"A warrior thinks of death when things become unclear. The idea of death is the only thing that tempers our spirit."

- Carlos Castaneda

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May 17, 2361 AIA

P48

What do you do with an old warrior?

Alix Reyer caught her mind pondering over the question again as she finished washing her hands. It bothered her because there didn't seem to be any good answers.

She leaned away from the sink, her stomach tense against the shot of pain that rolled from her back, up to her neck, and down her leg. She grabbed the towel and dried her hands. When she was done, she limped away from the sink toward the window.

The curtains had been pulled back so that the weak light of spring could come through. She unlocked the window and opened it a crack, then leaned her head against the wall so she could feel the cold air on her face. It pulled at her hair, making the tips brush against her neck.

Several times, in the long evenings, she had given in to temptation and actually tried to research the question, but the old philosophical texts had surprisingly little to say on the matter. The samurai code recommended killing yourself if you no longer had a master to serve, but most of the time Reyer felt that was excessive. What she wanted to know was how you were supposed to live as an old warrior.

Apparently, not many warriors lived long enough to get old, let alone write a book about it.

She had once or twice thought about writing the book herself, but the whole point was she wanted to know how to live well, and she felt certain she was doing a pretty shitty job of it.

She wasn't old.

She felt old.

She wasn't a warrior.

But she had been once.

Maybe she felt old because of her heart. It was nothing other people didn't have to put up with, but it never mended. You simply made do with something broken. Its beating was a little off. You got used to that too.

What did you do with an old warrior? With something broken? With someone whose life had been fighting, who could no longer fight?

What did you do when you were that old warrior, and there was nothing left to keep you from listening to that damn voice in your head—the one you were so irritated to find out actually belonged to you?

She hissed through her teeth and crammed the voice back into the recess of her mind where she was sure it belonged.

And stay there!

She pointed a warning finger at some incorporeal, invisible thing that had to stand in for herself and scowled to show she meant it.

Alix Reyer laughed, imagining what she must look like, then pushed herself away from the wall. Another stab of pain told her she'd been incautious. She adjusted her gait for a step or two.

She'd survive another day. It wasn't a good answer, but maybe it was the only answer. She was good at surviving. It was an old habit she'd picked up back in the days when she fought day in and day out. Some habits are harder to break than others—especially the ones that keep you alive.

Which is probably why she saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye when other people would have missed it. She stopped moving and sat down on her bed to wait.

Ten minutes later, a small black plate rose slowly over the edge of the window. She could see the tiny lens of the camera twitching in and out as it focused on her face.

"I see you."

The spy drone jerked back as if startled. It dropped briefly out of sight as its four rotor-arms went from humming beneath it to humming over it. It flew away.

Reyer went over to her desk and pulled the top drawer. She scattered the papers and pen on the otherwise empty surface and yanked out the false bottom. She took out the messenger and stared at it for a long time without moving. Then she glanced out the window again.

At last she clicked down on the record button.

"14183962. Planet 48. They've found me. This will be my last—" She felt a nearly silent huff of laughter escape from her chest. "This will be my only message. Good luck."

She went outside and knelt on the ground, wincing as she did so. She put the messenger down and started the auto-send sequence. After the input was accepted, she stood away. The beam was brief but blinding.

Reyer wasted a moment indulging a nervous hope that no one was watching. Then she remembered that, even if they were, it wouldn't matter. She had six days. A little over a week at most, but it would be foolish to be too optimistic.

"I have to destroy the other messengers," she muttered.

She looked around. The yellow sun had finished rising over the far valley floor. Its light had changed into the shock of white that illuminated everything.

Then some tea, she thought. Then I had best get on with my day.

She walked back to her home.

[https://i.imgur.com/6iM8gcI.png]

"You'll do this for me?"

"Of course, General."

"Don't file a mission log. Just go. And go now."

"I will."

"You have my message?"

He looked down at the figure in his hand. "It's not much of a message."

"It'll be enough."

[https://i.imgur.com/6iM8gcI.png]

Five days later there was a knock at the door.

Reyer set her last dish aside on the draining rack and went to answer it. Through the open door, she looked out at the crowd.

Five heavily armed peacekeepers and three robots. There was a a smile at the edge of her lips. Now that was respect. The sixth man was a old military officer. She eyed him, trying to gauge if he'd be any good with a weapon. She doubted it.

"Good evening," he said. "Sergeant Reyer?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Alix let her hand drop from the doorknob. "I didn't realize you boys were on planet. I thought I had a more time."

"We couldn't afford to let you get away."

