Grayson Sontang in Space Ch. 04

"He was out," she yelled.

"Full foot," Hackner said by way of explanation, with a grin. Grayson saw his eyes flick over her shoulder at the same moment she heard a gasp from some of the watchers. Without looking, she dropped and rolled, coming up on her feet as Hendon turned back toward her and was lunging again. She aimed a graceless kick at the side of his head which he easily batted away.

"You could find gloves but not mats?" she bitched, when he straightened to consider his next move.

He shrugged. "Didn't know you were going to spend so much time on the floor."

"No harder than a spacer bar floor and a hell of a lot cleaner," she snarled, circling him. She kept her eyes on his face, but she was thinking about his feet. She went barefoot on the ship frequently, even occasionally running for exercise along the bridgework above, usually more from boredom than any fit of healthfulness. But she suspected he practically slept in his spacer boots. There should be some way she could use that. He lunged again, arms reaching to snare her, but this time she was more prepared. He had lowered his head, aiming for her center of gravity, which was a lot lower than his, throwing his balance off just enough. She leapt straight up, swinging her foot for his head again, eluding his grasp. When he tried to deflect her leg, he had to push up and over and then both ended up rolling on the floor. The only difference was that Grayson had learned early on how to land, roll and bounce back to her feet. Hendon wasn't used to being on the floor, let alone hitting it with a thud.

She already had her next move planned before he'd even straightened fully. She jumped at him, landing as hard as her minimal weight allowed with one heel on the toes of his foremost foot. As her other foot came down on the decking for leverage, she slammed up with the heel of her hand into his chin, or as close as the headgear would allow, anyway. His head snapped back and he went down with another thud as she sprang away.

Sip or Het - she still couldn't tell them apart - was keeping score on the wall of the cargo hold. She pointed to it with her gloved hand as Hendon straightened. Two hits and one knockdown for her. "Ready to throw in the towel, yet?" she taunted.

"Just getting warmed up," he said with a grin. Then he was lunging at her like a freighter in planetfall. Grayson tried to spin away, but he managed to grab the fabric of her loose pants and she felt the inside seam go. Apparently well-pleased with himself he held on even though it forced him to go down on a knee, and the seam shredded even further, until it hung open practically from her crotch to the cuff at her ankle.

"Wearing underwear, today?" he called, though it appeared that he landed on his knee hard as he got slowly back to his feet.

"You're going to have to do better than that to find out," she challenged, dancing away from him as he stalked her. He had obviously figured out that she had figured out he was trying to get her into a restraint hold so he gave up any pretense of boxing and tried to back her up to the edge of the ring. She was far more light-footed than him, but he had much more patience on his side. When he caught her with her weight on the wrong foot to pivot away, he lunged again. Grayson stood her ground this time and kicked out at the knee he had fallen on earlier. She was rewarded with a soft grunt as he went down, but unfortunately, he went down on top of her and was grappling, wrestler-like, for a grip on her arms.

She kicked with both feet at his other ankle, collapsing that leg as she pushed at his shoulder to roll him off her. He rolled, but managed to get a purchase on the shoulder strap of her tank top, pulling her on top of him. "Let go, you perv," she muttered, and surprisingly he did, though he reached for her as she rolled away. She was starting to breath harder when she found her feet, though she was pleased to see that he was slow getting up. Grayson glanced at the scoreboard and saw that Hendon had been awarded a knockdown.

"What the... Time out! I hit him first," she yelled at Hackner.

"A knockdown trumps a hit," he said with a shrug.

"Did you bet on this fight?" She looked over at Het or Sip. "Did he bet on this fight?" The Siriun shrugged. Then Hendon hit her, hard, knocking her to the floor and wrapping his arms around her, pinning her down.

"No time outs," he said in her ear. Grayson howled, trying to throw the heavy man off her but barely moving him. Hackner began counting but well before he reached eight, Hendon released her. She leapt to her feet, seething. "Consider that a freebie," Hendon said, circling her again. "Your only one," he warned.

"I don't need your charity," she sneered, ignoring the fact that if he'd held her for a few more counts, which he was undeniably capable of doing, he would have won. He just grinned and feinted, watching her reflexive actions. "No time outs?" she said. "Fine. Bar rules it is. How's your knee?"

