Last Fight

by S. J. Bryant

  "This way." The enforcer marched toward the curtained end.

  He pulled it aside to reveal a thin bed with filthy sheets and a box of bandages and cotton wool.

  "You stay here."

  "For how long?" Aart said. "I've got quota and—"

  The enforcer rolled his eyes. "Quota don't count while you're in the shed. You stay here until your fight tonight."

  "Okay…"

  "And don't try to escape. There'll be guards outside and I know for a fact that Brett is looking for an excuse to shoot someone."

  "Got it," Aart said.

  The enforcer snapped the curtains shut. Aart heard his boots scrape along the dirt floor and then the door to the warehouse squealed closed.

  "They're a friendly bunch."

  Aart jumped and turned to find a man with a bruised cheek peering out at him from a gap in the curtains.

  "Whoa," the man said and held out his hand. "I'm Teak."

  Aart's racing heart slowed and he shook Teak's hand. "Aart."

  "No offense, but you're almost as scrawny as the kid they brought in a few days ago."

  "Gin," Aart said.

  "Yeah! That was it. Do you know him?"

  "He works in the same field as me."

  "Ah, I tried not to hurt him too bad, but when the enforcers want blood…"

  "You did that to him?" Aart stepped back and scanned the room for some kind of weapon.

  "Whoa! Relax," Teak said. "I don't want to be here any more than you do, but when it comes to the ring, it's fight or die."

  "You're a fighter?"

  "You will be too tonight."

  "What? No. I don't want—"

  "None of us want to."

  "I refuse," Aart said. "I won't fight you."

  Teak sighed and pushed through the curtains, he sat on the thin bed and it sagged under his weight. "I'll be honest with you. I'll fight, whether you hit back or not. I've seen the enforcers kill too many people to think that it'll make any difference."

  Aart swallowed. Even sitting, Teak was almost as tall as he was, and twice as wide. "Are there… are there guards here now?"

  "Nah, there'll be one outside but they don't like being stuck with the smell in here."

  "Right." Aart fidgeted with the sleeve of his overalls.

  "You may as well get comfortable. The fight won't start for hours yet."

  Aart sat on the end of the bed, as far from Teak as the small mattress would allow.

  "You look new."

  "Yeah. I… uh… I came to Raster looking for a friend." He may as well go all in; the man was going to beat him to a pulp later that evening anyway, the least he could do was answer some questions.

  "Oh?" Teak said.

  "Yeah. A woman, the people in my field said she was brought here but never came back."

  "Ah." Teak hung his head. "I've managed to avoid killing anyone in my time here, but not everyone takes as much care. Sorry for your loss."

  A hard lump formed in Aart's throat. "You… you don't think—"

  "There aren't many ways out of the shed."

  "Maybe you met her? Delia?"

  Teak stiffened.

  "You do know her! What happened? Please, just tell me what happened to her, I need to know. Her father sent me to—"

  "You shouldn't be asking questions about that one."

  "Why? Did the enforcers do something?"

  "No." Teak glanced at the curtains. "No, but if you're caught talking about the ones like her… you're in for more than the shed."

  "Why? What do you mean 'ones like her'?"

  Teak leaned toward Aart. "The ones that got away."

  "What?" Aart's eyes bulged.

  Teak shrugged. "I don't know much—just rumors. And even they're few because we're not supposed to talk about it. Still, you hear more here in the shed than anywhere else."

  "What rumors? Please, what happened?"

  "No one knows. Except she was brought here to fight, was a crowd favorite apparently, but somewhere along the way, she escaped. Apparently, the enforcers have been losing their minds to find her ever since. She's not the first one to escape either; at least, that's what I've heard."

  "She got away?"

  "So the rumors say."

  "But why would she try to escape? Where's she going to go? There's no way to get off the planet unless you go through the enforcers, and she just had to finish her contract."

  "Ha!"

  "What?" Aart said.

  "You don't finish your contract if you're a crowd favorite in the ring."

