Collected (Selected Book 1)

by Robin Roseau

  Each of the women, sometimes one at a time, or once two at once, were caught, carried to a cage, and set inside.

  Other than one twisted ankle, I didn't see anyone take so much as a bruise. The woman with the twisted ankle fell to the ground and clutched at the ankle, moaning. The alien who had been pursuing her knelt beside her, and he was amazingly gentle. He pulled her hands from the leg, examined it carefully, and then in a moment of tenderness, leaned down and kissed the ankle. And then, with as much tenderness, he carefully picked her up and carried her to a cage, setting her down inside, caressing her cheek, and backing out.

  The last woman was deposited into her cage. The entire event was over.

  Some of the women were crying. Some were screaming. A few sat on the floors of their cages looking dejected.

  But I was wrong when I thought the event was over, and now I understood why some of the aliens had been fighting each other. Several of them were down, and more were bloodied, not by us, but by each other.

  The fighting stopped, but it wasn't over. The aliens, excepting the ones guarding the cages, walked to the weapons racks and began to arm themselves. Some of them carried weapons to the ones in front of the cages.

  No one carried any weapons to my alien, or either of the two guarding the other women who had offered their ribbons.

  There may have been a signal, but if there was, I didn't see it. The aliens threw themselves at each other.

  The fighting was fierce, but there seemed to be some sort of honor about it. No one died, but most of them were bloodied long before it was over.

  Anyone guarding a cage was attacked by no more than one at a time, but the other fights were frequently two on one or some other mismatch.

  In the end, no one died. Some of the original guards were replaced by others. April's guard was replaced twice. But there was a portion of me that was pleased to see the male who had helped the woman with the sprained ankle was bloody, but still standing fiercely in front of her cage.

  Jasmine finally called out a word. The aliens were already done fighting, but they set aside the weapons, some returned to the racks, some tossed to the side. And then the ones who were most mobile helped the ones who had fallen.

  No one was carried away on a stretcher. Pity.

  Five males moved to the center. Jasmine called out, and the alien-guards turned to their captured humans. They opened the doors, reached in, and picked up their prizes. Each of them was carried from the arena.

  My alien didn't move.

  "What about us?" I asked. "I can walk."

  She didn't move.

  But the five males in the center were watching us.

  "What's going on?" I turned to find Jasmine, but she had disappeared. But a minute later she appeared. She stopped to talk to the males. Then she approached my alien. She spoke to her first, and I didn't understand.

  "Administrator Brighteyes," I said firmly. "I demand to know what is going on."

  She turned to me. "Your challenger-mate must defend her claim."

  "The others didn't."

  "And yet, yours will."

  "And if she loses?"

  "Then you will have a different challenger-mate."

  "I will not!" I screamed. "I have already been deeply abused by this depraved system of yours, but you gave me a ribbon and you told me how to use it. I used it, and it is unfair to me if you change the rules. I have chosen. They can fuck off."

  She studied me. "You are right. It is unfair. Your challenger-mate must defend her claim. They will come one at a time. She is offered a choice of weapons. They will come with bare hands."

  "No!" I said.

  "It is decided."

  "Then un-decide it. You cannot change the rules."

  She stepped closer, barely outside my arm's reach if I trust myself at her through the bars. She spoke softly. "Sapphire, they threatened to withdraw from the coalition guarding this portion of space."

  "Over me?"

  "Yes."

  "That's absolutely ridiculous. They're bluffing."

  "Perhaps one or two. Not all."

  "They're that poor losers?"

  "Yes."

  "This is wrong."

  "I agree. I have little choice."

  "Then let me out of this cage and give me a weapon. I'll fight beside my challenger-mate."

  At those words, the woman in question spoke, one word, and even I knew what it meant.

  "No, Sapphire," Jasmine said. "You will remain in here where you are safe."

  "If they are that bad of losers, I bet they take this out on her."

  "Probably."

  "They'll kill her."

  "They might try."

  "This is wrong, Jasmine. Stop this."

