There were no humans in the crowd.
Humans were not allowed among "civilized" aliens.
But this human can fight, Leona thought, leaping back to her feet. This human is proud.
She raised her sword and shield.
The Tarmarin gladiator charged toward her, claws lashing.
Tarmarin scales normally bristled like porcupine quills. Only when rolling into balls did the scales lie flat, armoring their bodies. Now, as the gladiator charged, his scales thrust outward, revealing the soft flesh beneath. Leona tried to thrust her sword, but it felt like pointing a butter knife at a charging rhino.
The Tarmarin leaped toward her, and Leona raised her shield.
She caught the claws against her shield. Leona screamed, digging her heels into the sand.
Yet the beast was powerful. He shoved her back. Her heels dug grooves in the canyon floor. She grimaced, pushing against her shield, desperate to hold him back. Leona was a tall and powerful woman. She had trained for years with the Inheritors, lifting weights, battling fellow warriors, becoming strong, fast, fierce. Yet this beast was larger and stronger, and his tail whipped around her shield and stung her hip.
"Muck!" Leona cried.
The crowd roared. They tossed refuse at her—rotten food, soiled diapers, body waste.
"Pests go home!" an alien shouted.
"Kill the pest!" cried another, and the chant swelled across the crowd. "Kill the pest, kill the pest!"
Leona growled. She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the fear. She had battled tough aliens before. She had defeated the evil mushrooms in the salt mines of Esporia. She had slain snowbeasts on the mountains of Isintar. She had even battled scorpions on—
And suddenly Leona was there again.
Ten years ago.
The memories became real.
The albino scorpion reared before her, a Skra-Shen lord named Sartak, a deformed beast with two tails. His pincers lashed.
Her husband, her beloved Jake, cried out her name. His legs were gone.
Jake! she cried, blood flowing onto her white dress, a lost girl on a distant beach.
The Tarmarin whipped his tail again, stabbing her side. Leona hit the ground, jolted back into the present. The canyon walls spun around her, covered with roaring aliens. The sun beat down, searing her. Sand, sweat, and blood coated her.
Leona ground her teeth.
No more pain, she told herself. No more memories. No more loss.
She rolled, dodging the Tarmarin's claws, then leaped up.
She thrust her sword.
So fast she barely saw him move, the Tarmarin rolled back into an armored ball. Once more, his scales flattened, locking into place, coating him with an impregnable shell.
Once more, Leona's blade hit his scales, sparking.
"Coward!" she said.
The crowd laughed. Their chanting continued. "Kill the pest, kill the pest!"
Leona tightened her lips.
I should use my implant, she thought.
A year ago, she had paid a fortune—enough to buy an entire starship—to install a small cybernetic implant, no larger than a coin, in her brain. When activated, it slowed her perception of time. Her enemies appeared to move in slow motion. But it also hurt like a jackhammer in her skull. And the higher she cranked the time-twister, the harder that jackhammer pounded. The last time Leona had used the implant, she had ended up in bed for three days, a wet cloth wrapped around her head.
Better save it for later, she thought. I'm not jackhammering my skull for a damn armadillo.
Roaring, Leona pounded her sword down again and again, hacking at the beast. The wind billowed her curly brown hair, her sweat dripped, and she kept swinging her sword like an axe. Nothing could break through the Tarmarin's scales. She might as well be hacking solid iron. The scales interlocked perfectly, leaving the faintest lines where they met, too thin to even thrust her blade into.
When Leona paused for breath, the Tarmarin's limbs popped back out. His scales bristled, becoming sharp spikes. He lashed his claws.
One claw scraped across her arm, and Leona screamed.
She stumbled backward, blood dripping. The Tarmarin approached, drooling, licking his jaws.
"Die now," he hissed. "I'll enjoy devouring your flesh."
Leona raised her shield.
The Tarmarin's claws slammed against it, shattering the shield into a thousand shards. The pieces stung her.
Leona panted. They had given her no armor. She wore merely brown cargo pants and a blue shirt, Inheritor colors. They had taken her gun. They had even taken her damn cowboy hat. All Leona had was her chipped blade, and it was useless against those Ra damn scales.
As the crowd chanted, the Tarmarin kept advancing, claws lashing. Leona howled, parrying each blow. But she was tired. She fell to one knee, barely blocking another blow. The claws kept slamming down with a fury, and she held her blade overhead, teeth grinding, desperate to hold him off. Her blade chipped again. Sand flew, blinding her.
Sand like on a distant beach.
And again—she was back there.
A young bride. A mother-to-be. Only seventeen and so scared.
The albino scorpion rose above her. Her husband screamed. The stinger burst through his chest, and the scorpion tore him apart, flaying, feeding. Leona knelt on the cold floor, bleeding between her legs, the stars going dark above.
No. Not now.
Leona shoved that memory aside.
"I am no longer that girl," she hissed between gritted teeth. "I am Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, an Inheritor, a warrior of Earth!"
Holding her sword up with one hand, she grabbed a pebble.
She thrust the stone up, embedding it under one of the Tarmarin's erect scales.
She swung her blade, and the Tarmarin rolled up into an armored ball again.
But one of its scales—the one with the stone underneath—was unable to lock into place. It remained distended. A chink in the armor.
Screaming, Leona knelt, then thrust her sword upward with all her strength.
The blade drove under the exposed scale, shattered the pebble, and sank deep into the alien's flesh.
Blood spurted.
The crowd gasped.
Leona roared wordlessly, shoving herself up from her knees, driving the blade deeper. It felt like cutting through raw leather, but she kept shoving, muscles straining, until the blade sank down to the hilt.
She stepped back, panting, leaving the sword embedded in the Tarmarin.
The scaly ball uncurled. The alien lay on the canyon floor, limbs sprawled out, sword impaling him.
Leona pulled the sword free and raised the red blade high.
"I am victorious!" she shouted, voice hoarse. "I am Leona Ben-Ari, an Heiress of Earth! I am human! I am proud!"
The crowd booed.
"Cheater!" a horned alien cried.
"Pest!" shouted an alien insect.
They began pelting her with garbage. Leona remained standing tall, sword raised.
And there she saw her.
In the audience, near the very back, wrapped in a white cloak and hood.
A human.
Only one human. One among the dozens said to be hiding here on the desert world of Til Shiran.
The human spectator was young, probably in her twenties. Her skin was dark brown, and a silver tattoo filigreed her cheek. Strands of long, smooth hair peeked from her hood. Despite her youth, that hair was the color of moonlight.
A human, Leona thought. One who sees that humanity can fight. One who will speak of me to her friends and family. Who will inspire our people.
Vultures descended to consume the dead Tarmarin. Two other gladiators stood in a nearby pit, putting on armor, preparing to fight. Leona left the canyon, sword raised, as the crowd booed.
She passed through an archway carved into the cliff, entering a shadowy dungeon. Other gladiators stood here in barred cells: living rocks who rumbled and spewed smoke, cyborgs with blazing eyes and spinning fists, slender reptilians who could move like lightning, and a host of other warriors. Leona walked past them, ignoring their catcalls, her boots thudding against the stone floor.