Different Paths (11 page)

Closing his eyes, Iaido concentrated on his
breathing for a few seconds to help him find his center and he listened to the
world around him. The crowd was quiet, only the shuffling feet of the three
students could be heard. Opening his eyes, Iaido strode confidently forward. His
weapon gripped tightly in his right hand but held low in a relaxed position.

The middle student attacked with a downward slash
and a loud ki-hap.

A ki-hap can be roughly translated as a ‘spirit
shout’ and is used to disrupt your opponent or to focus the attacker’s energy
in to whatever technique a practitioner is using at the time.

Unfazed by the shout or the speed of the attack,
Iaido stepped to the side and casually brought his weapon down on the student’s
neck. A flash of blue sparks engulfed his head before he dropped unconscious to
the mat. Without changing strides, Iaido turned to the nearest opponent which
left his back fully exposed to the third student. Seeing his opening, the third
student charged at Iaido’s back. Without being able to see his fellow student’s
attack, the second student swung his bokken sideways thinking that Iaido will
be unable to sidestep such an attack.

Iaido dived to his left over the slashing blade
and out of the path of the thrust from behind. Unable to stop their charge, the
two students collided with each other in a blinding flash of sparks as both
attackers fell unconscious.

Facing his sensei, Iaido bowed to his teacher as
was the custom following kumite in the dojo.

The Sensei clapped his hands twice, signaling the
junior-most students to rush onto the mat and drag the unconscious students
away.

 “Simple and efficient but not really a good
display of your talent, was it? I wonder where we could find someone to give
you a true challenge?” Holding out his hand to Sam, the Sensei never looked
away from his prize pupil when he said, “I guess it is up to me.”

Quivering, Sam placed the hilt of a stun bokken in
his father’s hand.

Unhurried, the old man moved to the center of the
mat and raised his weapon to neutral ready position; sword held in front with
both hands, the tip pointing at Iaido’s centerline. 

Looking into the eyes of his master, Iaido saw no
compassion in them. Nor did he see any spark of life or recognition; they
reminded him of a shark’s eyes…cold and lifeless.

Iaido readied his own bokken and awaited the
attack from his master and friend.

When the strike came, it was lightning fast.
Seemingly faster than any non-augmented human should be capable of performing
but then the Sensei was no normal man; he was a grandmaster of bushido. He had
been walking the ‘Way’ long before Iaido was conceived. Of course, Iaido wasn’t
just anyone. He too was a master of bushido and his reflexes were augmented by
science and honed by constant use. Meeting the strike, Iaido countered, which
in turn was parried and countered, until it became a blinding flash of blue
sparks and clashes of blades. No spectator would ever forget the dazzling
display the two masters of bushido were creating. After several minutes, Iaido
found himself moving into zanshin.

Zanshin has been called many things over the years:
the zone, the empty mind, Zen mind and enlightenment just to name a few. It is
the mindset of body and mind working in perfect harmony. Sports celebrities
talk about how their game was ‘on’ and everything was just right. The golfer’s
swing is perfect and the distant hole looks ten feet big or the basketball
player is shooting from the outside and hitting every shot. But to warriors it
is more than that. It is a time when conscious thought disappears and the body
reacts without thought. It is a beautiful thing when it happens but to your
opponent, it’s deadly.

Once Iaido entered the state of zanshin his more
deadly instincts kicked in.

Sensing an opening in the Sensei’s guard, Iaido
threw a low kick toward the Sensei’s groin. As the Sensei reacted to the kick,
Iaido moved inside and with a flick of his blade, struck the forearms of his
mentor. Blue sparks leapt over the Sensei’s arms, causing them to twitch
violently as his bokken went sailing into the air. Iaido paused instead of
delivering the coup de grace, the death blow.

Since this was just a demonstration, a kumite, the
match should’ve ended with the disarming. However the Sensei had other ideas.
Rolling out of the disadvantaged position to a nearby weapons rack on the dojo
wall, he pulled down a katana. Ripping the blade free from the scabbard, the
ringing of the steel filled the dojo as he moved quickly to the attack.