  "You're right. It is. I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry a lot. At least give me a weapon. If anyone opens that door, and it's not her, I deserve the right to defend myself. If you have taken my chances from this event, then you must give something back. I'll take a knife. Two knives."

  My challenger-mate spoke quietly. Jasmine listened then turned back to me. "She asks you to accept what happens. She doesn't want you hurt."

  "This is my choice, not hers. I deserve my chance, as small as it might be. I'll take two knives, please."

  My alien spoke, one word, and this one was yes. Jasmine stepped away, walked to the nearest equipment rack, and sorted between the choices. She returned, handing the knives to my alien, who turned around and gave them to me.

  "Thank you."

  Then they conferred again. Jasmine again stepped away. When she returned, she carried a large knife and a large hammer with a handle longer than an ax. My alien accepted them. I didn't think I could even pick up the hammer, but she held it with one hand.

  Jasmine walked away.

  * * * *

  I hefted my knives, testing their grips. They were good knives, I thought, and I'd use them if I had to.

  "Can you win?" I whispered. My alien nodded.

  "Please..." I thought about it. "Please don't get hurt. That's my job."

  She looked over her shoulder at me then stuck her ass out again. "That's right," I said. "I'm the only one who gets to kick your ass."

  Then there was one word. "Begin."

  * * * *

  The first of the males approached slowly, cautiously. His hands were empty, but he was big and looked fierce.

  I decided until I learned her real name, my alien needed me something to call her. I was fresh out of ideas, and I didn't want a cute name like I'd assigned the guards.

  "Until I hear differently," I said. "I'm calling you Bronze, for your color."

  She nodded once; she had heard me.

  But then she twirled the hammer in her hand. It looked flashy, which I thought was dangerous, but then she screamed, hopped forward in three big bounds, and twirled the hammer. The end went down, spun around behind her, and then as it neared the peak of its arc, she lunged forward, and the head of the hammer came down, came down hard, right on the shoulder of the approaching male.

  There was a resounding crack, but Bronze wasn't done. She spun in a circle, lifting her foot, and when she was back to face her opponent, she snapped out a kick directly to his chest, using the hammer to balance herself. The male flew, he flew far, and he came down in a heap, not moving.

  Bronze screamed at him then backed up to the cage again.

  "Holy shit, Bronze," I said. "You showed him."

  There was only the shortest of pauses before the second male approached. He closed half the distance before he began running at us, his arms spread widely. At the last moment, Bronze used the hammer like a pole vaulter, just clearing the male, and he slammed into the cage with the full force of his charge. I fell backwards away from him.

  He gripped the bars of the cage to steady himself and kicked backwards, catching Bronze in the leg. She didn't drop, but she fell back, and she would favor that leg for the duration of the fight.

  But she didn't pause, eithe
r, launching herself at her opponent. The two exchanged more blows, but they seemed evenly matched. But then she caught him under the chin with the butt of her hammer's handle and then in his gut with the head. Two more blows sent him to the dirt, and he lay there.

  Bronze carefully set the head of her hammer on his head, and Jasmine called out a word.

  Bronze stepped away. Two of the remaining males hurried forward and pulled the fallen away from the battle area immediately in front of my cage, although they then left him in a heap.

  I didn't think he was dead, but I hoped Bronze had hurt him badly.

  But she was limping, and her left harm hung at her side, the angle odd.

  "Bronze?"

  She turned her head slightly, but then she turned back to face the next male. There were still three left, and she was hurt.

  The next fight was different yet. Bronze tried to repeat the trick with the first, but he stepped away from the descending hammer and then punched her arm, hard. She dropped the hammer and then was driven backwards, away from it. The two grappled, fighting immediately in front of the cage, and it wasn't clear who would win, but it was Bronze's third fight, and she was hurt.

  Then they slammed into the cage, hard, the male's back to me.

  I didn't hesitated. Instead, I took a lesson from April, mentally thanking her.