"Feels like my toes," he conceded, not that that told her all that much. He was moving cautiously, so it was hard to tell if he was favoring anything, and she wouldn't have put it past him to pretend to do so as a bluff.

"How's your balls?" she asked, dancing back and forth in an effort to confuse him. "Well protected?"

He curled his glove tips at her. "Bring it."

Grayson dove onto her back and spun, trying to sweep his good leg. He went down on that knee and she whipped to her feet, using both hands to deliver a blow to his helmet covered ear. She suspected he barely felt it. She'd figured out early on that her upper body strength wasn't going to do any good against the solidly built lawman, and would mainly serve to bring her well within his reach. But she was going more for distraction anyway, because she immediately fell onto her outstretched hands and kicked back with both feet at his shoulders. He went down to his hands and knees. She kicked her legs over into a summersault and rolled back to her feet, comfortably out of range as he swung around to grab for her, still on his knees.

Grayson glanced at the scoreboard. Hackner had grudgingly credited her with three hits. Hendon still had two knockdowns to her one, and she was beginning to think that his slowness getting back on his feet was a bluff or stall for time while he plotted his next move. She on the other hand was wondering if she could even make it to thirty contacts. Hitting Hendon was like hitting a brick wall, and had just about as much result. Plus, he was adapting way faster than some drunk in a spacer bar. She knew, while her attempt at misdirection had worked last time, it wouldn't work again, any more than a particular move would fool him more than once.

She paced around the edge of the ring, as he stood in the middle watching her closely, waiting for an indication of her next attack. She suspected he knew if he just kept letting her come at him, an opportunity would present itself eventually to wrap his arms around her and immobilize her for a pin. With gloves on, she didn't even have fingernails for self-defense. Not to mention they were a serious impediment to any judo-type throws. In a fit of pique, she wriggled one hand free of the glove and tossed it out of the ring. As she expected, Hendon charged her the moment she reached for the laces of the other glove. She sidestepped his outreached arm, grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm as she bent and rolled him over her back. He landed with his classic thud, and actually seemed slightly dazed or surprised, perhaps. Grayson yanked her hand out of the other glove and threw it. In a bar fight, she would have rushed in for the coup de grace, but she didn't trust what Hendon was showing her. He had the decency to look disappointed when he climbed back to his feet, looking his usual bright-eyed self. Grayson tossed a scowl at Hackner who hadn't even started counting as Hendon lay there. He was signaling the Siriun to give Grayson another takedown, though, and missed one of her better scowls. She turned back to Hendon, wondering if she could keep him off balance long enough to get in another throw. She rolled her shoulders. At least she figured he'd think twice before charging her again.

"Getting bored here," she called out. "When you going to start fighting?" She was pacing near the edge of the ring again, but he had figured out that was a ploy to trick him into running into a throw.

He raised his gloved fists in a boxing stance. "Come and fight, then," he challenged.

Grayson stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips. "Not in the mood to be a punching bag. How about I tap-dance on your head?"

He smiled. "Come and try."

She shook her head. "No. You come here." And all of a sudden, he was, sliding across the floor feet first. Grayson leapt straight up but he lifted both his legs and managed to tangle one with hers, preventing her from hitting the floor in a roll to stay out of his reach. He managed to throw himself onto the lower half of her body and wrapped one arm about her thighs, trying with the other arm to catch one of her wrists. Grayson twisted and kicked as well as she could, trying to pull herself out of his grasp or at least keep him from getting a firmer hold. Hackner was counting already, of course.

Then Hal's voice was booming throughout the ship. "Mass detection."

"Hal, evasive maneuvers. Get down!" Grayson yelled. She saw Het and Sip diving for the children. Hackner was looking for the prince, but if he had been among the children, he now had a hairy Siriun laying protectively atop him. Hendon rolled off her legs and she leapt to her feet, running through the people laying on the floor to get to the ladder closest to the control bridge. The bridgework was a mess of people laying and holding on as best they could. Evans had run for the nearest ladder but it would be nearly impossible to pick his way to the control bridge from there. Grayson could hear Hendon following her. She didn't know if that was because he'd come to the same decision, or if he simple trusted her judgement. She stumbled several times as the maneuvering exhausts fired, but managed to keep her feet. She heard Hendon's now unmistakable thud at some point but didn't look back.

