Rayne

  Rayne didn’t like to run from a fight, but it was sometimes a necessity. She’d found the best tactic when being pursued was a stop and go approach. Run until they got complacent, turn on them in quick, vicious strikes, and then run again. Repeat the process until they were all dead or gave up the chase. In any case, the pursuit tended to slow to a crawl after that as it had now. She’d turned on her pursuers three times already and they were now less eager to catch their target. Each time, she had waited in ambush around a corner or side door and delivered a series of surprise attacks that left them beaten and bloody. Stun batons apparently had only so much life and her heavy use of the items had depleted their power cells. Even so, she still used them to devastating effect. Nearly the entire security force was bruised, bleeding, or limping, but they were still angry and not yet willing to admit defeat. They limped down the hall in pursuit, carefully edging around each corner as they approached.

  The corridors became more crowded as she moved. Sailors, technicians and the occasional marine bustled down the halls as they hurried to complete their various tasks. Rayne dodged in and out of their midst, leaving behind barely a whisper that she had been there. Many were so intent on data pads or technical conversations; they didn’t even note her passing. The security force trailing her was a different matter. They left a wake of destruction in their path as they knocked inattentive walkers to the side. Those that saw them coming ducked into doorways or plastered themselves against the bulkhead.

  Rayne ran past a long line of personnel queued up in the hallway and into a large room. There were tables arranged in long rows and people conversed and laughed as they ate. The cafeteria. Rayne was hungry and salivated at the sight of the food. The broth she’d eaten had been good, but hadn’t done any lasting damage against her hunger.

  She heard the sounds of pursuit getting closer and all heads started to turn toward the door where she had stopped. Rayne switched both batons to one hand and fast walked toward the other side of the room, trying to keep them hidden in the folds of her gown. She hoped no one would pay her much attention, but who was she kidding, really? Being completely bald, barefoot and wearing a med tech gown, it wasn’t likely she’d escape attention, even without skin that flashed like obsidian. The heads that had swiveled toward the doors at the earlier sound of pursuit now turned back to Rayne, and then back to the door as the ragged security team burst through the doors to a skidding halt. The lead guard pointed his baton at Rayne and yelled.

  “Fan out and take her down.” All heads swung back to Rayne noting her young age, bald head, bare feet, and medical gown, and then back at the security team that looked like they’d lost a fight with a bunch of drunken marines.

  Rayne took a moment to assess her options as she scanned the room. Was that chocolate cake they were serving? Focus, she told herself. Now wasn’t the time, but she took another longing look before tearing her attention back to the problem at hand. She could keep running as she had or stand and fight. She hated running, she really did, and decided she had done just about enough of it for one day. Although outnumbered, the security team was dividing itself in a misguided attempt to corner her as they fanned out through the large room. There were about a hundred or so diners in the cafeteria. Fortunately, none looked eager to join in the chase or play the hero. Security was universally disliked on the station and they’d get no help from the spectators. They all looked on in interest to see what was going on, many with concern that the security team would hurt the poor young girl.

  Rayne picked up a fist-sized fruit off someone’s plate and hurled it with incredible force at the lead security man across the room. Before he could duck, it exploded in his face with a shower of juicy pulp and he fell to the ground, unconscious. A chorus of cheers and laughter rose from the spectators like fan’s at a soccer match. New entertainment could be hard to come by on a space station and this was shaping up to be a good show.

  Rayne’s best chance was to keep moving and not let the security team use their larger force to overwhelm her. She moved quickly at the two closing on her right, scooping up another piece of fruit as she went. When she got just close enough, she hurled it at the one in the lead. Having seen his leader go down from the same fruit attack he ducked to the side. The fruit missed him, but the baton that smashed across his face did not. Blood spurted from what looked like an already broken nose. The second guard moved in low with a strike intended for her legs. Rayne spun over the top of the swing and brought her own baton down on his wrist in a back hand swing. An audible “crack” sounded throughout the room as he fell to the floor screaming and a collective, “oooooh” sounded from the audience.

  Rayne kept moving to her right, charging a single security guard standing in the isle. He met the charge with feet planted wide and his baton raised to the ready. She raised her baton high over her head as if to swing an overhand strike, but then at the last second slid feet first along the smooth floor, and connected a hard heel to his privates 1st and 2nd class. Her momentum carried her onward as her locked leg lifted him several inches to finally topple face first on the ground. The audience of mostly men moaned in mock sympathy.

  The next guard was almost on top of her before she had time to react. She blocked the strike intended for her head, stepped from his path and let his momentum carry him past. Having dropped one of her batons in the process she grabbed a metal meal tray from one of the diners and smacked it across the man’s temple with all her strength as he turned back for another swing. The loud metal clang echoed through the room and the crowd cheered.

  Rayne heard the attack coming from behind and dove to the side. When she looked up, she found one of the security guards skidding toward her face down, sliding to a halt at her feet. She looked up in confusion at the diners still seated at their tables. They all smiled and one in particular shrugged his shoulders and pulled his foot back under the table.

