The Last Firewall Read Online Free PDF

twenties, stubble on his face, and a knife in his left hand, heavy leather jacket. He turned smoothly, lowered his stance, and balanced his weight. From the way he moved, he obviously had training, or at least experience fighting. He glanced at the man she’d put down and then stared, inspecting her.
    At her side she heard a scream of tortured metal again. One of the men holding the bot had let go and the bot twisted away. Heavyset and bearded, the man grabbed Cat from behind, his arms squeezing around her shoulders. She felt the scratch of his beard on her neck. With a practiced dip, she squatted a few inches, using her shorter height to her advantage, and raised her arms up. The move loosened his grip. She pivoted ninety degrees, and drew her qi in for a short double punch to his stomach. He doubled over, and she worked with the momentum of his upper body, bringing her arms down and her knee up, and felt the crunch of his face against her knee. He crumpled to his knees.
    The knife attacker came toward her, completely focused now. He wasted no energy on words or excess movements, although she saw him smile in anticipation. She tracked the knife, but kept her attention on his eyes.
    He jabbed twice toward her face, and the third time he came in toward her abdomen, broadcasting the move by glancing down. She pivoted smoothly to the right, moving in toward him, letting the knife pass by, her right hand grabbing his left wrist. But her grip was too loose, the leather jacket too big for her to get a solid grasp. She tried to work with his momentum and turn the move into a blow to his face, but he was quick and strong, and instead he elbowed her in the stomach. She fell back, the breath going out of her.
    From the corner of her eye, she saw the red sweatshirt man getting up again. The last man, still holding the bot, swung it sideways. The bot smashed against a tree and went down. No help there.
    The knife fighter turned and thrust again. Cat moved backwards, only to move into the hold of the fourth man. He grabbed her arm with two hands. She stepped sideways, moving down and under, the move that should break his grip, when the red sweatshirt man punched her in the face.
    Reeling backwards, she thought about the lesson Sensei Flores hammered into her. Most people could take two, maybe three hits before their nervous system began to shut down. She’d been hit twice, which meant she’d be slower now. And there were still three of them. She was a better fighter than any of them individually, but if she took another hit, the tide of this fight would swing deterministically in their favor.
    She took a quick double step back. She had a desperate idea. If people couldn’t cope with the feedback from her implant under ordinary circumstances, what if she purposely opened it up and tried to overwhelm them?
    She summoned her energy, and flipped a simple switch in her implant. Then she let out a mental scream directing it all through the net.
    Two of the men grabbed their heads in silence, then crumpled to the ground, to lie unconscious, along with the first man she’d knocked out earlier. But the knife fighter didn’t falter. He turned to her. He looked scared, but the fear made him more determined. His teeth glinted in the moonlight.
    Cat backed up, forcing her breath to slow. He didn’t have an implant and she was still going to have to fight him. Judging from the way he was wielding that knife, he didn’t seem too concerned about how badly he hurt her. That was fine with her. Okinawan Kenpo was a karate style based on the reality of real combat: there were no rules. She was fighting for her life now.
    She watched him, eyes focused on his. She felt her feet on the ground, drew qi up, as he approached in what felt like slow motion. She jogged six inches to the left, using her right hand to guide his knife arm harmlessly pass her, an echo of the attack seconds earlier. She turned as he moved past, and with her left arm punched him