Prelude to War (The Human Chronicles Saga Book 10)

by T. R. Harris

  “What’s a Drunage Match?” Riyad asked.

  “It’s the major sport practiced by the Que’l, basically a cross between football, rugby and a street brawl, if I had to describe it.”

  Adam and Riyad looked at each other. “Sounds like fun!” Adam said.

  The smile left Piero’s face. “The natives take the game very seriously. It’s played essentially as a substitute for war among the various sects. It is quite savage and violent.”

  “As I said, sounds like fun,” Adam repeated, deciding to have a little fun at the expense of the attaché.

  “Thank you, Mr. Piero, it sounds like a delightful afternoon,” Sherri said, shaking his hand again and ending this line of conversation. She always was the most diplomatic of the three, a role which Adam and Riyad gladly surrendered without a fight.

  They followed their host to a small anteroom, where they watched the pre-ceremony events on a huge flat screen monitor mounted on the wall. The trio had participated in nine previous Joining Ceremonies, with three already on the books for later in the year. Sherri seemed to revel in them, with Riyad basically indifferent and Adam thoroughly bored most of the time. But the money was great, and except for the time traveling to and from the various planets, they didn’t last long.

  The money he got from such events, plus the merchandising of his identity, had allowed Adam to finally purchase his dream estate in the Lake Tahoe region of Nevada, along where the Pondarosa Ranch once existed. He had ninety acres, with his home set squarely in the middle, giving him all the privacy he needed. Sherri lived in the San Francisco Bay Area city of Orinda, in a mansion with an incredible view of the Bay to the north. She spent three-quarters of her time there, and the rest with Adam in Tahoe.

  They had reconciled to a degree, now that her affair with Riyad was long over. They enjoyed each other’s company—to a point—and then it was time to be alone. There’s a belief that two people must be alike to get along, but they were too much alike to co-exist for very long in the same proximity. Their time apart served to release the pressure that built up between them.

  Riyad had moved to San Diego, boasting to anyone who would listen that the city had the best climate of anywhere in the galaxy. Adam was a California boy himself and knew the city intimately. He agreed wholeheartedly. Yet there was something about the rich pine scent in the air of the high Sierra, and the freshness of its winter snowfall that helped him stay grounded. One could travel the galaxy—hell, two galaxies in his case—yet eventually one needed a place to call home just to keep things in perspective.

  And that was why these excursions off-planet were becoming more and more of a bother, and why he kept insisting on higher and higher fees for his time. The other two rode his coattails to the accompanying wealth, knowing that eventually Adam would say no at some point. And without Adam, their stock would drop like a rock.

  ********

  Stepping out onto the huge stage for the first time took their breath away. A million living souls all cheered and clapped in a very Human-like display of greeting. They had never been faced with so many people in person and the sheer energy in the arena was overpowering.

  They took seats to the left of the main speaker’s podium and waited patiently for their time at center-stage. That time came precisely three-hours, forty-two minutes after the start of the ceremony, much longer than any of them had been told or anticipated.

  At some of these events, their show could last upwards of an hour or more, as they ad-libbed and enjoyed the intimate feel of the smaller venues. Yet this one was intimidating, and they wrapped up their part of the ceremony in only eighteen minutes. Still the crowd went wild.

  And then came the Drunage Match.

  Adam had to admit he was impressed. Here was a pair of forty-five-member teams basically beating the crap out of each other as only the Que’l were designed to do. As the game began, a large stone with a handle was set at center field—a field twice as large as a standard football field. Each team then rushed forward from their goal lines to take possession of it. What came next shocked even the violent and competitive Humans.

  The Que’l used their flattened heads as battering rams, often slamming square on with another charging native. The sound of the collisions could be heard all the way to the stage, even over the absolute din of the crowd. Yet very few of the Que’l got injured, at least initially. Their plated heads, thick necks, and massive shoulders were designed to take such impacts, and they used them as weapons against their opponents. There also appeared to be very few rules to the game. Tacklers could come in from any angle, even joining together to crush a blocker or runner between two massive head-butts. By the end of the shortened match—shortened on account of this being an exhibition match—sixteen of the starting ninety players had been removed from the field on mechanized carts.

  The captain of the winning team then made his way to the podium to greet the president and his mate, as well as their three most-distinguished guests.

  The president turned to the three Humans. “This is Dravis Hurr, our most accomplished Drunage player.”

  Dravis met their eyes with a steely, confident stare. “I have heard much of Humans, and of your abilities. I must say you are much smaller than I first believed.”

  “Dravis, please do not insult. These beings are guests of the Que’l.”

  “No offense taken,” Adam said, standing to greet the team captain. “We hear that all the time.”

  “So what do you think of our contest?” Dravis asked. Adam could smell his strong perspiration, musk-like and masculine.

  “Very impressive. We have a similar game on Earth called football. I used to play in when I was in school.”

  “Then perhaps you will consent to a challenge match?” He looked over at Riyad. “Two on two for the best score to three?”

  Adam smiled while shaking his head. “Oh, I concede to your expertise, Dravis Hurr. I’m afraid we wouldn’t give you much of a contest. Besides, it seems your bodies are built for this kind of sport, where ours are not.”

