“I am no Ruhar,” Jates grunted, using the all-too-brief moment of surprise to get both hands firmly around the other man’s left arm. “I am true Kristang.” “Liar! Traitor!” The opponent screamed and used the full power of his hard-shell armor in a futile attempt to break free of the crushing grip exerted by the Ruhar skinsuit’s gloves. “You are the traitor to our heritage,” Jates’ words came out in a bubbling gasp as the two spun around and slammed each other repeatedly against the truck. “You are slaves to the Ruhar.” “We are all slaves. My masters have better technology.”