"Oh?"

"We've been looking for you for a long time."

Reyer was careful to keep her face still. "Running wasn't really an option."

The major smiled. "I'm very glad to hear that. Will you come with us peacefully?"

"Why were you looking for me?"

This time it was the officer who melted his face into a perfectly blank expression. "We want you alive, but there is a warrant out for your death. If you come with me now, with no struggle, I can save you."

"Save me? You're going to save me from the Supremacy? Do they know they're harboring a traitor, or do you just wear that uniform because you look so good in it?"

"I'm one of the few men who think you're more useful with your head still attached to your body, but please don't press the issue, or I'll have to reconcile myself to the other option if you should refuse my offer. Now, will you come? Peacefully?"

Alix Reyer smiled. "You obviously know who I am. What do you think?"

The older man sighed.

Reyer walked back into her house. It was modest, so the table where she ate her meals and did her work was still well within sight of the open door. She picked up the large tactical knife that had been there since the morning she'd spotted the spy drone.

As she secured the scabbard to her belt, she heard the officer say, "Is that all you have for a weapon?"

"It's not a weapon," she called out. "It's a hunting tool, which is the only reason I was allowed to keep it. Your boys came through when they took over this planet and searched the whole place—quite thoroughly, I might add."

"Yes, we've had to get better at preventing rebellions."

Alix smiled again. "I'll bet you have."

"I'm surprised they didn't flag you then."

She shrugged. "I didn't have anything."

"Nothing?"

"I thought a small armament might give me away. I brought nothing with me when I came here."

"You've lived here for that long with nothing but a knife? That must have made you feel vulnerable."

Reyer felt her stomach twist. "No. Not that. I'm used to working with almost nothing."

"That's not what I understood from your dossier."

"Well, what's memorable for you guys isn't the same as what's memorable for me." Reyer looked around her home, drinking it in. Her face was touched with subtle emotion. An observant person would have seen that, but the nervous group of soldiers, whose fingers were twitching around the triggers of their XM4s, only registered the grim resolve. "Enough chat, I think. Aren't you going to come in and take me by force?"

"I really would prefer it if you would come out here and surrender."

Alix Reyer laughed. "You know?"

"About the force field? Yes. It was a very thorough dossier, and I read it very, very carefully."

The woman shrugged, still smiling. "It's your move, Major."

The major stepped back and motioned for one of the bots to come forward. It loomed over him, staring down with its telescopic eyes while it took his order.

"Sir," it droned in an unmodified factory voice.

The force field would have torn a man apart. If any bones had been left, they would have been as pock-marked and hollow as the volcanic rock that littered the planet. It tore off most of the robot's arm cover and blasted all the wires with a furious rain of sparks, but the bot was so quick, and the titanium was tough enough, its fist still had enough power to crash through the wood and destroy the generator hidden below.

Reyer threw a homemade grenade in their midst. The soldiers scattered. Two dodged to the side. The major and his three other men jumped into the house.

The two bots at the back were only basic models. They hadn't received an order, and the one tick of time wasn't enough for their processors to make a decision. The emp bomb blew their systems completely.

Only two. One left. Maybe I took out a gun if I'm lucky. Reyer breathed as silently as she could. She was tucked behind a wall, listening for movement.

"Get up!" she heard the major yell. "It was only an emp. It was probably all she could make. She's mostly unarmed. I want you to take her alive!"

Reyer's back spasmed. Not now. If there's a god, not now!

There was strange noise—something between a gasp and a gurgle—then a crash.

"Who are you?" That was the major.

Reyer's eyes flew open. There was someone else? Who?

No, she told herself. A distraction.

She came out from her hiding place and grabbed one of the soldiers around his neck. She dragged him down onto her knife as they both collapsed to the floor.

The next closest soldier fired at her. Each blast was taken by the body of his comrade.

Reyer reached around the now limp form, struggling to get to the trigger. The soldier's finger was still over it. She pushed down on his hand and scattered a dozen blasts. The other soldier took one to the face.

A robotic arm reached down and crushed the gun, then grabbed the corpse she was using as a shield and threw it to the corner of the room.

"I'm to take you alive if possible. If you struggle, I will kill you."

They'd never been able to get the voice right. They never would. Its tones were unaffected and mechanical.

"You'll try," Reyer hissed.

Someone yelled the word "no" as the bot leaned down, using its one good arm to grab her by the shoulder. She took a hold of the bot's chest plate with her left hand, pulling herself close to it. Effortlessly, it straightened, bringing them both upright. Reyer yelled. She couldn't help it. The pain was so intense her vision faded for a moment. Just as her sight was returning, she finished pulling her arm around and drove the six-inch blade into the robot's skull. There was the hideous noise of metal scraping through metal.

