by S. J. Bryant
Teak cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, Mackay pressed his back against the rope.
"Begin!" Haige bellowed.
The roar of the crowd grew louder and the people seethed against one another for a better look.
Aart's position on top of the platform gave him a perfect view.
Teak lumbered forward with both hands outstretched. Mackay scurried underneath them and ran for the other side of the ring. He tried to duck out under the rope, but a man in the crowd lashed out with his boot and kicked him back into the ring. He stumbled and fell flat on his back.
Teak loomed over him and grinned down. He snatched Mackay by the shirt and hauled him to his feet. He then swung him around like a piece of rope at a rodeo and hurled him across the ring.
Mackay landed in the sand and skidded on his stomach, leaving a deep gouge in the ground. He pushed himself up on hands and knees, trembling.
"Finish him!" the crowd yelled.
Teak snatched the back of Mackay's shirt and dragged him up.
Aart caught the bright flash of tears on Mackay's face.
Teak slammed his fists into the back of Mackay's legs, then into his spine. Mackay convulsed and screamed.
Aart's stomach clenched. It wasn't right; Mackay couldn't fight and Teak was playing with him like some monstrous beast. Even if Mackay had done horrible things, did that mean he deserved this? Even rabid dogs were put out of their misery.
Aart swallowed. Just the day before he'd wanted to kill Mackay with his own bare hands, had wanted to see him suffer, but now the fire was gone, replaced by cold pity. He had to do something.
He stepped forward but Tyra's hand clapped down on his shoulder.
"You can't interfere."
"But—"
"I know."
Teak punched and kicked.
Blood poured down Mackay's face and bruises bloomed across all his limbs. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body hung limp from Teak's meaty hands.
"Kill him!" a man in the crowd said.
Teak raised an eyebrow and then held Mackay's body up to the crowd.
They roared and nodded.
Teak grinned and pulled back his fist.
"Enough!" Haige's voice echoed through the shed.
Teak faltered and his fist dropped to his side. The crowd booed.
"Enough, we will not sink to his level. He has been punished, and now he will be sent to a Confederacy prison. I assure you, he will wish for death."
Many in the crowd swore and some shoved to get to the ring and finish Mackay themselves.
"Take him," Haige said.
His new enforcers and some Confederacy soldiers broke through the crowd and dragged Mackay away from the ring and out of the shed.
Aart sagged and he let out a long breath. Tyra squeezed his shoulder.
"Fights will no longer be tolerated on Raster," Haige said.
Many people in the crowd grumbled.
"Which means all this alcohol needs to be drunk!"
The mood in the crowd shifted and they surged toward the crates.
Haige removed his microphone and turned to Aart and Tyra. "I'm sorry, that's probably not what you were hoping for."
"Actually it's exactly what I was hoping for," Aart said.
Haige nodded. "Good. Perhaps we can go somewhere quieter; I need to talk to you about some things."
Tyra and Aart followed Haige out of the shed and into the cool night air that buzzed with locusts.
"You did me a big favor here, and from what I've heard, you didn't have to. You could have taken your money and left."
"I couldn't have done that."
"Exactly, you're a good man. However, I couldn't help noticing your origin tattoo."
Aart's stomach dropped and he clapped his hand to his temple.
"I checked on our databases. Artemis Goldson, fugitive escaped from the Resources District, wanted for questioning in connection with a terrorist attack on the Confederacy headquarters on Goldson." Haige's face darkened.
Aart found it hard to breathe. He had to get away, back to Tyra's ship and away from Raster before Haige could summon the Confederacy soldiers and drag him back to a lifetime of slavery on Goldson. His eyes flew to Tyra and she dropped a hand to her belt which bulged with explosives.
"Relax," Haige said. "Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't have hesitated to arrest you, but after what you did here, I can see you're not a violent radical, and perhaps you're doing more good out here then you could do as a miner on Goldson."
Aart stayed tense, ready to run.
"I used some of my connections and I've erased your record. There's no longer a warrant for your arrest, in fact, according to Confederacy databases, you've never even been to Goldson."
Aart's mouth dropped. "You did that for me?"
"Consider it repayment, for what you did here. And I'm not a fool; I know how many of the operations in the Resources District are run. I suspect your actions there weren't so different to what you did here."
Aart shifted and stared at his feet. "Yes, sir."
