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Remart shifted his shoulders. “You know, I don’t think I like your orders. And, you know, I think you could be shot down right now and we could tell everyone that the Thalassians ambushed you while you were bravely leading us on a recon of this area. I think I could even get elected to lead Bolt Squadron in your place.”

“That’s possible, but it won’t give you what you really want.” I tossed my blaster carbine down and the belt of powerpacks with it. “Even if I die here, even if you cover it with that story, everyone will remember two things. One: I was in the lead and two: they’ll remember I said you hit like a Chandra-Fan. You’ll never live that down unless …”

“Unless?”

I shook my hands out and waved him forward with my fingertips. “Try me. Beat me down with your fists. Of course, I don’t think you have the guts to do that, since I’m not harmless. Care to prove me wrong?”

Remart laughed aloud and tossed his carbine to his wingman. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this chance. You suckered me in the dark, Idanian. It’s a good day for bone breaking and blood spilling. You’re mine.”

His first punch came in high, a right hand hooking down toward his left. I stepped away from it easily, then leaned in, grabbed the back of his grey flightsuit and tossed him to the ground. He rolled on his shoulder and came up, spinning fast to face me, his arms ready to pick off any punch or kick I might be throwing at him.

I remained where I was and laughed. “I told you before, you get one free punch. You missed, so I’ll only count it as a half, how’s that?”

He approached me more carefully, keeping his feet solidly under him. He came in with his left fist forward, his right cocked to deliver a heavy punch. He led with a short jab from his left hand, but I merely had to lean my head away to avoid it. He stepped in to deliver the right, so I cut to my right and his punch sailed over my left shoulder. As I came around beneath his retracting left arm, I leaped up and caught him on the side of his face with an open-handed slap that twisted him around and dropped him to one knee.

He covered the red imprint on his cheek with his own hand, then spat on the ground. Remart rose slowly and set himself to continue the fight. “Is that your best, Idanian?”

“Just warming up.” As he set himself for my attack I saw the myriad of countermoves he ran through his mind. Unlike Tycho, Remart did not think in complicated lines. He evaluated and rejected attacks not based on what I could deliver, but on what he could best attack back from. He looked to defend himself against blows he hoped I would throw.

And apparently he never truly got the idea that I had no intention of making his dreams come true.

I snapped a kick out with my right foot that caught him on the left kneecap. It drove the knee back until it locked, but didn’t break it because I’d already begun to retract my foot. As he began to stumble back, my foot flicked out again, catching him squarely in the stomach. His eyes bulged and a strangled groan burst from his mouth as he fell and vomited.

“Hey, you do have guts!” I left him on the ground, walked over to the bag of jewelry and squatted beside it. The pieces in it looked very beautiful, both delicate and yet possessed of a sinewy strength that matched the Caamasi people. “You were willing to oppose Remart for these pieces. Why?”

The Caamasi looked from me to where Remart was slowly gathering himself to his feet, and back again. “These are heirlooms. Our families were destroyed on Caamas, and these are the physical memories we have of them.” He pointed to one particular piece, a necklace, with interlaced catlike figures, each with a tiny gold stone as an eye. “My daughter, she asked for that piece to be returned. Your man demanded something of her in exchange, and sought it when she refused.”

I tossed the piece to the Caamasi crouched next to her father, then stood and walked back toward where Remart was bent over holding his belly. I knew he was trying to sucker me in, so I feinted taking one more step forward and stopped.