The Daughter of Geth, A Prequel to The Guild Series Read online

  Chapter Four

  The Champion

   

  While Thad bobbed and weaved, he studied the three fighters awaiting their turns on a nearby bench. Those three sat out the first fight. The first appeared out of shape and past his prime and seemed nervous. Thad figured the reason he came was because he needed the money. He’s gone inside a minute or two.

  The next, a Promethean, sat with eyes closed, apparently meditating. The yellow-skinned, long-necked alien would be a challenge should Thad have to face him. He hadn’t realized there were alien off-worlders on this planet. This one had red, vertical standing, stiff hair drooping over at its ends, like a carrot top, and he wore several gold chains around his sinewy throat. As if sensing Thad’s gaze on him, he opened his green, penetrating eyes.

  Thad acknowledged him with a nod. He’ll know Luch Chi. All of the yellow skins do. One of them taught Thorn what she knows.

  Next to the Promethean sat a muscular, dark-skinned Gethite clad in red fur chaps and a matching vest without sleeves. He also wore his hair dyed the same flushed color and a gold earring in each earlobe. His hard gaze fixed on Thad through black eyes, no more than slits. This one would be difficult.

  Morse tapped him on the shoulder. “They know the one they have to beat now.”

  Thad glanced at Nassi holding onto the lieutenant’s sleeve as if drunk. The liquid mask continued to work.

  Leaning in close, Morse whispered, “So far no one has paid any attention to us. I’ve only got one more dose of the drug though.”

  The other fights concluded, and Buckskin asked, “You two get away from the fighter.” His gaze lingered on Nassi for a moment, but he didn’t say anything more.

  They retreated to a bench near the entrance, and Thad returned to ring two.

  Buckskin motioned to the three seated fighters and sent one to each ring to face the winner. Thad drew the Promethean. Having sparred many times with Maggie through the years, he understood the philosophy of Luch Chi—become like liquid flowing through every weak crevice in your opponent’s defenses—he just wasn’t very good at it. He had learned, however, how to defend against it. He just could never manage to beat Maggie.

  The Gethite stepped in between the rings and raised his clenched fist. “No more wagers. Time to fight.” He dropped his hand and hurried out of the way.

  Thad frowned. “I like to watch her too much, and she knows it. She uses it against me.”

  The Promethean paused, long arms up and open palms vertical. “You like to watch who too much?” he asked, his tongue clicking out every consonant.

  “It’s nothing,” Thad said. “But you’d think I was a fawning teenager the way I act around her sometimes.”

  The Promethean lowered his arms. “I can’t fight you if you’re going to do nothing but distract me.” He glanced at the Gethite. “Tell him to stop talking. It’s annoying.”

  Buckskin shrugged. “There’s no rule against talking, as long as he stays in the ring.”

  “Sorry,” Thad said, settling down in a crouch with fists up. He slid to the side, watching the Promethean’s feet. They always lead with their feet. Maggie does the same, only her legs look better.

  The Promethean moved like a dancer with his arms raising and lowering, fanning his hands with palms open and fingers extended. Thad took his gaze off the other’s feet for just a moment, to watch the beautiful, flowery, gesticulations of his thin hands. A foot kicked him in the head, and Thad stumbled backward.

  The Promethean smiled.

  Thad shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, and he shot a scowl at the Promethean. “That’s what she does. Every single time I watch her hands, she kicks me in the head. Well I’m damn well getting tired of it.”

  “You’re talking again.”

  Thad dropped and kicked the Promethean’s legs out from under him. He landed on his back, but immediately leapt to his feet. They circled one another.

  “I’m tired of being kicked,” Thad said. “Kicked in the head, kicked in the knee, and oh yeah…in the crotch. I’m tired of, ‘I need a sparring partner, Cochran,’ so I can beat the living crap out of you…and call it a workout.”

  “Who’s Cochran?” The Promethean spiraled and hit him on the jaw with a stinging back fist. “There…I didn’t kick you that time.”

  Thad’s nostril’s flared, and he punched him in the gut with a straight right. The Promethean backed away, grimacing.

  “You see, she knows I won’t hit her back. She figures I’m all googly-eyed and falling over my tongue.” Thad went after the Promethean, setting down on his punches and throwing quick combinations of jabs and hooks, with an occasional kick to keep him off balance.

  The Promethean, a slick fighter, avoided many shots, but not all of them. Some punches got through and hurt him. He winced and stayed back on his heels, blood trickling from his nose and lips. He breathed heavily, and his hands dropped.

  I need to keep some in the tank for the other matches. Have to finish him fast.

  The Promethean spun and managed to kick Thad in the side. He straightened the Promethean with a jab and punched him square on the jaw with a stiff right. He hit the dirt floor and lay motionless.