  "What?"

  "The enforcers make too much money from their favorites. They've got people who come in from all the nearby systems to watch the fights."

  "But they can't make people stay past their contracts. They shouldn't even be able to make them fight!"

  "But they still do."

  "But—"

  "Look, kid, if they want to keep you here, they will." A shadow of pain flashed across Teak's face.

  "How long have you been here?"

  Teak shook his head and looked away from Aart. "Too long. I came here on a six month contract. That was three years ago."

  "Three years?" Aart nearly choked on the words.

  "My fault. I fought well the first time and they liked it."

  "But that's not right. Surely you can—"

  "Do you think if there was any way out, that I wouldn't have already tried it? I've got a family out there."

  "They would have come here looking for you; what then?"

  "The enforcers probably told them I left after my six month contract." Teak grimaced and his hands clenched into fists. "My family probably thinks I ran out on them, and I have no way of telling them the truth. If I had a chance to destroy that bastard enforcer, Mackay, who's in charge, I would. But you don't get those chances; the same as you don't escape Raster."

  Aart shook his head but had nothing to say that would make things right. At least he had a name now, Mackay. If he was the one responsible for the disappearances and deaths, then perhaps all Aart had to do was find him.

  "What I'm saying," Teak said after a deep breath. "Is that if they want to keep you, they will, and Delia looked like she'd be staying for a long time. The girl could fight."

  Aart stared down at his hands. New cuts and scrapes ran across his palms from the rough legs of the locusts. What Teak said was awful but he could take one good thing from it; Delia had escaped. That's why her father hadn't heard from her; she wasn't dead, she was probably in a better position than Aart was.

  If he'd just known she was hiding out somewhere on the planet, he might have been able to rescue her without ever having to sign a ridiculous contract himself. Now he was stuck with more than three weeks left on his contract, and that was if he survived a fight with the giant sitting beside him.

  "You look worried," Teak said.

  "Have you seen yourself?"

  "I'm better than some. Some of them like the fights, like to see blood. They prefer it to the locusts anyway."

  "Great."

  "Don't feel too bad. I'll go as easy as I can. But you have to fight back. If they think it's a wash, the crowd will get mad and they won't be happy until one of us is dead."

  "I get it."

  "Goldson, aye?"

  Aart glanced up and Teak tapped the corner of his eye.

  "Oh." Aart brushed his finger along his origin tattoo. "Yeah."

  "Bad place. I served on Cupron."

  "No better."

  "What are you going to do about your friend?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't try to escape after her."

  Aart glanced at Teak out of the corner of his eye.

  "For every one that gets away, a hundred are killed trying. It's not worth it. Just keep your head down, serve your time, and get out of here. From what I heard, Delia is tough. She'll be fine on her own."

  "Yeah." But Aart couldn't just serve his time and forget about Delia. He'd promised her father. And
what about the illegal fights and the enforcers not honoring contracts? Aart couldn't turn his back on that. It was just like the injustices on Goldson, but this time he wouldn't run away without making it right.

  He had to do something.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Drunken voices filled the shed and pounded on Aart's ears. The stench of sweat grew every time the shed door squealed open.

  Teak peaked out of a gap in the curtain that separated them from the rest of the shed. "Nearly time."

  Aart's heart beat faster.

  Teak turned on him. "You have to fight. Try to win. Otherwise we'll both be in trouble."

  "I will."

  "Good. This—"

  The curtain whisked open and two burly enforcers with guns stood at the entrance. "Time to fight."

  Teak went out first and a wave of cheers filled the shed.

  Aart followed.

  A crowd of people filled the building, squished right up against the wall. They seethed and moved like a single living organism.

  The enforcers jostled a path through the crowd for Aart and Teak, all the way to the roped-off square in the center.

  Most of the crowd booed Aart as he staggered past. Some waved money at him and one man tried to slip a knife into his hand.

