Galactic Champion

by Dante King

  I studied him, trying to interpret its facial expressions. It seemed sad and a little angry. But whatever crime had landed it in a cage to be eaten by scavengers, its punishment didn’t seem fair.

  Night blanketed the clearing, but I could still see thanks to my Martian propensity for night vision. I doubted these vrak creatures shared this particular gift of mine, and there were no artificial lights in this part of the clearing. The moon hadn’t yet reached its zenith either, so I had a small window while this area of the village would remain shrouded in darkness.

  I slowly moved toward the cage, avoided the bones scattered in front of it, and squatted to face the imprisoned vrak. I paused for a moment as I considered what sign language the thing would understand. I was about to raise my hand and make a poor attempt at communicating when the vrak spoke.

  “What are you doing here, stinky pink-skin?” Its voice was deep for its size and seemed to echo from its mouth in waves of sound. “Have you come to torment me?”

  One part of my mind thought it comically convenient that the thing spoke Martian—just like in the cheap holovids. But the rest of my mind realized, somehow, that the words weren’t in Martian. They weren’t any language I’d ever heard before—but I still understood.

  The Lakunae must have changed something in my mind, I realized in a flash. They dropped me on this planet with instinctive knowledge of the language and the names of the local wildlife. What the fuck?

  Though I’d never spoken the language, I knew I could manage. It was time to find out why the vrak was in the cage. And if he’d seen other Martians, escape pods, or people just like me moving through this industrial village.

  After that, if he deserved capital punishment, I’d give him a quick death; it was the least I could do.

  If not, I had other plans for him.

  Chapter Ten

  I brought my face as close to the cage as I dared, wary in case the imprisoned vrak decided to reach out and scratch my eyes with a filthy, broken fingernail.

  “I’m here to offer you an opportunity,” I whispered. “Are you willing to listen, or would you prefer a quick death? Of course, I could always leave you here for the birds.”

  The vrak turned its head back and forth, regarding the hungry-looking feathered creatures. Disgust and open loathing flitted through its eyes. “I am willing to listen,” it whispered. “Did you come here to trade places with me?”

  “Uh, no,” I said. “I can release you if you’ll do something for me.”

  The vrak narrowed its eyes. “Something… like what?”

  “Like be my guide. I suspect those who put you in this cage won’t be so friendly next time you meet. Am I right?”

  “You are,” the vrak affirmed.

  “But first,” I said, “what crime did you commit to get yourself sentenced to death?”

  The vrak’s mouth worked for a moment as it made little clicking and sucking sounds. “Scribbled code. Called king’s guard a ‘poop-brain.’ Pressed some buttons. Not ashamed of it. Not a little ashamed. No, not ashamed.”

  It seemed that the laws on this planet, or at least in the village I found myself in, were strict. It obviously wasn’t a Federation planet, or there would be observers present to stop things like torture, especially for such a minor crime.

  “What’s your name?” I asked. “What are you called?”

  “I am Skrew,” the vrak answered. “Of my kind, Skrew is a legend among the other males. Skrew is told he is the only one who has a screw loose somewhere. No others are like Skrew. They are jealous.”

  Yeah, sure. I nodded, and the vrak looked me up and down. At least now I knew what served for a male among his people.

  “Do you have the key?” Skrew whispered.

  “No,” I said, “I’m going to try this first.”

  The vrak watched with curious eyes as I slid my new ax into my belt and grasped one of the vertical bars furthest from the cage door hinge with both hands. I propped my right foot further out and tugged. The lock broke with a twang, nearly toppling me to my rear. They don’t make cages like they used to, I mused. Or nobody on this planet knows how to make anything durable. Or perhaps the “strength” that the Lakunae had mentioned had added something to my physical makeup. But without anything to measure myself against on this planet, it was difficult to tell.

  Skrew stumbled from the cage, staring at the broken lock with tiny, wide eyes. “You are strong,” he said. “You are legend among your males?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. Let’s go.”