  Buckskin had been standing nearby, watching. They brought the Promethean around and got him on his feet. As they led him off, the yellow-skinned alien blinked, and then his gaze settled on Thad.

  He stopped them for a moment. “I have found it is best to tell the female what is really in your heart.”

  “Yeah, but what if she kicks me in the head?”

  “It sounds like a complicated relationship,” the Promethean said. He motioned the Gethites off and left on his own power.

  Thad returned to shadowboxing.

  Buckskin lingered. “Last year that alien’s the one fought the champ and got timed out. You’re good, mister, real good. You can get a drink while we wait on the other matches if you like. I know I’ve seen you before. It’ll come to me where and when. Maybe you should consider being one of my fighters. I pay well for talent.”

  In ring one, the redheaded Gethite made short work of his opponent. He gazed at Thad as he ambled to a water pail, splashed his face, and poured himself a drink.

  Morse joined him with Nassi in tow. He motioned nonchalantly at the Gethite wearing red. “He’s powerful.” Morse lowered his voice as he said, “Stay away from his right hand, and don’t let him get a hold of you.”

  Bleary eyed, Nassi looked at the man Morse spoke of. “Avamar Dokei,” he mumbled. “He just got out of prison for beating a man to death with a horsewhip, and we don’t have any horses on Geth.”

  Thad studied Nassi. “He seems to be coming around already.”

  “I don’t think what the captain gave us is strong enough,” Morse said.

  “Give him the rest during the three-for-all. How much time did he do in prison?” Thad asked of Nassi. “He looks young.”

  “Oh, three or four months. The other guy deserved it for getting in the way of his whip. That’s what the judge said.”

  Thad lowered his voice and elbowed him in the side. “Any Confederalis around here, Nassi?”

  The Gethite’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t say.”

  Morse frowned.

  “The drug doesn’t take away his fear,” Thad said. “He snitches, he dies.”

  “Do we do double or nothing for the three-for-all?” Morse cocked his head.

  Thad nodded. “We’re going to win the whole thing and cash in on the ante as well. That’ll make us rich…almost.”

  Morse trotted off and laid down another bet. When he returned, he screwed up his mouth and gave the Gethite an easy push. “Let’s sit down, old man.”

  The final bout ended, and the last competitor emerged after beating the out-of-shape man Thad noticed earlier—a baby-faced Gethite with long black hair. The man stood nearly seven feet tall and wore hide boots to his calves, leather trousers, and a fringed coat with no sleeves. His calves were as big
around as Thad’s neck.

  Buckskin said, “Last one standing faces the champion. Just one ring this time, so everyone get back and give the fighters room. Pick your favorite and place your bets now.” He glanced at Thad. “We’ll only give you even money on this one.”

  Morse rose, fists clenched. “Baldy over there said double or nothing.”

  Buckskin smirked. “I set the rules. It’s even money on your fighter.” His gaze shifted to Thad. “What’s your name?”

  “Almett Zode.” Thad spotted the redhead and the one in fringe whispering to one another. They’re going to team up on me to try and get me out early.

  The wagering ended, and he met the two men in the middle of the barn.

  The Gethite raised his arm momentarily and clenched his fist. “Go.”

  The crowd cheered so loud dirt fell from the rafters.

  Red ran at him first. Thad kicked the musclebound man in the knee. Red let out a yelp and hobbled. The one in fringe tackled Thad who landed hard on his back, but got his hands between them and popped Fringe’s ears with his palms. When Fringe lifted his head, his face screwed up in pain, Thad gave him a shot to the jaw that dislodged him. Hot pain shot up Thad’s arm, as if he’d punched a rock.

  Red sprang at Thad just as he got to his feet. He backed off a step, arms extended, and kept him at bay, grappling with the big man until their fingers locked. Thad managed to wrench one hand free and nailed him in the ribs with a solid shot. Fringe came at him again; Thad stepped aside, and the Gethite plowed into Red and upended him. The pair’s alliance ended quickly. They rolled in the dirt, fists flying. Thad kicked Fringe in the head, and he fell on to his face.

  Nuts, I aimed for the other one. This redhead’s a hard case.

  Red sprang to his feet, gave the downed man a kick of his own, and then went toe to toe with Thad, leaving Fringe on his back, blinking.

  Thad popped Red repeatedly in the face.

  He grimaced and spit blood. “I’m going to take you down.” He threw a looping right that caught Thad on the shoulder.

  Better not get hit in the head by one of those—they might be carrying me out next. Thad pressed him and kicked him in the same knee. When Red backed away, he pelted him with a barrage of punches to the chest and face.

