Date point: 8m BV
In orbit around Perfection
Dear Journal,
I can count cards
Okay, not really, but I can still beat the house at their own game
So, you know, basically counting cards
“What part of ‘Contact me the moment you’ve completed the task’ confused you?” Vakno’s scowling mug stared up at me from the view screen.
I thought a moment, “Probably the part where you assumed I would willingly contact you. C’mon Vakno, I’m sorry, it just slipped my mind. You had to have learned about it pretty quick, though right? I mean, he’s an informant, it’s his job to inform you, so I figured he’d get in touch with you on his own soon enough.”
She glared back, “While you’re not technically wrong I usually appreciate knowing someone is in my employ before receiving information from them,” she huffed, “I’ll let it go, like I have with so many of your other shortcomings, and explain why you received my message asking to speak to you.”
“I’m all ears,” I took a moment to check behind myself to ensure Eallva was still out of sight behind the door frame.
“Until recently my services were employed by a reasonably affluent client who desired information pertinent to their business and future financial success.”
Her tone and words led me to grimace, “I’m guessing that ‘Until recently’ are the key words in this instance.”
“Yes,” she snapped, “Don’t interrupt. I say, ‘Until recently’ because it came to my attention that he had implied in certain circles of knowledgeable individuals that his success was entirely due to his genius and in no part because of the excellent services rendered by myself. While I would never expect him to make his dealings with me common knowledge, the particular beings with whom he voiced his incorrect opinions are potential future or current clients, and therefore already aware through deduction that he and I have had several business encounters.”
“There’s a lot of words in there,” I drawled, “Mind shorting it up for me?”
My tone seemed to annoy her even more, or maybe it was the interrupting part, “In summary,” she growled through gritted teeth, “My reputation has been impinged upon before people whose opinion I value, and therefore I feel a public example is in order to discourage similarly unfortunate occurrences.”
“Got it,” I stretched, sitting up from the slouch I’d adopted for the conversation, “Who do I have to intimidate?”
“You misunderstand,” she had a thin-lipped smile, “I don’t just want him subdued, I want him ruined,” she spat the last word like it was vinegar. “If he were as intelligent as he claims then he would have realized cutting me – one now intimately familiar with his business’ inner workings – out of my fair share of the credit was not an action conducive to his continued good fortune.”
I was thinking something along the same lines, “Yeah, about that, I thought you said your clients were usually part of the smarter bunch? I’m no Einstein and even I know not to cross you for something as minor as an ego boost.”
Her eyes took on something of a haunted look, “Most are, although there are some who I only accept because no one that dull should ever possess so much personal wealth. As to my unfortunate ex-client, he may be suffering under the impression that his particular branch of business is untouchable by someone such as myself. I believe even you yourself once voiced the opinion that I could not affect events, only know of them?”
I struggled to keep from shifting uncomfortably.
“He must learn that I do not bluff,” she finished with another glare, although this one – I was happy to notice – didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in the current conversation.
“Great, right, so what do you want me to do? Remember I’m not so hot on the whole killing people thing these days.”
She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t ask as she continued, “Then you’re fortunate that I specifically do not want you to kill anyone, although I do need you to get into a fight.”
“I’m gonna need a little more than that.”
“The ex-client is a Chehnash by the name of Juheshni. While he does have several fledgling business ventures, his primary source of income stems from training, entering, and betting upon contestants in torzo matches.”
I shook my head, “Yeah, gotta ask you to fill me in on that last part.”
She sighed in a way that told me she had expected as much, “Many of the upper echelons of certain societies find their lives to be dull and unfulfilling, and so find their excitement by watching and betting on strength and endurance matches between contestants specially trained for such exercises.” She correctly interpreted my blank look, “Prizefights,” she said wearily, “They watch prizefights.”
“Huh,” I wasn’t faking the surprise in my voice, “I hadn’t figured anyone out here would have the stomach for stuff like that.”