  Rayne stood, grabbed her baton and cracked the security guard on the back of the head before he had a chance to fully rise. She looked around and noted the remaining few security team members were not willing to press the fight without the advantage of numbers. Rayne glanced down at one of the diners, a middle aged sailor with grease stains on his fingers. She indicated his plate of food and asked simply.

  “Please?”

  He smiled in returned.

  “All yours darlin’. Thanks for the show.”

  She picked up the tray and walked out eating a piece of chocolate cake to the sounds of applause.

  ***

  Rayne was in heaven. The cake tasted absolutely amazing and was gone before she even reached the doorway. She scooped the remaining fruits, vegetables and pasta to her mouth with her hand while keeping a wary eye on those she passed in the hall. Everyone turned to look as she passed now. Word had spread almost before she’d left the cafeteria about the little black, bald girl who’d taken out the entire security team. There were a few nods and smiles mixed with wary glances, but no one spoke or tried to stop her.

  She finished the food and looked around for a place to put the tray. Not finding anywhere convenient, she set it on the ground and walked away licking her fingers clean. Her mother had always scolded her for doing that at the dinner table. It was a fond memory. She and her mother often ate alone. As captain of the ship, her father was busy and missed a lot of family meals. Her mother had been trying to teach her the finer points of etiquette, but Rayne had been resistant as teenagers often were and hadn’t made much of an effort.

  Rayne stopped when she heard laughter from further on down the corridor. It stopped and was followed by low voices and then more laughter. She approached cautiously, trying to snatches pieces of conversation as she got closer.

  “..it took both of you?" a male voice asked.

  Rayne stepped aside to let two crew members discussing technical specs for the fission drive walk past. They were so intent on their discussion
they didn’t give her any notice. She reached the outer door and paused.

  "You've never seen someone hit as fast and hard…,” a woman’s voice spoke.

  A group of sailors walked out laughing. They were talking about the fight in the cafeteria and taking great enjoyment at the security team’s misfortunes. They didn’t see Rayne standing at the door and kept walking down the hall as one of their number continued animatedly with the story. Rayne turned back to the door. She instinctively tried to amplify the sound coming to her ears, but received nothing but static in return. She frowned in frustration, straining to hear the continuing conversation.

  “Last time I saw him he was curled up on a gurney, throwing up in a bucket." There was more laughing from the unseen group. She liked the sound. Besides being scolded for licking her fingers at the dinner table, she remembered her mother’s laugh. She always seemed to find the humor in things, and her laugh and positive attitude were infectious. Even her father had no choice but to crack a smile despite his best efforts to stay serious. A serious man with a serious job, her father. Mother balanced him out with her humor.

  Rayne heard shouting and running feet behind her. She sighed and turned. The security team seemed to have added to their numbers, she noted, as well as replacing some of the broken ones. There were about twenty now and they all looked very angry and very determined.

  The corridor Rayne stood in was wide and spacious. It was one of the main thoroughfares through the station and received a lot of traffic. While there was plenty of room to fight, there were enough of them now that she needed to find some other place that gave her the advantage. The door next to her provided just such a place, bottlenecking them as they attempted to get through. Instead of fighting all twenty at once, she would only have to fight one, maybe two. Rayne backed through the doorway and into the room about two meters. The batons came up and she readied herself for the fight.

  ***

  “Is that the girl you been talking about?” Davis asked. He watched the black little bald, teenage girl back into the room wearing a white med tech gown and holding two stun batons at the ready. “Is she supposed be that color?” The squad turned and looked curiously.

  “The doc said it was from the bio gel in the T80. What’s she up to?” Mike asked.

  “Whatever it is, it looks like business.” Lena replied.

  “Jutht keep her away from my nothe.” Jackson complained.

  “Would you quit whining already? We should let her beat you up again just on principle.” Lena snarked.

  “She looks kind of cute from this side, even with the bald head.” Taft commented as he twisted around in his chair. “You think she’ll go out with me?” Everyone laughed again.

  The girl tensed as the shouting came closer and they saw two security guards round the corner and into the doorway. She didn’t even let them take a step before she was on them. A flurry of movement left two men on the ground unconscious and bleeding. Two more took their place as more massed behind them trying to push their way behind their fellows. The girl moved with a speed that was hard to follow as she struck at knees, wrists and elbows. The sounds of cracking bones and dropped batons sounded through the room as she landed vicious blow after vicious blow.

  “Damn, Sarge,” said Davis with raised eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  Despite the tactical advantage, the girl gave way under the superior numbers as more bodies forced their way past downed comrades and into the rec room. She disengaged and gave herself some space, and appeared to be looking for an escape route.

  Mike looked on and came to a quick decision. While it had been embarrassing to be beaten so soundly by the girl, he wasn’t about to let her go it alone against security. She’d stood her ground to save his downed marines after all. The shot to the privates had probably evened the score, but he still felt obligated to return the favor. Besides, security were dicks anyway and needed a good beating.