  Fringe had somehow climbed to his feet, wavering and blinking, with his fists balled. Thad spun and swung a hard elbow to his forehead. The man fell on his face again and lay there groaning. Red tackled Thad, but he dug in his heels, and they grappled. He clasped the man around the neck and kneed him repeatedly in the side. Thad took a half step back and landed a heavy punch behind Red’s ear. The man stumbled, and Thad kicked him in the face. He fell on his back with his eyes rolled up.

  Sucking air, Thad bent over with his hands on his knees. He glanced at Fringe, but he wasn’t getting up either. That’s good, because I’m worn out. The crowd cheered so loud Thad’s ears rang. He shot a hard look at Buckskin. “If I beat your champion, you pay up, right? Don’t screw with me.”

  “I run an honest Balo here,” the Gethite said. “Besides, you aren’t going to win.” He clenched his jaw. “You’ve got five minutes to get your wind, but it won’t help you.” He paused for a moment as Thad wiped the sweat from his brow. “I know you from somewhere; I just can’t place you. We give five to one for the champion.”

  “I’m from the western city. Maybe you saw me there.”

  “Never been to the place,” the Gethite said. “I understand the place is full of Guild infiltrators.”

  Thad shrugged, and then joined Morse and Nassi on the bench.

  “You got a fat lip,” Morse said, eyeing his face. “We should quit, like Captain Thorn said. Leave the Guild ante, and we’ve still just about tripled our own money. That’s a pretty good day. The only money we lost wasn’t ours anyway…except what you gave to her.”

  “Who’s Captain Thorn,” Nassi croaked, leaning against Morse.

  “She’s no one,” Thad said. “She’s not real.”

  “Not real,” Nassi repeated.

  “I gave him the last of it.” Morse frowned and licked his lips. “We better finish this quick and get him out of here.”

  ”One minute to the final match,” Buckskin said, clanging his metal triangle.

  “Let’s get him back to the ship and forget this,” begged Morse.

  Thad stood. “We’ll leave once I beat the champion.”

  “You look worn out.”

  Jumping in place, Thad stretched and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve got another fight in me.”

  Morse leaned nearer. “What did the old woman say to you? You looked worried when you came out.”

  “She called me Lazarus.” Thad frowned. “She’s crazy. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Let’s go,” Buckskin said, smirking. “I hope you’ve got some kind of health plan, because it’s really hard to walk with every bone in your body broken.”

  “It’s even harder to talk with my hands around your throat.”

  Buckskin’s eyes narrowed.

  Thad glanced at Morse. “Put all of it down. They’ll pay five to one.”

  Morse did, and once he returned, Thad strode to the center of the barn. Once there, he warmed up as he bounced on the balls of his feet. A door creaked open somewhere in back of the place. All heads turned in the direction of the noise. Soon a crowd of Gethites strolled in, tossing flower petals into the audience. The spectators roared with approval, while a spotlight shone behind the entourage—on the largest, lumbering individual Thad had ever seen.

  The man had an enormous, shiny, bald head and wore something akin to a loin cloth and was naked otherwise. Thad suspected he hulked out somewhere between seven and eight feet tall—and he was fat, very fat.

  Thad sucked in a deep breath. He must weigh upwards of five hundred pounds.

  The crowd chanted, “Numbot, Numbot.” They stomped their feet and pounded on the benches as dust dropped in wafting clouds from the rafters.

  The fat man kept his hands raised and clasped together, like a king at his coronation. He stopped every few feet and slugged down a flask of ale. By the time he reached Thad, he had four of them and belched several times. Whenever he did something, anything, the crowd would cheer and chant his name…even when he belched.

  Finally he peered at Thad and lifted his hands to quiet the crowd. “What…are we out of real men? Perhaps we should throw this runt back after I pummel him.”

  The crowd cheered, and Thad continued to loosen, bouncing, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He looked at Buckskin and settled. “When I knock Fatso on his butt, no one helps him up.”

  The Gethite’s lips thinned. “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you? I’ll place you sooner or later. And no one has ever knocked Numbot down.”

  Numbot growled. “I crapped a turd about your size just this morning, puny one.”

  The words slipped out before Thad could stop them. “Yeah, well your mother likes me.”

  Something like a bear’s roar erupted from the giant’s throat.

  Buckskin spoke quickly, “This is a timed bout. If you can’t beat our champion in five minutes you default, which you will. Since I doubt you’ll make it out of here with all your limbs intact, you might hope Numbot does you a favor and kills you during the match. Set the holo timer.” He hurried off.

  Thad glared at him. “Don’t go too far with my krachnards.”

  A steel cable lowered from the roof of the barn with a flashing device hanging from it. In a moment, an oval holographic array shone twenty feet above the ground. Inside the array, large red numbers appeared. A shrill whistle sounded, and the red numbers began to count backward from five minutes.

  Numbot strutted regally toward him with legs as big around as Thad’s chest. His thighs jiggled as he walked, as did his enormous, flabby gut. Thad side-pedaled with fists up, expecting an attack.

