Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (38 page)

"Buck, for me, please do not do this," Molly pleaded.

"My love, you of all people, a freighter, knows I have to fight the man. Every freighter knows he confronted Ross. If I don't do it this way, he'll see to it that it happens on the street where he can have his buddies ready to help. No, I must do this and in the arena. The outcome will satisfy most people and all of the freighters. I'll beat him and that will put an end to the problem."

"What happens if one of you dies?" asked Ross. "What happens if Fillman is killed? You'll wear that stain the rest of your life." He left unsaid his worst fears.

"Ross, if Fillman dies, no one will accuse me of any wrongdoing. It will be the end of the long standing contentiousness between the two of us."

Buck broke the connection with the Admiral. He took Molly's hand and led her to their bedchamber.

Over the next few days, Buck swam a few lengths in their pool and together, he and Molly strolled through the arboretum. By the afternoon of the fourth day, he was growing restless. Surprised he'd not heard from the freighters, even whom they had selected as their interim leader, he reached for his pocket comm as it pulsed. "Buck here," he answered.

"Stanley Mayborn speaking, Lord Fryman. You and Andrik Fillman are to satisfy his challenge tonight at eight p.m. here in our hall. You may have one second to accompany you, no one else."

The man had answered all of Buck's questions.

Buck spent the rest of the day thinking through his tactics. Thanks to Rasby, the mental preparation equaled his physical. That could make the difference.

"Time for me to have it out with Fillman," Buck said stoically. He held Molly close and whispered, "I'll be back in no time." Of that, he wasn't certain.

Molly stepped back from his embrace and said, "Buck Fryman, if you do not utterly destroy this man, I will."

Of that, Buck
was
certain.

Danko Ravits waited at the aircar and opened the door for Buck.

"You ready?” Buck said. “Do you know the rules for a second?"

"Sure do. No rounds, you fight until one can't go any longer. As second, I can call for a break but when the fight resumes, you have to take an inferior position."

"Make sure you don't," Buck retorted as the car lifted into the air toward the freighter's hall. "Giving him that kind of advantage could be the end of me."

Both waved to the resigned Molly who stood in the doorway wiping back tears.

Arriving at Freighter's Hall, Buck shook his head at the extravagance and stepped onto the red carpet amid cheers from fellow freighters. He waved but said nothing and moved to the entrance behind the two Marshals assigned as his escort. Ravits trailed them.

Inside, a small group of Fillman supporters confronted him. One reached for Buck but Danko struck the man and knocked him to the floor. The group never missed a step and continued toward the dressing room.

Buck showered, dressed in the standard trunks, black, trimmed in white, and lay on the table to relax.

"Time to get warmed up," Danko said. "Work up a sweat."

For the next twenty minutes, Buck shadowboxed, added a few push-ups, stretched, and followed the deep breath routine Rasby had taught him.

The door opened. A man stuck in his head and said, "Ten minutes," and added, "Beat the shit out of the bastard, Buck." Few freighters bothered to call him Lord or Minister unless it was business—freighter business.

Buck grinned and gave the man thumbs up.

Danko finished taping Buck's feet, ankles, and wrists. Nothing could cover the knuckles. Danko draped the silver and black robe with an attached hood over his shoulders as Buck stepped into some slippers.

Following the Marshals, the two walked up the aisle as the crowd roared. Even in the slippers, Buck towered over everyone around him. The robe added to his bulk—he did look imposing.

Buck entered the ring and took off the slippers. Danko removed the wrap.

Dressed in a black suit, tie, and shoes, the referee summoned the two to the center of the circular mat. No barriers separated the combatants and spectators. Buck needed no reminder of the mischief that could and probably would come from some nefarious bystander. He would force the fight to the center.

Buck, with a wry grin stared at Fillman who mocked the Lord and said, "I'm gonna kill you."

Buck widened his grin.

"Gentlemen, the assertion of Stoics and claim for satisfaction has brought you two to this match. The outcome will be determined here in the circle. You will follow my instructions without exception. You both know the rules—fight until one cannot continue. Your second can ask for a two-minute recess but that fighter must take an inferior position when the fight resumes. No gouging of the eyes. Do you have any questions?"

