"Well that worked out better than expected."

  Buddy seemed excited.

  "Yeah… if we don't lose our bets or get called to fight."

  "You're kidding, right? The only way to make sure we don't lose is to get called."

  "Do you really think someone like me could win a fight? I haven't done any training."

  "I KNOW you can, because you have a huge hidden advantage. ME!"

  "If you say so. I guess either way we're going to have to go back."

  Jonathan gave Craig a recap. Craig's expression was bittersweet. Jonathan was pretty sure Craig was hoping they wouldn't be able to sell any of the food so he could dispose of it personally.

  Jonathan and Craig headed back to the ship and updated Rex, who was all for the idea — provided somebody wore a wreath if the other got picked. Rex wanted to be involved in betting as well, but logically knew Passengers provided more insight than he did when it came to the physical world. He warned Craig and Jonathan not to overdo it, but chose to let them follow their own intuition rather than set restrictions.

  Craig and Jonathan loaded a hand cart all the way to the handle and headed back to the Pile.

  When they got back, they stored the goods in the tent as requested. A small Nycterian child — about a foot bigger than a "normal" adult raccoon — was inside acting as attendant and cashier. She provided them with the terms of the agreement and an escrow receipt via Passenger.

  Jonathan wasn't sure if this child was related to Ludo from the first fight — but figured, given the diversity of people he'd met so far, it seemed likely.

  They had enough junk food on hand for 1,103 credits worth of bets, with another half as much back at the ship. The highest price from any of the food stores they'd seen was 650 for all of it — so the potential value was high, but they still had to win to see any of that back.

  The agreement explained how betting would work.

  Every time they made a bet, that amount worth of food from the cart became property of the Pile. As an example, if they bet 100 credits on a fight, then 100 credits worth of food would be taken away no matter what. If they won at 1.5x odds, the Pile would pay out 150 credits total — the original bet amount converted to credits, plus the 50-credit profit. If they lost, that's 100 credits worth of food gone.

  So they would need to make 1,103 credits worth of total bets to completely convert the stock they brought to spendable credits — which wasn't as easy as it sounded.

  The Pile had a tiered limit system in place. Newcomers started with a 100-credit maximum, increasing by fifty per bet up through the fifth. After that, each bet increased the limit by 100. This kept random whales from coming in and crashing the economy.

  After learning about the limits, Craig and Jonathan decided to split the food between them. The math worked out that they would achieve full conversion and then some if they both won their first four bets in a row, rather than six if only one of them bet. The attendant confirmed this was okay and split the agreement for them.

  The split left a 3-credit candy bar as a remainder.

  Jonathan took it and handed it to the attendant. "Keep it — you've been very helpful."

  The tot's eyes welled up instantly.

  "Hey, friend! It seems you are experiencing an empathetic episode, resulting in elevated cortisol levels and lacrimation! Would you like assistance in regulating that?" Pal said.

  Jonathan hit him with the classic "I'm not crying, you're crying."

  "Sorry friend, that's not… [analyzing phrase]… Oh! A humorous denial of emotional vulnerability! You're right! I am so, very, sad! WINK!"

  Pal's voice completely lost all inflection for a moment while analyzing, which creeped Jonathan out.

  They finally made it ringside just as a fight was wrapping up.

  After a moment, Jonathan got a new notification — a small blinking icon in his vision. He acknowledged it.

  The next fight is between the following fighters:

  Name: Cargil "The Chunk" Species: Scorian Record: 7-3 Odds: 1.2x

  VS

  Name: Ludovico Species: Nycterian Record: 4-13 Odds: 3.7x

  YOUR BET CAP: 100 credits BETTING CLOSES IN: 45 seconds

  [PLACE BET] [INSIGHTS] [DISMISS]

  A quick check showed that Insights was a way to buy anything from information about previous opponents to commentary to rumors. Neither Jonathan nor Craig were interested.

  "Cargil wins, no contest." Buddy said, almost as soon as they saw who was fighting. "Ludo has reach, but Scorians are really, really tough to put down — especially by hand."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The fighters both entered the ring with little fanfare. The announcer did it like a job and could've done with considerably more hype, in Jonathan's opinion.

  Jonathan saw what Buddy was talking about. Cargil was a foot shorter than Ludo, who had already shown he struggled against shorter opponents. His skin was also literally chunky pitted stone — like lava rock. Ludo's claws and teeth would be worthless, and normal punching and kicking might be too, unless you were willing to take some damage yourself.

  "Ludo's only chance is if he learned how to fight on the ground since the last time we saw him."

  "How do you think Craig would do?"

  "He'd do great if he had a sign to hit him with — but pretty sure that's against the rules here. Craig's skin is tough, but he doesn't strike me as a tactics guy. Craig's hands would break before Cargil goes down."

  "You on the other hand would probably make short work of him with a little practice."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah — this guy is extremely inflexible and you know pins and submissions and shit."

  A simulation of Jonathan with Cargil in an arm bar on the ground appeared. The simulated arm snapped, causing a spurt of thick bronze blood to bubble out.

  Jonathan winced and wondered whether that was an accurate color. Or whether he had the nerve to do such a thing.

  He felt like he was about to start spiraling when Buddy interrupted him.

  "Alright, time to make a pick. 90% chance on Cargil — Pal agrees. Easy money."

  Jonathan reluctantly agreed and selected the max bid.

  One thing was for sure — this would not be the day he learned the color of Scorian blood.