  Aart snapped his hand back and the knife clattered to the ground. No one had mentioned anything about weapons…

  The man cursed, snatched the knife off the ground, and then glared at Aart.

  The enforcers shoved Aart and Teak under the rope. A third enforcer emerged from the crowd and sauntered to the center of the ring.

  "Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice boomed through the shed, amplified by hidden speakers.

  The crowd quieted to a dull roar.

  "For tonight's fight we've got the current champ, and my personal favorite; Teak the Tank!"

  The crowd cheered and stomped their feet.

  "And the contender, a new recruit from South Field A, and a former bounty hunter—"

  The crowd booed and hissed at that. Aart kept his eyes on the ground; why would people despise bounty hunters?

  "It's Aart the Harmless!"

  More boos. An empty cup soared out of the crowd and smacked Aart's shoulder. Nearby people chuckled.

  "Now, now," the enforcer said. "No need to throw things. I think Teak will be able to teach the bounty hunter a lesson on his own."

  Cheers.

  "You two know the rules; there are no rules. On my count, one,"—the enforcer moved to the side of the ring and ducked under the rope—"two, three!"

  Aart back-stepped into a corner. He'd had some hand-to-hand training; Tibald had seen to that. But he'd avoided fighting ever since because it made him think of Tibald, which ripped open a gaping hole of pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

  A fist appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Aart's face.

  Stars flashed across his vision followed by a flower of pain that spread out from his nose to encompass his cheeks, eyes, and mouth. He staggered sideways and had to close his stinging eyes.

  He fell against the rope and used it to hold himself upright. He tasted blood.

  The crowd roared. Someone grabbed his shoulder and shoved him away from the rope.

  Aart opened his bleary eyes to see blood pouring out of his nose and spattering the ground around his feet.

  Teak stared at him, jaw clenched, as if trying to convey something without actually speaking.

  Aart's thoughts were caught at the moment of the punch, reliving the fist and the pain. He blinked.

  Teak lunged forward, fist raised.

  Aart dodged sideways, the blood from his nose flew out in an arc, and Teak's fist sailed past, inches from his face.

  Aart took a deep breath through his mouth. Teak had warned that he had to fight or it would be worse for both of them. A part of Aart had meant to, but then he'd thought about Tibald…

  Teak punched. Aart back-stepped, too slow. Teak's right fist plowed into Aart's stomach and knocked the air out of him.

  Aart fell to his knees, doubled over with his arms around his stomach. Blood leaked from his nose and his lungs refused to work.

  Teak's shadow fell across him. "Would you get up and fight?"

  Aart looked up, squinted against the spotlights. Teak towered over him, he looked worried.

  "I can give you thirty seconds to catch your breath but you better have it together by then!"

  Teak spun away and lifted his hands to the crowd.

  They roared and cheered.

  He strutted around the outer edge of the ring, grinning at the rabble.

  Aart looked away and focused on his own breathing. His diaphragm stopped convulsing and he managed to draw a normal breath of air. It chased away some of his panic. He took a second breath and staggered to his feet.

  Teak finished his lap of the ring and turned on Aart.

  Aart swiped the blood away from his nose and lifted his fists.

  Teak barreled in, like a boulder with fists. He swung, hook, hook, jab. Aart dodged the first two and stepped past the third, inside Teak's guard and punched the bigger man in the stomach.

  Aart's fist bent on Teak's hard abdomen. He winced and danced away, shaking out his crushed fingers.

  The crowd laughed.

  Teak came again, with the same pattern; hook, hook, jab.

  Aart dodged around them and then brought his foot around and kicked Teak in the back. Teak stumbled against the rope.

  Aart didn't like to fight. Teak seemed like a good person, but if it was the only way to stay alive… and if Aart's throbbing nose was anything to go by, Teak wouldn't hold back.

  Teak spun and pushed against the rope to lunge at Aart.

  Aart stepped out of the bigger man's way and shoved him in the back as he went past. Teak staggered.