  “Wait!” Skrew hissed as he grabbed my forearm with two hands. “You saved Skrew’s life. You must trust Skrew. He would be dead by the birds who eat the guts if not for you. What is your name?”

  “I’m Jacob,” I said, checking for any movement along the edge of the clearing. I thought about using my call sign, “Paladin”, but decided my real name might work better.

  “Then this is for Jacob,” he whispered. The slow, solemn way he said it forced me to look.

  In two of his hands, he held a cord that looked like it might be a wire from some kind of device. It was black and thin. The cord was threaded through something I didn’t recognize. It was about the size of my thumbnail and resembled a button—like the ones aboard a starship. It shimmered in the increasing brightness of the moonlight in a way that seemed familiar, though.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It is Skrew’s pass,” he whispered, laying it in my hand. “It is who Skrew is. It is all. Everything.” He gently curled my fingers around the small amulet. “Without the pass, Skrew can go nowhere without guards to kill him and vrak to reject him. Skrew will serve Jacob.”

  Touching, I guessed. “Okay, let’s go.”

  I paused when I heard a noise. We’d been spotted, and whoever it was had decided to try to sneak up on us rather than charge us. Smart. But not smart enough.

  Skrew hadn’t noticed, so I pretended I hadn’t either. If whoever had spotted us was a guard, they could have shot us from where they were. Unless they didn’t have a rifle. Either way, allowing them to get closer would give me more of an advantage as I only had an ax and a waterskin. One would kill, the other would quench my thirst if the guards fought hard enough for me to break a sweat. I hoped they would. I needed to take my anger out on something, and taking it out on the ones who tortured their own kind to death seemed like the best plan to me.

  We were halfway to the trees at the edge of the clearing when the guards attacked. They might have had a small chance to surprise me if they’d thought about securing whatever equipment was making that little jingling sound. I pulled my ax and, in a single motion, sent it hurtling end over end toward the noise-maker.

  The tool hit him in the chest, punched through what looked like plate armor, and sent sparks into the air. The guard flew back three yards before skidding on the soft dirt. I didn’t have time to wonder about how devastating the attack was. The second guard was looking at his comrade instead of me. I rushed him just as he turned, and his black eyes widened. I tackled him, pressed both of my hands against the back of his helmeted head, and shoved his face into the ground.

  The guard tried to scream, so I pushed harder, meaning to suffocate him and keep him quiet. The guard’s helmet crumpled beneath my hands like a tin can, and I heard a dull, wet crack as his skull caved in. He spasmed once and lay still. I left my first confirmed kill behind as I stood.

  More noises from the nearby shacks tickled my ears. I knew what it meant. The villagers had heard the fight. They were curious. I’d tried to keep the encounter quiet, but it hadn’t been quiet enough.

  I turned to tell Skrew to hide in the woods while I took care of the problem, but he was already gone. I spun all the way around looking for him, but the little bastard had ditched me the first chance he got. I didn’t blame him—not really. But he’d given me what seemed like his word. I wouldn’t be so trusting next time.

  I wasn’t sure how many vrak were coming, but it sounded l
ike a lot. Twelve? Twenty, maybe? I was unarmed and outnumbered.

  I looked to the guard I’d killed with my ax. I couldn’t see my newly acquired weapon, but it had to be nearby. Three leaping strides took me beyond the guard, and I crossed almost 10 yards. Lower gravity than I was used to? I didn't know, but I had no time to think about it.

  I turned around and put less strength into my steps as I returned to the vrak corpse. The guard’s eyeballs were bugging out of his head, and his tongue was swollen, lolling out of his mouth to one side. And, the sheet of metal he used as body armor was caved in like a meteor had hit it. An oblong meteor, about the length of the little ax I’d thrown at it.

  When I rolled the creature over, there was an exit wound about the same size of those I’d seen when firing old slug-launchers at metal plates. Several gouges in the dirt suggested my ax might have skittered somewhere. I followed the trail to a heap of trash but couldn’t see my weapon among the stinking pile of crap.

  I took a deep breath and backed toward the center of the clearing. If I was going to fight more than a dozen goblins, I’d need some room. I just hoped none of them had rifles.

