Maxwell Saga 5: Stoke the Flames Higher Read online

  The Lieutenant-Colonel nodded sourly. “That’s going to make their day – I don’t think!”

  November 3-4 2851 GSC

  “What happened?” Carol demanded as the spectators packed into the banked seats around the dojo demonstration arena broke into loud applause.

  “Steve pulled off a nami gaeshi throw followed by a tegatana, a hand-sword strike, to the throat,” Abha explained, whispering as the applause died away, watching her husband help his sparring partner to his feet. “If that had been a real fight, he’d have disabled his opponent.”

  “It happened so fast, I could barely follow the action.”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, at this level in karate, if you blink you’ll miss something. If Steve passes tonight, he’ll join a very select group indeed. I doubt there’s more than a dozen fifth dans on this entire planet – at least, not those graded to authentic standards. There are always puffed-up self-styled experts, but no-one who knows anything about the martial arts has any respect for them.”

  “That was the fourth fight,” Carol murmured as they watched Steve take his stance once more. He pulled his white gi straight, adjusted the black obi around his waist, spread his feet a shoulder-width apart, lowered his hands to his side and stood with his head erect, eyes closed. His sparring partner began to circle him, eyeing him intently. “How many more?”

  “One more. After that, it’s up to the judges. Now, hush!”

  —————

  Steve stood loosely, muscles relaxed but poised for instant, whiplash reaction as he waited for his sparring partner to choose the direction and method of his final assault. It would be up to him to select the most appropriate counter to any attack, and execute it instantly, aggressively and successfully. The five judges, seated in their chairs behind the table at the head of the mat, would assess his response. A kudan, a ninth dan martial artist from Japan on Old Home Earth, had been brought to Lancaster to chair the panel. His assessment, in particular, would be decisive.

  Steve was suddenly seized from behind in a bear-hug that pinned his upper arms to his side and lifted him clean off his feet. Instantly he reached up to grasp his opponent’s hands, getting a good grip on the little finger of the left hand and twisting it outward. Forced to release his right hand or have his finger broken, his sparring partner could no longer stop Steve twisting to his right. He kept control of his opponent’s right arm, stamping down with controlled force onto his right foot to pin him in place as he pivoted around him. He snaked his left arm around the man’s neck, pulling him up and back onto his toes as he twisted his right arm into a hammerlock. At once his sparring partner slapped twice, audibly, with open hand on his stomach, signifying submission. Steve released his hold, stepping back as the crowd again broke into applause.

  He waited until his sparring partner fell into place on his left side, then they both bowed to the senior judge and walked off the mat. Steve settled onto his knees at the place reserved for those about to hear the verdict on their skills. He watched, heart pounding with nervous anticipation, as the five men put their heads together and talked. Sometimes one would nod; at other times, one would shake his head. It seemed to Steve, waiting on tenterhooks, that they were taking a very long time to reach a consensus.

  He ran hurriedly through the tests in his mind. He thought he’d done pretty well on the slow and fast kata, both solo and with a partner. He hadn’t been altogether happy with the sparring exercises the previous evening, but the judges had already promoted his partner in them to fourth dan rank, so clearly, they hadn’t done as badly as he’d feared. By extension, that argued Steve should also receive at least a passing grade for that portion. The just-concluded practical defensive exercises had gone well for him. That left only the oral examination. He’d had to verbally summarize the fifteen-plus years since he’d earned his first dan black belt. He knew he’d taken longer than some to reach his present level, thanks to his military career and the interruptions caused by deployments. He’d had to explain how he’d managed to keep up his exercises aboard ship, finding sparring partners whenever and wherever he could – which wasn’t often – and otherwise relying on solo katas. The judges had listened impassively, giving no clue as to what they were thinking.

  Silently, and not for the first time during the past two days, he blessed the unexpected maintenance period that had given his entire ship’s company two weeks of liberty – just in time for the Lancaster Karate Association’s annual senior grading exercise. He’d taken advantage of the time off to get in a full week’s sparring against some of the most advanced karateka on the planet. The intensive practice had knocked the rust off his abilities and sharpened his skills… but had it sharpened them enough?