“Believe me,” she replied dryly, “I’m somewhat aware of humanities idea of spectator fights and what you’re thinking is probably wrong. These are fights started by bored corporate owners from species known for their somewhat aggressive natures,” her tone made her opinion of such actions clear, “You’d never find a Corti involved in these affairs.”
I shrugged, “Hey, I’m not judging,” I totally was, “You still haven’t gotten to the part where I come in.”
“Through my exemplary abilities, I was able to direct Juheshni to several individuals with excellent potential for torzo matches. One of those individuals – a rather eccentric Locayl called Uxier – turned out even better than my own projections, and has placed Juheshni at the top of nearly every circle. Shortly a tournament match will be conducted in perhaps the most influential – and most public – torzo ring. Juheshni has made it very clear that he intends to dominate this match with Uxier, and has put no small amount of his personal wealth on the line. Personally, I believe he was overly cautious with his estimates but that won’t matter. I want you to enter that tournament, reach the finals, and crush Juhshni’s reputation as a trainer by defeating Uxier in as humiliating a way as possible. I leave the choice of methodology up to you.”
“Dang Vakno, you don’t do a thing half-assed when you want to send a message. So how do I get into this match?”
“I’ve assembled the correct credentials, identifications, and references.”
“’Correct?’”
She gave another one of those weird thin lipped smiles, “What good is ruining him if it’s not clear who’s doing it? The information you’ll be using doesn’t name me directly, but anyone who looks will clearly see my influence. Now, as I said, I’ve assembled all the necessary information, all you need is a handler. It doesn’t matter who, just get someone reliable who can hand a data chip to a bouncer and keep their mouth shut. If you have absolutely no friends as I’m worried might be the case, a handler can also be provided.”
Rather than rising to the bait, I thought a moment. Could Eallva be trusted? It’s been – what – eight months since the medical station? Not much had happened since then. After all my apologies we’d been sightseeing, going places I’d heard about while in the army. For a while, she’d seemed subdued, but recently I’d really enjoyed her company. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Was it time to let her try being around other people again?
Eight months is a long time.
Odd, it didn’t seem like it.
That’s because you’re turning into an old fart who reminisces about the ‘good old days’.
What are you talking about? I’m not even – holy shit.
Yeah, haven’t thought about that lately have you?
Not listening. I’m not listening. I’m still young, and full of energy, and I think Eallva’s ready to go out in public again.
You can’t avoid time you know.
I ignored the lies by answering Vakno, “No worries, I got someone,” I stuck my tongue out at her because I’m young and full of life and had just proved that I had friends, “So you going to send the information my way or what?” My communication beeped as a transmission was received.
I couldn’t help but smile as a thought occurred, “This is your last one Vakno. After this, I’m free of you.”
“Oh that reminds me,” she said in a tone that made it clear she’d forgotten nothing, “So you’re aware, should you ever be in need of difficult to obtain information, I’d be happy to take your calls anytime; at the usual rates.”
I laughed to show her how youthful I was, “Ha! I’d rather space myself than willingly come back to you for help. Nice try, but after this I’m planning on never seeing you again.”
“As you wish,” was that, smugness, on her face? “Please though, do contact me the moment it’s finished. Oh, and one final thing. Not that this will happen, but if by some incredible happenstance you manage to lose the fight with Uxier, I will personally rip your throat out. Are we clear?”
“Yep!” I tried to sound as cheerful as I could, “Hope you die. Later!” I cut the channel, opened the information package, and set the ship on course to the supplied destination.
I turned as Eallva hopped out from behind the doorframe, “Assessment?”
“Huh?”
“Last time you listened in on a conversation between me and Vakno you had some guesses as to her motivations that honestly helped a lot when going about the job, so you have any this time?”
“Oh, uh. . . well, there was that one part where she said she doesn’t bluff. That could be referring to what you did last time. She basically declared to anyone watching that crossing her could mean getting a visit from you. This Juhshni either wasn’t watching or thinks she’s lying, but either way, if she doesn’t come through with her implied threat then she’ll probably lose a lot of influence and respect since people will stop taking her seriously.
I nodded, impressed, “Makes sense to me.”