  A pack of four-armed villagers emerged from the scrap metal buildings, looking more like zombies than aliens. They shuffled their feet and stopped at the edge of the clearing. They didn’t move. They didn’t attack. They simply stared at me. It was unnerving. There was no sign of a weapon among them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hostile.

  More joined them until there was a crowd of at least 50. I looked around for something to defend myself with and thought about the cage, which had come apart easily enough. If they made any hostile movements, I’d try to rip the whole cage door off. I hoped it would be strong enough to last through five or six swings.

  But the villagers didn’t attack. Instead, they stared, holding each other in their four arms. It looked like they were embracing. I wasn’t sure if I’d be stuck there for a while, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of relationship I wanted to start with the locals.

  Then a little vrak with long hair and gaudy paint around her eyes, a female child, maybe, emerged from the crowd. She approached the downed guard and kicked him on the side of his head. The guard, of course, didn’t respond. A murmuring began to grow. Hushed whispers became a cacophony of noise, and I relaxed a bit. They weren’t acting like an angry mob. I’d killed two of their own, but they weren’t upset about it.

  The child shuffled over to me and held out a hand. Her palm was empty, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it. Suddenly, she came closer, grabbed my left hand, and pressed it against her forehead. Then she smiled before running back to her parents among the crowd.

  “Hide!” Skrew appeared out of the trees. “More soldiers! They are coming! We must hide!”

  I didn’t have time to ask him why he’d run off and why he’d suddenly returned, because the crowd erupted into action. Four vrak began dragging the bodies of the guards away.

  Skrew grabbed my hand and practically hauled me after him. I got the picture, shook Skrew’s hand free, and dashed into the jungle.

  We slowed after a few seconds. Skrew was breathing hard, so I waited for him to catch up.

  I picked a spot far enough from a well-worn trail that if any of the aliens came looking for us, we could slip away before they got close. But the spot also provided a decent view of the clearing.

  A group of larger vrak in plate armor scanned the area around the torture cages and devices. They were illuminated by stick-like torches blazing white in their hands. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and I could only see silhouettes now and then. But it looked as if our escape, and the death of the guards, had been concealed.

  They’re the same species, I mused. But when I killed two of them, they practically celebrated.

  If I had to hazard a guess, I’d have said the villagers were under some kind of regime, led by the fat vrak who’d sentenced Skrew to death in that little ceremony. And these armored guards were his soldiers. I’d just killed a pair of them and set a prisoner free. I couldn’t imagine the fat “chieftain” would send out a search party only to invite me into his home and feed me the vrak version of fine dining.

  I looked down at the small amulet still held in my fist. I wasn’t sure if it was a trophy, but I decided to treat it like one. I placed the loop over my neck and tucked the small object beneath my shirt.

  Several minutes later, the guards left, and the village was shrouded in darkness again.

  “You left me,” I whispered to Skrew. “I thought you’d run off—fled.”

  “Skrew did flee, and is sorry,” he said. “No phylac means okay to kill. Jacob holds phylac. Jacob holds life. Skrew will never leave unless Jacob says to.”

  That was a pretty powerful vow. One that no sane creature would make lightly, so I wasn’t sure I believed it. Skrew wasn’t what I would have called sane. But from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice, it seemed he believed it. Good enough for me.

  “How far to shelter?” I asked.

  Skrew looked around, sniffed the air, and stared at the stars for a moment before answering. “Two hours. That way.” He lifted one arm to the left of where we’d entered the jungle. “But must go around town. Not safe to go through, no, not safe. Two hours moving slow. Half if running, but not if being chased, no. Then dead maybe.”

  “Two hours it is, then,” I said, though I didn’t think we had much risk of ending up dead.

  Skrew’s species had tamed part of the jungle. They were surviving. They had some form of government. But I wasn’t impressed with their fighting ability. Not yet, anyway. If provided with the opportunity, I might kill another guard or two using nothing but my fists. I felt like I needed the data. I needed to test their mettle and mine.

