by B. V. Larson
The Rigellian made an irritable gesture. “All of this is moot. It has been decided.”
He turned back toward the queen, who all this time had squatted, gurgling softly on her throne.
“My Queen,” he said. “Tell this creature of our arrangement. Tell him who your allies are now.”
“It’s true,” she said in that vast voice. “Storm World serves Rigel. This being is now my leader. I am sworn to him.”
This was a conundrum, I don’t mind telling you. For about three long seconds, my jaw sagged low. I gaped at the two of them.
Dammit! I’d gotten here too late. Maybe by an hour, maybe by a minute, but it didn’t matter. This smooth-talking bear had convinced her holiness that he was the one to sign on with.
But then, slowly, my overstimulated brain began to cook up an idea.
It wasn’t going to be an easy play, but as best as I could figure, it was the only move I had.
I laughed. I laughed long and loud, grabbing my belly like a boozy Santa who deserved to be fired on the spot.
“That’s great!” I boomed. “That makes my job all the easier!”
“Madness,” the bear said. “These Earthers truly suffer from it. The last time we met, this creature insisted a box of glucose was an explosive. After careful analysis by a dozen of our demolitions experts, however—”
“Never mind about that!” I said. “Don’t you understand, fuzz-ball? Don’t you grasp the mistake you’ve made here?”
“No error has been committed. Notwithstanding the possible misstep of allowing you to speak your nonsense for so long—”
“No, no, no,” I interrupted. “I mean culturally. Hey, Queenie! Tell me if I’m wrong: is this bear-fellow your boss now? Do you serve him, the way a second-man might serve a first-man?”
“Your analogy is insulting—but essentially correct. We are the junior force in this alliance.”
“Excellent,” I said to her. “Now, what happens if I challenge pipsqueak here to a duel. What if I beat him six ways from Sunday, fair and square?”
Her big, bulbous eyes blinked once in slow-motion. “Then, his forces would become yours.”
“Nonsense and idiocy,” the Rigellian sputtered. He turned to the guards who stood around the chamber. “I order you to arrest this ape. Restrain it, so that I might dissect it alive. I wish to both learn of its nature and to enjoy its anguish simultaneously.”
My hand crept to the butt of my gun, but I needn’t have bothered. The guards made no move to advance.
Agitated, the bear turned to face the queen. “I demand you relay my commands. This creature must be restrained.”
The queen ruminated. She seemed slow of mind, but intelligent. Maybe once you got to be five meters tall and several centuries old, your brain worked on a different schedule.
“No,” she said simply. “The challenge has been offered, but as yet it has not been accepted. This annoying creature is the leader of a great people, and therefore has the standing to make this challenge. Until the matter is resolved, I cannot follow your orders. That is our way.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to guffaw, and to cheer so loud a dozen spikey rocks would come flying down and bury this arrogant little teddy-bear.
But I thought of something better to do instead.
I clocked him one, from behind. One gloved fist, one fuzzy skull. The two cracked together—and the fight was on.
-57-
The bear didn’t go down with my first strike. That, all by itself, impressed me. Most men would have been knocked senseless by the blow I’d given him—but not this frigging little bear. He was one tough bastard.
Ever seen a baby gorilla out-wrestle a grown man? It’s not a pretty sight, but it’s not uncommon. Wild animals frequently have greater muscle density than humans. In my experience, that went for plenty of varieties of alien beings, too.
It wasn’t just a matter of size, or of ferocity. Being male, or from a higher-gravity world, sure, that kind of thing helped.
But it was more than that. Each critter was simply built differently than the rest. Humans, for beings of reasonable size, were on the low end of the strength-to-muscle-mass ratio in my experience. Most predatory species were more powerful than we were kilo for kilo.
This frigger from Rigel was no exception. He’d probably had an easy time of it earlier today, beating down whatever champion had been unlucky enough to fight for the Scupper queen. Hell, these salamanders weren’t very tough—but I wasn’t a salamander, and neither was he.
He absorbed the thumping I’d given his skull, pitching and rolling away from me. A moment later, he came back up with a growl.
His disengage maneuver had been performed with a practiced air, which told me two things: one, I hadn’t hurt him much, and two, he was a well-trained fighter.
As there was no backing out at this point, I waded into the fight. Attempting to use whatever initiative I’d gained by striking first, I reached for his furry throat and grabbed hold of him. Lifting and squeezing hard, I tried to throttle the life out of him.
It was a mistake. Despite my long arms, I wasn’t far enough away from him to prevent him from retaliating. He squirmed in my hands, but didn’t break free. He didn’t even try. Instead, he slashed up at my face with those hind legs of his.
Now, I’m a long-armed galoot of a man. Just ask anybody. But even I didn’t have a reach that exceeded the one meter distance over which this bear-thing could deliver a hard kick.
My faceplate starred and cracked. That surprised me. Sure, it wasn’t invulnerable, but bear claws shouldn’t have been able to break the ballistic glass. Did he have something on those claws? A diamond-tipped enhancement, maybe?
I didn’t really have time to contemplate the answer. The bear was kicking my ass, and strangling him didn’t seem to be slowing him down much. I had to come up with another tactic immediately.
