“With no further ado, please welcome Hvach and Goolig.”
Izzie watched in horror as an alien emerged from a tunnel at each end of the arena, striding toward each other and coming to a halt in front of her platform as the announcer introduced them.
Hvach was a lobster-like alien with hard red skin, giant pincers on his upper arms, and smaller claws on the two sets of arms that emerged from his midsection. She wanted to dismiss him as some type of giant animal, but there was intelligence in the way his eyes, supported by stalks, surveyed her, and he clicked his pincers together when he saw her looking.
Goolig looked more humanoid, except for the disturbing number of tentacle-like fingers on each hand, but he was equally massive, and yellow slime dripped from his body. She shuddered at the thought of being touched by that oozing skin.
“As a reminder, whoever wins today’s matches will earn his freedom. And as a special reward, one week with this soft little female.”
As the announcer spoke, one of the guards stepped forward and, with a lascivious grin, ripped the sheer garment from her body. The dress hadn’t provided much protection, but now that it was gone, she was even more conscious of her nakedness. Perhaps that had been the intention. She did her best not to show any reaction. The crowd cheered, and she saw yellow drool slip from Goolig’s mouth as he licked his lips, but she stared over their heads and tried to imagine herself far, far away.
A gong sounded, and then the fight began. Despite her best intentions, she found herself watching the violent struggle. If she had thought about it, she would have assumed Hvach, with his hard shell and large pincers, would have been the clear victor. While he did manage to catch hold of one of Goolig’s hands and slice off two digits, Goolig barely flinched.
“Think he’s on majat?” one of the guards muttered to the other.
“Nah. The Naimal don’t need drugs. When they’re in battle mode, they don’t feel their wounds.”
“Well, shit. I bet on Hvach.”
“Not over yet.”
But even as the second guard spoke, Goolig ducked under Hvach’s guard to get behind him and jumped up with his arms around the other male’s neck. With one hand, he snapped both eye stalks, and when Hvach roared, Goolig jammed his entire fist down the open throat. Hvach flailed helplessly as he tried to dislodge Goolig but to no avail. He threw himself backward, trying to crush the other male beneath him, but it was too late, and his struggles slowly diminished. When at last he lay still, Goolig pushed the body to one side and stood, holding something that looked disgustingly like a tongue in the fist he removed from Hvach’s throat. The crowd went crazy, and Izzie fought back the urge to be sick.
A brief interlude was announced. Goolig disappeared back into his tunnel after one last look at Izzie. A couple of attendants removed Hvach’s body and raked over the sand until there was no sign that anything had occurred.
Behind her, the crowd stirred restlessly. She could see aliens exchanging credits, purchasing odd kinds of food and drink, and chatting with their fellow attendees. If it hadn’t been for the startling variety of life-forms, it could have been halftime at a professional football game. The heat of the suns bore down on her, and she could feel her skin flushing beneath its natural tan. The dry ache in her mouth and throat begin to dominate her thoughts. Even the uncomfortable stretch of her arms and legs and the burn beginning under her skin diminished in comparison to the need for water.
She swayed in her chains, and the noise of the crowd became a general roaring in her ears. One word finally caught her attention, and she raised her head enough to see that once again two fighters stood in front of her. On her right, Goolig leered at her, but she tried to focus on the one to her left. A massive white-furred figure, he stood tall and relaxed, confidence in every line of that big body.
Baralt.
Didn’t all that fur make him hot? she wondered dizzily. Then their eyes met. His were as cool and blue as the turquoise seas off the coast of Mexico.
The announcer was still droning on, but Baralt ignored him, stepping forward and demanding the attention of the guards.
“Has she had anything to drink?” he asked in a low soothing rumble.
The guards exchanged a glance, then shook their heads nervously.
“I said no damage,” Baralt growled. “Give her water immediately.”
Another nervous glance, and then one of them reached for the bottle he’d been drinking from.
“This is all I have.”
“Then give it to her. Slowly.”
The guard opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, then shrugged and stepped over to her. Lifting her head, he poured water into her mouth.
It was warm and foul tasting, and he was pouring it so quickly that she was on the verge of choking, but she didn’t care. She could literally feel her body absorbing the moisture and beginning to recover. She choked a second time and heard Baralt growl.
“I said slowly.”
The guard slowed down, but he didn’t stop until she had taken all of it. She could feel the water sloshing around in her stomach like a lead weight, but she didn’t care. She licked her lips to capture the last drops of moisture and found Baralt staring at her. Their eyes locked, and she had the oddest feeling that he actually saw her as a person rather than a slave. Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, grateful smile.
“Since when are you so worried about a slave?” the guard asked, interrupting the moment, and the realization of her circumstances came rushing
