Free My Life: An Ex-Quarterback's Adventures in the Galactic Empire by Colin Alexander

converted him into beef stew without a second thought. I wasn’t Angel, however, and despite the situation, I could not blithely knife an unarmed man (or Srihani). Unfortunately, my hesitation was read by someone in the crowd as an invitation to make it an even fight. While I dithered with my conscience, another dushuku was thrown to Kolgorinn. The crowd roared its approval. With blades out, they were assured that blood would be shed. I wasn’t nearly so happy.
    Angel had meant well, but he had really put me at a disadvantage. Hand to hand, I had enough training to have some chance, albeit a slim one. I had no practice at all in using a knife.
    Kolgorinn slashed back and forth twice at my face, to which I responded by backing up and using my blade to make him keep a respectable distance. Running away wasn’t going to work for the long term, however. After his next swipe went past my nose, I decided to try one of my own. I stepped in and struck out with a backhand slash at his head. It never got close. Kolgorinn blocked it with his knife arm and, at the blow, I couldn’t hold the dushuku. It was gone. I was almost gone too a split second later as he thrust straight at my head. Only a quick duck saved me. It left me unarmed though, and I saw in Kolgorinn none of the hesitation I had displayed earlier. With a broad grin, he changed his grip to hold the dushuku like a dagger and raised it over his head to deliver a blow.
    There is a fancy way to block that kind of attack. You step in with your right foot while bringing your right arm up to guard your head. As the crossed forearms crack together, his coming down and yours going up, you step to his side, pivoting ninety degrees. That allows your left arm to come up under, and inside, of his arm and grab his wrist to pull the knife down. It’s a showy move and my instructors had always told me that moves like that were fine for tournaments and movies, but not for the street.
    What can I say? We were on a starship anyway, not a street. All I know is that I saw his arm start down and I moved. The block and spin were perfect. I caught the inside of his wrist and yanked down. It needed almost no effort. It hadn’t registered on him that I was no longer in front of him; he was still trying to drive the dushuku through my block. Mostly by his own effort, but its path altered by my grip, the blade arced down and buried itself in his lower abdomen. By reflex, he recoiled, far too strongly for me to keep hold of him. He had never let go of the dushuku, however, and as he pulled back, the barbed spines converted a deep stab wound into a partial disembowelment. Blood flew everywhere, splattering the floor and some of the bystanders. Kolgorinn looked at the blade with disbelief. Then he toppled forward onto it.
    I was just starting to feel sick, when a shout cut through the buzz of the surrounding crew.
    “All right! Neither one of you moves!”
    I looked in the direction of the shout, and found the executive officer, Gerangi, standing with a drawn blaster. That was odd, I thought, since I was certain that he’d been among those watching from the beginning. It was also unnecessary to order Kolgorinn not to move. He was quite dead when they turned him over, the dushuku driven deep into his chest.
    “Hvath, notify the Captain,” Gerangi ordered. “You there,” he indicated a group of watchers, “see that this mess is cleaned up. You,” and now the blaster was dead center on my chest, “are under arrest. Come with me.”
    My mind was a blur as I walked through the corridors ahead of Gerangi’s weapon. Why hadn’t he intervened earlier? Why had he said nothing about Angel or the one who had tossed Kolgorinn the other dushuku? There was no ready answer to either question. When we reached the central corridor leading to the bridge, he gestured me into a small compartment and locked the door behind me. I could only think that, having had their jollies, they were going to dump me out