Last Fight

by S. J. Bryant

"What did you say?" Jen said.

  Aart lifted a trembling hand and pointed at Drax. "He told them I was a bounty hunter. That's why they took me to the shed. I thought it was because…because of what I'd done in front of the general, but it wasn't. The enforcers wanted me to fight because they thought I'd be good; because I'm a hunter."

  Cole turned on Drax. "Is that true?"

  Drax held up his hands and backed away. "The boy's obviously had too many hits to the head. He doesn't know what he's saying."

  "You told them about me!"

  "I didn't—"

  "You were the only one that knew I was a hunter."

  Zap strode toward Drax and cracked her knuckles. "I always said there was something off about him. I always said it was strange that he'd never been taken to the shed. Everyone gets taken eventually; everyone except him."

  "It's not what you think," Drax said.

  "Did you tell the enforcers about Aart?" Cole said.

  Drax swallowed.

  "Did you?"

  "I might have mentioned it, accidentally. But I'm no sell-out. It's not how it looks."

  "And why would you be talking to an enforcer where you could accidentally say that?" Zap said.

  Drax stepped away until his back pressed against the wall of the hut. "It's not like that. He asked me something and you know you can't ignore the enforcers—"

  "I've suspected for a time that you were selling us out to the enforcers," Cole said. "But a part of me refused to believe."

  "Cole, please. It's not true. Surely you're not going to believe the word of a newbie over me?"

  "The guilt is all over your face," Cole said.

  "Can I take care of him?" Zap said, fist clenched.

  "There's no need. Obviously Aart didn't give them the fight they were hoping for. They would be planning to punish Drax anyway; I'll just make sure he gets what he deserves."

  "No!" Drax said.

  "Yes. It's finally your turn to visit the shed."

  "No! Please! They'll kill me."

  "Then it would be no more than you deserve. Get out. I won't have you sleeping in the same room as us," Cole said.

  "But—"

  "Get out!"

  Drax scurried to the door and slipped out into the night. The door clicked shut behind him and Aart sagged back to the floor. At least that piece of justice would be served, and despite what Cole had done in front of the general, he obviously had no love for the enforcers or how they ran things. Perhaps the other workers weren't as bad as Aart had thought, perhaps they were just scared.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Aart spent the next three days in excruciating, unbearable pain. It radiated out of his face and spread all the way to his stomach. He could only open his eyes to thin slits and his nose seemed twice its usual size. He didn't make quota.

  On the fourth day he could open his eyes enough to see out of and most of his limbs worked like they were supposed to, although his right shoulder throbbed and he couldn't lift his arm above his head.

  He sat on the end of his bed and rubbed his face. Despite Jen's ministrations he could smell blood and sweat all over his skin and red caked the undersides of his fingernails.

  "You look better today," Jen said, pulling on her overalls.

  "I don't feel like I'm about to die."

  "And I thought my beating was bad," Gin said.

  Aart nodded and pulled on his overalls but his mind was far from locusts. His days spent recovering meant extra time on his contract and he was no closer to finding Delia. His tactic wasn't working and that meant he had to try something different.

  Teak had said Delia went missing and that the enforcers were looking for her. But how could that be? They all had tracking chips which should have told the enforcers exactly where she was.

  Aart brushed his finger against his own chip. The other workers had told him on his first night that all the enforcers carried a device that could lock on to any of them. But the enforcers still hadn't been able to find Delia; what did that mean? That they knew where she was but couldn't get there? That they knew she was dead? Or that she had somehow disabled her chip?

  Aart couldn't sit around and wait for information anymore because he might not survive another trip to the shed. Plus, he didn't want to spend another second on Raster if he didn't have to. That meant his next logical step was stealing a tracking device from an enforcer so he could find Delia on his own.

  It sounded easy in his head, but how was he supposed to steal something from the enforcers? The enforcers who carried guns and seemed to be on the lookout for reasons to shoot the workers?