  Ludo had truly no idea how to crack this nut, and it showed. He danced around trying to get Cargil to expend stamina, but Cargil barely had to move — so Ludo was only wearing himself out. He made a few decent kicks but didn't have the strength to push Cargil to the ground. Cargil eventually caught a foot and used it to drive Ludo down.

  After that, just falling on him was enough to end the fight.

  Craig bowed his head.

  "Did you bet on Ludo?"

  "I could not decide in time. I wanted Ludo to win but it was not fair."

  Craig looked forlorn.

  "I think your boy is going to get himself killed one day doing something real dumb if he doesn't toughen up." Buddy commented tersely.

  Jonathan was a little sad to have to agree. Craig might be a bit too precious for this line of work.

  Two more fights came and went.

  The next fight was the Ceratoids again. They had to weigh 400 or 500 pounds at least — which was likely why they couldn't find someone else to pair against them, and probably why they wanted to fight multiple times a day since they probably needed to eat considerably more to sustain themselves.

  Jonathan wondered if they had some sort of betting restrictions since they might be related.

  Buddy gave a 53% chance to one of them — the lowest all day.

  Or apparently, night. By this point the crew had been on station for about 7 hours, which is when they learned the station had an artificial day/night cycle.

  Suddenly a dialog opened in Jonathan's vision.

  "You have been selected to participate in the next fight…"

  "Well, shit!" Buddy remarked.

  "…Well, shit." Jonathan responded.

  You will be paid 5 credits if you lose, and 15 credits if you win. Free medical aid is also supplied to those with crippling or life-threatening injuries, to a certain limit. Personal betting is also open. Your current limit is 250. Your cap can be raised an additional 50% to 375 if you choose to place a bet prior to seeing opponent information. Declining the fight will disable gambling privileges until a formal fight is completed.

  [Accept Fight (Maximum Bet)] [Opponent Information] [Decline]

  "I think maybe you don't quite understand how great this is for you. The Pile is nice enough to tee up someone it thinks is around your level in a NON-FATAL fight. They're even willing to spend money to fix you up… at least a little. Look, I want to impress upon you how unbelievably overpowered you are right now. You don't know because all we've been doing so far has been boring business stuff — but I promise you the hardest part about this fight is going to be making it look competitive."

  Jonathan knew Buddy was engineered for fighting and appreciated the restraint he put into making a cogent statement instead of just making a war cry in his brain.

  It didn't hurt that Jonathan was already aware of this. He wasn't a coward and sincerely wanted to fight. He was just nervous.

  "I know, Buddy. Just nervous. Safe to assume you want the blind option?"

  "Hell yeahhhh, I do!"

  Jonathan took a deep breath and selected the blind option.

  Fight Accepted. Your opponent is 'Seraph'. Basic information is attached. Advanced scouting information is for sale from several sources.

  [View Basic Information] [Advanced Scouting: Aalen – 25c] …

  There were about a dozen scouting profiles for sale at various prices. As advanced as the system was, there wasn't a handy star rating — so Jonathan assumed none of them were useful aside from one or two from actual fighters he'd already seen, who weren't exactly impressive. He selected basic information.

  Name: Seraph

  Race: The Keph

  Record: 4-2

  Matching Criteria: Approximate Build Passenger Role: Infiltrator

  Buddy didn't have information on this race, but the Pile system was kind enough to highlight Seraph in the crowd.

  They were a quarter-ring over, sitting down.

  This was one of the more alien species Jonathan had seen so far. Seraph was chalky white with a clear exoskeleton. Its eyes were large and pale yellow, and between them and its mouth was a chitinous plate where its nose should've been. It had mandibles — luckily those of a grasshopper and not an ant, so hopefully not a weapon. It was wearing a grey jumpsuit in decent condition, sitting with rigid posture next to two others also in grey, also quite distinct.

  Seraph's arms were folded over its lap and seemed a hand longer in proportion than Jonathan's — ending with three large fingers arranged in a triangular grip like the grabber in a claw machine. A large bony protrusion jutted from the top of its forearms, sloping downward past its knuckles like a stubby version of Baraka from Mortal Kombat.

  Jonathan could see they weren't sharp — but it meant every punch was a potential charley horse.

  Jonathan immediately asked Buddy for an assessment.

  "Thoughts?"

  "Don't get punched would be the first one. Ever punch a wall before?"

  "In my teens I hit a stud and it hurt for days."

  "Good lesson to keep in mind. Remember we want to keep this low profile — no flying rhombuses or any other crazy geometrics."

  "Are you serious? I don't know how to do any of that."

  "Heh. Keep telling yourself that — makes it funnier. Serious talk though, play it like you're afraid. Use kicks to feel him out, maybe let him hit you a couple times. When he over-extends those long breakable arms, just dodge and use the opportunity to get close and show me this 'ground game' you wouldn't shut up about."

  Meanwhile, the Ceratoids were two minutes into their slugfest. One was attempting a takedown, which only succeeded in getting the back of his head punched.

  "Craig — I just got the message. I'm up next."

  Craig peered down at Jonathan.

  "Are you going to be okay?"

  "I think I'll be fine. Don't forget we have to show Rex."

  "Who is your opponent?"

  Jonathan pointed out Seraph.

  "Hmm. I think you can do this." Craig said.

  Pal indicated numerous potential signals of a lie.

  "What are my odds?"

  As a fighter, you couldn't see your own odds. Jonathan suspected this was to make sure you didn't psyche yourself out.

  "1.1x."

  Jonathan felt sufficiently psyched out to consider his hypothesis confirmed.