Grant scanned the watchers around the square and saw no immediate threats. He then turned back to the man on the ground and put out a hand to help him to his feet.
The man stood up without assistance and looked at Grant defiantly, unwilling to cower. To the man's – and the rest of the crowd's – surprise, Grant turned the blade around and handed it out to the man, handle first. The man hesitated the barest moment before plucking it sharply from Grant's hand. He looked to Grant for an explanation but Grant merely shrugged.
"It's your knife, friend. I don’t need it."
A murmur coursed through the crowd of onlookers. Grant guessed from their reaction that this was not expected behavior and that pleased him. He was not here to accomplish the expected. The man with the knife nodded and tucked the weapon beneath his belt. He faced Grant squarely and spoke in Standard. "My name is Pound. If you need anything within this square, you see me. I will help you."
Grant was mildly irked to hear that Standard was also spoken in a place like Violent’s Prison. He recognized the man's accent as Urop'n, though, and responded in that Culture's primary language. "Very well, Pound. I desire access to the next square."
Pound smiled, and the crowd murmured its surprise at this request as those that spoke the Urop’n language translated Grant’s words into Standard.
"We shall see if you desire it badly enough, my friend," Pound said. "We shall see."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grant and Pound sat in front of a blazing fire. It was dusk and others crowded around them until the space around the fire was gone.
Food was shared among the men in an ordered fashion. Two teen-aged boys served the men closest to the fire first. Grant and Pound received the first helpings of a stiff cornmeal-like substance. It was dished onto flat metal plates. Cheap tin spoons and small cups of stale, tepid water were passed out. Grant considered passing on his portion but the men around him spooned up the gruel with such fervor that Grant forced himself to join them. He had no desire to humiliate these men by turning down their offer to share what little they had.
Pound recognized Grant's hesitancy with the food and nodded.
"I am sorry that we have nothing better to offer, but this is all that the inner squares allow us. All food is delivered to the Inner Square. By the time we receive ours, everything of value and sustenance has been taken."
"Why do the other squares allow you any food at all?" Grant asked.
"Because they need us, my good friend. We weed out most of the newcomers and save the other squares the trouble. And we are no threat to them. Anyone who has been forced to eat this mush for a month is no longer able to challenge them for dominance."
Grant considered the implications of Pound's statement and saw the truth in the words. Men who lived on nothing but damp oatmeal and rancid water would not remain strong for long.
"I guess I should make my challenge soon then, eh?"
Pound squinted sideways at Grant, appraising him for weaknesses and strengths. Apparently, Grant met with his approval for he said, "I would not wait at all if I were you, friend."
"Very well. In the morning, I begin."
"Take care, brave one! The next square is difficult. Should you get past their door guard, be wary. They are armed in there. Oh, not quite so well as further on, but they are armed with more than a knife." Pound's eye twinkled with the mention of his knife and Grant was glad the man did not hold a grudge. He rather liked the grubby man.
"What kind of weapons do they carry, Pound?" Grant was not overly concerned about the next square, but wanted as much information as possible before proceeding to the Inner Square.
"Oh, chains and sticks mostly. And many knives."
"One more question, Pound. Where are the women and children?"
"Hah! There are no women here in the Outer. No, no! They are too valuable, as are the children. As soon as a female or child is dropped, the First Square's door guard summons his mates. They are taken inside and who knows what becomes of them? Certainly, not I!"
"Why is it that you've never challenged the First Square, Pound?"
"Have you not reached your limit on the queries, my friend? Ah, well, never mind! I shall tell you why. I would much rather be a large fish in a small pond than a small fish in a large one." Pound indicated the area around the fire. The space was twenty meters square. "This is my pond. Through the First Square door, who knows what exists?"
Grant nodded and checked the security of the radio he carried; he did not want it stolen in the night.
"Wake me at first light, Pound," he said and curled up next to the fire and closed his eyes.
Pound stared at Grant, as if weighing his chance to kill the other man. He must have thought better of the idea. He passed an order about the fire that no one was to harm the stranger during the night and curled up for sleep himself.
It was well that he had done so; for Grant feigned sleep long enough to be sure that Pound's order was not ignored. Long after the fire grew dim, Grant finally gave in to sleep.
He awoke the next morning before the sun crept over the wall. He was the first up and scanned the top of the First Square wall for anyone who might be standing watch against the outer courtyard. He doubted that a guard existed and his search showed no one. Satisfied that he was as well prepared as he could be, he stepped carefully across the scattered forms of the sleeping prisoners. He reached the wall of the First Square without trampling anyone. He followed the wall to the doorway, nearly a quarter mile away.
Each square held eight doorways. Four along the outer wall and four along the inner. Avery had informed him that one of the square’s most formidable fighters guarded each door at all times. To make it to the inner, Fifth Square, Grant had to successfully defeat each square's outer door guard and each square's leader. Pound was the leader of the Outer Courtyard, and his defeat had ensured his loyalty. If Grant had wished to stay in the courtyard on a permanent basis, he would have become the new leader. In this manner, the survival of the fittest was accomplished. It was a brutal form of succession.
