II

i've heard it told that the social structure of "dueling" is more ancient than ftl travel. it originated on terra hundreds of years before the thought of mechanical flight was even thought of. while the idea of honor and defending said honor with force is an extremely old concept, the manner in which it is performed and the tools that are involved have evolved greatly. lucky for me, in this case, i had the proper suit to wear to the party. after a few tours off planet with a mercenary company, i developed a healthy respect for the boy scout motto: "be prepared." you could say that i am now an armor enthusiast...call it a hobby. it seemed that this interest in toys was going to pay off because, judging by the look and fluid movements of the pretty boy from the bar's suit as he tested his systems, it was one of the best money could buy.

modern dueling (and warfare, for that matter) is done in "a.m. suits." a short description: an a.m. (anti-matter) suit is a kind of powered exo-skeleton. it is run by a small anti-matter power plant (thus the name) that functions like a battery that is only good for about two hundred years of constant use. the suit moves by reading the same electric pulses that agitate your muscles themselves, so a well-tuned suit will move much like a second skin...a second skin that can jump over twenty meters per kick and lift over eight hundred kilos. this is the standard. the sensor package and nasty little offensive goodies are unique to each unit. take mine, for example: my hud shows a mixture of light, heat signature and energy fluxuation in it's standard mode. the edges of my pov also warp so i have a 320* field of vision. i have a painting laser on my left wrist that will burn out sensors coupled with an emp (electro magnetic pulse) as an emergency secondary. my right arm houses a cyclic rifle that will throw around a thousand teardrop pieces of depleted uranium a minute at a fraction of the speed of light. shooting these babies is a lot like child’s play because to trigger them, i point with my first finger and pull an imaginary trigger with my second. "bang!" on my left shoulder, i sport a coilgun, that fires little steel disks that are sped down the barrel magnetically. the rate of fire on that particular toy allows me to walk it around like a saw (i've actually cut down trees a meter thick for fun) but it is greatly limited to ammunition stores. that is a fun one to trigger as well...it tracks as i look at something and fires when i stick out my tongue...that's right, the raspberry of death! there are a bunch of other little toys all over my suit, but these are my primary bits.

like i said, every suit has a different makeup. for the most part, mine sacrifices thick plating for speed and agility (and freakin rocket-man jump-jets!). looking across the field at smiling boy's armor, i could tell that a lot of my toys would only annoy him; and by the look of the rocket cluster and pulse cannon he sported on either shoulder, i was going to be in real trouble if he got me even once. best not let him.

"Are you prepared to defend your transgressions against my family's honor?" came the booming challenge from across the field. nice loud-speakers.

"I guess now's as good a time as any," i shot back as i did a final check on my stores, "unless, of course, you would like to reconsider and settle this with a game of checkers?"

"On the count of three, then," this guy, no sense of humor, "ONE...TWO..."

-continued