“And another thing. Doesn’t this task seem a little, trivial?”
“Not really. I mean, who else could she send and feel so sure they’d win?”
“Not that. The way she wants you to do it is obviously tailored, but I feel this guy just isn’t important enough to warrant such a response. I mean, a ‘reasonably’ wealthy individual who’s the current favorite for a semi-underground prizefighting club? Why make an example out of him? Why not wait until someone important reneges? Regardless of whether or not she’s making good on a previous threat, I’m almost certain she could exact some retribution on him that didn’t use up her last big favor. It’s like she’s just throwing it away.”
“Maybe, what’s your point?”
“I think she doesn’t see it as her last favor from you.”
“Whoa, hold up there. After this I’m done, I’m not going back to her. She has to have noticed that I don’t enjoy being her errand boy, why would she think I’d come back?”
“Probably because she thinks you won’t have a choice.”
“Well that’s . . . unsettling.”
She waved it off with her tail, “It’s just speculation. Now, unless you know someone who’s not terrified or angry at you, it sounded as though I might be joining you this trip?”
“Yup,” I nodded simply, “Think you’re up to it?”
“Yes,” she replied seriously, “Where we headed?”
I looked back at the destination, then did a double take and looked more closely. I had assumed it would be another trading station or a shipyard, maybe some influential planet. My curiosity piqued when its designator classified it as a ship.
“Apparently,” I said after a while, “We’re headed for some kind of pleasure cruiser called the Hedonist.”
“Is it special?”
“Don’t know, never heard of it. Haven’t really come across any pleasure cruisers in my time out here, though, so . . . maybe?”
“Great, how long?”
“Couple days.”
“I’ll get the chessboard.”
2 Days Later
Hedonist
“Holy fuck that’s big.”
Eallva looked similarly shocked, not even bothering to confirm my obvious statement.
“Big” didn’t really do it justice. This thing was a whale. Nearly a kilometer in length and two hundred meters high and wide, the kinetic drives alone dwarfed my entire ship, requiring so much energy they hummed with incredible power. Had my ship not literally provided me with the Hedonist’s dimensions I would have overestimated on every count. Its shape amplified the effect, its hull being nothing more than a dome, cut off obliquely at the back to make room for kinetics, its underside slightly rounded. If I were completely honest, it was rather ugly.
The reasons behind its simple shape became abundantly clear the moment the stupefying effect of its size wore off. I’d seen battleships and dreadnaughts from both sides in the current conflict. This ship put every one of them to shame. It looked like someone had crossbred a hedgehog with an armadillo and then designed a ship from the offspring. Rows upon rows of turrets lined every inch of the outer hull, sprouting from it like so many spines. Beneath this intimidating display of offensive power, light glinted dully, reflecting off layers of thick, interlocking armor plates. The underside of the ship was similarly outfitted. The shape afforded its armaments excellent firing arcs, while providing nothing in the way of vulnerabilities to potential enemies.
My staring spree didn’t stop once I got inside the ship. If anything it became a rampage, and I hadn’t even yet left the docking bay. Every docking bay I’d been in to date had looked like an unfinished basement – walls a dull gray and covered in pipes and shit. I’d just assumed that’s how they had to be, it wasn’t really a choice. Hedonist opened my eyes to the wondrous world of designer docking bays.
Off-white light streamed from dozens of sources, challenging the single-sourced harshness of its inferior contemporaries. Walls free of clutter gleamed with a shine chrome wished it could match, and the smooth, dark floors – free of any scratch despite the numerous ships that must have landed one them – reflected my smiling face like a black pool. The only control console in the room was ergonomically built into the far wall, detracting nothing.
I was so mesmerized by the wondrous vision before me that I didn’t notice the other guy in the room until he made a quiet sound. Turning I started at the strikingly familiar figure standing quietly behind me. I’d never seen this person before – honestly, I don’t think I’d ever really seen his species up close – but what struck me was how similar to a human he looked. I mean, the guy was about three times my height and so thin I was scared I’d blow him over.