  At last the judges nodded to each other, satisfied, and turned to the table, each making notes on a pad in front of him. The chief judge summoned a clerk from his table against the wall and whispered to him. He nodded and hurried back to his table, where he reached for a calligraphy brush and wrote something on a parchment-style sheet. The clerk finished writing, scattered fine sand over the parchment to absorb excess ink in the time-honored style, shook and blew the excess sand into a trash bin, then carried the parchment and a folded black belt to the chief judge, who stood.

  “Candidate Steven Maxwell!” he called.

  Heart pounding with anticipation, Steve rose smoothly to his feet and stepped out onto the mat. He halted about three meters in front of the table and bowed to the judges, all of whom had risen to their feet. They solemnly returned the gesture.

  “Candidate Maxwell, the Lancastrian Karate Association and the Interplanetary Karate Federation have taken note of your exemplary efforts to promote the martial art of karate among your peers in the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet’s Armati Society. Those efforts constitute a significant contribution to the development of our sport, comparable to the establishment and development of a major dojo on a planet such as Lancaster. Furthermore, we have examined and tested your skills, and find them to be worthy of promotion. For all these accomplishments, we therefore promote you to the rank of godan, fifth dan. Congratulations.”

  As the crowd broke into loud applause, Steve stepped forward, untying his black belt with its four thin red stripes on each end. He laid it on the table, accepted the new belt with five red stripes and tied it round his waist, then took the parchment certifying his new title. Picking up his old belt, he took a step backward, bowed again, then turned and jogged off the mat.

  Abha was waiting for him at the edge of the mat, dancing with excitement, eyes shining. She hugged him fiercely. “Oh, Steve, I’m so proud of you!”

  He kissed her. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. If you hadn’t been willing to sacrifice most of our first week together so I could practice every day, I’d never have passed the grading exercises.”

  “It was worth it. Besides, we’ve got another week together. We’ll make the most of it.” Her eyes twinkled at him as she grinned mischievously.

  Carol came up, pushing her way with difficulty through the crowd. “Well done, Steve!” She hugged and kissed him. “Brooks will be over the moon when he hears about this. We know how long and how hard you had to work to get here.”

  “Yes, I’ll have to tell him about it in my next letter.”

  “I’ll do the same, and include vid of your exercises.” She sobered. “I know this is technically only a sport, but you move so darned fast when you have to! I’d hate to face you in a real fight.”

  “Well, that’s why karate was developed originally – for self-defense. It still comes in handy that way sometimes.” Steve blinked as he remembered a vicious encounter with Lotus Tong thugs on Old Home Earth’s Cargo Terminal. It had helped to launch his career in space, many years ago.

  They had to endure the congratulations of friends, fellow karateka and well-wishers for a good ten minutes before the throng around Steve finally eased enough to let him head for the exit. “Don’t bother showering here,”
Abha urged him. “You can do that at home.”

  “I guess so – wait a moment, who’s that?” Steve’s comm unit in his holdall had begun to play a loud, demanding tone that he’d programmed to alert him to official Fleet communications. He reached into the bag, retrieved the unit, and read the message. “Damn! Commodore Wu sends his compliments. He apologizes for interrupting my holiday, but I have to report to him at ten tomorrow morning. He says I’ll be home by early afternoon.”

  “Something must have come up,” Abha sighed, her Marine Corps background having long since accustomed her to sudden changes in plans. “At least it sounds like you’ll be able to continue with the rest of your leave.”

  “Let’s hope so!”

  —————

  The secretary looked up as a green light flickered on her tri-D display. “The Commodore will see you now, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Steve replied automatically as he came to his feet. He straightened his uniform as he crossed to the door, opened it, and stepped into his boss’s office. He crossed to the desk and came to attention. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Good morning, Lieutenant-Commander.” Commodore Wu rose and walked around his desk, eyes warm as he held out his hand. “I’m sorry to have to interrupt your liberty period. I know you were planning to attend this year’s karate grading session. How did that go?”