  He pulled on his boots and trudged out into the field with his basket. He set up away from the other workers where he could keep an eye on the enforcer assigned to their field.

  Aart's injured shoulder made it hard for him to snatch the locusts and he had to stop every few minutes to catch his breath.

  "All right, Aart?" Cole said.

  Aart glanced up at him. "Yeah, I'm all right. Just a bit dizzy."

  "Try to keep working. Another day without quota could get you in trouble."

  "Yeah." Aart waved his hand and half-heartedly snatched for a locust but he didn't see the point, especially not if it pushed him toward fainting. He had no intention of staying for the full length of his contract anyway, so what did it matter if extra days got added?

  Aart took his time in dropping a locust into his basket and studied the enforcer.

  This one spent most of his time leaning against the deposit bin, staring at a communicator. He only looked up when one of the workers went close to pour their baskets into the bin.

  A second screen hung from the enforcer's belt which Aart assumed was used to track the workers. It wouldn't be too hard to take, provided the enforcer was distracted.

  Aart bit his lip and glanced around at his fellow workers. None of them had told him about Delia, or even about the shed, there was no way they'd get involved in trying to steal something from the enforcer. If only he could contact Tyra! She'd know what to do… but she probably wouldn't have let him get caught up in a job like this in the first place.

  Voices and footsteps came from the end of the field; two enforcers. The one near the bin stuffed his communicator into his pocket and stood to attention.

  "Morning, sir," he said.

  "Morning, Jack. We've got orders to bring another one from this field to the shed."

  Aart's stomach sank. No. He couldn't go to the shed again.

  "They've been taking a lot from this field lately," Jack said.

  One of the new enforcers shrugged. "I just do what I'm told."

  "Which one is it?"

  "Drax."

  The enforcers stepped away from the deposit bin toward where Drax worked the field.

  Aart sagged and his racing heart eased. It was Drax, not him.

  Drax looked up at the enforcers and color fled from his face. "No."

  "Come on," the enforcer said. "You know the deal, either come quietly, or come painfully, but you will be coming with us."

  "No!" Drax threw his basket at the enforcers then turned and sprinted away from them through the field.

  The enforcers dodged around the basket and all three hurtled after him.

  Aart bit his lip. He couldn't rely on the others helping him and he might not get another chance like this. He dropped his basket and dashed after Drax. If he ran fast enough he could cut Drax off before the enforcers caught up.

  His feet pounded on the ground and brought new pain to his bruised face but he kept going.

  The other workers stopped and stared at him.

  "Aart! What are you—?" Jen said, but he sprinted past and her voice faded into the background buzz of locusts.

  He dived forward and caught Drax around the middle. Drax fell forward and landed on his stomach with Aart on top of him.

  Drax writhed and squirmed, but Aart was bigger and stronger. He straddled Drax and pinned his arms behind his back.

&nb
sp; The enforcers came to a stop beside them, puffing and red faced.

  "That'll do, worker," one said.

  "It's okay." Aart stood and held his hands up. "Just trying to help."

  As soon as he stood, Drax squirmed and lurched to his feet.

  "No you don't!" All three enforcers lunged at Drax.

  Aart let them brush past him and in the confusion of arms and legs he snatched the tracker from Jack's belt. He dropped it into a pocket of his overalls and then plastered a concerned look on his face.

  The enforcers wrenched Drax's arms behind his back and shoved him toward the deposit bin.

  "That'll be all, worker," Jack said. "Get back to the field. Your quota hasn't changed."

  "Yes, sir," Aart said. He hurried away from them to his patch of field and patted the bulge in his pocket. He just had to hope that Jack wouldn't notice it missing for a while.

  Jack returned to his post by the deposit bin while the other two enforcers dragged Drax away in the direction of the shed. Sweat dribbled down Aart's forehead. If Jack noticed the tracker missing now, there'd be trouble. There weren't many places it could have gone. But Jack stayed transfixed on his communicator.