I say “Him” but I honestly couldn’t have told you either way for two reasons. Firstly if it was a guy then he had the most feminine features I’d seen on a male member of a species I’d ever seen.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Obviously, and secondly, he was wearing clothes. Like, actual, real clothes, not the tool harnesses that seemed the height of fashion with everyone working on a station. This guy’s style probably could have rocked it at any fashion show back on Earth and taken first prize every time, or whatever they do at fashion shows. I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted to wear that suit, but he pulled it off flawlessly.
Eallva apparently hadn’t noticed him either, and looked somewhat taken aback by our guest’s impressive stature. My initial surprise gone, I immediately noticed that when he spoke he didn’t do so to me, but to Eallva instead.
“Welcome, Madam, to Hedonist. I am Dacine Atise, your personal attendant for this evening.”
Judging by her lack of a response Eallva didn’t have one. I, on the other hand, opened my mouth immediately. Being able to say something at any given time is kind of a talent of mine.
“Wait, does everyone get a personal attendant here? That’s got to be insanely hard to coordinate.”
The glance he gave me was perfectly proper, but somehow I still got the impression he was annoyed by my question.
“Of course not, only guests of import receive such treatment.”
Now it was Eallva’s turn to mind vomit, although she still phrased her question in a way that seemed to meet Dacine’s approval. “Why would you believe us to be such guests?”
Once again his expression didn’t perceptibly change, but I felt as though his words were smug, bordering on patronizing, “The identification information you transmitted upon arrival, while not overtly obvious, was subtly so, and led us to believe your employer did not feel it necessary for her connection to you to remain unacknowledged by Hedonist,” his eyes narrowed slightly, “If we were mistaken, however . . .”
Eallva said “Of course not,” just as I replied “Yes.” After aiming a calculating glance my way he seemed to decide that Eallva’s opinion was the only one that mattered.
Turning to her directly he gave a bow that did nothing to reduce his prodigious height, “Excellent. Then if you will follow me, I shall show you to your room and, if you desire, guide you through the various entertainment options Hedonist has to offer.”
She didn’t even look at me to confirm whatever decision she’d made. If she had she would have seen me furiously shaking my head which, to the careful observer, would have informed her that we did not want his help beyond showing us to the rooms.
Stickman and the rat . . .
Mature
. . . were nearly out of the docking bay before they even noticed that I wasn’t following.
“You coming?” I glared at her, “Oh don’t pout,” I could tell she was struggling not to smile behind that look of mock pity, “It’s only natural he’d assume I’m in charge. Smarter, fitter, and better looking, what else would he think?”
Ha!
Shut up.
After deepening my glare at her I followed a moment later, “Fine, but there better be snacks.”
After a long hallway leading away from the exquisite docking bays, we reached a glass door that opened onto perhaps the most decadent game floor I’d ever seen. I’d never really thought the people out here to be the best when it came to interior decorating, but I instantly revised that sentiment upon the evidence before me. If Siegfried and Roy had a threesome with a unicorn the result couldn’t have matched this place for glamor. Reds, silvers, golds, and blacks melded and highlighted each other in such a way as to emphasize the fact that I was too poor to look at them and this room in general, let alone stand in it. Lights from hundreds of tables glowed softly all around, their various hues somehow complementing the surroundings.
A sound beside me tore me from my reverie. “Neat.”
I looked down at the artistic ingrate, “Neat?! You’re confronted by a room that probably took more money and resources than it would take to terraform a planet and all you have to say is ‘Neat,’?!”
She shrugged, “Yeah, it looks expensive, so what? Anyone can spend money, I was more impressed by the exterior, that at least looked practical.”
“Believe me, if you’d seen some of the things rich people do with their money back on Earth, you’d realize that just because you spend a fortune doesn’t mean it looks good.”
Stickman cleared his throat, gesturing onwards questioningly once our attention had been recaptured.
“So once we’ve seen the rooms are we going straight to business or will we have time for a few games?” Eallva whispered as we once again followed our stone-faced attendant.
