Fighting an alien champ was always risky
business for an Earthman. So Filmore decided he
might pick up a pointer or two before the big—
Slaughter On Dornel IV
By Ivar Jorgensen
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
April 1957
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Larry Filmore stared at his beer and mentally roasted his fight manager for the fiftieth time. Human beings were supposed to be the toughest race that the Galaxy had ever spawned, but as a fighter, Larry didn't put too much faith in the theory. He had fought a good many races throughout the Galaxy, and, although he had always come out the winner, he had plenty of scars to show for it.
He looked around the bar. It was full of various beings, none of them human except himself.
What am I doing here? he asked himself. I'm sitting in a cheap little bar on Dornel IV, waiting for a Dornellian fighter to kill me tomorrow.
But there was no way out of it, Filmore thought bitterly. Blackmer, his manager, had the whole thing sewed up. Larry had found out, three months before, that Blackmer was cheating him—but that had been too late. According to the contract, Larry had to finish the season or go to prison. If he quit, he would, according to the law, be cheating his manager.
On the other hand, if he got killed during the battle, his entire check would go to Blackmer.