  Aart forced himself to keep harvesting, despite his throbbing headache and burning muscles. He didn't want to draw attention to himself and that meant that regardless of his earlier decision, he had to make quota.

  It took until two hours after nightfall for Aart to fill his basket for a second time and his muscles shook so much that he struggled to pour them into the deposit bin.

  He trudged into the hut and the others stared at him as he collected a bowl of mush and sat on the end of his bed.

  "That was cold what you did," Fillup said.

  Aart frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Helping the enforcers like that. They would have caught him anyway."

  Aart glanced around the room but the others wouldn't meet his eyes. His heart sank. "He sold me out. Just wanted to get a few punches of my own in."

  His voice faded into silence, except for the buzz of locusts outside.

  Zap smacked her fist down on her mattress. "Here, here! I would have done the same thing if I'd thought about it. I'm sure it was that weasel that sold me out too."

  Aart gave her a weak smile, any ally was better than none.

  "Enough of that," Cole said. "He got what he deserved; that's all we'll say on the matter."

  "When they bring him back, I won't be fixing his wounds," Zap said.

  "Like you ever do," Jen said.

  The two women glowered at each other.

  "Neither of you will have to," Cole said. "I've requested that he be sent to another field."

  "Good," Zap said.

  "Probably for the best," Jen said.

  Aart nodded and went back to his food. He itched to take out the tracker and find Delia, but he had to wait until the others were asleep. If Cole found out… Aart didn't doubt that he'd report him to the enforcers.

  "Who did you fight in the shed anyway?" Zap said.

  "Teak," Aart said, glad for the change of subject.

  "Poor bastard," Zap said. "He's been here for years. His contract was only for six months, but of course he's a favorite in the ring so…"

  Aart's heart sunk. "He said that…"

  Zap nodded.

  "He can fight too," Fillup said. "Beats me every time. Course if he learned to lose better he might not be such a favorite and they'd let him go."

  "No wonder you came back looking like that," Zap said. She flicked her hand toward Aart's face.

  "Thanks."

  "Zap and Fillup had better watch themselves or they'll become favorites too," Jen said.

  Zap grimaced. "It's hard not to fight when the alternative is to have your face smashed in."

  "Exactly," Fillup said. "How are you supposed to fight well enough that the enforcers don't shoot you for not trying, but not so good that they take a shine to you? It's impossible."

  "I'm just saying," Jen said. "You're getting summoned there more and more."

  Aart frowned. "What about you, and Berry, and Cole?"

  "Us overseers don't usually get called," Cole said. "We can't fight and who'd keep an eye on the rest of you?"

  "He's got the best job," Gin said. "I'll be overseer one day."

  "Hopefully you'll be free by then," Cole said.

  "And you two?" Aart said to Jen and Berry.

  They shared a glance.

  "We're not fighters," Jen said.

  "We're farmers," Berry said.

  "That doesn't seem to make a difference for the enforcers?"

  "We have an arrangement," Jen said. "We have a higher quota than the rest of you, but we don't get sent to the shed, not anymore. We can't fight anyway so it's better for the enforcers this way."

  "You can do that?" Aart said. "Why doesn't everyone do that? I'd rather pick more locusts than go to the shed!"

  "No offense, love, but you struggle to make your current quota. I don't think you'd be able to handle ours," Jen said. "We put it into our contract. We knew what went on here so we took precautions."

  "You knew and you still came here, why?"

  "What other choice did we have?" Jen said. "Can you see either of us working on Vix?"

  Aart swallowed and a blush crept over his cheeks.

  "We're good at what we do here," Jen said. "And we keep our heads down. Three more months and our contracts will be up and we'll have saved enough to buy our own ship."

  "Oh," Aart said. "Good."

  "Yep, we're planning on seeing some sights outside of the Resource District. But after that, who knows? We might decide to become bounty hunters ourselves!"