“Wait, you’re asking my opinion? Aren’t you in charge, being better and all that?”
“Well of course,” she cooed, “But I want you to know that I value your input.”
“Oh, your largesse knows no bounds.”
“I know.”
“You sure you don’t want to go find something ‘practical’ to do with your time?”
“I appreciate something’s appearance by how well it works, that doesn’t mean I’m a total bore. We playing something or what?”
“We got some time before we have to check in. We can let Stickman show us around but I can say for a fact that we’re not playing any of these games.”
“Because . . . ?”
I gave a huff, “This place is a casino, you been in one of those?”
“I’ve diced, is that the same thing?”
“Pretty much. These out here are the luck based games. Or at least I’m guessing, I don’t really recognize any of them, but if I know one thing it’s that I’ll never play a game with my luck. Things would probably go down so poorly I’d somehow manage to blow up the entire ship.”
“You’re kind of paranoid, you know that?”
She’s right you know.
“Besides, this is a pleasure cruiser, maybe they have games based on something other than luck. I guarantee you that if we can find something requiring physical skill then we can make some easy money before we have to do anything boring for Vakno.”
“You realize you just described a prizefight as boring, right?”
That thing you just thought about saying, don’t, that’s not appropriate
True, different tack.
“With the kind of fight these guys have, I guarantee you it’ll be boring.”
Our rooms were, if possible, more decadent than the magnificent gaming room below. Wood paneling and shining stone floors left me nervous to even step on them lest I scuff their perfect sheen. I think Stickman had noticed our lack of bags and rushed us out of the room almost as soon as we’d arrived. The first thing on the tour he showed us was what we’d already seen: rows upon rows of games I had no idea how to play and no desire to learn.
The true size of the ship finally set in when he took us outside the building that we had apparently been in since our arrival. A massive portion of the ship was, in fact, empty space, creating a vaulting ceiling under which sprawled an incredible artificial garden. More tables and games were interspersed throughout the area, large and small buildings occupying crossroads and lined up all along the sides. That hint of smugness was back in Stickman’s eyes.
After what felt like an hour of his showing us various games that didn’t meet with our . . .
Your.
. . . approval he showed us to a row of machines that looked more than a little familiar. At a glance I thought they were exact replicas of skee ball, a closer inspection showed the ludicrous differences that had me laughing at the sight of them.
The ramp had been replaced by a simple barrier, ensuring the player remained the correct distance from the target holes (Until I’m informed otherwise that’s their official name). The glass had also been removed, allowing straight shots. It was almost a simple hoops game except for the rings of targets indicating more or fewer points respectively. Oh, and they were slowly rotating about the center, whose target had been removed. If that had been all the changes I frankly would have thought it would be harder to play, until I saw what I was throwing.
Hacky sacks. Honest to God hacky sacks. I could tell Eallva and Stickman were confused by my sudden mirth but I couldn’t help it.
“So have we finally found a game that met with your approval?” Eallva asked when I stopped to catch my breath.
“Yes,” I heaved, “There’s no power in hell strong enough to keep me from trying this.”
“Great,” She squeaked, hopping happily to the edge of the barrier. Stickman explained the rules and they were exactly what I had expected: get the hacky sack in a hole and get that many points. Holes worth more points spun quicker, although to me they still seemed on the slow side. Spend points to get more hacky sacks. Spend a small sum to get the initial set and turn in your points at the end to get real money in return.
Stickman hit a few buttons on something on his wrist and, per my request, two sets of five sacks were deposited into trays next to two side by side skee sack machines. As I walked to my machine right next to Eallva’s she looked at me in question, “I thought you said you were broke, where’d you get the money?”
“I assume,” I smiled, “From Vakno.”
“Won’t that technically put you in her debt?”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to pay her back with more than enough interest that she won’t mind at all,” With that I executed a perfect underhand throw borne of many a hacky-sack game, sinking my first shot into the highest point value – in and of itself capable of supplying me with another five sacks.
“Not bad,” Eallva remarked with a grin.
“So you just going to let me win or what?” I sunk my second shot.