  The big man stopped and grinned. “Time is wasting, cutie pie.” He stabbed a sausage-roll f
inger at the timer.

  Thad lunged, dropped to the floor and kicked Numbot’s ankles. Nothing happened except his foot recoiled off Numbot, then the giant tried to stomp him like a bug. Thad rolled over backward, jumped to his feet, and slammed his foot into Numbot’s knee. The big man caught Thad’s foot without flinching and slung him through the air. His head smacked the hard dirt floor. Shaking off the pain, he sprang to his feet, gaze on the timer.

  The crowd chanted. “Numbot, Numbot.” Someone handed him a flask of ale, and he swallowed it in one gulp.

  He’s faster than he looks. And has a serious drinking problem.

  Numbot flung the cup aside and wiped his mouth.

  Thad stepped in close, watching the big man’s big hands and hit him a shot in the gut. The giant smiled and brushed at the spot as if he shooed away an insect. He lunged and swung a meat-paw Thad’s way. The shot clipped his jaw, and he stumbled backward, shaking his head.

  The giant charged, but Thad slipped out of his reach, stepped behind him and hook-kicked him in the back before he could stop his momentum. Numbot jerked his shoulders and spun around in a rage.

  He’s got a temper. Maybe I can use it against him. “You felt that, didn’t you, bucket-o-lard? You need another drink?”

  Again the huge man rushed him. This time Thad took a chance, jumped high, spun in midair, and aimed at his head. No good. Numbot caught him, pulled him tight against his chest, and then fell over with Thad in his grasp. Numbot landed on Thad, forcing the wind from his lungs, and pain stabbed through his ribs.

  He bit him, the giant shrieked, rolled over onto his knees, and then pushed to his feet with an appalled expression on his face. Thad got up, laboring to get a breath, and clutching his side.

  Numbot looked at his bleeding arm, then glared at Thad. “You bit me! With your teeth.”

  Using the distraction, Thad sprang at him and drop-kicked Numbot in the face. The force of the shot sent him crashing onto his back. After regaining his footing, Thad ran at Numbot and leapt in a horizontal glide, hammering the big man square in the chest with his elbow when he landed on him.

  Numbot grunted, grabbed him tight again, and squeezed. Thad’s face disappeared into a fleshy fold of the giant’s arm, and his ears popped. The Gethite loosened his grip just long enough to tilt his big head and squint at the timer. “One minute left, pretty boy.”

  Snarling, Thad bit him again. When Numbot squealed, he also let him go. Slipping under his grasp, Thad dropped him with a straight, powerful right. When the giant fell onto his back this time, Thad pounced on top with his knees pinning the giant’s arms. With his knees digging into Numbot’s arms, Thad pounded the man’s face with a furious barrage of heavy blows.

  The crowd fell silent as Thad kept swinging like a lumberjack taking down a big tree.

  Numbot, cuts opening on his cheeks, managed to get an arm free and slugged Thad in the chest. The punch knocked him off the Gethite. He hit the dirt, and then struggled to his feet breathing heavy…holding his side with one hand and his chest with the other as pain ricocheted within. The crowd erupted again, chanting, “Numbot, Numbot.”

  “Thirty seconds,” Buckskin said, joyously.

  The partisan throng began a unified countdown, and Thad remembered what Maggie said in her ready room that morning. “I’m going to show you a move.”

  Numbot sat up and weakly rose to his feet. Thad let him stand then darted at him and jumped onto his chest with a forearm in his throat. His legs wrapped around him, and his free hand clutched the back of the man’s head. Numbot crushed him in a vice-like grip. Thad held on as the giant swung him side-to-side, and as he clung there, he jammed his forearm harder against the giant’s throat just as Maggie instructed.

  “Fifteen seconds.”

  Slowly Numbot’s grip loosened, and he went wobbly. The countdown continued, and the Gethite’s eyes rolled up into his enormous cranium.

  “Five…four…three…two…”

  Thad let him go and dropped to his feet. The big man fell like an enormous, creaking tree. He landed onto his back, eyes dull, and a thick cloud of dust rose, blanketing everyone in the barn with a gray powder.

  Buckskin motioned with flailing arms. “Time’s up. You lost. Time’s up.”

  He growled. “What do you mean time’s up? I had a second to go.”

  “Nope.” Buckskin shook his head. “He didn’t hit the floor until a second after the timer went to zero. You lose.”

  Thad stomped toward him. “I don’t think so.” His eyes narrowed, and he balled his fists.

  Just then, the Gethite from the tavern appeared in the doorway of the barn shouting, “I need help. Nassi Foke’s gone missing. Two men came by asking about him, and then he disappeared, and he ain’t finished fixing my stool.” His gaze landed on Thad. “That’s one of them right there.”