  “Very well, sir. I’m now fifth dan.”

  “Congratulations! You’ve certainly earned that the hard way. When will you be eligible for the next rank?”

  Steve followed his boss to the four armchairs arranged around a low table in the corner of his spacious office. “That probably won’t happen, sir. To be promoted above fifth dan usually involves a lot of extra teaching and research work, not just skills. I won’t have time for that in the Fleet, so this is realistically as high as I can expect to climb. Still, I’m not complaining.”

  “I doubt there are many other fifth dans in the Fleet in any martial art, that’s for sure.”

  As they sat down, Wu added, “You named your latest child for your Marine comrade-in-arms on Eskishi, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. My wife and I wanted to honor Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear’s memory. I might have died there, but for him. We named our son Henry for him.”

  “Then I have some good news for you. Your nomination of him for the posthumous award of the Lancastrian Star of Valor has been approved. It took longer than usual, because Mr. Mixson of the State Department, whom you’ll remember with as much displeasure as myself,” – they exchanged a wry look – “lodged a complaint. He insisted that since the Commonwealth wasn’t officially a party to the hostilities on Eskishi, it wouldn’t be appropriate to confer our highest award for valor in action.”

  Steve snorted angrily. “In that case, the Gunny’s death in combat wasn’t ‘appropriate’ either, sir!”

  “I understand the Board of Admiralty said as much to the Awards Committee of the Senate,” Wu returned dryly. “The Sultan of Karabak also took a hand. Now that we’re in a treaty relationship with his planet, he was able to submit a supporting recommendation through diplomatic channels. That clinched it. The Commandant of the Marine Corps will present the medal to the Gunny’s parents on Cassius when he goes there on an inspection tour in January. The Corps is building a new Administration block at its NCO Academy there, and they’re going to name it in honor of the Gunny. There’ll be a statue of him in the foyer, with a plaque commemorating the action that led to his award. The Sultan’s asked to be allowed to buy two copies of the statue. He’ll erect one at Eskishi’s spaceport, which will be renamed in his honor, and one at Karabak’s NCO Academy.”

  Steve beamed from ear to ear. “That’s great news, sir! Thanks very much for telling me.” He made a mental note to order a smaller replica of the statue, to give to Henry when he was old enough to understand what it was, and what it meant.

  “It is good news, but that’s not why I called you in.” He rose and crossed to his desk, picking up a remote-control unit. “I presume you’re aware of the United Planets mission to Athi? The Commonwealth is its major sponsor.”

  Steve watched him move, glancing beyond him at the view of Lancaster City through the panes of the twentieth-floor windows. “Yes, sir. I’ve heard a lot about it from a close friend, Major Brooks Shelby. He’s the Executive Officer of the Marine 24th Expeditionary Battalion, which was formed for that mission.”

  “Ah, yes. Your family and his live together, don’t you?” Wu asked, looking approvingly at the younger man as he returned to his seat. Maxwell was of medium height, well-built but not over-muscled. His face wasn’t particularly handsome, but was firm and strong. Inwardly the Commodore congratulated himself for going to so much trouble to bring him into the Bureau of Intelligence the previous year. Maxwell’s performance thus far had fully justified his efforts.

  “Yes, sir. Brooks, his fiancée, my wife and I decided we’d like to stick together after all we went through on Rolla some years ago. We bought a small, run-down corporate retreat center outside Lancaster City, and converted it into an extended family compound.”

  “That must be helpful when you’re on assignment off-planet.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve hired staff to look after the place, and help care for our children while our wives are at work or studying.”

  “I see. What does Major Shelby have to say about Athi?”

  “He says it’s very hard going, sir. His battalion has suffered over ten per cent casualties so far. Most of them have been wounded rather than killed, thanks to their armor, but even so, that’s a big hit for a Marine unit to take against such primitively equipped opponents. Apparently the Kotai fight like demons.”

