My Alien Warrior (2 page)

The more of a reputation he got for his wins, the harder it was to make people believe that he wasn’t sizing them up and planning with every second, no matter how bored he tried to look before the match started. It was always good when he had to fight one of the cocky ones because they underestimated him and he got to put them in the dust. That always made them angry, and the fight would rage harder after that.

Those wins were some of the ones he savored the most.

For the moment, though, he focused on Calgus. He was rolling his shoulders as if limbering up, but Khaos knew he had already probably warmed up below the arena like everyone else did. This was for show, so he didn’t react at all.

He knew Calgus was sizing him up as well, and he knew what he would see. A Kaspersi warrior, six and a half feet tall with tanned skin and a muscular build. He wasn’t as bulky as Calgus, but he was obvious that he was strong. His chestnut colored hair was cropped in short curls on his head, and his eyes were blue, slitted, and intelligent.

Instead of the plate armor most fighters used, Khaos had opted for hardened leather, and he was covered from neck to ankle in his armor, leather boots completing the look. It wasn’t as protective as plate or chain mail, but it would be easier to move in.

After what felt like long minutes, the announcer dropped her hands. “Fight!” she shouted and then jumped back, hurrying to the safety of her podium.

It was polite to let the announcer get out of the way before attacking, and had been since one of them had gotten hit by a stray arrow when she hadn’t cleared the floor quickly enough, but apparently Calgus wasn’t privy to that knowledge. Or else he just didn’t care. His spear was up and being twirled around his head before the woman had even had a chance to move a full foot back, and Khaos frowned, stepping forward to put his body between them, axe raised.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” he said under his breath, breaking his rule about taunting the enemy just a bit because he was serious. He raised the flat of his axe just in time to block a downward blow and then pushed Calgus back with it.

“I know how to treat a lady,” Calgus said, grinning and showing several gold teeth. “Ask your mother.”

Years ago, a comment like that would have sent Khaos into a blind rage, making him lose his cool and start attacking with anger instead of sense. But he’d heard that taunt and others like it from more opponents than he could count by this point, and he wasn’t interested in reacting to it. None of them knew his mother or even that she was dead, more than likely (though one of the reasons it was such a popular taunt was because a good number of fighters didn’t have mothers anymore), and flying off the handle wouldn’t win him this.

So he kept his face blank and kept moving, waiting for Calgus to make another move before he did anything.

It was easy to see that Calgus had assumed his taunt would get some kind of reaction, and he scowled at the fact that Khaos seemed unfazed.

Just as Khaos had expected, he started spinning the spear like it was a staff, and Khaos kept himself alert. It could be a diversion or it could just be a show of prowess, but either way, he wanted to be prepared because the end of that spear was wickedly sharp, and even though he was clad in his preferred hardened leather armor, he didn’t want to take any chances.

His armor itself was something of a distraction tactic, and while people tried to incapacitate him with hard blows that he’d feel more through the leather than he would plate, it meant they had to get in close enough that it would be easy for Khaos to get in attacks of his own.

Of course, Calgus and his spear had an advantage of being long range, but Khaos was willing to bet that his axe could chop clean through the shaft of the spear if he brought it down with enough force.

The fight wasn’t short by any means. Calgus continued to shout his taunts, casting negative light on Khaos’ face and body to his ancestors to his sister (which he didn’t even have), and through it all Khaos just managed to look bored. The rage grew on Calgus’ face, and he started swinging more wildly, slashing with his spear and trying to use the staff to knock Khaos off his feet.

Khaos nearly stumbled once, but used his axe to keep himself up, slashing out with it and catching the side of Calgus’ armor in a clash of metal on metal.

The roar of the crowd had faded into background noise, and all he was concentrating on was his breathing and Calgus’ movements as they clashed and then broke away to circle each other.

All he needed was an opening.

There!

There was a spot unprotected when Calgus was twirling his spear, all he had to do was duck under and go up and he could pull it off.

