The Mercenary Exchange

Robert – an athletic, dark-haired man of 28 – came to the Board, papers in hand, and lay them out on the old wooden table. He had swapped glances with the young soldier who'd left as he entered. Due to no fault of his own, Robert had tripped over a few steps and fallen a little behind, which made him about four years older than most of the mercenary recruits. A potential advantage in a man's world.

A bearded man took his papers. Only officers and semi-civilians were permitted to grow full beards; Robert could see he was the latter, a bureaucrat in green.

“Northern Africa: No experience,” the man said dryly. “Middle East: Ditto. Eastern Europe: Nope! That doesn't leave much to pin your application on?”

Instead of falling into the trap by blabbing out his dark secrets right away, Robert correctly guessed the question was rhetorical. He kept his tongue tied, and decided not to answer unless directly spoken to. The air in here was getting a little dense, with the two other men inside the room eying the situation.

“Your close combat training was almost five years ago,” the bureaucrat went on. “Any hand-to-hand combat experience since then?”

Robert was thinking hard. He had been fighting a lot, but whether the street fights and jail fights counted as “combat experience” was dubious at best. These Mercenary Troops had a “don't ask, don't tell policy.” If he talked about jail, that could end this interview. If he stayed silent, they might ignore his criminal record.

“I've been practicing on a friend who is a Judo expert,” he finally said. “I'm quite good, and ready to prove it.”

“Very well. Give us 10 minutes,” the bearded man said.

Exactly 10 minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door. In came a tall, lean man who was obviously from Asia: China, Korea, or some such place. He was dressed in a "jūdōgi," a Judo uniform.

"Kim, do step in here, then bring this gentleman to the gym," one of the officers said. "Get him properly outfitted. May the best man win. When done, come back here to report to us how it went, will you?"

The Judo fighter bowed lightly, then escorted Robert out of the room. None of them spoke as they walked down the hallway. It was amazing, Robert thought, how a feeling of kinship with this stranger was building - merely from exchanging a few stolen glances and from walking side by side. Robert could hear sounds from the gyms; it sounded like young guys were having fun playing ball games, and there were the random sounds from whistles. After a few minutes of quick walking, Kim pointed to the right, and they entered a locker room. There was nobody else around.

"Here, let me get you a clean outfit," Kim said, as he went to unlock a cabinet, then pulled out a brand new jūdōgi. It was still inside its original sealed wrapping.

"I'll be waiting for you in there," Kim pointed to a gym.

"Thanks man," Robert said, feeling grateful for the opportunity.

Soon, the two men were warming up with conventional kicks into the air, stretching exercises, some shadow boxing, and whatever else they felt like. Robert felt his temperature rising fast, but also started feeling more than a little bit anxious about fighting Kim. The guy was clearly in terrific shape, his kicks and arm movements were lightning fast; not that it caused the guy to even break a sweat.

In the tradition of Judo fighters, they bowed at each other, and the fight began in earnest. Kim landed a numbing blow to Robert's left arm, just beneath the shoulder. He responded by turning his body sideways, as he kicked Kim squarely in the chest. Kim smiled, the kick had come from too far away to have any real impact. With Robert still reeling from the kick to his arm, Kim sent him a rapid-fire series of blows, which both of his hands distributed across Robert's upper chest area and on the sides of his neck. Robert, trying to take evasive action, also managed to kick Kim a few times on the thighs, but again the impact was minimal. Somehow, this terrific fighter always seemed to be a bit behind where he ought to be, so the kicks landed much softer than intended.

Robert went to the floor, where Kim soon had him in a tight stranglehold, leaving Robert with the unattractive choice between excruciating pain or pounding the mat. Then he remembered a trick one of the fellows had taught him in jail: "When in trouble, concede defeat, then get the guy as he relaxes in triumph!"

Robert pounded the mat repeatedly with his right fist, the official sign of surrender, and Kim immediately let go of the painful grip. "Not bad!" Kim said. "A few pounds lighter, you'll be a man to reckon with."

Kim smiled with kindness, padded him lightly on the shoulder, and turned around. At that moment, Robert came at him full force, using all of his power to squeeze the guy's neck in a suffocating stranglehold. Kim gasped for air, his eyes turning all white as he looked up into the sharp ceiling lights without really seeing anything.

Robert took a shower, slowly dried himself with a large towel, and put on his regular clothes. Then he went back to the interview room.

"Oh, yes, do come in!" the bearded man said, seeming much more friendly than before.

"I'm sorry," Robert said. "Kim... he.... didn't make it. I didn't intend to kill, but he was like a wild animal, and I had to defend myself. As all good mercenaries do."

The two officers looked at him with contempt, whereas the bearded man was smiling.

"We've watched the action on close circuit television the whole time, so there's really no point in lying," he admonished. "You are a murderer. Go home and pack your things, you'll be off to Northern Africa. Report back here within 24 hours, and off you go."