  “Guys. I’m thinking big men shouldn’t pick on little girls with sticks.” Mike said. “Let’s teach’em some manners.” Those not already standing got up and moved forward as one. They walked forward in a line and took positions on either side of the girl, who was tense and on the verge of launching herself into the fight. She was startled for a moment and looked on the verge of fighting them off, but then saw they were taking up positions to defend her. She relaxed back into her defensive stance and stood facing the security team with the marines waiting for the others to make the first move.

  A large corporal stepped forward and pointed his big hammy finger at the girl and then the marines.

  “You are to come with us. The rest of you disperse. Now!”

  “Kiss off, Collins.” Mike replied. “This girl here is a friend of ours and she ain’t going anywhere.” Mike was familiar with most of the security supervisors. During leave time he became acquainted with them out of necessity, as he picked up his marines from the brig after a night of fun and fighting. Corporal Collins was as big an idiot as the rest of them, making him wonder if it was a job requirement.

  Corporal Collins turned redder than he already was and shouted.

  “I said, stand down, marines! This is a security matter and this girl is to be taken to the psych ward in our custody.”

  “Security doesn’t give marines orders, Collins. I do, and I say you’re not getting her without a fight.” Mike crossed his arms as nine other marines stood ready.

  Corporal Collins looked at the unarmed marines and smiled. “Alright, guys. Jar Head says he wants a fight. Let’s give it to him.” He began to step forward.

  “I don’t think you will, corporal.” All heads turned as Captain Gault stepped into the room. He had followed the path of destruction left by Rayne and the security team through the station. He’d caught glimpses of them here and there as they ran through the corridors, as well as the med techs treating injured guards at irregular intervals. He still had his book in his hands, held behind his back as he walked in no particular hurry to catch up to the chase. He had caught the tail end of the performance in the cafeteria. That had certainly been eye opening. Then he had followed Rayne at a discrete distance as she walked and ate her meal, waiting to see what she would do next. He eventually hoped to continue their earlier, interrupted conversation, but wanted to make sure it was safe to do so first. Kind of like dealing with his ex, he mused.

  He walked slowly between the guards and then turned to face the corporal. Captain Gault had been a sailor for most of his life. As such, he had no love for security. As captain, he recognized their necessity. Marines and sailors often needed a heavy hand to maintain order and discipline, but he wasn’t overly fond of the way they went about it. He was certainly not impressed with their attempts to corner the young lady standing behind him using stun batons and violence. His brief contact with her had hinted at her troubled psyche and the performance in the cafeteria had demonstrated the danger of not dealing with her carefully. Oh, she was dangerous, that much was obvious, but thick-headed linear thinkers like the security guards had made a delicate situation worse and the whole thing had spun out of control.

  After seeing his marines step forward to protect the girl, he had felt not just a sense of pride at their chivalrous conduct, but had also seen an opportunity to take control and establish order. He had noted the young girl had not turned and attacked the marines and so took the chance in assuming she had accepted their presence and help. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, he thought as he looked up at the hulking corporal. Was that an old Arabic quote or Chinese? He couldn’t remember.

  “Why don’t you explain yourself…because I haven’t been impressed with what I’ve seen so far?” The captain spoke in a low calm voice. The marines knew from experience not to mess with the captain-under any circumstances. The corporal had no such experience, but intuition seemed to serve him well as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself
and explain.

  “That young woman is an escapee from med tech and has been ordered to report for psych testing.” He pointed over the captain’s shoulder at Rayne. “So far, she’s injured her entire med tech team, half the security detail, as well as three of your own marines.”

  Captain Gault half turned and took a side long glance at Mike, Jackson, and Lena, noting the fresh bruising, split lip, and broken nose.

  “You know this girl, Sgt. Weber?”

  Mike stepped forward and spoke just quietly enough for the captain to hear. Captain Gault’s eye brows went up as he listened to the sergeant’s brief report. He turned back to the corporal.

  “Until determined otherwise, this young lady is part of my crew and under my authority.” The corporal moved to speak but the captain cut him off. “This is not a debate, corporal. I will be personally escorting her to my ship under the care of these marines. You will not interfere. Have your supervisor, as well as the head doctor, contact me and we’ll work out any details for their psych test. Understood?”

  Corporal Collins took a moment to assess his options. The wheels turned slowly as he thought, until he finally turned on his heel and took his security team with him, some of them limping and holding broken limbs as they went. The captain watched them go and then turned to the girl as the marines stood by expectantly, not sure what would happen next.

  Rayne was peering around the captain, double checking to see if the security guards had indeed left. Having seen them walk out the door, she relaxed and looked up at the captain. She blinked, but didn’t say a word as she held her batons loosely at her sides.

  “Hello again, Rayne,” said the captain softly, trying to smile kindly. “Will you come with me?” He didn’t offer his hand, but indicated the door and corridor beyond.

  Rayne stared at him for several moments as everyone tensely, waited her response. The captain reminded her of her father. Always so serious, but kind when he needed to be. Rayne decided she liked him.