I threw him across the room. It was instinct and probably a mistake. It allowed him to scramble back to his feet and advance.
Equally instinctual was my grab for the pistol on my belt. A rumbling word from the queen stopped me.
“Introduction of weaponry will nullify the results of this contest. It must be even in its beginning and at its ending.”
My hand slipped away from my pistol, and the bear gave me a feral show of teeth. He advanced confidently, determinedly.
How do you wrestle with something so small and so powerful? I wasn’t accustomed to this kind of fight, so I tried to keep my distance. Using my superior reach, I tried to land blows and keep the bear at bay.
My size-thirteen boot flew out first, striking for the snout that was coming in at about my gonad-level. The bear twitched and dodged, then reached up and gripped my ankle. He tried to flip me, he really did, but I was ready for that, and I pulled away.
We circled, my hands thrown wide like a wrestler. He did the same.
“You have made a gross error, human,” he said. “The stupidity of your species continues to astound us at every turn.”
“At least I didn’t live in terror of a juice-box for better than an hour, you dumbass bear.”
I laughed loudly at my own joke, and that seemed to piss him off. His eyes were those of a snake, resembling two drops of glistening black oil. For the first time, he came at me with true rage in those beady eyes.
His rush was easily sidestepped. As he went by, I got an idea.
Long ago, when I’d been dating girls under more earthly circumstances, I’d discovered they liked cats—but that the cats rarely liked me.
Countless were the times when some fuzz-ball would sidle up and sniff, nip, claw or otherwise interrupt my relentless pursuit of their mistress. It was as if they figured I was a rival, an interloper in their territory.
Naturally, as a gentleman caller, I couldn’t very well drop-kick the housecat. Instead, I would wait until the girl was distracted, then clamp a hand down on the offending animal’s neck, pinning it down.
This
did nothing to harm the kitty—but they sure as hell didn’t like it. After counting to five or so, I would snatch my hand away. Invariably, the pet would slink away and hide, staring at me with dark hatred from under the furniture.
My problem had therefore been neatly solved with the girl in question none the wiser.
Taking a page from an old book, I clamped down on the back of the bear’s neck and shoved his snout into the stony floor of the queen’s chambers.
Unfortunately, this alien was much stronger than any housecat ever born, so he bucked up again—and I landed on his back with the full force of both knees, driving them into his fur-covered spine.
Down he went again. I heard a small, angry grunt. There was quite a bit of scrabbling, but I was on him now. Not just sitting, but kneeling on his back.
He didn’t give up easily. I’ll say that for the little dick. He bucked and squirmed and snapped desperately. I rode him like a cowboy breaking a fresh mustang stallion.
Whooping and laughing, I bounced and jounced, somehow always finding a way to drive a knee, fist, or even an elbow into the small body under me.
At last, he paused, sides heaving. He was exhausted.
“Kill me,” he said.
“What? Why? This is too much fun.”
“You intend to humiliate, not just to abuse?”
“Yeah, I sure do. Aren’t you having fun, little guy?”
He bucked a few more times, and he managed to claw my knee. I frowned and bashed his skull several times—hard.
“Now, now, that’s no way to treat your new master, Mr. Bear. You’d best learn some manners.”
“You must slay me. This is dishonorable.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the queen, who still squatted on her stone throne, contemplating the situation.
“What do you say, Your Majesty? Should I kill him?”
She waved her finger-cups at me. A shrug.
“It is your right. Your prerogative.”
“Do you accept that I won this contest fair and square?” I asked her.
“I do. I have witnessed the struggle, and it is clear you are the victor. My armies are now in your hands—you may command them.”
I licked my lips and looked down at the bear. I was running out of ideas. Should I kill him? Or should I let him go?
It was a question with no clear answer.
-58-
“Let’s negotiate, bear-buddy. Your people are slavers, right?”
“I know where you are going with this, human. The answer is ‘no’. I will never serve you.”
“Not even for a day or two?” I asked in honest disappointment. “I had plans… you could wear a funny hat or something. Maybe I could teach you to dance with a chain around your neck. My buddies would like that.”
“Your suggestions are as impossible as they are cruel.”
“That’s a damned shame… Well, if we can’t work anything out…”
I dug a combat knife out of my gear. The blade had a silver edge that glimmered in the dim-lit chamber.
“At last,” he said, “this humiliation shall end.”
Getting an idea, I put my knife away again and pulled back my sleeve to expose my tapper. I had to do this with my teeth, as my other hand was pinning him down.
“What are you doing now, slow-witted human?” he demanded.
“Just a second. Don’t get your fur all in a bunch. I’m making a vid and transmitting it.”
The body under me heaved a little.
“What? Why can’t you end this?”
“Don’t worry, don’t fret. I’ll kill you soon enough. I just wanted old Sateekas to see the situation firsthand before I send you to bear-Nirvana.”
His ears twitched. “Stop!”
My tapper glowed, and I began recording. I spoke into it as I filmed the pinned bear, the hulking queen, and the cavern around me.
“Now, if I can only get this damned thing to transmit…” I said, fooling with it.