"ID, Hal?" she called as she reached the ladder and began to climb.

"Energy signature of small ship. No beacon."

"Deploy blaster," she ordered as she reached the top of the ladder and leapt over the people laying in her way. The portal opened for her and she raced for her seat. She almost sat on the prince as she swung the chair to slide into it. She grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the chair and onto the floor. "Stay down," she snapped as she glanced at the monitors on the console.

"Hal, visuals on monitor one. Replay sim on big screen."

"I want to see," the prince said, though to his credit he remained on the floor, looking up at Grayson.

"Shut up," she muttered, looking from the small screen to the large.

Hendon entered the bridge, glanced at the prince, then went to stand next to Grayson, bracing himself against the console. "That's a trader configuration," she said. "Not to say it hasn't been gutted on the inside and rebuilt. But the speed..." She shook her head as she hit a key and additional info popped up next to the sim of the ship. "Hal shows it decelerating at forty-five gees. Only ships I know that can do that are Fed fighters."

"Decelerating?" he said with a puzzled frown. "But it's heading out of system."

"Technically speaking, it's trying not to head out of system. I think it's our bogey from the wormhole. Hal, could that mystery ship have done a slingshot around El Rehla and be here now?"

"Ninety-six point two three probability given the current rate of thrust was maintained approximately four point five hours in system and nine hours out system with minimum ten gee thrust in between maximum thrust periods."

"Now tell Hendon what the probability is that that same ship would be in mass detection range of us on inward and outward swings, Hal."

"Zero point zero three six without cumulative sixty-three degree course correction," the computer answered.

"And that means?" Hendon asked.

"That it was aiming for us. Or for where it predicted we would be. We both came in over plane for the system. That ship should have swung around and under plane when it went behind El Rehla. It adjusted to stay above plane. Most inbound ships stay above plane and most outbound stay below. That pilot adjusted to be above, either because he was looking for us, or because he thinks of himself as being inbound. Or both."

"There is no up or down in space," the prince said proudly.

Grayson scowled at him. "Relative to the counter-clockwise rotation of most systems. You can go back to the cargo hold now."

"Do you recognize it," Hendon asked.

She looked back at the monitor and sighed. "That body is a dime a dozen. And I don't see any visible markings. Hal, can you give us a blow-up on the main screen?"

Evans came on the bridge and settled into the control chair. He studied the ship. "That's our bogey?"

"Both bogeys, probably." Grayson said. "Somebody is very interested in us. I won," she added.

"Did not," Hendon replied.

"Evans?" she asked.

He threw his hands up in the air. "I was never there. What do you want to do about out bogey?"

Grayson went to run her hands through her hair and realized she still had the headgear on. She yanked it off and tossed it to the prince. "Take that back with you. Memento from the winner. Scat!" Then to Evans, she said, "Give them the all clear in the holds. He's long gone."

"He's?" Hendon said. "Looked more like a woman driver to me."

"Oh, my god. You did not go there!"

"Didn't have to. I won."

"Okay, that's it. Who was keeping score, Het or Sip?"

Evans and Hendon looked at her like she'd suddenly gone blind. "Sip," the prince supplied.

"Get her up here." Again, they simply stared until the prince supplied, "Him."

"That's what I said. Him." Grayson somehow managed to stare at all of them defiantly.

"Let's tend to navigational issues first," Hendon said waving at her console.

"Fine," she snarled. "El Rehla Prime gave us fast track privileges. Let's use them. Can you get people ready for thirty gees in an hour? Evans, can you see if Prime has any info on that ship or if they even saw it?"

"Aye, aye," he said, donning headphones.

"Hendon, get that brat off my bridge. Hal, let's look at options. And Hal, I want projections on that ship's trajectory. Throw them up on main screen."