  Teak turned on Aart but he breathed like a bellows and his face glowed red. He advanced, slowly this time, and threw a series of punches.

  Aart dodged the first, and blocked the next two, but the fourth sailed past his defenses and caught him on the shoulder. Something cracked. Aart's right arm dropped and dangled at his side.

  Pain encompassed Aart's shoulder, spread across his chest and down his arm. A scream choked in his throat and he snatched for his shoulder with his other hand but even just touching it amplified the pain a hundred times over.

  Aart convulsed and fell to his knees.

  The crowd booed.

  Aart tried to stand, but the agony blocked out everything so that all his muscles turned to jelly and he couldn't think straight. He knew he had to get up, knew that Teak would be ready to hit him again, but he could do nothing except try to keep breathing past the pain.

  His shoulder protruded at an unnatural angle that made his stomach churn and he spat bile into the dirt floor.

  "Aart, get up!" Teak whispered.

  Aart couldn't even bring himself to look at the other man.

  "Get up!"

  Aart tried, but the movement jostled his shoulder and he collapsed forward, groaning.

  "I'm sorry."

  Aart lifted his head just in time to see a massive fist fill his vision.

  Darkness.

  Aart blinked and opened his eyes into a world of pain. Every inch of his face hurt, as if his head had been put into a blender and his shoulder was like a ball of pain so intense that it affected his hearing.

  "He's coming around."

  Aart squinted and could just make out the blurry shape of an enforcer.

  "I was expecting a better fight for a bounty hunter."

  "I thought the boss was going to have him killed. He's killed others for a better show."

  "Must have been feeling generous tonight."

  "Yeah."

  A knocking sound followed by bright light then Aart had the sensation of falling and landed on something hard. It rattled his bones and brought new agony to his shoulder. He screamed and tried to curl into a ball.

  "He's all yours."

/>   "Aart? Aart?"

  Aart frowned. The voice sounded familiar. Why couldn't he see properly?

  "Get the usual… bucket, rag. Poor, love."

  Something soft and warm brushed against Aart's cheek. It hurt, but felt good at the same time. He let it run over his face and then tried opening his eyes again.

  Only one opened. Through it, he could just make out the dingy, wooden walls of the workers' hut. Jen's lined face loomed over him, her brows drawn together.

  "You're all right, love."

  Aart tried to sit, but all he managed to do was wiggle his toes. The rest of him hurt too much.

  "We're going to have to do his shoulder. Berry?"

  "I've got it."

  Firm hands gripped Aart's shoulder. He tried to squirm free of them but they held tight. Were they trying to kill him? To torture him?

  "One, two, three."

  Something cracked. A sharp jolt of pain ran through Aart, but then nothing. The throbbing agony in his shoulder disappeared. He sagged.

  "Bloody enforcers could have done that," Jen said. "Saved him some pain."

  "That's not their way," Berry said.

  Aart let out a long breath and managed to sit up a little.

  Jen and Berry knelt to either side of him. Jen held a bloody rag which she dunked into a bucket at her side.

  Aart vaguely remembered being furious at his fellow workers. They hadn't stood up for themselves; they'd had a chance to make a difference and they'd done nothing… but the agony and the fear dulled his rage and instead he found himself grateful for their help. He couldn't hate Jen and Berry; they were just trying to get by.

  Drax stood over them, scowling. "I thought you people could fight."

  Aart stared at him. There was something… something he had to remember.

  "What do you mean 'you people'?" Jen said. "Resource slaves?"

  Drax's scowl deepened. "No."

  "Bounty hunter," Aart whispered. His voice scraped against his throat.

  "What's that, love?" Jen said. "Do you want some water?"

  She pressed a cool glass against Aart's lips and he drank it down. It took away some of the pain from his throat, and when he spoke again his voice came out clearer. "You told them I was a bounty hunter."

  Drax paled and stepped back.

  Jen and Berry frowned and Cole appeared above Aart.