  Screaming, I lunged, and while I'd never had a fencing lesson in my life, I thought I did a good job.

  I buried my right hand knife deep in the back of his thigh.

  He screamed, and the knife was yanked from my hand as he pushed away from the cage. But when he put weight on that leg, he stumbled, and a moment later, Bronze dropped him with a flurry of strikes, the last two delivered to the back of his neck. He dropped and lay still.

  Bronze stood over him, panting and holding her side.

  "Are you all right?"

  She didn't answer me, but she looked down at her opponent's leg, and that was when she saw my knife, still sticking out. She looked at me and then offered a small bow.

  "I want my knife back," I said. I tried reaching for it, pressed against the bars, but he was well out of reach.

  Bronze looked at the knife and then looked at me. Then she spoke one word, quite clearly. And while it may not have been English, I understood.

  "No."

  "Damn it, Bronze," I said. "Give me my knife."

  She turned her back to me and waited for her next opponent. But she was hurt, and he had apparently reserved himself during the earlier fighting. He came on easily, confidently. And then they grappled.

  The results were at first, exceedingly one-sided.

  He beat her to a pulp.

  I spent the entire time screaming, out of my mind screaming, but they were too far away for me to help with my second knife.

  He beat her to a pulp, but then she fell across her last opponent and lay still. And he stood up and bellowed a victory cry.

  And then she clasped a hand around my old knife, turned, and thrust upward. His eyes opened widely. She withdrew the knife and pumped it into him several more times.

  He dropped to his knees, facing me. Bronze basically crawled up his back, and I thought she was about to slit his throat, but she pulled herself up and delivered a vicious elbow strike to the back of his neck.

  He went down, pulling her with her. And then she lay there. I could see her breathing, but she was beaten, and she wouldn't survive the next fight.

  Her final opponent waited. Slowly, Bronze looked up. We locked gazes. And then I watched as she crawled, painfully towards me. I moved to the edge of the cage.

  "Bronze."

  She reached through and meant to caress my face, but she saw her hand was bloody, and she stopped. But I crabbed her wrist and pressed it against my face. Her expression grew tender.

  "Sapphire," she said, each sound pronounced slowly.

  "Administrator Brighteyes," I screamed. "This is done. Bronze beat four, and that's more than her share. End this."

  Jasmine said nothing. Bronze dropped her hand from my face and -- painfully -- turned around, her back against the cage. She was still holding my knife.

  "Bronze," I said to her. "No. You're done."

  "You. Mine."

  "I am not! I am my own, and no one else's."

  "Mine," she said again. She gestured with the knife. "Or his."

  "Not yours," I said, "but you I'll give a chance. You weren't supposed to let anyone else kick your ass. That's my job, damn it!"

  Then I stood fully upright. I pointed to the male, still waiting. "You wait."

  He ignored me and took two steps forward, his eyes on Bronze, his intention clear.

  "No!" I screamed.

  I was still holding one more knife. I transferred it to my right hand and lifted the blade to my throat. "Not another step!" I screamed.

  He froze, his eyes on me. But then he took a step forward, a single step, and I began to draw the knife across my own throat. Blood began to flow, although only from the surface. He froze. I froze.

  "I mean it," I screamed. "Not one more step!"

  Bronze looked over her shoulder and saw what I was doing. "Sapphire," she said slowly. "No."

  "My choice," I said, glancing down to her. "My choice!" I screamed. "You took my ribbon. Not him. I gave it to you." I pointed with my left hand. "He is not touching me."

  "Sapphire Fletcher," yelled Jasmine's voice. "Drop the knife. Now."

  "Or what?" I yelled back.

  "Or the towers will drop you."

  "Are you sure I won't rip my own throat out when they do?"

  She paused, and then she yelled, "Nobody move." She spoke in another language, presumably one the aliens fully understood.

  "Sapphire," Bronze said.

  I glanced down at her. She was fading fast.

  "She needs a doctor!" I screamed. "Jasmine, she needs a doctor, but that male is not touching me."

