Episode 7, Arrival © C. J. Hoare 2006.
All rights reserved.

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The man let Gisel's father fall to the ground as he turned to face her. He sprang into a swordfighting stance – knees bent, rapier outthrust to the front and his left arm stretched out behind for balance. Gisel had to grin. Just like the old pictures. Bet he didn't know any of the 22nd century competition tricks.

She darted forward in a 2150 Olympic's leading parry. He gave ground, thrashing his rapier about to ward off her attack. If he'd been a competition opponent she could have scored a telling hit – but he wore that cuirass.

His expression turned from surprise to anger, eyes blazing and teeth bared. His turn to attack. He lunged forward, a good three inches on her for reach. She drew back as she parried – his point met empty air.

"Hah!" he shouted.

He stormed forward again, trying to grab her as well as lunge.

"Too clumsy, buddy." Gisel darted away from his attack, leaving him floundering.

She flicked out her swordpoint like a striking snake, slashing open the sleeve of his shirt. If it had been a contest, he'd likely have smiled and given her the point. This was no contest. He narrowed his eyes and took aim at her again. He meant to run her through.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eyes. Mort was on his feet and looking to go around them, his gaze fixed on Henrik Matah's pistol on the ground. "Keep clear," she said. "He can stick you before you'd straighten up."

"Try to maneuver him away."

The antagonist stormed forward again, sword quivering in the air before her. She flexed her wrist, her rapier sending his wide to the right. If he'd not been wearing that cuirass she could have plunged her blade into his chest. She began to sweat. How was she going to finish this?

"Easy for you to say, Mort. All I can do is back up and hope he follows."

The antagonist laughed and charged her. She parried and dodged behind a tree trunk. He took three steps after Mort, who ran for his life.

Gisel sprang out at the stranger. She tried for his thigh, half turned toward her. He slashed downwards with his sword, almost knocking hers from her grasp. She sprang clear. No more bullshit, Gisel. Keep to the training you know.

She invited him to attack again. He performed his usual lunge that she easily brushed aside. He didn't have any finesse. Guess he relied on strength, and his opponent's fear.

Was she afraid? Too busy – concentrating on the movement of her blade. The Aikido training took control and she became no more than the rapier's servant. She attacked his face but he ducked beneath her point. She darted back and he followed. One more of those and he'd be too far away to guard her father's pistol. Mort was looking around a tree, gauging his chance. She could see Alan, sitting on the fallen man's chest and watching the fight warily.

The antagonist lunged at her again. This was getting monotonous, she parried with a textbook move. She backed up but he didn't follow. He glanced around. Oh shit! Her father was stirring, beginning to regain consciousness.

Mort darted to a closer tree.

The antagonist looked from Mort, to her, and then to Henrik Matah, sitting up and shaking his head. He flicked his rapier point in the air and took two long strides toward Henrik. He'd guessed what Mort was after.

Gisel dashed forward, getting between the man and her father. She leveled her rapier and advanced at the attack. He smashed her blade aside and lunged.

Gisel changed stance to parry and then moved straight into a riposte. She had no room to break ground without leaving her father vulnerable. She avoided her opponent's parry and followed his sword with her point. Another inch, maybe two . . . she leaned forward. Right off balance now, she was dead if this didn't succeed.

Her point slid past his quillions and guard, disappearing into his shirt sleeve. She felt it hit and put her weight behind it.

He screamed. His sword fell from his hand. Scarlet blood spurted, turning the sleeve red. She jumped forward, placing a foot on his rapier. "Yield!"

He didn't have to understand her language. His sword hand fell to his side, the other grasping it. His face turned ashen white.

Mort sprang forward to Henrik Matah, who still stared dazed at the fight in front of him. He grabbed the fallen pistol just as M'Tov and one of his guards rushed forward to grab the man by his arms.

"Nice work, Gisel. You distracted him nicely."

"Distracted, my ass! He's mine – I beat him square."

M'Tov stared at her a moment before his glare softened. "Yes. I guess you did." He tossed a combat lifesaver pack to her. "How about patching him up before he bleeds to death?"