"I suspected as much. Now, on to the matter of payment."
Aart couldn't stop his heart from fluttering in his chest. No warrant? That meant he didn't have to hide from Confederacy soldiers, he could pass through checkpoints without worrying. And on top of that, Haige wanted to pay him?
"I consider my wiping your Confederacy record significant payment."
"Y—yes, sir."
"But what you did here was priceless, you went above and beyond the call of duty, and so I've decided to pay you a lump sum of ten thousand credits."
Aart's eyes bulged. "What?"
"It seems a fair amount, in combination with removing your record. Wouldn't you say?"
Aart tried not to choke.
"It's very generous," Tyra cut in. "I'm sure Aart is grateful."
"Yes. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Haige nodded. "Good. Here's the cred-stick. I don't expect I'll see you anytime soon?"
Aart's thoughts tripped and spun over each other. What would he do with that much money? If he played his cards right, he might never have to work again!
"Well?"
Aart blinked and shook himself back to the present. "Sorry, sir. Um—No, probably not. But thank you, for everything."
"No, thank you. I'll be sure to think twice before judging bounty hunters in the future."
"Thank you, sir."
Haige nodded and then strode back into the shed.
Aart clutched the cred-stick in a white-knuckled grip as Tyra guided him away from the noise of the shed to her ship.
"You lucky bastard," she said.
"Tell me about it," Aart said.
"Hey, you're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you?"
Aart turned to see Gin and the other workers from South Field A coming toward him from the shed.
"Gin," Aart said.
The younger man sported a collection of colorful bruises across his face. Jen and Berry stood behind him, Zap and Fillup to the side, and Cole stood at the back.
"Thank you," Gin said. He gripped Aart in a tight hug. "I still have to serve out my sentence but at least I won't be killed in the shed before I get free."
Aart clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a good kid. Look me up when you get off of here."
"I will." Gin grinned and sauntered back toward the shed.
"You did good, love," Jen said. "Sorry we weren't more help."
"You were decent people," Aart said. "That's enough."
"Not really, but it's good of you to say so," Jen said.
Aart's heart fluttered and he lifted the cred-stick. "I've been paid, but you, Gin, all of you, deserve money. I—"
"Oh no." Jen pushed his hand and the cred-stick back toward his chest. "You earned that. You were the one that took the chances and chose to come back and help us. You're the one that deserves the money."
"But—" Aart's heart felt torn in two. On the one hand
, the money would let him buy a new ship, one with a decent food generator, but on the other hand, Jen, Berry, and the others had served on Raster longer than he had. Surely they deserved some kind of reward.
"No," Jen said. "If any of us had stepped forward to help you, then maybe, but we didn't. You keep that money; you're the only one that deserves it."
"She's right," Berry said. "Besides, we only have to work here a little while longer and we'll have enough to buy our own ship."
Aart blushed but let his hand fall back to his side.
"Don't you change," Jen said. Then she and Berry gave him a quick hug and followed Gin.
"Thanks," Zap said. She didn't come any closer and didn't make any move to embrace him. "I'll be glad not to fight anymore."
"Yeah," Fillup said. They both turned away.
Aart raised an eyebrow and watched them go.
"Those two aren't the most eloquent," Cole said. He stepped forward out of the shadows; the lines on his face seemed deeper than Aart remembered.
Aart didn't know what to feel, Cole had seemed like a decent man, but he'd also threatened Aart with the shed.
"I know what you're thinking," Cole said. "If I'd been brave enough, I could have stopped this long before now."
Aart nodded.
"Perhaps you're right," Cole said. "But maybe not. Either way, I wasn't brave enough."
"I—"
"It's okay, lad. I just wanted to say thank you. I might not have been brave enough to stand up to them, but I'm glad you were."
"Thank you."
"Good luck, lad."
They all filed back into the shed, leaving Tyra and Aart alone in the darkness. Aart stared after them, the corners of his eyes stinging.
Tyra punched him on the arm. "I can't believe you nearly gave all that money away!"
Aart gripped his arm. "Ow! I just thought—"
"If you don't want it, I'll gladly take it off your hands."
"It's not that. I just felt bad for them… they were trapped here longer than I was."
"So they had more chance to do something about it, and they didn't, just like they said."
"What about Delia?" Aart said. "She was helping people, in her own way."
