by S. J. Bryant
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Take us to the Pits," Nova said as she stepped up into Crusader.
"So, things went well with Roxanne then?" Cal asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Nova glared at him before stomping through the storage bay to a large cabinet. She threw open the doors; inside was a metal suit with red and silver sections that had become dull and dented over time. The layers of metal made it stand a foot taller than Nova and the arms and legs were three times the size of hers.
"The Pits will be the best place to get information," she said.
"That may be right, however that doesn't mean that you have to strap on your gear and get into a fight."
"I'm just looking," said Nova, closing the cupboard door. "I'll be good."
Crusader landed with a gentle thud and Nova went back to the sliding door.
The scene beyond was almost as familiar to Nova as Roxanne's house. The buildings were cleaner and less dilapidated, but the feeling was the same. They were in the outer suburbs, the edge of the slums, and the hotspot for Tabryn's criminal element.
Nova strode out of the small parking area. Crusader blended in amongst the other rust-buckets, and wouldn't tempt any passing thieves. The ships were mostly old or in desperate need of repair, or at least that's how they looked from the outside. Nova would bet fifty credits that the insides of the ships, the engines and the storage bays, were in top condition, good enough to get away from the authorities anyway.
She walked a block down the street until she came to a non-descript metal door. She knocked twice, paused, and then knocked three more times, before opening the door.
Thick smoke billowed up out of the door, revealing two large men dressed in black standing on either side; they looked Nova over but didn't move. Their necks were almost as wide as their heads and their mouths remained thin lines.
A set of bent wooden stairs led down past the security guards, winding underground. Shouts and laughter echoed up the stairs, as well as a welcoming, warm glow.
Nova had so many memories of this building, of these steps. This was where she had first learned independence, where she'd found a way to get herself off Tabryn. Here, she'd found real friends, mixed with a few enemies. She just hoped some of those friends were still alive.
At the bottom of the stairs was a warm bar-room, filled to bursting with men and women in dirty clothes. Many of them wore overalls, while others had brightly coloured shirts. They were the labourers and mechanics, the lower classes that helped keep the upper class afloat.
Drinks sloshed from glasses and spattered to the floor. Raucous laughter echoed around the room as large men patted even larger men on their backs. An old-fashioned game of darts played out in a corner of the bar while a pool table was being viciously assaulted by some very amateur players.
"Well I'll be damned," said a male voice over the crowd.
Nova turned towards the voice. It sounded so familiar, even after all the years. She hurried to the bar and sat down on a stool, ignoring the sticky remnants of whatever had been spilled. She grinned up at the red-faced barman as he stared at her with his mouth hanging open.
"Long time," Nova said.
"Damn straight it is. Why have you been keeping clear? Been in the slammer have you?" said the barman.
"Of course not!" Nova laughed. "As if I'd let the Confederacy get hold of me. You should know better than that, George."
"Well it's the only explanation I could come up with as to why you haven't visited me in so many years," George said. He pulled a dirty cloth from his shirt and futilely patted at the pools of liquid spread out on the bar.
"Been busy. You know how it is," Nova said.
"Oh yeah; found a better mech ring?" George said, raising an eyebrow.
"No, this one's the only ring for me." Nova chuckled.
"Damn straight."
"No. I've joined the Hunter business."
"Well, screw me."
"Oh c'mon George, that didn't work seven years ago, and it's not going to work now."
They both laughed and George pulled a large glass from under the bar. He filled it with amber liquid and shoved it across the bench into Nova's waiting hands. The air swirled with smoke but unlike Roxanne's poisonous fumes, these were lightly scented, floral, and best of all, harmless.
"So you're a Hunter," George said. "I never would have guessed it."
"Through and through," Nova said, lifting her glass.
"You come back here to reminisce, maybe step back into the ring for old time's sake?"
"No, nothing like that." Nova's heart fluttered. She'd missed this place more than she cared to admit. "I'm looking for some information."
"Well you know if I've got it, I'll gladly pass it on."
"The Lucky Coin is leaking money."
"Ha! Good. More for the rest of us." George handed a frothy jug to a waiting man and accepted the cred stick with a nod.
"I'm working for Cracos. I need to know where it's going."
"Aww come on now. Why are you working for that scum?"
"You know lots of people would say the same about this place."
"Yeah, but at least we're scum you can trust."
"Do you know anything or not?"
"No," George sighed. "Wish I did though, I'd happily have myself a piece of that pie."
"Too right about that," Nova said, taking a deep swallow of the warm liquid. It slid down her throat and left a pleasant burn in her mouth.
"Anything else, your majesty?" George said with a twinkle in his eye, feigning a mock bow.
"Nah, that's enough business. How have you been?"
"Same as it ever was. You know as well as anyone that nothing ever changes here."
"Too right about that, I'm pretty sure you still haven't washed these glasses since the last time I was here."
"You'd be right about that."
"Any of the crew still around?" Nova asked, dreading the answer.
"A few," George replied, a faraway look glazed over his eyes. "Honey's still around, probably downstairs getting ready for her fight actually. Lenovo didn't make it though."