Grant reached the southern door of the First Square and prepared himself mentally. When he was ready, he stepped forward.
"I demand Challenge!" he yelled.
Grant had but a minute to wait. The guard from the First Square summoned another of his comrades to stand watch over the door while he responded to the challenge. The customs of Violent's Prison forbade the new guard from interfering with the contest. His only task was to prevent any of the other Outer Square men from entering his square while his comrade responded to Grant’s challenge.
Once the doorway was secured, the challenged guardian stepped from the darkness of the First Square building. Grant noticed that the man carried a long stick made of hardened wood. It appeared comfortable in the man’s grasp. In turn, Grant crouched, prepared to defend against the weapon and waited for the guard to attack. The guard did not let Grant down and covered the five meters that separated them at a run. He swung the two-meter long stick and Grant reacted by stepping to the right. Almost too late, Grant saw the move as a feint and barely managed to duck the stick as the guardian changed its direction expertly in the middle of his swing. The staff whistled by Grant's head.
The guard was well trained but the surprise of his miss showed clearly on his face. The surprise was quickly replaced with determination and he gripped the staff securely, readying himself for another pass at the challenger. Grant circled to the left, more cautious in his defense now that he had seen the man wield his weapon effectively. They circled for a moment, each eyeing the other carefully.
Grant was dimly aware that a crowd had gathered around them and, from the corner of his right eye, noticed Pound watching the contest. The man appeared ready to join in the fight against the First Square guardian and Grant prepared to warn him away. Before he could do so, the guard thrust the weapon viciously, the point of the stick aimed at Grant's chest. Grant dodged left, seized the wooden
rod with his left hand, and yanked the guard off balance He kept his grip on the weapon and, using his left foot as a pivot, spun toward the guard and delivered a brutal roundhouse kick to the side of his head. The guard dropped like a stone.
Grant entered the First Square door carrying the heavy wooden rod. His victory over the guard had been easier than his win over Pound. He turned back toward the Inner Square. Grant raised his hand to Pound and the other man waved back, smiling.
"Good journey, oh, brave one!" Pound called. "And beware of Titan!"
Grant waved again and continued into the building of the First Square. He briefly wondered who Titan was, but had no time to dwell on the message. Inside the First Square, he was met by a score of men, all armed with sticks and chains. These men, he saw, were better fed than the men of the previous courtyard. Pound and his group depended on these men for everything, including food and the fuel to light their nightly fire. Grant watched the men appraise him. He had just defeated the guard at the door but that meant little now that he was inside. Grant nodded and walked.
The men of the First Square followed him, silently watching his progress toward the far side of the building. Grant was alert and watched every move the men made. As with the outer courtyard, Grant saw no women or children, and guessed that they were immediately taken from here by the men of the Second Square.
Grant arrived at the far wall of the First Square without incident. The door was guarded by another stick wielder. Apparently, from the actions of the guardian and the men around him, he was required to fight his way out of the building if he wished to proceed into the space beyond. Why waste any time, he decided with a sigh. He stopped a few meters from the door and faced the man standing there.
“I call Challenge!"
"For what purpose do you desire to cross this doorway, newcomer?"
The question caught Grant by surprise. Avery had mentioned nothing that would indicate he would be questioned when trying to proceed to the Inner Square. The cry of 'challenge' was supposed to be sufficient.
"I’ve got my reasons. And I don’t need to share them with you," Grant answered. The guard considered Grant carefully, apparently weighing the response. With a nod, the guard stepped aside.
"As you wish, newcomer. You may pass."
There was a disappointed hum from the watchers inside the building, quickly silenced by a glare from the guard. They obviously feared and respected the guard of this doorway for they quickly dispersed from the area. Grant found himself alone with the guard who stood to one side of the door permitting passage.
"Why are letting me pass unchallenged?"
"For reasons of my own, and for which I choose not to share with you, newcomer." Grant laughed and held out his hand.
"My name is Grant. I’m honored to meet you, guardian."
The man eyed Grant with some suspicion of his own but accepted the proffered hand. "I am Davis, Leader of the First Square."
Grant stepped through the door into the space beyond. He was now entering the area between the first and second square buildings. Several men in the open space turned their heads his way. Within seconds, dozens were headed in his direction.
"Well, Davis," Grant said to the guardian. "Have you any advice as I make my way toward the Inner Square?"
Davis eyed Grant. "Certainly. Be careful of the man named Titan."
Grant wondered again at the name, and questioned Davis.
"You may meet him should you be skilled, Grant. That is all I will say."
"As you wish, Davis." Grant gripped his staff tightly and strode out to meet his welcoming committee.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Zal's leathered toes dug into the soft earth as he surveyed the human sub-farm. Little had changed since his last visit and he waved his fellow Minith soldiers into position with much relish. The humans stopped working to stare at the aliens, without exception the largest group of off-worlders they had ever witnessed. Several of the assembled hundreds whispered urgently to their co-workers, a few pointed.