“I wouldn’t say that,” She smiled wider. Then leaping into the air she executed a summersault, holding a sack in her tail. Whipping it around in the same way she would have thrown a javelin the sack rocketed into the highest value target. The force of the shot shook the entire machine, and it even managed to get the first reaction out of Stickman as he involuntarily flinched from the pained sounds emanating from Eallva’s victim.
Well shit.
“So you just going to let me win or what?” She remarked as she stuck the landing from her aerial assault on her skee sack machine, picked up another, and leaped back into the air.
What followed was perhaps the most intense hacky-sack based competition of my life. Stickman’s already enormous eyes grew steadily larger as we lobbed – well, I lobbed, Eallva hurled – shot after shot into what had become the only acceptable target to aim for. I think it was the hollow booms made by Eallva’s machine every time she landed a shot that drew the crowd, it was certainly loud enough.
Things looked grim right from the beginning. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not perfect. I miss, I’m human, it happens to everyone, except apparently the amazing flying rodent beside me sinking three pointers all night long. They were more like 10 pointers but you get my drift. She didn’t miss a one, and her little crowd of lackeys kept cheering her on and making me all flustered. Probably because they’d all placed bets on her winning, which was also why my group was rather subdued, but it was there fault for betting on the guy that couldn’t jump several times his own height straight up.
Okay so look, I know the official record will show you that Eallva had the technically higher score when all was said and done, but I would like it to be known that I think she called it off because she saw that I was catching up.
She was always ahead, she could have called it off at literally any time and she would have won.
Sure, fine she had a good start, but I was gaining on her.
No you weren’t.
Why must you speak when no one is talking to you?
Wait, are you serious?
The result of the match was Eallva managed to permanently affix a smug grin to her face while I was even more determined to find a game I could beat her at. And I got my chance several minutes later when Stickman, now putting a bit more distance between himself and Eallva than he had before, showed us to another pavilion with another vaguely familiar game.
I’d never played it before, but the closest comparison I could give it would be Pachinko. The key differences were while I still had a pool of balls to draw upon, only one was launched at a time. That and I could rotate the board. A ring of grips around the outside of the board allowed the player to turn the table as the ball fell, giving the control that every Pachinko player had desired since the beginning of time. The troughs the balls fell into also turned with the board, and to make it even easier there were multiple holes it could enter, like skee ball, for different point values. Admittedly the null-point hull had a larger trough than any of the others, but it was still frightfully easy to navigate the Fauxchinko ball where I wanted.
I guess the board might have been a bit heavy and cumbersome to someone with significantly less upper body strength, which may or may not have been the reason I chose it. That smug grin quickly faltered when the skee sack all-star learned that her tail just didn’t cut it as far as leverage was concerned when pitted against my “inferior throwing appendages”.
You’re kind of a sore loser, you know that?
Now it was my turn to have the cheering crowd behind me, while Eallva struggled and, might I add, failed to catch up to me all the while listening to her group grow sullen and quiet. Ah, sweet sweet vengeance.
I was halfway to doubling my already sizable skee sack fortune when my machine abruptly powered down. Actually, it wasn’t just my machine; it was all of them in the row. Stickman seemed distant as he listened to something I couldn’t hear, then rushed up to us, his hands spread wide.
“My sincerest apologies, but we seem to be having technical difficulties with these games at the moment. Perhaps you would like to try your luck at some of our other tables?”
“Technical difficulties?” Eallva’s eyes narrowed, “You’re sure it has nothing to do with the fact that we’ve both set record high scores for both these games our first time trying them?”
Stickman looked outright offended, which kind of made me suspicious as he rarely looked outright anything at any given time. “I assure you, Hedonist does not employ such underhanded tricks. I was told there were technical difficulties so I promise that is the truth. Now, as to trying other games, I would be happy to set you up, and with the wealth you have already amassed it would be simple to prepare one of the higher stakes games should you desire.”
“Actually,” I interjected, “We should probably check in with our other business venture, I don’t exactly have the time and we wouldn’t want to be late.”