  The Commodore nodded ruefully. “So I hear. They’ve been pushed back into the hills, but they aren’t giving up. They’re religious fanatics, after all, and that’s the worst kind. They seem to believe that the more ‘heathen’ or ‘unbelievers’ they slaughter, the higher their status will be in the eyes of their god. The ones on Athi failed in their initial attempt to overthrow the government, so they’ve gone underground to fight a guerrilla campaign. It’s hard to identify them among the local population, and their sympathizers supply their basic needs.”

  “Yes, sir, and Brooks says they’re smuggling in weapons and reinforcements from off-planet.”

  “They are. The trouble is, it’s a very large double-star system with lots of space to patrol. If smugglers can get close to the planet, they can release cargo shuttles or even unmanned drone landing pods to reach orbit on their own and make their descent to a prearranged rendezvous. The planetary traffic control system was knocked out during the fighting, so supplies and reinforcements can sometimes land in remote areas without being detected.”

  “Can’t the smugglers be interdicted before they depart for the Athi system, sir?”

  “That’s why you’re here. The spiritual leader of the Kotai lives on Devakai.” The Commodore pressed a button on the remote-control unit, and a three-dimensional holographic display came to life in the opposite corner of his office. It showed a man of medium height, his body invisible beneath a flowing, grimy, ankle-length white robe. His shoulders were narrow. His thin, drawn face bore a long straggly beard over hollow cheeks. His hair was greasy, unkempt, hanging over his ears. His dark eyes seemed to bore hypnotically into the vid camera lens.

  “That’s him – Kodan Sastagan. He claims to be the reincarnation of one of the local pantheon of gods. He’s said to be a very persuasive, silver-tongued demagogue. A cult has grown up around him. It seems the trouble started when he ran into resistance from the authorities on Devakai. Instead of confronting them, he decided to send missionaries to convert everyone on Athi, and turn it into a base from which he could evangelize the settled galaxy.”

  Steve shook his head. “That’s… megalomaniac, sir.”

  “True, but a lot of fanatics – religious or any other sort – are like that. Anyway, it seems his people couldn’t win over
enough converts by persuasion, so they started a revolution. Athi was originally colonized from Devakai, about a century ago. I suppose that’s why the Kotai thought they’d find fertile ground there to spread their beliefs. They forgot that the kind of people willing to abandon their past lives, and set out for pastures new on other planets, tend to be strong-willed and independent. They’re not inclined to be pushed around.” He grinned. “You’re a bit like that, too.”

  Steve had to smile in rueful acknowledgment of his character, and his immigrant roots. “Yes, sir.”

  “The United Planets has asked Devakai to crack down on the smuggling of weapons and supplies to Athi, but its government says there isn’t any space travel at all between the two planets. It’s invited the UP to inspect its system anytime it wants. The Kotai may be using another planet as a transit point for their insurgents, of course, but nobody knows for sure. It may be they’ve become so numerous and influential on Devakai that its government risks civil war if it restricts them too much. Probably as an excuse for inaction, it’s claimed that its System Patrol Service doesn’t have the manpower, equipment or budget to operate effectively. The UP’s offered to station warships there to help secure and patrol its system, but Devakai says that would infringe on its sovereignty. Instead, it wants the UP to provide billions of credits to upgrade its SPS and make it more effective.”

  “Sounds like they want to wring as much money as they can out of the situation, sir.”

  “That’s the way it seems to us, too, but we aren’t sure. We need to better understand the situation – particularly the risk that the Kotai may try to take over there – before we decide what to do next. After all, that’s why the UP assigned such a high priority to the Athi mission; the danger that the Kotai could spread to other planets. The State Department is sending a delegation to Devakai to investigate what’s going on there. It’s asked for a military adviser to assess their System Patrol Service, while its diplomats handle the political side of things. We’ll kill two birds with one stone by sending you. You can take the delegation there aboard your communications vessel; and, since you commanded a patrol craft at Rolla, and helped train that planet’s SPS, and also dealt successfully with smugglers at Radetski and Midrash, I think you’re adequately qualified to assess Devakai’s SPS as well.”