Zal thought it unlikely they would distinguish him as one of the two who had recently killed several of their clan, but did not dismiss the possibility out of hand. Who knew what these humans were capable of, he wondered.
The Minith spread out in a line of twenty, their complete unit assembled for the upcoming sport. Even Lieutenant Treel, normally aloof and distant from the rest of his unit, lined up in anticipation of the game. When the farthest soldier reached his place along the edge of the immense human field, Zal gave the signal.
At a steady pace, the line of huge troopers moved into the green rows of vegetables and fruit. Each was armed with a long blade of polished steel and a length of Minith chain. They were barbaric weapons, but their use would increase the sporting value of the task. The troops had become bored with their duties on the tame planet. Bred to fight and kill with no regard for mercy, an assignment to Earth was a punishment often reserved for the most undisciplined Minith warriors. Zal planned to change the image of Earth as a dull assignment with his reign as Minister, and this would be a good beginning. Soon, the Minith Empire would hear of the sport to be had here. If only these humans would fight back, Zal thought, then this would truly be a planet worth holding.
The humans stood unmoving as the Minith soldiers approached. Only after the first of them went down, felled by a blow of Minith chain to the head, did the humans realize what was happening and begin to flee. The Minith soldiers, with their increased leg length, easily kept pace with the screaming humans and mowed them down with well-aimed blows and swings of the blades and chains. Sixty seconds after the first human went down, more than a hundred others lay dead or dying. Zal's features contorted with grotesque glee. He reveled in the carnage. He laughed harshly as one of the nearer troops beheaded two young females with a single slash of his long blade. Sharp Minith steel did not tarry long in the flesh of humans, he noticed.
He soon tired of the game and turned back to the carrier where he could await the return of his men in comfort. He passed a contented sigh and dropped to the plush purple cabin seat. He admired the noble color, marvelously pleased with his command of this planet.
The soldiers returned two hours later. They wore the bright red blood of the hunted like a new set of clothes and hesitated at taking their own seats lest some of the crimson dressing be rubbed from them.
"Come now, troopers," Zal reminded them. "Do not fret upon losing your momentary badges of valor. Remember, we have two other such farms to visit before our work is done."
The soldiers cheered Zal. They no longer cared that two of their fellow guardians had been dealt their fates by these humans. This entertainment of revenge more than made up for the passing of two lesser soldiers.
* * *
A final parry of the man's sword and Grant was inside his guard. He did not want to kill, but there was no choice. With a quick stab to the heart, the ten-inch blade he had won in the Third Square ended the contest. The door's warrior fell and Grant strode silently into the Fourth Square. He began his third day in the monolithic prison by defeating yet another guardian.
The first difference he noticed was the women. They were not beautiful by any means, but they were not the thin, emaciated females that had greeted him in the Third Square. He nodded to one who seemed to be taking an interest in his presence and made his way through the darkened stone interior toward the Inner Square. The woman fell in behind Grant's quickened pace and tagged along three paces behind him for quite a distance before he turned to face her.
"Can I help you?"
The girl said nothing, only stared at him. She was in her mid twenties, Grant guessed. The dirty, reddish-brown hair that hung loosely over her eyes nearly caused Grant to miss the furtive glance over his left shoulder. He ducked to the right and brought out his blade as a length of chain blurred past his head. He turned to face the threat and found himself facing a large black man twirling a heavy chain with an
ease and confidence that caused Grant to take great care. From the corner of his eye, he picked up a sudden movement and barely dodged a knife's downward plunge. Grant reached out for the knife's wielder and caught the girl's wrist in a vise-like grip. He broke the wrist with a single twist and the girl dropped to the floor.
The girl's distraction was minimal but almost proved his undoing. The chain pounded across his chest and knocked him backward. He grabbed out and snagged the chain as he fell. He held on long enough to prevent another use of the steel weapon against him and regained his feet. His chest throbbed hotly as he faced the black man again. Grant consciously discarded his previous reservations about killing and set out to fight for his life. His opponent, having had an opportunity to assess Grant's abilities, folded the chain in half to a length of four feet. It gave him more control of the weapon and he twirled the folded metal before him and advanced.
"I don't want to fight with you. Just on my way to the Inner Square." Grant tried to reason with the larger man. The other stood well over six feet tall and must have weighed close to three hundred pounds – and there was no flab on him.
"Inner Square, huh?" The black man's smile showed three gold teeth. Other than those few trinkets of wealth, the man was toothless. "The path to the Inner Square runs right through me."
"Ever considered getting your teeth fixed, asshole?" Grant asked. The flash of anger was brief but more than enough of a distraction. Grant launched himself at the chain's owner. Before the man could react, Grant was within the chain’s arc, the weapon neutralized. The large man barely dodged Grant's right hook but managed to catch Grant on the temple with one of his own.
The blow dazed Grant and he fought to stay on his feet. He succeeded, but was clubbed by a powerful left hand. The fist, made much more potent by the chain it held, slammed Grant's jaw. His teeth rattled and he saw the fireflies of his youth dancing around his head. Sheer determination and fighter's instinct kept him erect and conscious.
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