  Aart grinned. "You'd make excellent bounty hunters."

  "Oh, don't listen to her," Berry said. "We're not becoming hunters. We're going to go into transport."

  Jen chuckled. "We'll see."

  Aart couldn't help smiling. He didn't really see Jen and Berry making good bounty hunters, but they were good people. If only they were brave as well, then perhaps they could help him find Delia. But they weren't; like Jen said, they kept their heads down. That meant he'd be using the tracking device on his own.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Aart waited until the sounds of breathing around him settled into a steady rhythm. Fillup's loud snores overpowered everything else, even the buzz of locusts outside.

  Aart slipped out from beneath his sheet and lowered his feet to the floor. The board creaked.

  He froze, shoulders tense, but no one moved.

  He picked up his boots and crept past the other beds to the door.

  Cole lay closest to the exit and tossed in his sleep.

  Aart ducked into a deep shadow near the corner of the door and held his breath until Cole settled.

  Aart eased the door open and slid out into the night and the oppressive buzz of the locusts. He clicked the door shut behind him and then ran as quiet as he could into the nearest field. He ducked down beneath the level of the crops to pull his boots on over his dirt-covered feet.

  Locusts flicked about his head, one got caught in his hair and jerked its wings in a mad frenzy to get away. Aart snatched it, tore it loose, and hurled it away.

  Aart finished tying his laces, and then pulled the tracking device from his pocket. The screen lit up his face and blinded him. He squinted and studied the screen.

  He navigated to the search function and typed in Delia's name. Her picture appeared along with an overhead view of the plantation and a flashing red dot, at the far edge of the next field.

  He bit his lip. He couldn't enter the next field without his own tracking chip warning the enforcers, but now that he knew where Delia was, he had to go and see her.

  He peered between the crops to the dirt track that separated the fields. An enforcer would be patrolling it, somewhere. They didn't bother putting many on at night—where would the workers run to? But Aart didn't want to get caught just for being foolish. The path was clear.
>
  That didn't solve the problem of his chip. He brushed his fingers over the lump. It wasn't deep so perhaps he could remove it. But he didn't have a knife—or any weapon for that matter, or any bandages, or antiseptic… nothing.

  What if Delia was hurt, or in trouble? He couldn't do nothing.

  Aart pressed down on one side of the chip and it tilted beneath his skin. It stung and the sensation of something moving beneath his flesh made his stomach churn.

  He scanned the dirt around him but of course there were no knives. That left him with only one option.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and dug into his neck with his fingernails. The sharp edges of the tracking chip helped cut through his flesh. Blood dribbled around his fingers and made his neck slick. He tore the hole wider and then pushed on the edge of the chip. It tugged at his flesh which had started to grow around it, making it part of him.

  He grimaced and pushed harder until the edge of the chip tore through his skin. He snatched the corner and pulled. It ripped a flap of flesh free, and more blood poured down Aart's neck.

  He clapped one hand over the wound and held the chip between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. It reflected the moonlight.

  His neck burned. He glared at the chip and would have crushed it except that the enforcers would know, and they'd come to investigate. He clenched his hand around the chip and looked around the field. He had to leave it somewhere he'd be able to find it again but where no one would stumble on it.

  Aart crept to the edge of the field and then darted to the deposit bin. He edged around the back but could see no enforcers. He then dug a small hole near the base of the bin and buried the chip in it.

  The wound at his neck dribbled blood. The top of his overalls would be soaked; how was he supposed to explain that? He shook himself. There were more important things to think about, like finding Delia.

  Aart studied the tracking device once more and crept into the next field. He kept low, so the enforcers wouldn't see his head above the crops, and paused every few minutes to listen, but he heard nothing.

  He reached the edge of South Field A and paused. A bright, red line of plastic marked the boundary; a warning to workers. Aart bit his lip and stepped across. Nothing happened.