  Then there was movement, and Jasmine appeared, hurrying across the sands directly for me. She stopped a short distance from my cage.

  "Sapphire, drop the knife."

  "Sure. As soon as you declare Bronze the winner."

  "Bronze?"

  "She needed a name. I called her Bronze, for now."

  "Bronze has one more challenger."

  "Bronze won. Tell the crappy loser to come back next month and terrorize another helpless human woman. He's not getting me."

  The crappy loser in question growled a response. Jasmine turned her head to him and spoke quickly. He spoke just as quickly. Jasmine turned back to me.

  "He offers to spare Bronze and promises to treat you well if you surrender."

  "No."

  "He believes you are bluffing."

  "Do you believe I am bluffing?"

  "Please drop the knife."

  "No."

  The male called my bluff. He took two steps towards Bronze. I didn't rip out my throat.

  Instead, I slammed the knife into my arm and yanked as savagely as I could, ripping open as many arteries as I could.

  I screamed, and then, before I could do any more damage, the weapons in the towers struck me.

  Jasmine hadn't been bluffing. The weapons felt like they were ripping my nerves directly from my body, and my entire body felt like it was bursting into flames. I screamed again and collapsed.

  Bronze began to roar her grief.

  Recovery

  I didn't die. As I lay on the ground, I wished to die. I was out of my mind from the agony. I know I screamed. I screamed and screamed as I writhed on the ground.

  The male carried me from the cage, but I was too far gone in my agony to realize it at the time. I didn't see where he carried me, but then he was pressing me into one of their chairs, and he had to hold me down as the chair enveloped me.

  And then... it ended.

  * * * *

  I didn't die, but when I woke, I still wished I had. I felt raw, like I'd had my insides scrubbed with a wire brush.

  "Sa
pphire Fletcher," said a gentle, concerned voice.

  I opened my eyes. Jasmine stood beside my bed, looking down at me. I was still heavily encased, with just my face exposed. I couldn't even move my head.

  "That was a very foolish thing to do."

  I looked down, but I couldn't see much, just the chair, and a lump that would have been my body inside of it.

  "I. Lived. Pity."

  "You lost a lot of blood. It was a close thing. If we'd waited for the medics, you would have bled out."

  "General. Idea. How many died fighting over me?"

  "None."

  "Bronze?"

  "See for yourself." She gestured and stepped aside. Standing, leaning against the wall, was a blurry figure.

  "Bronze?"

  She moved to stand on the other side of my chair. She looked a lot better than I felt. Bronze caressed my face, and I closed my eyes.

  "Remember. Male. Carried."

  "We couldn't wait," Jasmine said.

  "His now. Let me die."

  "No," Bronze said firmly. "Mine."

  Opened my eyes and looked at her.

  "You beat Garrick," Jasmine said. "Not all challenges are physical. As it appeared your wish for Bronze to win, I declared her the winner. She is your challenger-mate. You are her mating candidate."

  "Not yours," I said up at Bronze. "I'm a free woman. Make own decisions."

  She caressed my cheek gently then spoke in her own language. Jasmine translated. "Get well, she says. You have challenges to share, and she has an ass that requires kicking. Whatever that means."

  Bronze bent over and kissed my forehead, and then she was gone. I turned my focus back to Jasmine.

  "How long?"

  "You've been here for two days. We healed the damage. You won't be able to tell. I almost decided you should keep the scar, but Garrick and Bronze told me what they'd do to me if we didn't heal you completely."

  "Sunburn."

  "We healed that, too."

  "Throat hurts."

  She smiled. "They didn't threaten me over your throat. Consider it a portion of my petty revenge."

  "Why am I in this chair?"

  "Your body needs rest."

  "When do I go back to my cell?"

  "Tomorrow."

  "Where are my glasses?"

  "Waiting in your cell."

  "Where is my visor?"

  "That is the other portion of my petty revenge. Your little stunt has cost you all your earned privileges. Your visor is confiscated. You have no privileges."