Cut Off (7 page)

Most of the aliens had one. This one had three.

"It's going to whip their asses," Ness said.

"We'll see what the katanas have to say about that."

"Check out those tentacles with the clubs at the tips. They're made from calcium carbonate or some shit. You're thinking they're going to carve it up like calamari? Their swords are going to bounce off those clubs like Super Balls."

Sprint gazed toward the ring. "You guarantee this."

"Hell, man, I don't know. I never cared about boxing, let alone cross-species armed death matches. But if you put a stack of chips in front of me and asked me to choose, I wouldn't hesitate. Not for one instant."

The man furrowed his brow, calculating, then bounced from his seat. "I'll be right back."

He made his way through the throng to the suited man behind the betting counter, who was calling out odds in several languages, the alien the slight favorite. While Sprite was gone, the announcer yammered some more. Ness wished he could understand, but he knew it wouldn't help; however they'd actually acquired the alien, the announcer was surely delivering some trumped-up origin story that had nothing to do with the facts. Ness thought about contacting Sebastian, but there wouldn't be any point. Anyway, five minutes from now, the thing in the cage might be dead.

Sprite came back sweaty, flushed, and disheveled from doing battle with the bettors. He thunked in his chair and grinned at Ness. "If you're wrong about this, you're about to find out what the world's nicest angry drunk looks like."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Be afraid, my friend. All it means is that when I knife you, I'll make sure you bleed out in a comfortable position."

The alien was sent to one corner, the humans to another. The men readied their blades in a guard, murmuring to each other. The alien raised its array of limbs. The announcer raised a metal bell above his head and clanked it vigorously. The crowd bayed.

The alien glided forward on a half dozen legs, its eyes as bulbous and outraged as Marvin the Martian's. The man with two swords circled, bringing it to hesitate, while the second man shuffled forward with tiny steps. Before he came into striking range, he dropped to a knee, scooped up a handful of dirt, and flung it straight into the alien's eyes.

The creature reversed course, pawing at its eyes with a frantic tentacle. The crowd gasped. The booth grew louder than ever as a man called out new odds. For the first time, the humans were favored.

Sprite gaped. "Do you know how much money I just dropped? I am
fucked
!"

"If anything, you should double down."

"So they'll break
both
my legs? After this is over, you and I are getting in that ring!"

Ness shrugged one shoulder. "Just watch."

The two men advanced on the alien, which had retreated to the edge of the ring. It raised two fat tentacles, keeping them toward the back of its body. As the man with one sword moved in on the side, the tentacles rotated minutely, like a pair of stretched-out radar dishes. The man swung in a downward arc that would slash right through the alien's side.

A serpentine tentacle whipped from the alien. A sharp crack rang across the night. The sword spun away, steel flashing under the lights; before the disarmed man could react, the alien was upon him, hammer-pods whaling him to the ground. The crowd groaned in sympathy. The sound faded, replaced by the sick crunch of breaking bone.

The second man loped forward. The alien turned. For a minute, they feinted back and forth, swords and limbs threshing the air between them, circling for an opening. The spectators began to make cat calls.

The man swiped at an extended tentacle and the creature scuttled back. The man struck again. The alien intercepted with a hammer-pod and jabbed at him with a small, razor-sharp claw. The man hacked at it clumsily, but the deflection drew a spatter of thick yellow blood.

The spectators whooped. Emboldened, the man stutter-stepped in, thrusting with his long sword. He let it be intercepted by a hammer-pod, then struck his shorter weapon at the extended limb's soft upper arm. It landed true, severing the tentacle to the dirt. The crowd roared.

A second hammer-pod lashed in from the side and fractured the man's wrist to grit.

He dropped his short sword. Staggering, he attempted to bring the other to bear, but a cascade of claws hit him in his ribs and face, shredding and battering. He fell to one knee, gathered his strength, and attempted to drive his blade into the center of the advancing alien's body sac. It sacrificed one more limb to its defense, then fell on him, rending him apart. The dirt went muddy with blood.