  “We have headgear available.” He turned to another player, who was already carrying the equipment. Dravis handed it to Adam.

  “This will provide the necessary protection to your head and neck and place most of the pressure upon the shoulders.”

  Adam lifted the lightweight, L-shaped helmet as Riyad stepped up to inspect it himself. It did indeed have a padded, flattened top, and then foot-wide panels that joined the top with a pair of U-shaped shoulder pads.

  “The impact on the head will be transferred to the shoulders, resulting in no injury…especially for the physically superior Humans.” Dravis’s last comment was dripping with sarcasm and inference.

  Adam bristled. He looked to the president, who simply looked back at him with an amused grin. “It is quite appropriate for challenge matches to be accepted. They are a strong indicator of an opponent’s worthiness.”

  Adam looked at Riyad, who shrugged.

  “Sure, why not?” Adam said. “Challenge accepted.”

  “Very good!” said the President of the Que’l. “The audience, both here and on the transmissions, will enjoy this immensely. Thank you both for accepting the challenge. We will now have an opportunity to see why Humans have succeeded as you have against other races within the galaxy.”

  Adam laughed. “Please don’t hold too much expectation, President Mur. Your people are so much bigger than us and are built for the type of play required to win the game.”

  The smile suddenly vanished from Mur’s face. “Then have the stories of Human achievement been an exaggeration, simply a means to intimidate the other races of the Arm?”

  Adam was stunned by the intensity of the president’s accusation. He glanced around the stage, looking for Omar Piero. The attaché had spent months studying the Que’l, he knew their thinking and their culture. It was obvious Adam had made some faux pas, and he was at a loss as to what to do next.

  “It is as I suspected,
” said Dravis Hurr. “Your technology is the only advantage you have over other races.”

  Riyad stepped up to the eight-foot-tall alien. “We said we accept your challenge, and we do. When do we start it? I’m anxious for some exercise.”

  Dravis nodded. “Good fortune,” he said. “An alien with courage, I find that refreshing. We begin as soon as the field is cleared and the teams assembled.” He looked to President Mur. “With your permission, my Lord.”

  “For victory!” he said.

  “For victory!” Dravis repeated.

  Riyad and Adam then huddled with Sherri. “We’ll just run around a little and let them win,” Adam said, “even though it will piss me off to do so.”

  “Have you seen how their heads are made?” Sherri asked. “They’re like walking, talking battering rams. This is one case where you may not win even if you wanted to.”

  Adam frowned. “Are you kidding? The gravity is half that of Earth’s, and I’ve found that no matter how intimidating an alien may look, most of them are made of marshmallows.”

  “Don’t let your macho ego get the best of you, Adam. Be careful, both of you.”

  “No sweat, pet,” Adam replied with a smile.

  The two men followed an escort down onto the field. Adam thought the arena was impressive from the stage; on the field it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The playing area itself was huge, much larger than a traditional football field, with their goal marker barely visible in the distance. Two Que’l helped Adam and Riyad put on the headgear, and they found that the strap that held the apparatus to their foreheads blocked their view when trying to look up. They had no choice but to deal with it, since the other straps reached under their armpits to hold the shoulder gear in place.

  Adam and Riyad looked at each…and then both burst into laughter. “You look ridiculous!” Adam cried out.

  “So do you, my friend, so do you, and unfortunately this is being broadcast all across the Arm. How will we ever live this down?”

  “Let’s just get it over with as soon as possible.”

  ********

  The two Humans were placed at the Que’l goal line. The small stone with the handle was barely visible at midfield, Dravis and his teammate mere dots in the distance. Then a buzzer sounded, and Adam knew the match was underway.

  Riyad and Adam took off, loping in the light gravity with ease. Adam felt he was going about half speed when he noticed that the Que’l had already reached the rock. “Damn, they’re fast!” he called over to Riyad.

  “I’ll cover on the right,” Riyad replied.

  “I’ve got the left.”

  Dravis had the rock held firmly in his grip as he ran toward them. The field was extremely wide, yet the alien appeared to be making a beeline for Adam. At the last second before they came together, Dravis tossed the rock back to his trailing teammate and then lowered his head and crashed directly into the Human.

  The collision was incredible, and even though Adam had lowered his head at the last second to meet the blow, he was thrown back twenty feet, landing on the hard grassy surface with stars in his eyes.

  In the meantime, Riyad closed on the other player, using his speed to close the gap before the alien could reach the goal line. But then the other player cocked his huge head and smashed it into Riyad’s side. Riyad was thrown off balance and his feet became tangled. He fell hard to the ground face first, scooping up a mouthful of the musty-tasting soil.

  As he looked up spitting dirt from his mouth, he saw the alien cross the goal line and begin an elaborate celebratory dance.

  For his part, Adam was still shaking off the cobwebs—lying on his back, oblivious to the cheering from the massive crowd. Then he felt something moist and warm on his left leg. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down. Dravis was standing over him, a stream of yellow liquid flowing from his body mid-torso. It only took Adam a second to realize what was happening.

  He scrambled to his feet, a little wobbly at first. “You son-of-a-bitch! You just pissed on me!”