Dropping into a roll, Khaos avoided being stabbed as Calgus ended his spin and started jabbing at him (narrowly a couple of times) and then lunged back up, hooking his foot around Calgus’ ankle, bringing him face down to the dirt.

By the time he’d gotten himself rolled over, the blade of Khaos’ axe was right at his neck.

Khaos arched an eyebrow.

Rage flared and then died in Calgus’ eyes and he sighed. “I yield!” he called, and the crowd exploded.

“Glory to Khaos!” the announcer called as she made her way down from the podium to call the fight. “Honor to Calgus.”

Khaos hefted his axe and rolled his shoulders, deciding that a hot soak in the baths sounded amazing right then. The announcer caught his eye and winked, jerking her head in the direction of the private baths the announcers and coordinators got to use, and Khaos grinned.

Winning was definitely good.

“After you,” he said, watching as she handed the amplifier over to one of the other women seated near the podium. Sometimes arena fights went on for several hours throughout the day, so announcers took shifts.

Clearly this one was declaring her shift over.

“What’s your name?” Khaos asked her as he slipped into the cool darkness of the inner arena with her.

“Briselle,” she said in that throaty voice, eyes raking over him. “You fight so well.”

“It’s the practice,” he said, and when they were alone, he showed her what else he was practiced in.

Over two hours later, Briselle waved goodbye with a lazy grin on her face as Khaos pulled his shirt over his head and set out, whistling under his breath as he went. He had that buzzing feeling that came from a victory and a good workout coursing through him, and a spring in his step. He was also starving.

The years of him living in the orphanage were over, and while he’d always be grateful for the women who had taken care of him, even when he made it harder than it had to be, when the opportunity to leave had come up, he’d taken it.

Now he lived in a boarding house sort of place, with his own room and space, and it was paradise compared to the often cramped and unpleasant orphanage where he’d grown up.

Blessini was a small planet, divided into four quadrants. He’d heard that humans called them countries on their planet, though the term didn’t make much sense to him. Each of Blessini’s quadrants was different from its fellows. Cinto was a sprawling jungle type place, all heavy humidity and thick air. The people who called it home lived in massive trees and hunted for their food, mixing technology and more primitive measures.

Alges, by contrast, was mostly desert. The land was dry and thirsty, and it was perpetually hot. Khaos had never been there, and he didn’t really have much desire to go. Not much was known about the people who inhabited Alges, and they kept to themselves for the most part.

Artres and Lio were similar in that they were the more industrial parts of the planet. They were responsible for most of the technology and modern advances that helped all of the inhabitants of Blessini. Artres was laid out more like a sprawling community, houses and buildings taking up most of the space. Roads cut neat paths through neighborhoods and factory complexes, dividing the whole place into a grid shape.

Lio was much the same, only instead of large houses occupied by single families, they had buildings that housed multiple. Units were stacked on top of each other, and it was rare to find a building that only had one family living in it, unless it was on the outskirts of the quadrant where the poorer people tended to live.

Khaos lived in a house that had once housed a single family more than likely, but now it housed seven different people who were all singled and had their own rooms.

With the Sickness killing off people indiscriminately, it was always easy to find housing in Lio, and there was always work to be done. Lio was made up almost entirely of Kaspersi, one race of beings that called Blessini home. From what the scientists and medics could tell, it was only the Kaspersi who were plagued by the Sickness, and because of that, not many other races would come to Lio, preferring to move to Artres where it was more diverse and there were fewer cases of the Sickness.

Khaos couldn’t say he could blame them.

All of that aside, he liked his home. The house was familiar now that it had been almost eight years since he’d moved into it, and he knew all of the occupants of it. There was Maeve, the woman who ran it, tall and thin, and more snake like than any of the other Kaspersi Khaos had ever met with her pale skin and almost reptilian features. There were rumors that she was older than the Sickness itself, though no one, not even Maeve, could or would confirm that.

Other than her, there were six other tenants including himself, and as he approached the house, axe swung over his shoulder as he walked, he could see that three of them were gathered on the front steps talking and eating ripe fruit.