The bear snorted and relaxed a little. “You will fail. Your technology is pathetic. Cast-offs from your superiors the Galactics, every piece of equipment you possess is—”
“Hold still and shut up for a minute, will you? And hey, Cooper, could you get this relayed up to the surface?”
“Sure thing, Centurion,” Cooper said.
The bear’s eyes rolled around in his skull. “Where—who is that speaking?”
“One of my many companions. You didn’t think I’d come down here without a full combat team, did you?”
I laughed at him then, like he was the biggest idiot at party. Maybe he was, at that.
“I’ve got a signal, sir,” Cooper said. “I’ve been working on that since we came down here.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said, and I meant it. Always thinking of number one, Cooper had been working hard to prevent our likely perming if we died down here.
I had him pinpointed by now. He was over to the left of the entrance, standing near a guard. Although he still had his stealth suit on, his footprints were distinctive in the soft sand of the cavern floor.
“This invalidates the contest!” the bear said under me. He squirmed and tried to aim his snout toward the queen. “Monarch! Stop this farce!”
“On what grounds?” the Queen asked reasonably.
“Interference! Two combatants have conspired to foul the third, an innocent who acted in good faith. That nullifies these proceedings!”
“Getting a little desperate, shorty?” I asked. “Cooper didn’t do anything. He was ordered not to. All he’s done is discover a way to communicate beyond this underground lair.”
The real reason Cooper had done so was obvious to me: to avoid being permed. Legionnaires from every outfit feared being off-grid. Without a body, a soldier couldn’t be revived. If we could at least report our status, we were much closer to being revived if this whole adventure went tits-up by the end.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ve queued up the feed. Can you relay it—and our latest engrams?”
“I’m on it, sir.”
I didn’t ask how he’d gotten access to the outside world. That was because there was very little chance that his methods were legitimate. I strongly suspected Cooper had been hacking into the Scupper networks. What else did he have to do while watching me fool around with a bear and a giant salamander queen? He sure as hell hadn’t felt like revealing himself and helping me out. The only reason he’d done so now, I’d wager, was that he figured I’d clearly won.
Despite the squirming, the insults, and the desperate growling sounds of my opponent, I managed to connect my tapper with Sateekas’ ship.
“Ah…” he said as he examined the live vid I was feeding him. “The McGill-creature reports in directly. Why am I not surprised?”
“I have great faith in you as well, Governor,” I said.
He shuffled his bulk around and stared. “Is that the representative of Rigel? Have you slain him?”
“No, sir! This bear is as fresh as a daisy. The representative is—uh—he’s just resting.”
Using my off-hand, I clamped the bear’s snout closed. He didn’t like that anymore than your average animal did. He struggled, and blew snot on my gloves, but I kept him quiet.
“What is the purpose of this communication, McGill?”
“Just to show you who’s in charge down here,” I told him. “As a representative of Earth, I’ve defeated the champion of Rigel. We Earth folks are clearly superior in every way.”
Sateekas released a farting laugh. “Your efforts are amusing, but insufficiently conclusive. The contest will end when one of your species is kicked off this planet, or has at least eradicated the Wur entirely.”
“A tall order, sir,” I said. “But we’ll do it—somehow.”
Sateekas signed off. Disappointed, I released the bear and stood up.
Getting to his feet, the Rigellian seemed a bit on the sore side. That was probably due to the kneecap I’d kept planted in his back for a good
ten minutes now.
“You might have a few bruises in the morning,” I told him. “But it was all in good fun.”
He glowered. I’m not always good at reading expressions, but I was pretty sure he was hating on me with every fiber of his shrimpy being.
“This humiliation will not go unanswered, ape,” he said. “Know that no species has ever bested Rigel! Our people are indomitable!”
I made a rude blatting noise with my lips.
“Come on, bear-dude,” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re out here to win favor with the real power in this galaxy—the Empire. Just the same as we are. In fact, you’re trying to take our job. You’re begging to serve the Galactics.”
If he’d been pissed before, I’d gone and made it worse. His claws shook a little as he lifted them and pointed at me with his entire, bloody paw.
“McGill…” he said as if my name was a swear-word. “I shall remember that name.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“I am called High Lord Squanto.”
I blinked, and for a second, my mind froze over.
Now, I’m not a complete idiot. I could tell when enough was enough—but I couldn’t help myself.
I doubled over in laughter. “Squanto!” I shouted. “Really? You’re not shitting me? Your name is Squanto? That’s great.”
“You mock even my name…?” he asked seriously. “This has become personal between us. It will never be forgotten—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Listen, are you going to serve me and swear your army to me, or what?”
His glass-bead eyes blinked once. “Certainly not. The absurdity of such a suggestion proves—”
“It proves you’re a dishonorable cur,” I said, and I turned toward the queen. “Did you hear that? He’s a first-man, bested by another fair and square. Yet he refuses to relinquish his power and serve the new first-man. What should we do about that, Queenie?”
The queen stirred at last. Her limbs creaked, and she stood up. She was so tall she had to hunch so she didn’t scrape the vaulted ceiling.
In her hand, her spear seemed to sense her intent. It crackled into life.