He signaled them to the edge of the mat, asked each man if he was ready and getting nods from both said, "Fight."

On his toes, Buck glided toward Fillman and sent a straight left jab that landed high on the man's forehead. Fillman countered with a kick aimed at Buck's groin, but with a slight body turn, Buck deflected the blow. The two traded feet and knee kicks, fists, and head butts.

Fillman rushed his enemy and Buck met the charge with a side step and body throw.

Fillman sprung to his feet with no damage done other than to his attempt.

They circled, traded all manner of kicks and fists, testing the other, each looking for some weakness in the other's defense.

Buck feigned a left jab and followed with a hard right to the side of Fillman's jaw that staggered his opponent.

Fillman spit two teeth onto the mat. Buck pressed his advantage, raining devastating blows to the man's body and head.

Any other person would have been on the floor, but Fillman weathered the attack and retaliated with a savage blow to Buck's chin.

Momentarily stunned, Buck retreated, warding off blows.

The moments respite gave Buck time to clear his head and he went at Fillman with renewed vigor. From the many fights and training he had endured, Buck knew not to lose his temper.

Instead, when the two men were in a tight embrace, he rubbed the butt of hand into Fillman's now bloody nose and asked, "Did that hurt?"

Fillman, consumed with rage, worked his way from Buck's grasp and delivered a flying kick.

Buck ducked under the effort and landed a fist squarely between the man's legs.

Fillman dropped to the floor and covered his head, protecting against the anticipated blow. Buck stepped back and motioned the man to stand as the crowd roared its displeasure with demands for him to press the advantage and finish the fight. Buck’s concentration remained fixed, their calls unnoticed, and he again motioned Fillman to stand.

On his feet, ignoring the pain, still short of breath, Fillman attacked with wild swings and kicks.

Buck deftly warded off each blow and dug a right fist into Fillman's stomach, sending the man vomiting to the floor.

Slowly he walked to the downed man, grabbed a handful of hair, lifted his head, and said, "You can stop this now."

Through bloodied lips and spittle, Fillman cursed Buck—that the lord expected. But when Fillman included Molly in his curses, Buck put everything he had behind a right uppercut that knocked the man backward, unconscious into the crowd.

The fight ended as Fillman lay sprawled among the scrambling spectators.

The referee hovered over Fillman and declared the claim of Stoics satisfied. The crowd yelled its appreciation.

Buck, instead of taking the customary hand raising by the referee, left the arena, Danko and the Marshals scampering to match his giant strides.

Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Myslac

"
W
ell done." Sebastian clapped Buck's back. "I watched and enjoyed every minute. You should have used a leg swap. That would have put him down. The advantage goes to you."

"Majesty, I appreciate your critique. I'll remember your advice the next time I'm in the circle." The leg swap had fallen from favor years ago, defeated by well thought out counter maneuvers, but Buck said nothing. He'd never be in the circle again. Beating Fillman would discourage anyone from issuing another challenge. Fillman had left Iona for parts unknown. Good riddance as far as the Emperor was concerned.

Sebastian motioned Buck into a chair. "Have you heard from Sir Tommy?"

"Yes, Sire. Last, we heard our fleet was on far orbit above Myslac under orders from Emperor Djac not to approach any closer. Tommy is on the surface and has met with the monarch. It seems the Emperor is less than impressed with Tommy's disclosure that they have a blood relation in Mahoney's son. We received a picture of the boy and I must say the offspring of the human/alien coupling is surprisingly handsome." He leaned forward and laid a vid on the Emperor's desk.

"I agree." Sebastian hovered over the picture. "The child is striking. I understand their doctors had said this wasn't possible. Obviously, they were mistaken." He turned off the screen and leaned back in his chair. "There must be more," he said with a quizzical look on his face.

"Andrik Fillman, Sire. His ships have left Iona and War Ministry has monitored his comms. He has sent requests to a number of unknowns, asking them to join him. It seems that those who share his convictions are more numerous than previously thought."

