The Starshine Connection Read Online Free Page A

drifted to personal combat; Slayton had been keeping it light. It would not do to
     introduce the subject of deathblows and viscera-splattering assassination techniques to this wide-eyed gaggle of innocents.
     But traditionally, braggart muscles were flexed in this sort of exchange—Slayton could feel it coming. The man rattled on,
     having stolen the attention of most of the group.
    “… and I felt cornered, I mean, what could I do, right? Well, he tried to grab me—I had Sylvia behind me, naturally—and I
     threw my arms up like
this!”
He jerked his forearms stiffly upward in a poor imitation of a karate stance he had most likely seen on television. “He hesitated,
     for just a split second, mind you, and I did
this
—” He shoved his clenched fist straight out ahead of him, like an off-target Nazi salute. “—and
bash!
He went down without a sound! I never thought that that practice would pay off, you know, you
never
ever do, but…”
    The girl with him, who was obviously not Sylvia, at any rate, cocked her head as if to say
what practice?
He shushed her before she could protest.
    Slayton did not have enough alcohol in him to rationalize showing the boy up for the fool he was, living in his little fantasy
     world. At the same time, nothing required him to endure such ego-balming fluff. It was clear that few believed the young man,
     and no one would challenge him. Slayton decided to stir up the soup a bit.
    “Pardon me, young man,” Slayton began with a puzzled expression, “but did you say that you struck out in this fashion?” Slayton
     imitated the boy’s crude blow. There was a total absence of leverage or any muscular angle that would lend the strike true
     stopping power—it was a clumsy angle designed strictly for show.
    “Yes,” the boy said, defiantly.
    “And you claim to have stopped a mugger with such a blow?”
    “Yes.”
    Slayton shook his head. “That’s quite astounding, for a man with no training.”
    The boy preened visibly. “Yes, well, you know, I was thinking of protecting Sylvia, after all.” He folded his arms, smiling,
     struggling to appear ten years older than he really was.
    Slayton’s pleasant smile was aimed directly at him as he continued. “No, no, 1 meant that it’s astounding because if you held
     that sort of blow straight out and waved it around, you couldn’t even stop a taxicab with it.”
    Suddenly it looked as though, like Dorian Gray, the boy’s face
did
age ten years, all at once. His eyes flared. He had been contradicted before his peers. Most of the group laughed. Slayton
     was still watching him, his expression unchanged, as though the others did not exist.
    Finally, stepping forward, he said, “Since I’ve now made you look like a fool in front of your friends, let me show you something.
     Don’t worry, none of them have ever been in a real fight either. Now—” He stepped within an arm’s length of the boy, who involuntarily
     recoiled, stepping back and nearly tripping over his own feet.
    “I propose that I am just such an attacker. Now, I want you to punch me in the face. Straight-arm, no mickey-mouse. And,”
     he said, turning to address the group as a whole, “I promise neither to hurt you, to deflect the blow… or to move out of the
     way.”
    Somebody in the rear rank of the group went
oh wow.
Anticipation coiled around them all. Slayton realized what the young man thought he was being offered—a chance to show up
     this fast-talking asshole in front of everyone.
    Slayton was the only person in the room who was totally relaxed.
    “You mean… just hit you in the face?” the boy said, with a serpent’s grin.
    “That’s right,” Slayton said. “Any time you’re ready.” He stuck his chin comically out, and the women laughed.
    But his eyes never left the boy’s. Slayton could see the punch he had in mind coming from weeks and miles away.
    The boy threw what he thought was a solid right cross, holding his fist too tight and