Parrying the wild attack, Iaido once again struck
the Sensei with his bokken. Even though blue sparks filled the room, the Sensei
seemed unaffected by the stun properties of the training weapon and again
pressed the attack. If anything, his attacks were more furious and faster than
earlier. The Sensei had abandoned all pretenses of defense and Iaido struck him
a dozen times but to no effect. Iaido was forced to use every trick and skill
he possessed to dodge or block the Sensei’s wild yet deadly attacks.

The change in Iaido’s mindset was simple. His
unconscious mind recognized that the earlier attacks to be non-deadly. Now that
the Sensei was wielding a ‘live’ blade, his responses were different. The
philosophy of an ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ scenario was drilled into
him during his military days. Stepping up his own attacks, Iaido forced the
Sensei back with the force of his blows. Even if the stun aspect wouldn’t work
on the Sensei for some reason, a sharp whack to the side of the head should do
the trick.

One of the Sensei’s wild attacks clipped Iaido’s
shoulder, drawing first blood and knocking his bokken out of his hand. With a
spin, the Sensei lashed out with a wide slash parallel to the ground with the
intent of disemboweling his opponent. 

Reacting without conscious thought, Iaido stepped
inside the swing and wrapped his left arm over and around the arms of his
master, while his right hand moved to the pommel of the katana. Rotating his
grip slightly and pivoting quickly, Iaido wretched free the blade. Continuing
the momentum of the turn, Iaido counter-attacked with a horizontal slash that was
perfection in motion. No one alive could’ve executed that move any cleaner.

The razor sharp katana slid through the flesh and
bones of the Sensei’s neck easily, separating his head from the rest of his
body. Due to the direction of Iaido’s spin, the blood flew off his blade to splatter
the wall and sling a line of blood across the ancient flag of Japan which hung
in a place of honor in the dojo. Unfortunately, the Sensei’s disembodied head
flew through the air to land at Sam’s feet with a loud thud.

The dojo was silent. The only sound was the slow
moving ceiling fans.

Iaido dropped the katana and fell to his knees. As
he stared at the headless corpse of his mentor and friend, a mixture of screams
and shouts filled the air.

It was only a matter of minutes before the police
came rushing into the dojo. Surprisingly it wasn’t just a few beat cops but a
full SWAT team in tactical armor led by Agent Smith.

As the SWAT team surrounded the mat, Iaido remained
on his knees just staring at the headless corpse before him. It could’ve been
hours or days for all that he noticed. One image froze in his mind’s eye; the twin
marks of puncture wounds on the base of his neck right over his mentor’s spinal
cord. One part of his mind remembered Diana mentioning similar marks had been
found on Amy’s body. What that meant, Iaido had no idea, yet.

Two SWAT grunts moved forward and slapped a pair
of handcuffs on the unresisting bounty hunter. Once he was restrained with his
hands behind his back, Agent Smith stepped in front of him.

“I knew you were trouble from the moment we met.” Without
warning or provocation, Agent Smith slapped Iaido across the face.

Several of the SWAT officers winced at the
unsolicited blow but were unable to interfere since the FSA agent was of a
higher authority and possibly had different rules of engagement. No police
officer could justify striking an unresisting, cooperative subject that was
handcuffed and keep their job, especially with a crowd watching.

Iaido looked up at the agent and narrowed his eyes.
“Strike three, Junior.”

Moving faster than anyone could prevent, Iaido
leapt up and spun around in a full circle, lashing out with his right foot
striking the Federal Agent on the side of the head. Since Iaido had no
intention of killing or even injuring the young agent, he had opted to use a
spinning crescent kick instead of more damaging techniques. The kick was still
powerful enough to knock the agent to the ground and leave a large red welt on
the right side of his face.

Landing lightly, Iaido immediately dropped to the
ground as three SWAT officers rushed forward, placed their R-Guns on him and
yelled, “Don’t move!”

Even though the SWAT grunts had acted in a
predictable fashion, Iaido thought he could see a glint of amusement in their
eyes. One of the police officers handed the FSA agent a wet towel and helped
steady him as he stood back up.

