I have literally nothing written after this, so don’t expect another installment for a minute.  Nonetheless, this could be kind of an exciting bit to read.

Content Warnings:  Violence, Gun Violence, Weapons, Slavery, Dehumanization, Violations of Personal Space, Inequitable Class Systems, Sci-fi Racism, Workplace Harassment.

CENTENNIAL HILLS: THE GAUNTLET

by Bébé Mélange

The Wings of Vinudi used to be a more general purpose hotel serving a variety of clients, but had been purchased by a Vinudian business concern to house migrant workers cheaply, saving labor costs in the foreign tax space.  The alley side lacked windows, the only portals vertically arranged and sealed emergency exits between parallel ladders from the second storey up to the roof.  This allowed the surface to feature a massive advertising space, which was currently not being exploited, save by the ghost of an advert for the hotel itself: “The Excellent Tentacles of Qualmen, Modern Weatherproof Hotel.”  The building may have been weatherproof but the sign was not, the thicker paint at boundaries between color regions all that remained of the original work.  Warm slimy rain slathered the exterior, crackling with thunder and lightning, threatening to erode the last remains of the enclave’s original identity.

Tmai stood in that alley, drenched fuchsia and snakeskin, Pep’s pistol on one hip and their own Ainavian pistol on the other, computer in hand.  They spoke into the computer with oral Ainavian, letting it translate to Vinudian as they went, trying to communicate with the secure door AI.  It came back with vague and contradictory dismissals.  They called the doctor.

Snar picked up in a corridor that was too dark for the computer’s camera eye, looking like a harried ghost wavering in and out of view as they signed.  “Captain Tmai!  The bgrudjh took the Earthlings.  I can’t…”  They were interrupted, speaking Vinudian.  Then they resumed, “I don’t think you can get them back.”

“Let me in.  Surely you have building access.”

“I can’t I can’t…”  They looked away and spoke Vinudian again, causing an incredulous repetition response from off camera, which somehow caused the doors to unlatch.  Snar ended the call.

Not knowing how long the door would stay open, Tmai quickly ducked inside.  The door clicked behind them.  They tried to understand what had just happened.  Did Snar, even in a panic, manage to trick somebody into unlocking the alley doors?  How did that work?

They looked ahead.  Big eyes took in all available light, making the darkness less a reduction in visibility than a reduction in color quality.  Grey all the way, and a bit blurry at the distance of a long hallway.  In the lobby ahead, if attended like it was during the day, there would be a Vinudian at the desk – someone to send up a warning.

Warning of what?  It wasn’t a crime to be Ainavian in the building, or they wouldn’t have hired Snar.  In fact, maybe they could just play like they were the doctor, to get access to the humans.  They strolled into the lobby with affected casualness and looked toward the counter.  Nobody there.  A few intoxicated Vinudians slouched in the furniture, joking around until they saw the alien.  Tmai nodded at them and strolled on, looking for stairs, ladders, some primitive means of ascent that couldn’t be sealed shut by security protocols as easily as an elevator.

No luck one way, and on the way back to check the other route, one of the Vinudians got in their face.

“Zyughik badiun gofeegh.”

They tried to play it off with a dismissive gesture, and kept on.  The alien grabbed the collar of their shirt and Tmai slipped out of it, hustling away half-nude.

The Vinudians shouted from behind them, and they reached an unlocked double door leading to a stairwell.  Just what they needed.  From the outside of the building, the layout looked simple enough, so they probably would not need to hunt around for a different stairwell – this one should get near the top, where any petty ruler would presumably want to be.

They stopped at the landing and looked down at the pursuers, pointing the Ainavian gun.  This gave the Vinudians a moment of pause, but the same logic that played out with the zigilous komber was relevant here.  Everybody knew that none but the most insensate and aberrant would use deadly force against another interstellar citizen, and so they began to hustle up the stairs.

Tmai unleashed a hail of plasma bolts, coating their path in white-hot splotches and streaks.  It was a property crime, and since their leader had already, arguably, committed a property crime against Tmai, there was a chance they could negotiate their way out of legal issues – if they could get to the big boss.  When the Vinudians stopped short, the Ainavian resumed their ascent.