Silence ravaged the crowd like a sickness. One man burst to his feet to cheer, clapping over his head. Dozens joined him. Not to celebrate wagers won—most had clearly lost money—but for the sight of blood.

Ness watched in contempt. He'd tell Sebastian about this, all right. And ask why exactly they were trying to
protect
these people.

The announcer opened the fence, handed the creature a red belt, and jokingly held out the megaphone to it. The alien twitched one of its limbs. Ness was no expert in their language, but he knew well the symbol it displayed to the unwitting crowd: "BETRAY."

Sprite thumped him on the shoulder. "You just earned me so much cash I can't tell you or you'll want half. How did you know it would turn out like that?"

"My daddy was an alien." The security team entered the fence and began to secure the creature with chains.

"Remind me to thank your mom for having such an open mind." Sprite dislodged himself from his chair and tugged down the hem of his shirt. "Stay here. I've got riches to collect."

As security led the alien outside, two men rolled a wheelbarrow inside the fencing, donned gloves, and heaved the remains of the humans inside. The crowd had returned to socializing, drinking, collecting bets; several mimicked replays from the fight, laughing. The alien-handlers led their charge down a walkway and disappeared behind a line of trees. With Sprite occupied at the betting counter, Ness hurried across the patio toward the handlers, but they were already gone from sight.

He returned to his table. Sprite came back a few minutes later looking smug. He slung himself into his seat. "Tonight, drinks are on me. I recommend you have a ton of them."

Ness scooted back his chair. "Afraid I got to call it an early night."

"Indeed, sir. Let me show you to your limo." Sprite's face fell. "You're serious? You just got here!"

"And you showed me a great time."

"I'm not kidding. You can't go before I have the chance to repay you. In spite of my appearance, company, and words, I'm a man of honor."

Ness gazed across the darkened courtyard. "You know, there might be something you can do for me. How can I get in contact with you again?"

Sprite examined his face and sighed. "If you're that determined to have no fun, I can see I can't convince you of your error. As to how to reach me, you must travel to the southern point of the island, cross the Moat of Lost Souls, and approach the apartment complex known as the House of the Lion. You will know it by the stone lions guarding its front."

"Once I've finished that leg of the quest?"

He shrugged. "Drop a letter through the mail slot. It's right in the front door."

"Thanks for the tour. And for saving me from the dude with the baton." Ness tapped his fingers on the table. "Know what, stick around, will you? I got a feeling I'll be back pretty quick."

"I make no promises. Money wants to be spent—and it's hard to say no to something as beautiful as this." He held up a finger, reached into his jacket, and removed a plastic sleeve. He counted ten red poker chips onto the table. "If you need to get back in, flash these at the front door. They'll be happy to give you the chance to part with them."

Ness scooped them up and pocketed them. "See you when I see you."

He exited the courtyard and made his way back through the hall to the lobby. It was roughly ten PM, and now that the fights were over, many of the spectators were drifting around the interior, joining the gaming tables, looking for a good time. Ness walked back into the night and strode to the parking garage. He climbed the stairs to the penultimate floor, shuffled through the darkness to the open window in the wall where he'd left Sebastian. It was vacant. Ness turned in a confused circle.

Sebastian burst from behind a dingy SUV. Ness' heart jumped like it was fit to explode.

"What the hell?" he blurted out loud, then signed, "Trying to scare me to death?"

"To prevent myself from being seen by those who would shoot me."

"I got some news. I went inside. Looked around. Saw a fight. Like..." He shadowboxed. "An organized fight. One of the combatants was a Swimmer."

This was the term Sebastian used for his species, though Ness wasn't certain whether it applied to all of them—the equivalent of "human"—or if it only referred to the sect that had invaded Earth—the equivalent of "Americans" or "Buddhists," say. And while there was an obvious physical, literal element to it, he thought the term had a symbolic side, too. One he hadn't yet been able to parse.

Either that or he was completely misinterpreting Sebastian. Wouldn't be the first time. They were writing their dictionary as they went along.

As soon as Ness made the gesture for the Swimmer, Sebastian went completely still. "Where?"