  You will be granted strength of our strength, memories of our memories, and knowledge from beyond.

  The words from the Lakunae whispered at me from somewhere far away. It might have been my memory. It might have been something closer. Either way, the message was loud and clear. The space squids had changed something within me, mentally and physically.

  I wondered whether I could survive a slug to the chest. Maybe I didn’t need that kind of data. I’d only seen one vrak guard with a rifle; I just hoped he hadn’t joined the search party. Otherwise, I’d learn exactly how much the Lakunae’s little hyperspace experiment had changed my physiology.

  A few minutes later, we were skulking through the jungle again. I thought about sending out Skrew about 10 yards parallel me to act as a picket—someone to make sure nobody was trying to flank us if they knew we were coming. Then, I remembered how helpless he was, fleeing from battle like that. As a guide, I respected him, but whatever he was, my Martian upbringing told me he was no soldier.

  A sound froze me to the ground and raised goosebumps on my arms. I held my breath and heard it again. It was a scream, weak and shrill. It didn’t sound like one of the vrak. It sounded human.

  “We need to go,” Skrew hissed.

  “Is that a human?” I asked.

  He made a face, shook his head, and waved a hand dismissively.

  “Is that a human?” I growled, grabbing him by one of his arms. “Does she look more like me than you?”

  “Yes,” he hissed as he struggled to get away.

  She could be from the Revenge. A female crew member who’d landed on this planet like me. Except she hadn’t managed to keep herself safe from its inhabitants.

  “She is slave,” Skrew said. “She does not matter. She is owned by mean Cobble. Many months now. Part of Cobbles’ furniture.”

  Then she wasn’t from the Revenge. Still, I couldn’t move on. Not when I’d heard that dreaded word. Slave. It drove an icicle through my heart.

  I turned my head toward where the woman’s voice had come from.

  You’ve made a clean break, a voice whispered in my head. You’re on your way to shelter. You’re a survivor.

  But I was also a man. Ther
e was a lot I could tolerate, but torture and slavery were two things I couldn't live with. They were the only things I’d never live with.

  “No rescue,” Skrew said as he stepped front of me. He was showing all his tiny rows of sharp teeth in what I guessed was the vrak version of a smile. “We go, yes? To shelter. Nice and snuggly. The shelter is warm. Is safe. Yes?”

  “Yes,” I said, “right after I go rescue that woman.”

  “No!” Skrew said, waving all four of his arms. “No need to save. No can save. Female is ugly. Old and ugly. Has big thing on face. Mouth is tiny, disgusting tiny. Flesh is pink. Skin is smooth. Eyes are big and bright.” He shuddered and gagged.

  I brushed the sniveling vrak aside and crept toward the sound.

  “Uh, Skrew wait here, yes? Keep watch.”

  Sure, whatever.

  The scrap metal hut was larger than most of the others and had more trash piled on top as well. I began to suspect that the larger the pile of trash, the more wealthy the inhabitant. If his slave counted for any significant amount of wealth, he was about to go bankrupt. He’d be lucky if I didn’t pull his head off and shove it right up his… whatever the vrak had for assholes. I wasn’t sure if the Lakunae had given me enough strength for such a maneuver, but I was willing to give it a shot.

  I didn’t see any vrak around, so I moved right up to the wall facing the jungle and put my ear against the corrugated metal. Inside, I heard the deep, growling voice of a vrak and some very human whimpering. There were little holes in the metal wall, so I moved from one to another, searching for one that would give me a decent view of the interior.

  I saw her. She was covered head to toe in old rags someone had hastily sewn together into a poor imitation of clothing. She held a hand toward something to my left inside the room, something I couldn’t see. There was only one thing it could be.

  When the tip of a short whip passed in front of my vision, I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. I estimated the location of the whip-wielding slave-owner based on the length of the whip, how it swung, the average height of the other vrak I’d observed. I took a half-step to the left and drew my clenched fist back. Now was the time to gather some hard data on the limits of my strength. It might hurt, but it would be incredibly satisfying if it worked.