 

The bgrudjh’s family apartment was green and ivory with amber filigree in every wall, and low dramatic electric lights flickering to evoke flames.  Smaller golden cages housed a variety of pet organisms, and a domestic cleaning robot lay dormant against a wall with several grey plastic limbs folded up like a dead thing.  A disinterested adolescent ignored the scene in favor of rotating a glowing violet sphere and performing subtler manipulations on it for unknowable ends.  Meanwhile, High Jdibitong and Googhi lounged on exotic chairs, looking down at their younger children and their new doctor.

Snar asked the larger of the two children a litany of the usual questions Vinudians get at the hospital, nothing to live up to their reputation in that.  They checked whatever body parts were left exposed, not wanting to ask them to disrobe under the tense circumstances.  The child had a few different pathologies that were easily identified, but surely had more that would require tissue sampling and lab metrics.

Googhi said, “Ask him where the Earthling touched him, doctor.”

“I doubt the touch of an Earthling would cause an allergic reaction or communicate any-”

“Doctor, please.”

“Chtonoming, did the Earthling touch you?”

The child nodded.

“Where were you touched?”

They showed the palm of their front hand.  “On my fingers, and, um, on my hand.”

“Did you feel any unusual sensations after that?  A tingle, an itch?  A skliver?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which one?  How would you describe it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

High Jdibitong said, “Little words, doctor.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Sticky and slimy, just a little bit.  Like the bowl after you eat mumney.”

“They are oily creatures,” Snar said.  “Did you wash your hands?”

“Uh-huh.”

Snar looked to the parents, questioning.  Am I done with this one?  Before they could respond, Jdibitong’s computer sounded.

“What is it?,” he asked.  Snar couldn’t hear the reply, but to that Jdibitong said, “What?  That’s absurd…  Wake everybody up.  Send that scum out with the trash.”  He disconnected.

Snar moved onto asking Jdinghris the standard questions, voice faltering, distraction mounting.

 

Tmai was nearly to the top floor when they came.  Dozens of Vinudians flooding the stairwell from above, several from below.  Every one of the muscle and bone creatures was stronger and more massive than Tmai, and all fearless about the guns.  Tmai shot the stairs ahead once, but with the high ground, they could all leap over the burned area with ease.

This had to be different.  It had to.  Tmai having nobody to protect but theirself, at least in the moment, meant the bullies couldn’t pull a move like the zigilous komber had.  But the odds were looking ridiculous.  Tmai fired enough shots at the door to make it a dangerous obstacle, before turning their attention to the hall ahead – just in time.  They ducked one grasping arm, then another.

Somebody got a grip on the Ainavian pistol and Tmai fired one shot at the floor just to put them off balance, but the Vinudian came away with the gun in their hand.  Tmai hustled down the hall, on the lookout for any kind of advantage.

Fiery bursts of molten plaster erupted around them as the Ainavian pistol was emptied into the walls.  Tmai stopped dead for a moment, then turned and looked at the aggressors.  The one that had fired the gun was frustrated it could fire no more, and the others had also pulled up short for the moment of danger.  The foes regarded each other.  Tmai chastised them with a semi-universal “tsk tsk tsk” gesture.

The Vinudian threw the gun at them hard, and the lot yelled and charged.  A door opened to the left and Tmai ducked into it, past the surprised tough guy who had just pulled the handle.  A confused wife shrieked from the couch like the Ainavian was an overgrown pest organism.  They did nothing to disabuse her of the notion, making a googly expression at her to intimidate as they ran past.

That enraged the man of the house, who led the charge as several more men crammed into the apartment.  They were a mass of meaty arms, some waving clubs, all topped with those narrow Vinudian heads and bulging egg-like eyeballs.

Tmai took stock of the situation.  From their understanding of the enclave’s layout, there could be no useful exit.  A window would lead to a fall, an emergency hatch to a ladder that could only lead to the roof or alley – the other hatches on other floors only openable from the inside without special tools.  They had to go out the way they came in.