****

An hour and a half later, they were 'cruising' at thirty gees deceleration, circling to overshoot the prime planet toward an inner orbit then accelerate back out toward it, falling neatly into orbit. Grayson had proudly proclaimed that no one could project that approach, and Evans had to agree, given that it was nearly unheard of to come into planetary orbit under hydrogen thrust. He'd had to do a great deal of fast talking to get ground control to even approve the approach, given they hadn't seen the bogey and had only vague sensory data from system mass detectors. But El Rehla was a small independent system, and staying on the right side of a huge neighboring sector like Sirius was just good business, so in the end, they conceded the point.

Grayson hadn't bothered to mention to the Confeds that Hal still had the blaster deployed, and if they had noticed they weren't mentioning anything, either. She had already decided that if the bogey showed up again, she was going to shoot first and ask questions - and permission - later. She'd programmed some potentialities for Hal and she was still staring at his projections for possible trajectories the other ship could achieve, trying to decide what she might have chosen. It would have been much easier if she had any idea what their intention was. If the ship had engine and grav capabilities of a F ed fighter, couldn't it have laser capabilities, too? If it wanted to blast them, and had a laser, it could have done so on that first flyby. Or on the second flyby with a laser or a blaster. So if it didn't want to destroy them, what did it want? She slapped the console in front of her in frustration.

Her chair was suddenly yanked around. "That's it. Rest period," Hendon commanded.

She narrowed her eyes and gripped the chair arms in defiance. "I don't take your orders."

"Really?" he said with barely disguised humor clearly intended to annoy her.

"In case you haven't noticed, we are deep in system. Of a white giant, no less. I need to be on the bridge."

"Evans and Hal have the flight plan..." He leaned in close, "And were not engaged in a full contact fight just a few hours ago."

"Pffft," she said with a wave of her hand, "That wasn't a real fight..."

And just like that, she found herself thrown over Hendon's shoulder and he was carrying her off the bridge, despite the thirty gee thrust. She banged her head on the wall above the portal as she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

"Ouch! Put me down, you fucking asshole."

He swatted her ass as he carried her toward her quarters. "We really need to talk about your language. There are children on board, you know," he chided condescendingly. "You might want to keep your head down this time," he suggested as the portal to her bedroom opened for him.

"Hendon, I swear if you don't put me down right now..." And then she was down, on her back on her bed. She sat up. "What are you going to do, tie me to the fucking bed?" she demanded.

"If need be. I had more in mind pinning you for a full eight count." He rested one knee on the bed and leaned in real close. "So we can end this silly argument about who won."

"What?" She leaned back, staring at him. As usual, she had no idea what he was really thinking, but his pupils were dilated and he was in a more vulnerable pose than he usually allowed when he was that close to her. "I thought you liked 'em meek and submissive," she said, edging back as he leaned even closer.

His eyes tracked slowly down to her chest, then back up just as slowly, again displaying a vulnerability strange for him. "Oh, I suspect I could convince you to submit," he suggested in a low, husky voice.

'Trap!' he mind screamed, though other parts of her were screaming something else entirely. "Don't toy with me, sailor. I've been too many days without," she warned, scooting back on the bed. His hands were suddenly on the headboard, with her pinned between his arms, both his knees on the bed. Grayson drew her own knees up, the torn pantleg falling away from one leg.

"Like you've been toying with me?" he challenged. "For instance..." He reached down and grabbed a handful of silk from the intact pantleg. "If I were to give a tug, might the inseam of this pantleg rip away, just so?"

She eyed him. "It might." He grinned and tugged. The inseam parted as if on command. "They just don't make clothes like they used to," she complained.

"Or fair fights."

"Ha! With the referee in your pocket?" she argued.

He grinned again. "Point conceded."

"Wait. Did you just concede?"

He shrugged, sitting back slightly. "On the referee. Nothing but Siriuns to chose from. Do you concede on the rigged pants? Not to mention trying to flash me with all that panty-less temptation peeking through?"

"I'll see you the rigged pants and raise you pretending to be stunned after I threw you."

"Half point," he conceded. "I was stunned that you could flip me airborne."

"That's okay. My sensei would have been stunned, too."

"That's your trainer?"

She nodded. "So now what?" she asked, eyeing him.

"The passengers aren't the only ones needing a break from the close quarters and tension," he replied. Grayson gave him a puzzled frown. "I suggest we put aside the teasing..." She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a finger in front of her face. "On both sides. I suggest we address our tensions so we can function better as a team."