Alien Sport

Riddick stepped back off the mound. Placing the ball in the pocket of his glove he held both under his arm as he grabbed a handful of soil and rubbed it onto the palms of both hands.
He'd heard somewhere that gladiators used to do that.
Satisfied, he wiped the excess dirt across the logo on his chest. He didn't much mind having a team name plastered across his pecs like some damn billboard, but he resented the graphic of a crash trail that began under his left arm, wound around his back and ended at that of a wrecked spaceship lying centered on his chest, bracketed top and bottom by the words "Hunter" and "Gratzner."
Riddick glanced up at the hostile crowd. In the dim light the spectators seemed to disappear into the distance as they filled the Coliseum to the rafters. And they were all echo-howling for blood ... his blood.
A walk and an error by Johns in center field had put two aliens on base, and once a crowd like this smelled blood they were all over you like a cheap baseball uniform.
"Come on, Riddick! Three more outs and we're off this rock!" Jackie yelled from her position at third base.
The scoreboard told the story: Hunter-Gratzner 5, Aliens 4, bottom of the ninth. No outs. Riddick considered the situation. HG had a good double-play combo in Suleiman at short and Shazza at second, and Iman turned out to play a mean first base. ("I wasn't always so pious, Riddick; I fractured a few stained-glass windows in my youth," Iman had told him with a wink.) If Riddick could force a groundball, maybe they could get two, even if the
monster on second advanced on the play.
Just keep it out of right, Riddick thought. Though Fry in left and Johns in center proved to be decent outfielders, Paris was a different story. Riddick turned his attention to right, where Paris lay reclining on his lounge-chair, sipping on a nice drop, seeming oblivious to their fate.
He's lost it completely, Riddick thought.
Riddick's thoughts drifted back to those first moments after the sun had gone into eclipse. The aliens had initially seemed intent on eating the HG survivors, but their need for competition had proved the stronger instinct. Seemed the aliens only got to play outdoors once every 22 years, so every opportunity was life-or-death.
"Tell you what. We'll be sporting; we'll play you one game for your freedom," the alien leader had said. The way the aliens had quickly learned to mimic English with their echo-sounds still sent a shiv-er down Riddick's spine...or just left of the spine, to be exact.
"Hockey?" Riddick had offered. He had figured that by the time the ice surface had frozen the sun would come up. Despite their brutish appearance, the aliens weren't easily duped.
"High jump?" the alien boss countered. They were obviously taking in Riddick's less-than-scholarly appearance as well.
"Don't think so," Riddick had replied. He didn't like his team's chances against opponents who could fly. "Cribbage?"
Riddick figured that the aliens wouldn't know the rules and he could cheat. He loved to cheat aliens at Cribbage.
"Hop scotch?" they responded. No, Riddick thought...still that damn flying thing.
"How about baseball?" Riddick asked, and immediately knew he had stepped into a trap from the sudden toothy grins on all the alien faces...er, snouts...er...whatever.
"If you insist," the leader said, and the HG pack found themselves lifted skyward and flown a mile or so to a gigantic baseball stadium, complete with equipment, announcers and even food vendors. Hatchling-On-A-Stick didn't sound too appetizing to Riddick, but it was clearly the equivalent to Dodger Dogs there.
The HG nine had better baseball sense and forged out to an early 4-0 lead, but the aliens had scratched and clawed their way to a few runs, even obeying the "no flying" rule..mostly. Riddick had thought the scariest sight he had ever seen was when the aliens took the field in baseball knickers and knee-high socks but they looked even scarier now, lathered as they were with the SPF5000 light block that the settlement miners had been processing before their ...end. The protective coat was a concession to the human weakness of requiring some light to play baseball.
These aliens are all heart, Riddick joked to himself. Funny, too. He remembered what had been said when Johns had asked them "What game did you play with those poor slobs in the coring room?" Fry had caught on first and elbowed Johns hard. "You hop-head, isn't it obvious? They played Hide And Seek." "Yes," the alien leader had said, "That was their choice. Unfortuantely, they weren't very good at it." That had been followed by the most hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-raising echo-laughter that Riddick had ever heard.
Gotta concentrate on this next batter, Riddick thought, shaking his head to clear away distractions. As he turned to face the plate he found Zeke had trotted out to the mound from his catchers position.
"Crikeys, tough spot," Zeke said. "They seem on walkabout against your slider, so I suggest sticking with it."
Imam wandered over from first. "Allah tells me a fastball is just the thing," he said. "You must believe in an all-powerful coach, Mr. Riddick."
"You don't start your career in a dumpster with a mitt on your hand and not believe. You don't spend half your life in a hole-in-the-ground minor league town, wondering if you'll ever get the chance to shine in the majors and not believe. I absolutely believe in coaches, holy man...and I hate the f*ckers...But, okay, let's try it your way, just in case."
The echo-hollering rose in volume as the HG players returned to their positions and the next batter stepped in. It was unnerving for Riddick to hear "You suck" and "He's f*cking right!" echoing down from all around.
Got to remember to tell Jackie to watch what she says around mimics, Riddick thought.
He checked the two runners and reared back for a fastball. With a loud crack the alien batter sent a screaming liner towards Fry in left.
That's gonna drop in, Riddick thought in disgust. That'll tie the score for sure.
The alien on second was caught up in the excitement and, halfway to third, forgot himself and began flying. As he reached the bag he realized his mistake and back-tracked his flight path, returning to third on claws this time. He was safe, but his error prevented him from scoring.
Fry sent the ball in to Jackie, and she walked it to the mound.
"Where's your God now, father?" Riddick yelled towards first. Imam just shrugged.
The crowd could taste victory. They roared and, each thrusting a retractable pincer downwards, chanted in unison, "Kill, Kill, Kill"...all the while doing the "wave."