The Earthling gun.  It was some kind of mechanical projectile device, no doubt very dangerous.  Could Tmai look wild enough to make them think they would use it?  Never.  The creatures had the physical assurance of size, making them feel invulnerable.  What would happen if they fired it at one of their feet?  How serious would the injury be?  How quickly could Vinudians die from that injury?  Not worth trying.

Tmai ran behind the couch, with Vinudians coming around both sides and over the top at the same time.  Fewer came that route, leaving openings for a slippery little character.  As Tmai leapt between the men, they slid across the woman’s lap, raising more shrieks of disgust.

There were still some of the crowd in the foyer and the Ainavian slipped between legs, pushing theirself across the floor with tiny kicks of rubbery boneless feet.  Getting upright to run again would take a crucial moment during which they could be grabbed, so they took a chance on firing the gun into the ceiling.

A flash of fire, sparks, and everybody was paralyzed by the shocking noise of it – including Tmai.  Nobody moved for a moment – then suddenly some Vinudians began to bleed and whine in pain.  The projectile must have exploded against the ceiling and rained fragments.  Tmai was horrified, and dropped the terrible weapon.  They scanned the crowd for the injured, desperate to see if any of those injuries were fatal.

The crowd looked back at them, puffing up in rage.  No, these guys would be fine.  Tmai scrambled to escape, bailing out the door.  They got their whole body over the threshold, into the hall, except one foot that was gripped by a Vinudian.  Slimy guys win, they popped free with a smacking sound, muted below the bellows of pursuers.

But it was too close.  The crowd was on them in no time, and a smaller man pinned Tmai to the wall.  He was almost as small as the Ainavian, but much more powerful, and faster than the average Vinudian.  Lips rippled around his broad dental comb, packed with tiny shard-like bones.  He pressed a staff against Tmai’s upper chest, gripping it with both hands.

With no other way out, Tmai squeezed their entire head under the pole, letting their brain and eyeballs compress badly and pop back into shape as they came out the bottom.  This was definitely going to daze them, but for how long?  Their world was all purple-black and shooting stars, their body liquid and falling.

They came out of it a finger’s length from the floor, then unfurled instantly to their full height and slapped a palm over the Vinudian’s front eye, shocking him off balance.  Pure instinct.  In fact, Tmai wouldn’t have attacked so vulnerable a body part in his foes if they had been thinking clearly, still worried of causing the kind of damage that would land them in prison.

It was very effective.  The Vinudian scrunched up his eyestalk in a way that sucked the whole orb inside, and flailed in rage, knocking his friends off balance.  Time seemed to slow down as Tmai’s neurochemicals adjusted to the violent scene.  Aggression increased, inhibition decreased, but they still retained a fast-thinking mind that could take advantage of opportunities before they even consciously realized what they were doing.

Tmai ducked swings and stepped like a dancer between the men, popping up to slap an eyeball here, an eyeball there.  The Vinudians only understood the situation well enough to start guarding their own eyes when it was already too late – Tmai had created an opening for escape, and ran again.

Again, appraising the situation.  It would be easier to be aggressive with a non-lethal weapon in hand.  The walls had cleaning devices held by tracks at the ceiling and floor, poles that just slid back and forth as needed to wash those surfaces.  They weren’t made from a heavy material, but they didn’t have to be.  The weak Ainavian came at the pole with a leap, to put their body’s weight behind the move, and easily wrenched it free of the tracks.

Tmai was pleased to find their improvised weapon was wobbly and rubbery – just like weapons they had practiced with in their own martial arts experience.  They whipped it around themselves just to clear any pursuers that had been out of their line of sight, but the move was unnecessary, as the first crowd of men was still falling behind, tripping over each other.  However, another crowd came from the stairwell at the other end of the hall, and more Vinudians were emerging from apartments – all men.

The Ainavian took advantage of every opening, every off-balance foe, whacking eyeballs and necks and snagging clothes to distract them into opening themselves for worse things.  It was all about stick and move – never stay in a fight, never let them have a second to think or adjust to where you are.  Slap, jab, slap, slap, jab.  Their limbs were as taut but flexible as their weapon, letting them bounce away from bony arms and hands, as hard to grasp as a reed in the wind.