Khaos could smell the sticky sweet juice from the fruit as soon as he got close enough to hear their conversation, and he was reminded that it had been ages since his last meal. He disliked fighting on a full stomach, so he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was fast closing in on dinner time already.

“What’s the verdict, then?” called Kasha, a plump, pretty woman who was apparently immune to Khaos’ charms. She grinned, tanned face bright with good humor from where she was reclining against the steps.

“What do you think?” countered Danvar, leaning against the front of the building to the left of the door. “He’s got that look.”

Hylin laughed and licked his fingers clean of juice before tossing a fruit to Khaos. “When’s the last time you lost anyway?”

Khaos caught the bright yellow fruit in one hand and let his axe swing down to thump to the ground. He shrugged and bit into the sweet, soft fruit, mouth flooded with the flavor that was tangy and delicious. “Can’t remember,” he said through a mouthful. “It’s been a while.”

Kasha laughed. “That’s an understatement. You’ve come out on top the last ninety-seven bouts in a row. Ninety-eight if you count today’s. That has to be some kind of record.”

“You think?” Khaos asked, arching an eyebrow. “If it is, no one’s said anything.”

Danvar shrugged and pushed off from his spot. “It’s impressive either way. Just make sure you keep it up. I’ve got thirty silver credits on you getting to a hundred in a row without losing one. I could use that money.”

“I’ll do my best,” Khaos laughed.

It was always like this when he came home. Easy, relaxed. The people he lived with had all lost people from the Sickness, but they knew better than most that life had to go on for the living. Getting caught up in mourning and wishing for things and people who were gone and not coming back was an easy ticket to wasting away yourself.

The long day and physical exertion was catching up to him, and Khaos polished off the last of his fruit and then stretched, arms overhead as he cracked his back with a groan. “I’m going to take a nap. Who’s on dinner tonight?”

Hylin made a face. “Viv is. I’d head out for something if I were you.”

Their meals at the house were communal, and everyone took a turn cooking as well as cleaning up after the meal and in general. Khaos was an alright cook, definitely not the best, but he managed to get good meals on the table.

The worst cook was definitely Vivala, who seemed to be able to burn anything and everything she touched. Instead of just purchasing meals the way the others who couldn’t cook did when it was their turns, she insisted on trying again and again to make something edible.

While Khaos had to admire her dedication, his stomach was never happy after he tried to muscle down something she’d made.

He’d definitely be going out later then. All the more reason to get some rest now.

The axe went back up and over his shoulder, and he tried not to feel too prideful at the awed looks on the faces of his housemates. They knew him well by now, but it was kind of nice that they were still impressed by him.

He said his goodbyes and made his way up two flights of stairs, calling a loud hello to Maeve as he passed her domain.

His room was simple, but comfortable. A bed, a desk, and a dresser were the only furniture, and a holo screen took up one wall completely while windows lined the wall adjacent. He shared a bathroom with Hylin, and the door that led to the connected bathroom was closed.

His axe was stowed in the corner and Khaos yawned and stretched again, his muscles pleasantly sore from the fight that afternoon and the romp after it. Briselle had proven herself to be both flexible and fun, and he was hoping that he’d get a chance to see her again.

Winning fights definitely had its advantages.

Khaos stripped off his tunic and pants and flopped onto his bed, making himself comfortable with a yawn. From there, he could see the picture of his family that sat on top of the desk across the room, and he looked at their faces for a moment.

His father was smiling, his mother with her arm around him, her green eyes bright. Even after all this time, missing them was a constant thing, and he let himself think about how things used to be as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2: Busy, Busy, Busy

The Avondale Clinic was located smack dab in the middle of the city. It wasn’t as popular as the larger hospital only a few miles up the road, or the general practice doctors that had their offices on the other side of town, but the patients who came in were dedicated and always left happy. Well. Some of the kids left in tears, but that was part of the nature of the job, really.