Now I knew something was up because I could actually see a shadow of sullenness flit across Stickman’s demeanor. “Very well,” he droned, “Follow me.”
“Wait, you know about why we’re here?”
“Obviously,” was all he deigned to reply.
Not bothering to see if we were following, Stickman turned, heading towards the centerline of the ship. After several minutes of walking I could tell that we were actually heading for the far wall, and after another several long minutes of walking I could even deduce which building.
Every building in Hedonist had its own unique architecture to the point I almost felt obligated to give each and every one a name. Had I named the building we entered behind Stickman I probably would have called it Black Needle or something similarly lame. Look, if I was naming every building in the entire ship than by the time I got to this one I would have run out of original ideas.
Inside the elevator Stickman placed his hand on a nondescript part of the wall, looked sternly at another blank section, then held that pose for several seconds. I was about to ask him if everything was okay when the elevator started moving without any voice commands having been given.
We had started on the ground floor, so wherever we were going was near the top, because the elevator felt fast, but we kept climbing for nearly a minute. When we finally stopped, Stickman allowed, for the first time, Eallva to take the lead, although he kept closely in step with me. The elevator doors had opened up onto a long, dimly lit hallway. A couple sharp turns and we were confronted by a heavy door guarded by a stocky looking White giraffe. Well, stocky as far as White giraffes go. . .
You realized they’re called Rrrrtktktkp’ch?
Do you honestly expect me to try pronouncing that? And since when have I ever called anything by its real name except Eallva? Hell, sometimes I still call her a rat.
A fact I’m sure she would find quite interesting were I to reveal it to her.
Don’t you dare.
Just kidding.
That’s what I thought.
The heavy-looking doors opened. I’d been so preoccupied with the traitor inside my head I hadn’t even noticed as Eallva handed the White giraffe a small data chip, which he promptly shoved into a small apparatus on one of his wrists before stepping out of the way to let us pass.
I don’t know why, but I had kind of assumed that the room beyond the doors would have matched with what I had thought all prizefighting rings looked like; dirty, dimly lit, kind of dusty, reeking of sweat and probably blood. Because that’s how they always looked in the movies. One day I’ll learn that expecting everything to look like it did in the movies will leave me sorely disappointed.
The ring and stands looked exactly like you’d expect them to look in a place as classy as Hedonist. Large, comfortable seats with enough armrests and elbowroom for everyone regardless of their anatomy, lighting perfectly highlighting the ring while still allowing the spectators to see their own hands in front of their eyes, and dim screens unobtrusively placed to allow spectators easy access to a bookie.
I turned to Stickman, “So do we need to register somewhere or is there some kind of waiting room . . . ?”
He looked at me incredulously, his professional manner cracking “This really is your fist torzo match isn’t it? I know you humans are supposed to be stocky and from what I’ve seen that seems to be more than likely but I had heard better things about your employer.” He shook himself, “Yes, there is a waiting room for fighters and their handlers, just down that hallway,” he gestured to a door on our left, “You’ve already been registered, but you’ll still need to be in that room when the tournament starts, which it will in bit. I had thought they were joking, but it seems your employer really did want me to explain the rules of the match. They’re simple; a fighter is disqualified when they are either unconscious, dead, or thrown from the ring. No weapons allowed.”
“Great,” I clipped, “So tell me again why you’re still here?”
He sighed, “In what is looking to be an increasingly foolish move on part of your employer she placed several small bets in your favor. I am here to witness and facilitate the transfers in her stead once the tournament is complete.”
I didn’t really have a reply to that, so instead I just nodded disinterestedly, then followed Eallva to the waiting room door. I hadn’t even made it past the threshold when a quiet alarm went off right inside the waiting room. I looked up expecting to see something exclaiming I was the 1000th customer, but instead was greeted by a haggard looking Corti as he bustled out from a side room. Heh, so much for Vakno’s statement that I’d never find a Corti here.
“Prosthetic?” he asked in a bored voice.
“Um . . . yes?”
