Grimm and Hill looked at one another. Dealer could make stuff hot enough to leave them both burning for an hour. Johnny had an almost cringing look on his face. He loved hers and my cooking, but we could easily punish him for thinking he could tolerate our kind of heat.
Dr. Strange cleared his throat. “Do her customers know what they are getting into?” he asked warily, having experience with her and Wong getting fancy.
“I dunno. It’s called SPICY HOT TERRAN FOOD. Lemme check.” I pulled out my Vaccine and dialed her up.
“Very busy!” Dealer announced for everyone as she picked up. “What’s up? You in yet?”
“On the tarmac waltzing our way up as we categorize the space ships. Dr. Strange wants to know if your victims know what they are getting into.”
Her clear laughter washed over everyone. “I am pleased to announce that one hundred and fourteen mighty alien warriors, with cast iron stomachs and mighty jaws of steel, have reported to the infirmary with severe gastrointestinal distress, raging halitosis, olfactory overload, and acute diarrheic discomfort, good Doctor! Go, Terra!” she whooped, and cheers arose from everyone in response.
Dr. Strange just smiled and shook his head as I hung up. “She sounds like she is in her element.”
“Terran spice ratings just became part of Galactic cuisine standards. They are calling them ‘Dealer’s Ratings’.”
“Spices have historically been an excellent trade good,” Dr. Richards spoke up knowingly.
“I heard tell that a directive came down to triple spice production across every Tribe-allied country in the world almost two years ago, guaranteed market and buyer,” I noted to no one in particular. “It’s like someone predicted a momentous alien contact event was going to happen, or something.”
“The Hag.” “Hag.” “Damn Golden Hag.” “Sama does it again!” Grunt, groan, huff, hiss!
There were relay buses traveling up and down the many, many long rows of cars, with people queued up to take them at the waiting stations, which were well-equipped with shade and benches to sit on while they waited. Of course, the most active of the people just started walking, although not as fast as we were.
The aliens coming and going had their own skimmers and shuttles to drop off passengers, of course. Getting into the huge alien ship wasn’t cheap, but it was rather safe, as Champion would without question come down on anyone who started a fight without his approval. That usually resulted in said party becoming a bloodstain, and his students and crew were happy to chime in on such things.
It only took a couple incidents like that before the more violent Terran Powered reined it in sharply.
Other than a truly impressive number of parked vehicles, there wasn’t much to see on the north side, the array of spaceships to the west attracting the most attention, although naturally none of them came near the size of Champion’s vessel. Most of the bigger ones were out in orbit by LaGrange Station, with none being allowed into Terran orbit for security purposes, so they just sent down pinnaces, shuttles, and landers for the fun.
As for getting out of the area, the Tribes were watching. If aliens tried to exfiltrate, it was going to be cat-and-mouse. There were already buildings set up in the surrounding area for business dealings with extraterrestrials, so there was no reason to go out into Terra unless you were deliberately flouting stuff. Not that there weren’t plenty of aliens who wanted to suddenly go out and see this rustic world that had chased off Galactus.
Having Human as the predominant language made it MUCH easier on the universal translators, too.
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The hull/façade of the massive ship loomed over us as I skated up. Quicksilver had rejoined us about two miles back, looking a bit huffy. It seemed a Tribal Shaman had plucked him off the ground with TK, warned him to cut off the superspeed or he’d be collared with a kinetic shunt, then let him go.
He’d come running back and was now sitting next to his sister, working hard on trying to stay at normal speed and not be so bored. I actually had him working with Cindy Moon on programming stuff most of his down time, which both disciplined his mind and could eat up endless hours. The fact she could mentally keep up with him made her very attractive to him, although he had fairly broad tastes in potential lovers... and they enjoyed going out dancing together, so there was that.
The Inhumans were in the Russian sphere of influence, so no Crystal coming into play here. The Great Bear had already drawn the Inhumans in, although there was little to no mention of them on the world level, just the way they liked it.
We came in towards the open main doors, guarded by force screens instead of glass and steel, and everyone got off the Disks and stowed them in one form or another.
I looked around for signs for registrants, of which a bunch of us were, while saying, “Dr. Richards, Mr. Stark, Susan, if you could find the booths set aside for us and get everyone settled, that would be ideal.”
“When did Gravity Defiance get put in charge?” Stark grumbled, but Reed was already consulting his Vaccine and the map of the Colosseum that came with it.
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“I was trying to rise to the standards of your hair, Mr. Stark, but the repelling force of your ego on your hair gel has made me admit defeat,” I snarked back without looking at him, walking away with just enough hipswing for whatever reply he was going to come up with to stick in his throat. There were quiet snickers around, and even Thor had to cover a smile.
I pointed, seeing the flashing signs in Human that said ‘REGISTRANTS THAT WAY’ with big pointy arrows, and all the confused guys obediently followed my lead.
There were lots of aliens, in all colors, textures, and smells, odd fashions, strange languages, and strange body styles.
I’d told everyone that you could only move your eyes to look around, no turning your heads, or you were instantly marked as rubes and victims here. I pointed to Thor. “Do what he does.”
