A Stainless Steel Rat Is Born

"I can. But I chose not to." I was aware that my opponent had stood up, was swaying from side to side. I turned slightly so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. "What I prefer is to render him unconscious. That way I win the fight-and you still have a slave." The thug's hands closed on my neck and he bubbled viciously. I was showing off and I knew it. But I had to provide a good performance for my audience. So, without looking at all, I slammed backwards with my bent arm. Sinking my elbow Jiard into his gut, in the center, just below the rib cage, in line with the elbows. Right into the nerve ganglion known as the solar plexus. His hands loosened and I stepped forward. Hearing the thud as he hit the ground. Outcold.

Capo Doccia signalled me to him, spoke when I was close.

"That is a new way to fight, ofiworlder. We make wagers on the ruffians here who battle with their fists, striking each other until the blood flows and one of them cannot go on." "Fighting like that is crude and wasteful. To know where to strike and how to strike, that is an art." "But your art is of no value against sharp steel," he said, half-pulling his sword. I had to tread carefully now or he would be chopping me up just to see what I could do.

"Bare hands cannot stand against one such as you who is a master of the blade. " For all I knew he only used the thing to carve his roast, but flattery always helps. "However against an unskilled swordsman or knife'wielder the art has value." He digested that, then called to the nearest guard. "You, take your knife to this one." This was getting out of hand-but I could see no way to avoid the encounter now. The guard smiled and pulled a shining length of dagger from its sheath and stalked towards me. I smiled in return. He raised it over his head to stab down-not holding it pointed directly out before him like an experienced knife-fighter. I let him come on, unmoving until he struck.

Standard defense. Step inSide the blow, take the impact of his wrist against my forearm. Seize the knife-wrist with hands, turn and twist. All of this done veryfast.

The knife went one way, he went the other. I had to end this demonstration quickly before I was taking on clubs, guns, whatever the head thug felt like. I stepped closer to Capo Doccia and spoke in a quiet voice.

"These are ofiworld secrets of defense-and killing-that are unknown here on Spiovente. I do not wish to reveal more here. I am sure you do not wish slaves to learn dangerous blows like these. Let me show you what can be done without this raw audience. I can train your bodyguards in these skills. There are those who want to kill you. Think of your own security first. " It sounded like a lecture on traffic safety to me, but it seemed to make sense to him. But he wasn't completely convinced.

"I do not like new things, new ways. I like things as they are. " Right, with him on top and the rest in chains below. I talked fast.

"What I do is not new-but as old as mankind. Secrets that have been passed on in secret since the dawn of time. Now these secrets can be yours. Change is on the way, you know that, and knowledge is strength. When others seek to take what you have, any weapon is useful to defeat them." It sounded like nonsense to me-but I hoped that ft made sense to him. From what The Bishop had told me about this garbage world, the only security was in strengthparanoia paid off. At least it had him thinking, which from the narrowness of his forehead was something he probably found hard to do. He turned on his heel and walked away.

Politeness, like soap, was also unknown on this planet. No "see you later" or "let me think about that. " It took me a few moments to realize that the audience was over. The disarmed guard was glaring at me and rubbing his wrist. But he had put the dagger away. Since I had talked with Capo Doccia I now had some status, so he wouldn't knife me without reason. Which left my first protagonist, the ex-Pusher. He was sitting up dizzily when I approached. He looked up at me, blinking and befuddled. I tried to look my meanest when I spoke.

"That is two times you have come at me. You will not do it a third time. Third time means out in my ball game. You will die if you try anything ever again. " The hatred was still there in his face-but there was fear as well. I stepped forward and he cringed back. Good enough. As long as I didn't turn my back on him very often. I turned it now and stalked away.