A moment later when two Galactic Marshals stepped
into view, he did his best to regain some of his wounded pride as he said, “My
partner didn’t want to arrest Mr. Spartan this morning when we had the chance.
If we had, this old man would still be alive.”

The two Galactic Marshals moved forward. They were
both dressed in black body armor with several weapons visible along their
waist. The larger of the two spoke first; his voice was a deep baritone. “Mr.
Spartan, I’m Marshal Brutus and this is Marshal Cassius. You are a suspect in
several crimes committed against the Sylvan Empire which places you in our
jurisdiction.”

Iaido ignored their implied threat. Being under
the authority of the Galactic Marshals meant that the normal rights a person
could expect while incarcerated were null and void.

Marshal Cassius stepped up to the headless form of
the sensei and nudged it slightly with his foot. “You would think that there
would be more blood from a beheading.” He shrugged. “I guess it dries up as you
get older.”

As they began to escort him out, Iaido looked
around the dojo and took in the stunned faces of the students and spectators
until he spied Sam. At first glance, Iaido could see the effects of shock in
his young eyes but then he noticed something else. The tilt of his head and the
squint in his eyes had changed. The wide-eyed innocence of youth had fled to be
replaced by a look that could only be called hate, pure and simple. 

One part of his mind registered the argument
between the dignitaries and the police. Even though they had witnessed Iaido
killing the Sensei, the dignitaries were outraged at his treatment. They
explained what happened. Even furnishing a digital recording of the kumite, surely
this was a clear case of self-defense. The Galactic Marshals ignored the
ongoing argument and escorted him through the gathering crowd to a waiting
skimmer. Placing him in the back seat, Agent Smith climbed in next to him while
the Marshals took the front and they were off, leaving behind the dojo, the
dignitaries and the police.

Less than two minutes into the trip, Iaido
realized that they weren’t heading toward the starport and the headquarters of
the Galactic Commission, but east…away from downtown and large crowds of New
Atlanta. He turned his head slightly seemingly to stare out the window as he
used his skills to pick the lock of his handcuffs while surreptitiously
studying the Galactic Marshals.

Brutus was a squat, muscle bound, body builder
type. While his partner Marshal Cassius was a wiry, fidgety type that
constantly played with a silver coin, making it dance around his hand. Two
things jumped out during his inspection, a small tattoo at the base of their skulls
and an interface port.

Iaido had a similar port in the back of his neck
which allowed him to hook into nearly any network in the known universe. It was
a common augment for those in the SPEC OPS divisions of the military during the
war but was rarely found in Law Enforcement or even in soldiers after the
Armistice of 2125. 

Iaido knew one thing for certain; the two men in the
front seat of the skimmer were much more deadly than the bumbling Federal Agent
sitting next to him.

Chapter 10

Finished with the day’s clients, Talia moved
through the lower parts of the Sylvan Embassy.

The Empire had chosen this location carefully. The
storefront was only a small part of a much larger complex. Talia knew that the
lower sections extended into the ruins of old Atlanta but hadn’t had the time
to explore. However, it was to these lower chambers that her mistress had
summoned her. Arriving at the innermost sanctum of the embassy, Talia paused to
smooth out the folds in her dress and to check the placement of her hair. It
wouldn’t be good to seem harried in front of her new mistress; not after the
visits they had today from the Galactic Marshals, Federal Agents and the bounty
hunter Iaido Spartan.

Talia felt her pulse quicken slightly at the
thought of the grey-eyed bounty hunter. Sure, he was a barbarian compared to
the Sylvans. The whole Terran race was barely six millennia old, whereas the
Sylvan Empire spanned over two-dozen millennia. Still, there was something
special about this race, something…

“Enter young one,” came the voice of Madam
Aleksandra from inside the sacred chamber.

Moving slowly into the room, Talia kept her eyes
lowered as was the custom but she couldn’t resist peeking at her surroundings.
The room was a simple square with two other doorways visible. The wall she
entered through was draped in green silks, while the wall to her left was
draped in red and to her right was draped in blue silks. The wall straight
across was draped in yellow and along its center wall was a large stone tablet
surrounded by four candles. In the center of the room was a low table carved
entirely out of black marble and surrounded by pillows.