Thor was naturally enough a freaking god, and carried himself like one. The aliens got out of his way, and they were no stranger to him than he was to them. Everyone strove to be like him and not to stare at this or that very distracting alien or group of aliens going by, any pictures being taken on the sly or very, very openly in a professional manner.
Quicksilver and Cindy were assigned photography duty, so she unlimbered a Disk and stood on it, while he flitted back and forth, snapping away with a Vaccine and uploading them to be posted. There was no security over such things to speak of, as the Colosseum was a very public place and had been photographed inside and out on literally thousands of different worlds.
The sheer number of alien races here was another one of those wake-up calls, and xenobiologists were already going ga-ga as they matched them up with the databanks from the High Guard.
The crew and the servants of Champion were, however, very easy to tell apart. Not only were they in proper uniforms, but they all looked very impressive, moved impressively, carried themselves impressively, and glared around themselves impressively. The females tended to be attractive to the point of jaw-dropping, graceful, alert, poised, and with a razor-sharp air of ruthless cunning about them that said they knew their jobs very, very well, as well, and the males were crazy protective of them, to boot.
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Well, I'm not crazy protective, but it IS my story...
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There wasn’t a big queue in the Registration zone, as it covered a hundred yards of area and led right into the arena proper, where the vetting was taking place.
Thor was given the right to take the lead for those of us who’d be fighting, which he didn’t consider unusual at all. He strode up as if he owned the place, the Prince of Asgard, and even the bored guards there straightened up despite themselves at his approach.
Of course, when his mouth opened and the Allspeech of a god came out, all their universal translators yeeted in alarm in their ears, and they almost jumped out of their footwear.
“I am Thor of Asgard. I will be registering on behalf of Asgard for this competition. Asgard will also be paying the registration fees for all people on this list.” He made a gesture, and I sent off the list from my Vaccine to the waiting green-scaled Troboxian woman taking his data and staring at his Stats.
The guards nearby could see them, too, and I’m sure they were blinking for emphasis, not disbelief.
Thor made a gesture, and there was a crack of lightning as something about ten feet long materialized out of, uh, Hammerspace. It gleamed silver, with ever-changing purple lines of voltage dancing inside it, somehow still visible as a standing wave.
“Lightning Silver, called Volturgent, wrought in the conductor pattern of a type DXLVIII Chi-jihastai Antimatter Drive.” He didn’t set it down on the table, instead holding it out for one of the bigger brutes, a massive eight-foot biped with purple hide and prominent black tusks, to gingerly take from his hand. The brute grunted as he took it, and purple arcs tingled over his heavy gauntlets.
The scaled female scanned the conductor cylinder, and her slitted eyes widened perceptibly. The Registration fee for Earthers was nominal, mostly to cover the cost of the universal translators being issued to them and the processing time, as they were also the big attraction. “Yes, of course, Your Eternal Highness! How would you like the balance accorded to you?” she recovered smoothly.
“Put it under the Avengers general fund in Galactic Credits,” he waved dismissively.
I whistled to nobody in particular as I sent another message to her station. She saw it arrive, and her eyes narrowed. She glanced at me, nodded imperceptibly, and I reached out and knocked fists with Mr. Hill.
Four more of silver and one of gold. Volturum pre-forged for powering city-sized starships was worth REALLY big bucks. “Pietro, tell Reed and Stark they’ve got some capital to work with,” I muttered out of the side of my mouth.
Tap!, too fast to discern individual keystrokes. “Done,” the speedster replied softly.
I sent out to Max Dillon fifty thumbs up. His net worth had just broken eight digits. A very advanced computer chip-processing machine for Lightning Silicon and certain rare earth Isotopes were prominent on our shopping list.
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A Glorfundian woman in complex tweeds took my registration, eying my scans, or rather lack thereof, as I walked up. “Are you wearing a scanning cloak?” she asked with her liquid crystal eyes, webbed hands caressing the keyboard of her display.
I snapped my fingers, letting down my Vampire’s Veil and Astral Ward, and giving them permission to scan my Stat line... but not to send it on outside their own databases, i.e., no selling my information.
She blinked in shock as my Stats abruptly came up. Of course, they didn’t include skills or anything, but the fact I was abruptly seething with electrical power wasn’t going to be missed.
Also, I was in the 50-ton Class. Not at all common for women, although there were more than a couple Terrans around who were there. It was higher than ninety percent of the Champion’s Students.
“You are aware of the no-energy projection rules in the primary competition?” she asked. At that strength level, there was no gender spread.
“Yes.” The Bands of the Titan on my arms lit up with harsh electric light around my biceps, under my shirt. She hid a yip as the readings on her monitor abruptly changed. “I can use them in other ways.”
“So I see. For fairness on the primary competition tranche, there will be a test of your combat prowess.” She looked at the readings to make sure she wasn’t seeing things again. “Good luck!” she offered, handing over a universal translator to put into my ear.
I accepted it, but didn’t put it in as she wrapped a white band around my wrist, and biomagnetism kept it from just barely touching my skin. I noted it had a magical signature, and lifted an eyebrow in interest.