Scott Cleveland - Pale Boundaries

She struck the gaijin with foot, fist and elbow, knocking the weapon from his hand, but discovered a flaw in her strategy: striking the gaijin was like attacking the trunk of a tree. Thick muscle armored his pressure points; she elicited nothing but startled grunts with assaults that would leave normal men groveling at her feet. Dayuki knew, however, that the tiniest of axes, skillfully wielded, would eventually fell even the mightiest of trees.

But to do so the axe must still find its mark.

The gaijin’s shocking speed, combined with his greater mass and rudimentary blocks, proved sufficient to rob her blows of their full power even when they landed. His competence increased as his surprise wore off, and one thing became quickly apparent: Dayuki would lose this battle.

Her gender did not constrain the gaijin ; his counter-strikes were capable of breaking bone. Dayuki exerted as much energy defending against his attacks as launching her own; it was inevitable that one would connect. Her only remaining option was to delay defeat long enough for Hal -san to reach safety. The gaijin seemed to sense this and pressed his advance, driving her back by the step.

The cold air seared Dayuki’s lungs as she gasped for breath. To her amazement the gaijin appeared to be losing his stamina at a greater rate, though the fight was little more than a minute old—long enough for Hal -san to reach the shuttle. Dayuki invested all she had left in another attack; a slight opening rewarded her initiative and she drove her fist into the gaijin’s throat. His thick neck saved his larynx but a spasm closed his windpipe and he fell back a step.

Dayuki risked a quick glance over her shoulder; Hal -san had still not powered up the shuttle’s thrusters—he hadn’t even bothered to close the hatch behind him! He peered through one of the cockpit windows as he stood at the console frantically manipulating controls. She felt a stab of dread when she realized why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to escape: Hal -san was waiting for her .

Dayuki paid for the split-second distraction. A foot caught her in the side, driving her sideways to the ground. She struggled to rise, gasping against the lancing pain in her ribs, made it part way up but tripped over McKeon- san’s sprawled legs and crashed back into the snow. She rolled over, sick with pain, but determined to resist the gaijin to her last breath.

The gaijin hauled her roughly to her feet, his hip deflecting the knee she aimed at his groin. He spun her around; one massive limb clamped her arms to her sides as he pulled her back solidly against his chest. His free hand closed around her throat. “Do you fly that thing?” he demanded. Dayuki saw no harm in the truth; she shook her head slightly. “Then I’ve got no quarrel with you,” he growled in her ear, “but I’ve got issues with your friends!”

He lifted her off her feet and strode toward the shuttle. Dayuki raked her heel against his exposed shin, but the gaijin merely cut off the blood to her brain with a slight tightening of his fingers. The world faded to gray for a moment and by the time she regained her faculties he’d carried her to within a dozen meters of the shuttle, close enough for Hal -san to recognize the futility of her situation. Surely he would make his escape now, and allow her to die in honorable service to the Onjin!

But Hal -san only stared down at them from the viewport, arms limp at his sides.

“I’m coming aboard,” the gaijin shouted. “Interfere and I’ll kill her! Do you understand?”

Hal -san nodded mutely. Dayuki drew a breath to object but the gaijin’s fingers shifted to the base of her jaw and forced her teeth together before she could form the words. She held Hal- san’s eyes with her own, trying to communicate a final silent plea to save himself as the gaijin carried her closer to the shuttle hatch.

Hal- san’s expression held the one emotion that Dayuki never expected to see on his face: fear.

Time became a finite resource the moment the first shot rang out.

The seconds ticked by in Terson’s head—incessant, inevitable—like the timer of a bomb in the hands of a blind man. Every moment brought him closer to feeling a bullet in his back but all he could do was try to get a bulkhead between him and the men with the bullets who’d marched into the forest a few minutes before.

The woman held prisoner in his arms wasn’t helping. Her earlier demonstration of hand-to-hand combat belied her current passivity. She was a cask of gunpowder: inert and pliable until joined with a spark, and an instant’s distraction was all the spark she needed.

“You’re going to call your friend there down to the hatch,” he whispered in her ear as he carried her closer to the shuttle. “Once he’s out we’ll back up the ramp; then I’ll let you go.”

“Hal -san will kill us both first,” she replied through stiff lips.

Her accent caught him by surprise. “You’re Minzoku?” She nodded slightly. “You must be Den Tun’s traitor,” he decided. “That makes you fairly valuable.”

“I am a faithful servant of the Onjin ,” she replied emphatically. “A tool to be used—or discarded —as Hal -san sees fit!”

Terson tilted her chin up to face the figure looking back from the cockpit. “The look on his face says you’re a lot more than that.” The woman fell silent, whether abandoning the subterfuge or reconsidering her outlook in light of the revelation he couldn’t tell. It would have been interesting, in other circumstances, to discover what chain of events led her to betray her people and filled her with such pride at being considered disposable.

Terson took another step, and the ground erupted beneath his feet.

Dayuki lay on her back, spread-eagle in the snow, staring up at the blackened sky with wet, stinging eyes. A high-powered energy weapon cracked off another pulse and the ground beneath her shivered as moisture in the soil somewhere nearby changed state to steam and expanded with explosive force. Silence fell for a moment, broken by the soft patter of falling mud.

“Dayuki!” Hal -san fell to his knees beside her. “Dayuki, are you hurt? Can you speak?” He lifted her by the shoulders and cradled her in his lap. The shuttle’s hatch was still wide open. She could not see the gaijin .

“Go back, Hal -san ,” she groaned. “It is not safe!”

“He’s gone,” Hal -san assured her. “He ran away.” He hugged her close and she uttered a surprised cry of pain as his parka rasped across her scalded face. “I programmed the sentry gun to fire a near-miss warning. It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn’t kill you, too. Thank God you’re alright!”

Elation and shame warred in Dayuki’s heart as the obvious truth of the gaijin’s observation set in. The expression of fear on Hal- san’s face had been out of concern for Dayuki’s well-being, not his own. He’d risked his safety to preserve her life and thereby allowed the gaijin Reilly to escape. She did not know what the ramifications for the Hal -san and the rest of the Onjin would be, but she vowed never to let such a thing happen again.

McKeon- san’s men arrived at a run, weapons raised and scanning for targets as they advanced in a disciplined rank. “See to McKeon!” Hal -san called, but they ignored his command and surrounded him and Dayuki in a tight, protective ring.