“This way,” he gestured for us to follow. The room he led us to was a rather impressively stocked and equipped medical bay, complete with scanner, which he promptly had me lay upon. I tried to sit up to get a clear look at what he was doing but at an annoyed growl I stayed flat on the scanner. When he let me up I looked down at my left leg and found the entire prosthetic had been removed, replaced instead by a simple metal strut, locked into the socket that had previously held a working robotic leg.
“So you gonna tell me what this is about or what?”
He gave me a flat look – so he gave me the look that all Corti learn in the womb, “You honestly didn’t think you’d be competing with cybernetic enhancements did you? These are strength and endurance tests, not ‘Who has the deepest account’ contests.”
“You couldn’t just give me a leg that matched my current biological one’s strength?”
“Not in the time we have. I’m surprised you even managed to get into this tournament on such short notice, let alone acquire a cybernetics waiver. You must have some pretty powerful backers to be able to get into this match so late.” Apparently done with the conversation, Peggy turned and walked away.
Peggy?
Yeah, he gave me a peg leg and took my real one, so Peggy.
You really need to work on your names.
Hey I didn’t even have his real one this time, and he spoke for less than a minute, you can’t expect me to come up with a masterpiece with so little information.
With Peggy gone we walked into the common area, where another attendant checked our names and showed us to a small room with some equipment I didn’t recognize.
“So you going to be okay?” Eallva squeaked once we were alone.
“I think,” I said, trying not to show how the simple appendage was getting to me. I didn’t need anything fancy, but an ankle and a knee would have been nice. At least it supported weight. I suppose it was great for pivoting.
“You think Vakno knew?”
I grimaced, “Yeah, she usually knows everything I can spot. This answer any questions based on your previous assumptions?”
“Um, I suppose this could be why she picked such a low key target. I mean, there are still people here whose opinions matter, but if you fail it wouldn’t really ruin her, just be a minor setback really. For her bigger clients she could probably play it off as an inconsequential venture she didn’t really care about. Also I’d guess that if you were to fail you’d fail before you had to fight Uxier, so your defeat wouldn’t add to her ex-client’s prestige.”
“Great,” I monotoned, but she wasn’t finished.
“And, I’m guessing if you did lose to Uxier she could use that as leverage for extra favors, if she played it right. But if you do win it would humiliate her ex-client even more because you’re so obviously handicapped. Really, she could probably make it so she’ll win either way.”
“Perfect. Well no use worrying about it until the actual fight starts. Any pointers?”
“Huh?”
I smiled, “Well you are my handler, so you’re supposed to say something. I won’t listen to it, but I like you to know that I value your input.”
She stuck her tongue out at me – which, funnily enough, was her version of the middle finger – but then grew serious for one of the first times since boarding Hedonist. “Actually, I do have a request. Or rather a challenge, if you want it.”
Intrigued, I shrugged, “Sure, shoot.”
“Try winning without hurting anyone.”
I was somewhat taken aback, “Oh . . . um . . . okay, you do realize I’m working with a peg leg here right?”
“I know,” she was talking quickly, “And if you can’t win without it then forget it, but I have a hunch you’ll manage even with the handicap, and if I’m right, do you think you could at least try?”
I thought a moment. I mean, what was there to lose from trying? Who knows, maybe it’d even be fun.
She’s trying to help you, numbskull.
What?
You asked her to help keep you in check. That’s what she’s doing. Say yes and stick to it even if it means losing.
You sure?
Just do it.
Fine. “Sure, I’ll do it. But if I win then when we get back to the ship we make another game called checkers and you have to play that until I say we’re done.”
She smiled, “Deal.”
The first match went out, one I wasn’t a part of, and I decided my remaining time was best spent acclimating myself to my newest appendage. I was hobbling around at a steady pace when they finally called my name. Eallva in tow, we exited the waiting area and back into the arena. Shadowy figures lined the walls, none distinct enough to tell what species they could be yet still I could hear their hushed voices as we walked to the ring. Well, I guess neither of us was really walking. Eallva hopped, I hobbled.