"Don't worry about her," Tyra said. "Haige said he was going to take care of her. I have a feeling she'll probably be better off than you."
"You might be right."
"Now come on, we better leave before you try to give those credits away to anyone else!"
Tyra dragged Aart into her ship and the door hissed shut behind them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Two months ago I would have done anything to get rid of it, now I'm sad to see it go," Aart said.
He and Tyra stood in the middle of a massive shipyard. Spaceships spread out around them in all directions; from tiny second-hand landers to giant luxury cruise-ships. His Tortin-5 ship stood beside them, battered and in need of a new paint job.
"Ships are like that," Tyra said.
"I'll give you six hundred for it, but not a credit more," said the shipyard owner as she emerged from inside. "It needs a new engine, new amenities, and don't even get me started on that out-dated AI."
"Deal," Aart said.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And you said you were looking to upgrade. I've got a new Kepler X3 that just arrived."
"Actually, I was looking for something a little more up market."
"How up market?"
"I want the latest AI, three hundred and sixty degree weapons fire, warp capabilities, full defense shields, plenty of storage, new amenities—including the latest food generator, and with room enough inside to have a party."
The woman's eyes widened. "A party? It sounds like someone just came into some money."
Aart grinned and said nothing.
"I think I have just the thing."
She led them through the shipyard, past older ships and into a section of newer, bigger craft. She stopped in front of a gleaming ship that towered over Aart's head.
"The Zephyr-XS, you won't find anything better on the market for personal use."
Aart's heart fluttered; it was perfect, just as he'd imagined. "Can we see inside?"
"Of course."
The door hissed open and chrome surfaces gleamed under bright, overhead lights. The entryway was big enough that ten people could have stood around comfortably without brushing against each other.
Aart grinned as he sauntered through the ship; it had everything, even a gleaming, new food generator that had options for food that he hadn't even heard of.
"This thing is amazing!" Tyra said.
"It's the best of the best," said the woman. "But it doesn't come cheap."
"How much?"
"Ten thousand credits."
"I'll give you six thousand."
"You're wasting my time."
"Seven thousand."
"I can't go less than nine."
"How about eight and you show me how it works before we leave?"
The woman's eyes sparkled. "Deal."
***
"At least take what's left over," Aart said.
"Oh no, that was your job. I'm not in a habit of stealing other people's bounties."
They stood in the dining room of Aart's new ship while it floated in space near the shipping yard. Tyra's vessel was attached to the side with a sealed airlock.
"But you helped! Hell, you even saved my life."
Tyra bit her lip. "I suppose that's true."
"Please, just take it. Buy more of those direction bombs or whatever you want."
Tyra's eyes gleamed. "That's not a bad idea."
"Good, take it." Aart handed her the cred-stick. After Aart had bought a few extra bits and pieces, it still had over a thousand credits on it.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it, I mean, look at this place." Aart gestured around his gleaming ship.
"It is something."
"I'm calling it Sylar."
"Sylar?"
"Yeah, don't you think that has a bad-ass feel to it?"
"If you say so."
Aart rolled his eyes. "I'm itching to try it out, want to join me on a job somewhere?"
"Sure."
"Good."
"Hey, you know I have a tattoo kit on me." Tyra gestured to a pouch on her belt. "If you want, I could change your origin tattoo. I might even be able to remove it, but that would take time."
Aart reached up and touched his temple. He'd had the brand his whole life, and for most of that time he'd hated it, but now…
"No, I think I'll leave it as it is. It's a reminder, you know?"
"Sure, I get it. Though I didn't take you for the sentimental type."
"Ha! Just try to scratch the paint on this ship and I'll show you how sentimental I can be. Now, there's a bounty on Hasard with our names all over it. Sylar, onward!"
The engines roared and their ships hurtled forward.
Aart grinned out of the window at the stars shooting past. He'd saved all those people on Raster and got paid; life couldn't get much better than that.
Aart's Journey Continues…
Thank you for reading Last Fight. I hope you enjoyed it!
Forced labor on a locust farm is bad enough, but Aart’s next adventure brings his toughest challenge yet.
Whose side will Aart take when the Robot Revolution dawns? Find out in Last Refuge.
Get it now at:
www.saffronbryant.com/books/last-refuge
http://www.saffronbryant.com/free-books
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