"What happened?" Nova asked, remembering the older man's ready smile and quick wit. He'd helped Nova find her feet after she was kicked out of Roxanne's.
"Gang fight. You know how he was into the drug trade," George said. "I guess a deal must have gone bad, because he was found in the gutter, gunshot to the head."
Nova hung her head; she'd been afraid of this. The place had a lot of good memories, but what was the point of that if all the people responsible for those memories were dead?
"Tuft has moved on," George said, his eyes still gazing into the past.
"Moved on where?"
"Got a job in the Resources Sector. Decided to go there and make his fortune. At least that's what he said. Seemed like a pipe-dream to me."
"It was," Nova said with confidence. "The Resources District is in even worse shape than this cosmic craphole. People dying all the time."
"That's what I told him; of course the damned fool never listened."
"What about Linker?" Nova asked. He had been a good friend. Sure, he drank too much and gambled more than he earned, but he was a good man and he was as loyal as they come.
"Pissed and poor just like you'd expect," George said. "Still working downstairs, still trying to pay off his bills. A losing battle that one."
Nova nodded as she swallowed the last of her cider. She would have liked to stay talking to George and drinking until the morning came but there was work to do. The last thing she wanted was to waste time and let Vicki get the bounty. That was something she would never live down.
Nova got to her feet and tossed a cred-stick onto the bar.
"Was on the house," George said, pushing it back.
"Then spend it on yourself," Nova replied. "Let's call it an apology for the years I haven't visited."
"If that's the case then you still owe me." George grinned as he shoved the stick
into the pocket of his dirty white apron. "You know the way down?"
"Better than my own mother," Nova retorted with a smile as she pushed her way through the crowd towards the next set of doors and the stairs beyond.
Behind the stairs a rickety lift rumbled along on rusted cables. There were already people waiting for it to make its ponderous journey back up from The Pits. Nova shuffled to the back of the queue.
There were people of many different types standing around her, but mostly they were the same characters she had seen in the bar; the overworked labourer, the well-dressed businessman with a secret habit, the thin woman just looking for some entertainment. They were the same people that could be found in any such establishment. They gathered around the furtive places, looking guilty but not moving. Nova didn't judge them; she could just as easily have ended up as one of them. And if she was being honest, wasn't she at that very moment standing in the same queue, to get on the same lift, to go down to the same violent arena?
The lift arrived and a few bedraggled passengers stumbled out. They pushed their way through the waiting crowd and into the bar-room beyond, their clothes covered in dirt and sweat glistening over their skin. Some of them looked sour as they stormed out of the lift, while others grinned and clutched handfuls of cred-sticks.
Nova moved with the crowd into the old lift. Her stomach jolted as they began the descent; it had always been her most hated part of the whole trip. She tried not to look over the side. The sight of the ground falling away below and being dangled in this cage of death by a single cable was too much. She preferred to lock her eyes on the roof and pretend that she was anywhere else. If it weren't so many floors she would just use the stairs, but by the time she made it down, the night would be over.
The lift bumped to a stop and the rickety door flew open. Nova followed her fellow lift travellers out into the bigger throng. The lift landed at the back of an upper level, but it wouldn't take long for her to get to the front. The rows of seats sloped forwards, hundreds and hundreds of them. People either stood or sat on their chairs, cheering and looking down into the arena far below.
From this far away the fighters were small toys. The nuances and subtle battle stances were lost, replaced by the bold-faced attacks. The sudden punch to the jaw or the kick to the abdomen was what this crowd craved. Their shouts and cries rocked over the stadium as they bellowed for blood.
Nova shut her ears to the yelling and pushed her way through the crowd. The press of bodies got thicker as she moved closer to the front. She thrust her elbows into the sides of those she was trying to pass and they moved away. A few curses followed her progress, but before anyone could respond she was already gone, moving on.
She fought all the way to the front of the upper level. The two fighters were in their third round. The one in blue was in bad shape, stumbling on the sand and barely keeping his fists up at his chest. The other one, with orange tinted armour, was ten times more ready for the fight.
Nova had to grin; she'd recognise that armour anywhere. It had to be Honey. She was a middle-aged woman who made her entire living on the fights. When she and Nova had first met, Honey had looked at Nova with scorn. A week later when Nova proved her worth, Honey became her staunchest ally. Honey took Nova under her wing and protected her from the worst of the mean streets. Here she was, still kicking arse.
The blue fighter stumbled forward and lifted his right fist in a feeble attempt at punching Honey's cheek. The figure in orange didn't wait. She blocked the slow arm and tapped it to the side, swinging her own fist with full force at her opponent's face. The blue fighter's armour crunched under the blow and he flew across the arena to land in a crumpled heap. He would not be making it to round four.
In the break between fights Nova took the opportunity to push down into the lower level and then fight her way to the changing room. This front area wasn't as packed as the top section. The people who sat here wanted to see every single drop of blood as it flew from the fighters' faces. These were the people who secretly hoped that a brawl like the 2154 championship would break out and they'd be showered with intestines.
"Whoa, I think that's far enough for you, little miss," said a deep voice. A thick hand landed on Nova's arm.