"Bet you never saw anything like this in Slam Stadium," Jackie said as she handed Riddick the ball. "The alien coach at third has already opened his celebratory champagne bottle."
"Well, stuff a cork in it! It ain't over till the fat alien lady sings."
The next hitter stepped in. The game...and the HG crew's lives ... hung on every pitch. The roar deafened.
Riddick cut off a wicked slider and the hitter sent a high fly into shallow left, just in foul territory. Fry raced in, the ball easily in her sights.
Too shallow to tag from third, Riddick thought. Suddenly the left side of the stadium was filled with the sound of wings flapping.
The damn spectators are trying to blow it away from Fry! Riddick realized in horror.
Fry's cap blew off as she battled the cyclone generated by the fans. She spun, raced in, spun again, back-peddled, sprinted all out towards the infield and, with one final stabbing leap, caught the ball just behind third base!
Fry jumped to her feet and turned to the crowd, thrusting the ball high overhead in victory.
"PURGE ALL!" she yelled, and the flapping stopped. She lofted the ball in to Riddick. "That was for you, skipper," she said, pointing at Riddick.
"For all of us, Fry. Not for me...not for me."
One down, Riddick thought.
The alien crowd was silent and then suddenly erupted in echo-ooohs. Riddick was perplexed until he followed the direction of their "gazes" ..he realized they had been "watching" a replay of Fry's catch on the SonarVision screen in centerfield.
Too bad we can't see it, he thought. The crowd seemed to dismiss Fry's catch as a lucky stalling of the inevitable and they came to their hind-claws again, their roaring a notch higher this time, the chant of "kill" echo-rattling the structure.
Bases loaded, one out. The next batter knocked some dirt out of his posterior claw-nails and dug into the box. Riddick concentrated solely on the batter and on the encouraging chatter of his teammates:
Shazza:"...no hitter, Richard baby...no hitter..."
Fry:"...purge em....purge em..."
Paris:"...when one has a few luxuries..."
Check that, Riddick thought. Block out Paris as well.
The windup...the pitch...a slow roller towards first. The alien runner on third had had a great jump as Riddick and Imam converged on the dribbler...he seemed destined to score easily but suddenly, halfway to home, he hesitated. The alien glanced back at Jackie...then towards home...back at Jackie...home...until Imam scooped up the ball and fired it to Zeke, forcing the alien out at the plate.
Riddick looked at Jackie. "What the...???"
Jackie lifted her forearm, revealing a bleeding fingernail scratch.
"Thought I'd distract him just a little," she said with a smile.
"Cute kid!" Riddick exclaimed, laughing.
His merriment was short-lived.
The hitter in the on-deck circle ran back into his dug-tunnel as the ground under the circle suddenly evaporated. A huge, round cavern opened and the crowd went into orgasms of echoing.
Slowly lifting out of the darkness of the pit was the largest alien Riddick had seen. His hammerhead must have spanned ten feet.
That'll give him hyper-acute senses, Riddick thought in alarm. Tough to get the ball by that.
The alien lifted his bat to the crowd and the responding roar hit Riddick like a wave. The crowd began to chant so loudly he couldn't hear his own thoughts.
"Maxipuss…Maxipuss…Maxipuss," the aliens chanted for their hero.
Maxipuss did indeed have the largest mouth that Riddick had ever seen … teeth like row upon row of sharpened shivs. Zeke looked like a toy next to the giant as the alien moved into position. The size of the beast had even seemed to awaken Paris, as the antiquities dealer stood in right field, alternately cleaning his glasses and peering at the alien through them.
The runners took their leads. Zeke crouched behind the plate and pointed at Riddick.
"It's time for it, Riddick," he said.
Riddick nodded. He tossed the ball up into the air, giving all the aliens a good "look" at it, meanwhile reaching into his back hip pocket, where his hand located a handkerchief full of his personal grooming grease. He stealthily smeared it on the ball in his hand, making sure it was coated completely.
Rearing back, he threw a perfect, slow strike to Zeke.
"Strike one!" the accepted-upon umpire, Ali, said.
"What? He didn't throw the ball yet!" the giant echo-boomed.
Zeke was busy rubbing the ball clean on his leg. He held it aloft for all to "see."
"Sure he did. You bloody missed it, is all!" Zeke said as he lobbed it back to Riddick. The crowd echo-groaned.
Another lube job, another strike …and a perplexed and quickly angering alien.
"DAMN IT! What kind of trickeration is this???"
"Sure has a fast one, don't he?" Zeke said.
The crowd suddenly went silent, sensing something was amiss. Maxipuss dug in with ravenous determination. Riddick wound up..and arched a high lob towards the plate.
Maxipuss anticipated another straight-arrow and swung with all his strength..fanning the air. Seconds later, the ball plopped into Zeke's mitt and the HG squad went wild, mobbing Riddick on the mound as they celebrated their escape from digestion.
In a flash, they were surrounded by alien guards. The alien leader made his way forward, confronting them.
"You cheated somehow. Cheaters are losers!"
"We won fair and sort of square," Riddick replied.
"NO! You shall still be our dinner … guests!"
The guards advanced, pincers extending, but suddenly a new chant arose from a far corner of the coliseum and spread like wildfire.
"Riddick….Riddick…. RIDDICK!"
The leader was stunned. Looking around, he realized he had to bow to the mob's wish. He couldn't risk eating Riddick and having him come back up later, not with the crowd on the Earthling's side. Wavering his claw out in front of him, he thrust his pincer…UP!!!
"You shall go free, Riddick. The people have spoken. But first, tell me . . . what was that you used to defeat Maxipuss?"
"My secret weapon, oh wise and hungry leader. A delivery so fast that it is not even there … I call it my…'Black Pitch'."
THE END


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