"At the..." Ness hunted for the sign. "Casino."

"Of course at the casino. I did not think you took a surprise visit to your moon or to the one who produced your egg. Where within the casino?"

"I don't know. I came to talk to you first. This is weird, right? You guys aren't much for leaving your friends behind. Why haven't his people come to rescue him?"

Sebastian gazed at him levelly. Not that the aliens had any other kind of gaze; most of their expressions were displayed through their limbs and posture, leaving their eyes as expressionless as a human's ears. "We must speak to him."

"What should I ask him?"

"You ask nothing. You be still while I do the asking."

Ness laughed, voice echoing through the parking garage. "I don't think so. Not unless you've been dieting enough to squeeze into a set of human skin."

The alien lowered his head nearer to Ness, tentacles bobbing. "If you speak to the Swimmer, will you understand the difference between 'crab' and 'crab'?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Just so; to you, they are the same word. Or what if I were to say to you—?" Sebastian began to gesture furiously, tentacles lashing, claws spinning. Here and there Ness thought he caught a sign, but Sebastian's native language was much different than the one he had cobbled together to use with Ness, and for the most part Sebastian's current gesticulations looked like a squid with a tentacle jammed in a light socket.

Ness waved his hand. "You've made your point. So you do want to talk to him?"

"Yes."

"Knowing he's a prisoner and we'll have to sneak inside?"

"Yes yes."

He had expected no less, but he didn't like it. "Well, we're not going to charge in blind. I made a contact. I'll talk to him and see if there's a way for us to sneak you in."

"Don't see 'if'," Sebastian signed. "The path unfolds when you will it so."

Ness rolled his eyes and headed back to the Galaxy. Out front, the line had dispersed, and while the look the bouncer gave him wasn't friendly, all Ness had to do was display his stack of chips to be allowed entrance. He jogged through the lobby to the courtyard and cast about for Sprite. Just as he despaired of finding him, he spotted Sprite by the bar talking to a confuddled-looking black guy who spoke Chinese with what sounded like an African accent.

Ness approached, feeling awkward when Sprite made no immediate acknowledgement. Soon, he felt himself blushing, which was so god damn ridiculous he didn't know what to think. Here he was, best friends with a monster, the one human member of an interstellar A-Team dedicated to neutralizing the Swimmers' advantages and ensure they didn't complete the extinction of the human race—but put him in an uncertain social situation, and he still blushed.

As if Ness had tapped Sprite on the shoulder, which Ness certainly hadn't, Sprite swiveled in his chair to face him. "Back so soon? Forget your wallet?"

Assuming that was a joke, Ness chuckled. The stranger Sprite had been chatting up took the opportunity to walk away, which fit Ness' plans just fine. "Can we talk in private?"

"Want to get a room?" Sprite got a funny look on his face, then laughed. "Not like that. You haven't earned me
that
much money tonight."

He showed Ness past the courtyard to one of the two great wings of the hotel. He reached a stairwell, produced a twist of a twine-like substance, and lit it with a flick of a lighter, shedding enough light to climb by. He got out on the second floor, passed a series of closed doors, found one propped open by its latch, and gestured Ness inside.

Ness decided not to sit down. He let his elbow brush the laser tucked inside his shirt, reassuring himself it was there. "I'd like to know everything you know about the alien we saw tonight."

"Funny. I've been meaning to ask you what else
you
know about them."

"Why? Are they common around here?"

"I might have seen one two or three months ago. Hard to say. Mostly, it's the ships."

"As in jets? Are
those
common?"

"I hear them once or twice a week," Sprite said. "As far as I know, they've never hurt anyone—in recent times, I mean—but their engines sure put the fear of God into you."

"How about the Galaxy's answer to Mike Tyson? Can you get me in to see it?"

"To do what? Ask it for an autograph?"

"Ask it to be my friend. You see, I've never felt much in common with the human species, and I think if I get to know one of the bugs, we might find we've got a lot in common." Ness raised his eyebrow. "What do you
think
I'm going to do?"

"Have sex with it? I honestly have no idea."