sad expression on his face, "You are already dead."
The Elemental looked confused for a moment, then suddenly fell forward like a tree, landing with enough force to shake the entire bar.
There was a moment of silence, then the room exploded with noise as people started to argue about what happened. But the Good Samaritan ignored them all as he walked over to the table where the two remaining Diamond Sharks and their suddenly very sober companion were sitting. He looked at the Star Captain, who simply nodded her head.
"My dear." the man held out his hand to the visually shocked and confused Bondswoman, "If you would like to join us, we'll get that bracelet off of you, then see what we can do about getting you home safely."
I tell you, it was the damnedest thing I have ever see.
The End
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*Author Note - It was that or the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique, and I've been a North Star fan for almost twenty years..
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