  Dravis smiled at him as he hitched up his pants. “I do not understand all of the translation, yet I grasp the context. Do not be alarmed, Human, this is how we show disrespect for an enemy.”

  “But you pissed on me! That goes way beyond disrespect. That’s just nasty, you bastard!”

  Dravis threw out his chest and took a step closer to Adam. “Then I suggest you do something to gain my respect.”

  Suddenly a Que’l referee was between them. Riyad was also there. “Did he just do what I thought he did?”

  “He sure did,” Adam cried out.

  “The score is awarded to the Que’l!” the referee announced, his voice echoing throughout the arena. “Players will resume starting positions.”

  Riyad pulled Adam away. “Relax, Adam. One more goal and it’ll be over.”

  ********

  Sherri was aghast at what she just saw. She was seated next to President Murr’s mate, a female name Ricoen. “Is that allowed?” she asked the native.

  “Of course, and it was to Dravis’s credit that he did not discharge onto the Human’s face.”

  “I’m sorry if I offend, but that’s disgusting.”

  “Then I would suggest your males play better. They do not seem to be very capable physically. That must come as a disappointment to you.”

  It took a moment for Sherri to realize her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut just as Omar Piero stepped up to her.

  “What’s going on, Ms. Valentine? Why are Misters Cain and Tarazi on the field?”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Sherri scolded. “They were taunted into accepting a challenge match.”

  “Oh my God!” Piero said. He then took Sherri by the arm. “Forgive me, Jon Ricoen, but I must speak with Ms. Valentine in private.”

  He took her to the side of the stage. “This is very serious. What are their plans for the match?”

  “Plans?” Sherri said, confused. “They just want to put on a little show and let the Que’l win. But that bastard just peed on Adam’s leg.”

  Piero looked around nervously. “This is serious. They cannot let the Que’l win, not without making an effort that will convince everyone here that they did their best. Even still, victory is the preferred outcome.”

  “Against those beasts, you’ve got to be kidding? Why is this so important?”

  “Follow me. We can talk on the way to the field.”

  In the wide corridor below the stage, Piero filled her in. “These contests are like war. The Que’l are engaging in a real contest right now to see who is the superior race. If Cain and Tarazi lose, the Que’l will have no respect for our leadership of the Union.”

  “Dravis did mention something about technology helping us.”

  “This is terrible, Ms. Valentine. These aliens despise those who dominate by the use of technology. They feel that is the ultimate form of cheating. Unless we can show them we are superior to them physically, we will forever lose their respect. I know the Que’l,” Piero continued. “They won’t drop out of the Union, but they will do everything they can to sabotage our position.”

  “So what? They can’t do anything that will really upset things, can they?”

  “They’re sitting on the richest deposits of crucial resources of any race in the Arm. They will use that advantage to undermine our authority. Sure, it may not work, but we don’t need the complication, especially when there’s been such a big movement for equal access to the leadership of the Union by the newer members.”

  They had reached the field by now and ran up to where Adam and Riyad were lined up on the goal line.

  “Strategy!” Piero called out. The nearest referee raised his hand.

  “We have five minutes for a strategy meeting,” the bureaucrat said to them.

  “What the hell’s going on, Piero?” Riyad asked, his mouth bleeding from the fall he’d taken. “These aliens don’t seem to be out just to win, but to humiliate us i
n the process.”

  “That’s exactly what they’re doing.” He went on to explain the purpose and psychology behind these matches.

  “Shit!” Adam cried out after Piero was through. “The damn things are built like Mack trucks and here we’re stuck with this headgear that’s like wearing blinders.”

  “They didn’t do us any good,” Riyad said as he began to unbuckle the equipment. “I’ll take my chances without it.”

  Adam removed his too.

  Sherri kicked off her shoes. “Make the announcement, Omar, I’m joining the team.”

  Piero was stunned for a moment. “There are female leagues, yet never has a female gone up against the males.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on. If they’re out to humiliate us, just imagine what will happen when we win with a female on the team.”

  “Are you crazy?” Adam asked. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

  “Piero, go tell the others they need a third player. I’m in.”

  “All right, but they’re not going to like it.” He ran off to speak with the ref.

  Sherri huddled with the men. “Look, you know in this gravity we’re faster than these guys. We can also jump, which I haven’t seen any of them do, not even in the regular match. Let’s use finesse against them. And, Adam, if you do get a chance to bust some heads, make it count. Eight-footers have never been a problem for us before. I’m sure these guys are no different.”

  Piero returned, a worried look on his face. “Okay, they agreed. In fact, I think they found it amusing that they’d be facing a female. I can’t emphasize this enough, but these contests are like real war and the victor really believes they’ve won it all at the end. This isn’t a game to them.”

  “War is my middle name,” Adam said.

  “I thought it was Jonathan?” Sherri said to lighten the mood.

  “Today it’s War. Now…let’s go kick some alien butt!”

  ********

  This time, when the starting whistle blew, the Humans took off at full speed. In the light gravity of Uinsid, all three of them reached the rock a full five seconds before the Que’l. Adam hoisted the stone, finding it to be incredibly light for its size.