"And you think they are a threat to the realm? What does War say?"

"CSR has given Fillman's ship signature, the Retribution, to the fleet. Minister Polins has assured everyone that War will keep tabs, close tabs, on them. His intelligence group has a man aboard Fillman's ship. Obviously, they don't hear from him often, but if a threat should surface, we'll know it."

"Dangerous work," Sebastian said. He often voiced admiration for those who took on such jobs.

Sebastian touched an icon, "Majesty, Minister Polins has requested an audience with you and Lord Fryman."

"By all means. Tell him we're waiting.

"What could he want?" It was a rhetorical question and Buck remained silent. Small talk, mostly around the Katakan battle permeated the conversation as they waited.

"War is here, Majesty," said the secretary.

Polins entered, bowed as Sebastian motioned him into the chair next to Buck. The two ministers shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Minister, what can we do for you?" Sebastian asked.

"It is most fortunate Lord Fryman is here as this concerns him as well, my Emperor.

"We've intercepted a message to Fillman. It's from Jarred Mahoney," War said.

Sebastian cast a questioning eye at Buck who sat unbelieving.

"He must have left Katakan before the fight started," Buck said looking at his hands. "No one aboard his flagship could have survived. That has to be the answer."

"What did our nemesis have to say," Sebastian asked.

"It seems, My Emperor, Mahoney wants Fillman to help him get his son off Myslac."

"An unlikely pair," Buck said.

"How so?" asked the Emperor.

"Fillman called the mating of different species morally wrong. A sin against mankind," Polins said.

"Perhaps these are irreconcilable differences," Sebastian posed.

"Perhaps," Buck said. "But knowing the two, Mahoney less than Fillman, I suspect they can and will find a way to resolve their differences. By their reckoning, both have personal grievances against the throne."

Sebastian laughed at Buck's observation. "And you," intoned Sebastian.

"I could name Mahoney Emperor and abdicate. Just grow roses. That would end all of this.

"But I'm of a mind not to go that far. So, what do you recommend?" Sebastian directed the question to Polins.

"I think we should give Emperor Djac and Sir Tommy the information we have and send another dozen or so ships to Myslac to make sure we have the edge against Mahoney and Fillman. Lord Fryman should make the trip. As good as Sir Tommy has proven to be, from what I understand he's always had Lord Fryman available to see that his little schemes work."

That brought a shrugged nod from Buck. "If we space our ships within the month, they should reach Myslac before Fillman and Mahoney can muster any kind of meaningful force and transit to the planet."

"I'm told Djac has over five-hundred warships," Sebastian said. "What good are a dozen of ours? It seems to me they would be little more than target practice if Djac sides with Mahoney."

"Sire, Lord Fryman’s station alone suggests a meaningful flotilla and twelve rolls off the lips easily." Polins ignored the rest of the comment.

Sebastian looked at Buck, his attempt to smother the smile after War's soliloquy less than convincing. "Care to tell Molly?"

Buck tried to hide the desperation he felt. Facing Molly was a problem especially when he didn't want to go after years away from his family. He really hated the thought. His boys were at an age where he could spend meaningful time with them—and now this.

Sebastian signaled the meeting over. The two men bowed and backed from the office. Outside, Buck boarded his private aircar and directed the driver to take him home.

Buck eyed the driver suspiciously, as they made sweeping high-speed curves, elevated over obstacles and dropped just above the surface once cleared. "Were you a fighter pilot?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir. Twenty years. Retired and took this job."

To Buck’s gratification they arrived safely at his home.

Molly stood waiting under the portico. He suspected the Queen had already told her.

Being a blood royal didn't mitigate her consternation or temper. Buck waited for his wife's tirade to abate; glad Sebastian would never hear her. He had no doubt the queen had gotten an earful.

"I'm going with you and taking the boys." She stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, determination that Buck had learned not to test. Buck and Molly prepared for the yearlong voyage and over two T-years away from Iona.

When Tommy left Iona as Buck's sons begged him to stay. Buck was thankful he didn't have that to endure as his family boarded the launch.