Bodies were piling as the muscular men tangled and tripped over each other, filling the halls with thrashing meat.  Sometimes Tmai went over them, sometimes under them, sometimes through the open angle of limbs constrained by joint structure, too clumsy to obstruct the fluid movements of the Ainavian.

Tmai got through the hall to the far stairwell, but had lost their staff in the melee.  They still ran with reckless abandon.  They had to ride this rush as far as it could take them.

 

Eliza held Shammy in her lap like the Madonna della Pietà, sometimes cradling his face, sometimes leaning down to kiss him softly, all to a soundtrack of Scuzz moaning and quietly crying.  He stirred from his daze and pushed himself upright, but almost collapsed again from a headrush.  “Don’t,” she said.

He did it again, and arranged himself to stay upright.  “Alright, OK.  Alright.  What are we doing here?”

“Oh no!  What can you remember, Shamar?”

“Huh?  Oh.  My memory’s fine.  I just want to know, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“That’s right.”  He got to his feet.  “I ain’t having this.”

Scuzz stopped crying.  “What do you mean?  How can we..?”

He looked around the room in thought.  “Depends on how strong this metal is.”  He took the bars in hand and tried to pull them apart.  It didn’t look like they moved at all, but he felt the tiniest amount of give.  That was enough to know.  “We can get you out.  Eliza, can you find a stick?”

She stood up.  “How would you..?”

“Real easy-like, if it’s just stronger than a noodle.  This ridiculous pimp furniture has long silky sheets we can wind through the bars just so.  I could wind it without a stick, but it’ll be easier if I got one.”

“How’s that?”  She pointed to a short stanchion laced with puffy velvet-like tubing.

“Nice, thank you.”  He whipped the sheet off the alien chaise and deftly twisted it into a rope-like shape, then passed a corner between the bars.  “Ma’am?”  He gestured for Scuzz to pull it through to an opening in the bars a foot away, and she complied.

Everybody was waking up from the torpor of misery, queasy knots in their stomachs at the possibility of punishment, but animated by the possibility of freedom.  Scuzz lost her tears.  As she helped Shammy, her muscles ached from dehydration.  Soon they had the rope wound through the cage and back upon itself.  Shammy knotted it around the stanchion and began to twist.

“As the bars come open, it’s going to double over on ya, ma’am.  Careful.”

The cage began to buckle, and Scuzz held herself like a pillar, keeping it from bending far enough to narrow the opening from the other direction.  She felt like Djimon Hounsou in Amistad, powerful and beautiful.

Eliza listened to every sound in the world, all nerves again wound taut as piano wire.  The occasional whine or ping from the bars, while fairly quiet, seemed deafeningly loud.  The groan of the cloth tensing.  The grunts of Shammy and Scuzz as they worked.

But it was happening, and she stirred from the dark reverie to help pull Scuzz through the opening.  “Come on, girl.  We have you.”  She’d never imagined herself holding a thin little woman like that, gripping her tightly.  There was a nervous feeling, on some irrational level, that it would be seen as a crime.

Scuzz was freed from the cage, and barely stifled a whoop of exultation.  But she was weak all over, and that helped tamp down the excitement.  Shammy and Eliza took turns hugging her and patting her head.  They couldn’t resist for some reason, in that odd moment, seeing her like a child of their own.

“What’s next?,” asked Eliza.

“Why ask me?,” Shammy asked.  “The cage was an engineering problem.  Getting out of here, well…  Your guess is as good as mine.”

Scuzz offered, “I know Krav Maga, Aikido, and Taekwondo.”

“That’s great,” Eliza said, “but we’d be better served by Ninjutsu.  Who’s played Metal Gear?”

“Ooh, I know that too!”

“Is that the one where you hide inside cardboard boxes?,” Shammy asked.

“Take your pick.  We use stealth.”

Shammy sighed.  It was worth a shot, anyway.

—

Didn’t know this was an action adventure, did you?