She glanced at the hand and then up at the person it belonged to, ready to tear their face from their head.
"Nova? Nova Tabryn? Is that actually you?"
The thick hand slid away and Nova was left looking at a square-headed man with his mouth hanging open. He wore black just like the security men upstairs and stood blocking the small tunnel that led to Honey's dressing room.
"Lucas! Surprise!" Nova said.
Lucas took a few seconds to regain his composure. When sense finally returned, he grabbed Nova in a massive bear hug and pulled her close to his chest. He smelled of the cigarettes he was always smoking, and sweat from the hot underground bunker.
"I can't believe you're back. What the hell are you doing here?" Lucas asked, grinning.
Nova didn't want to get into details. "Just catching up with old friends."
"Well then come here, friend," Lucas said, pulling her in for another hug. "And I suppose you'll be wanting to see Honey?"
"You bet."
"Well then, be my guest," Lucas said, stepping back and holding out his hand to welcome Nova down the corridor. "I bet she'll be even happier to see you than I am. Just wait until Silver hears about this!"
Nova smiled at him and sauntered down the corridor. She'd made this walk countless times, although usually strapped into her fighting gear. The high ceiling and wide walls were built for the large fighting mechs. She shook her head at all the memories. The first time she'd been to the Tabryn Battledrome, or The Pits as it was more commonly known, she was still a child. She'd followed one of Roxanne's clients after he left the house.
The client had walked through the backstreets of Tabryn before eventually reaching the non-descript door. He'd done the secret knock and disappeared inside. Without knowing what she'd find, Nova had done the same thing. The two security guards barely raised an eyebrow at the young girl finding her way into their midst.
It had been George who'd discovered her. She was hiding behind a chair, watching the people drink and swear. It was just like being back at home really. He'd seen her sneaking around and assumed she was a thief out to fleece his customers. His hands had clamped around the collar of her shirt and she'd lost all the blood from her face.
"What do you think you're doing you little thief?" George demanded.
"I'm not a thief! I was just watching."
"Ha! If I had a credit for every time someone said that I'd be a very rich man."
"Get off me, you stinky barman! I'm telling the truth. I came here accidentally. I live with Roxanne."
George had taken her words completely the wrong way. "You work for Roxanne? That's just sick. I thought she had a better sense of decency than that!"
George's face flushed red and his nostrils flared. He stormed to the communicator set into the far wall. He gripped Nova's collar and dragged her through the bar with him.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"N-Nova," she said, arms flailing.
"Right," George said, still gripping her shirt. He held the communicator up to his ear. "Roxanne? Yeah. Are you missing a runt?"
George listened for a few moments.
"Says her name's Nova. Yep. Yep. You bet." George dropped the communicator. "Well, it sounds like you're going to be in a world of trouble when you get back home. I would suggest you go straight there quick as you can. Roxanne's got a temper and I'm sure you're about to hear all about it."
George released his hold on her and Nova bobbed her head. She waited only a second before turning and running for the door. She sprinted all the way home and straight into Roxanne's punishment. A flurry of slaps put Nova straight, although not enough to stop her visiting The Pits whenever she could.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Well I'll be damn
ed if it isn't Knock 'em Dead Nova," Honey said as Nova pushed through the metal doors into the changing room.
Honey looked older than Nova remembered. Deep lines now gouged her face and her hair was speckled with grey. Sweat poured down her red face as she pulled off the hunks of metal covering her arms. Her helmet sat on the bench beside her. The sparse room held just a few lockers and the bench; no room for luxuries in a place like this.
"Wow, haven't heard that in a long time," Nova remarked with a grin.
"I've been wondering when you'd crawl back to the circuit," Honey said, slipping her foot out of the metal casing.
Honey's nose bent to the right where it had been badly broken years before, and scars ran across most of her skin. A fresh bruise turned her left temple purple.
"I see you're still street fighting?" Nova said, nodding at the bruise.
"What can I say? The pay's good and they're a bunch of wimps. But who cares about that. Let's talk about the real news: you coming back into the ring." Honey grinned at Nova, ignoring the beads of sweat that rolled down her face.
"Oh no, I'm not returning to the circuit. I'm just here to say hello."
"Ha! Ten credits say you fight tonight," Honey said. She slapped her hand down on the bench beside her.
"You're on," Nova said. She swiped her hand across her forehead, she'd forgotten how warm the changing room could get.
"Good, that'll buy my victory beer because I already hear Silver coming down the corridor and there is no way he'll let you leave without putting your suit on."
"He can't make me—" Nova paused. Now she could hear it too; excited voices approaching down the corridor. They got louder until the door burst open and three familiar faces rushed in.
"Nova! I'm so glad to have you back! You just tell me where your suit is and I'll have the boys bring it down," Silver said.
His stomach hung over the top of his pants and he wore a leather jacket which Nova knew from experience had many hidden pockets. His eyes were wide as he looked at her and a grin split his face. Two younger men, Hank and Pete, stood on either side of Silver. They had been children the last time Nova was here. They had filled out a lot since then, but they couldn't hide their boyish grins.