His new opponent favored a western style, a straight blade designed for its ultimate thrusting power. The ambassador's sword had a slight curve, a compromise design meant for both cutting and thrusting. The two men warily circled each other for a moment, then the invader lunged.
Hawkes backpedaled—one, two, three steps. The pirate followed. The ambassador bluffed his enemy again, retreating another two steps. The invader smiled, following once more, sensing an easy target. Hawkes feigned a stumble, trying to act surprised as his back touched the bar. The younger man sighted and lunged. The ambassador parried and returned, letting the pirate run himself through on his blade as he rushed forward. Blood sluiced down along the sword's fuller groove, splattering against the weapon's protective basket.
Hawkes lifted his foot and planted it in the man's chest, sending him reeling backward with a well-placed kick. He was instantly replaced by another pirate, this one also armed with a sword. He came in slower, more cautious. He had seen the fate of his mate and did not wish to share it.
Taking the battle to the enemy, Hawkes charged forward two steps to gauge the other man's reaction. The pirate smoothly moved back, then bounced forward a step, thrusting his blade. The ambassador had already moved to the side in anticipation. His sword came up and clanged against his opponent's. Both men broke instantly.
The pirate took advantage of their close quarters to aim a chest strike. Hawkes brutally parried it, slapping it aside. He hurried to follow with a cut of his own. The man dodged, spun around, and came in for another strike. The ambassador blocked and attacked, only to be parried himself.
The moment had come where both men knew they were evenly matched. Each had taken stock of the other and discovered that no easy victory would be forthcoming. Instantly they fell to the attack, locking in to a steel rhythm. The two men lashed out at each other, slashing back and forth through the air, and probing each other for the eventual misstep one of them would have to make sooner or later.
It came sooner, and it was not Hawkes's. The ambassador feigned another stumble, and suckered his opponent in. The maneuver did not work as well as it had previously. He managed only a downward strike along the man's forearm, creasing his armor and drawing blood.
It was enough, however. In the split second the pirate needed to switch hands, Hawkes stabbed out and buried his blade in the man's abdomen. The ambassador had no time to congratulate himself over his victory, though. No sooner did his opponent fall away than another moved forward, yet this one wielded a shock staff much like Wagner's.
"Make it easy on yourself, old man," said the grinning invader as he advanced on the ambassador. His voice sounding tinny through his suit's mike, he added, "I'll do you quick and painless as possible."
"How thoughtful of you," answered Hawkes.
The invader lunged and the ambassador sidestepped.
Hawkes brought his sword around, cutting for the pirate's head, but the man brought his staff up, blocking the attack. The antique weapon clanged along the steel/titanium length. The ambassador went with the motion, sliding his blade along the staff and trying for the man's hand. He came close, but a split second before Hawkes's maneuver could catch him, the invader loosened his grip.
The pirate pushed off awkwardly, forcing the ambassador to step wide. Hawkes spun around and tried a long, angling thrust, but it fell short. The invader pulled his staff in close, then pushed it out and up, just managing to deflect the ambassador's next strike.
Hawkes pressed ahead, swinging wildly, trying to force the pirate back. The man made two awkward retreating steps, but then, as the ambassador followed, the pirate stopped short and made a wild swing of his own. The staff managed to break through Hawkes's defenses and touch his sword arm.
The ambassador stumbled badly. Even though the staff's touch against his arm was brief, the current blasted through him, shocking the sword from his hand. Hawkes fell to his knees.
"Sorry, Mr. Hawkes," said the pirate, stepping forward, setting his staff to full charge. "Job's a job."
The ambassador fumbled for his weapon. It was only a few inches from his hand, but it seemed several miles away. Hawkes reached for it, pawing the ground pitifully, but his eyes could not focus properly, could not discern which of the several images he was seeing was the real one.
And then the pirate set his staff to full power and stabbed down at the ambassador's body.
13
A ROAR OF THUNDER RIPPED THROUGH THE DINING ROOM.
The bullet it had propelled slammed into the pirate's chest plate, through his body and then his back, and finally flattened out against the inside of his rear armor. The man gurgled, losing his grip on his staff. It fell away from his fingers and flopped toward the floor, almost hitting Hawkes.
The pirate wobbled, struggling to stay erect. Martel made it to the ambassador's side. She could help him up with only one hand; the other still held her gun. Closing the fingers of his left hand around the hilt of his sword, Hawkes struggled to regain control of his body. His eyes focused on the automatic in Martel's hand, and he stuttered, "How—how? You have, have, have . . . a gun?"
"Later," she answered, putting all her strength into getting the ambassador back on his feet.
Hawkes grabbed the pirate's staff with his left hand, using it as a crutch on which to stand, and then closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Inside his head, he summoned all his reserves to help him sort through the confusion in his brain and banish the last