She knew she only had one chance. You didn't get a second blow with a bot. She yanked her knife free.

The robot's hand went slack, and its arm dropped

Reyer hit the floor, her hip twisting in the worst possible way. She couldn't breathe for the agony. When she opened her eyes again, another soldier was walking toward her. He didn't look like he was going to try to take her alive.

She braced herself and kicked out—one leg at his knees, one leg at his ankles. A shot ripped across her arm as he fell. She managed to kick away his XM4 before her body gave up. Her legs were sprawled, inert.

I can move, she yelled in the confines of her head. Her hand obediently, if weakly, gripped and regripped the handle of her knife.

The soldier was sitting up. He'd have at least a machete—more likely a small sidearm.

Footsteps. A man came into her field of vision. No uniform. A blast of light.

The soldier she had kicked to the ground lay motionless.

"Are you all right?" The man reached down to Reyer.

She grabbed the proffered arm and yanked him to the floor. Before he could react, she had rolled over. He wasn't pinned, but her arm was across the top of his chest. The knife was at his throat.

After a quiet moment, he whispered, "I'm here to help you."

"Yeah. Right. Did you get everyone else?"

"The officer fled."

"Interesting." She pushed the blade into his neck, twisting it as she did so. "Who are you?"

"My name is Adan Vas."

"Who sent you?"

"Who sent—" The indignant tone dropped away with the rest of the question. She had pushed the knife against his throat again. He swallowed. His Adam's apple moved under the blade's tip. "You're bleeding pretty bad." He used his eyes to indicate the arm across his chest.

"You can worry about your jacket later. Answer the question."

"I wasn't worried about my jacket." There was a pause. "I was sent by the Rising."

The knife moved a short way off. "Why should I trust you?"

He raised his head and shoulders. "I just saved your life!"

She used her injured arm to slam him back onto the floor. When he looked up at her face, she was smiling with her teeth bared. "A hero, huh? Guess what, Adan Vas—you only helped save my life. And I hope you don't think that'll be enough to earn my faith."

From the strained lull, one could guess he might have thought it would be enough, but he was now forced to rethink.

"Look," he said in what he hoped was a tone that would put her at ease, "I'm going to reach into my pocket—slowly. I have something to show you. I would really prefer it if you didn't kill me."

She didn't look at ease, and she didn't reply. On the other hand, she didn't push the knife back into his neck either. He moved his arms around her with studied care, pulling aside his jacket and reaching over her to get to his inner pocket. Her eyes never left his face until he pulled the object out. Then she closed them, her face resigned.

It was then he realized why she hadn't backed up to watch him retrieve it. She probably couldn't move. He was about to assure her that he wasn't going to hurt her, but he thought better of it. Instead, he moved his arm back around in the same measured manner until the object was beside their faces so she could see what it was.

It was a chess piece—a knight carved by a small, straight blade. It had been painted white, but the paint was wearing away at the edges, showing the pale wood beneath. Alix put the knife down by his head and reached out with an unsteady hand. Her fingers closed over it.

Her bloody arm left a trail of three marks down his shirt and jacket with each halting attempt to get upright. Only when she was completely settled back on her heels did Adan sit up.

She was still staring at the knight when he spoke. "My ship isn't far from here, but we have to get moving."

"You came to rescue me?"

Adan nodded.

"Waste of resources."

It took Vas a second to get over his surprise. "The general didn't think so." He handed Reyer her knife. "I'm sorry I was almost too late. I thought there would be more time."

As she tucked the knife into her sheath, she said, "I wouldn't have told them anything. I hope the Rising would trust me at least that much."

"The general wants you alive."

Reyer grit her teeth. "Not the best way to put that, Vas."

"No. I'm sorry. It probably wasn't." Adan got to his feet. "We have to get out of here. We may have enough time for you to pack a bag before more of them show up."

Reyer laughed, but it was quiet and breathy. "You don't have that much time."

Adan saw her legs straining, but she didn't seem to be able to rise. He put his arm out again. This time she took it and hauled herself to her feet. Her face was a mask of pain.

"We don't have that much time," he said. "It's 'we.' I'm here to bring you back."

"Well, Vas, we have only about five minutes to get clear of this building before the natural gas bomb I rigged blows us to hell. It was triggered when the bot crushed the field generator."

He stared at her.

"More will be coming. And I wasn't going to tell them anything."