Authors: Ernest Dempsey
I looked up to see Taurus holding a cup out for me. I
grinned and patted the ground next to me. “Have a seat,” I said, happy to have
someone to talk to again. I hated spending so much time alone in the prison. I
felt like a leper, cast out of society. Except that I didn’t have a disease.
Quite the opposite, I had a tremendous power. But by Jonas’s orders, they left
me alone to think and meditate. I was starting to get better at the latter,
even though it was hard to focus.
“I cannot sit down with you,” Taurus explained. “I was
just told to bring water around to the fighters.”
My smile went away at his words. But I reached up and took
the proffered water. “Thank you,” I said.
He nodded slowly and turned to carry some to the others.
He looked back over his shoulder and stopped. “You have an amazing power,” he
said reverently. “I believe in you.”
He walked off towards the yellow corner with a tray of water cups in his
hands.
His comment made me feel a little better. I was glad to hear
people believed in me, even if it was all just a dream. And deep down in my
heart, I was starting to believe in myself for the first time in my life.
The night had been restless. I’d still not grown
accustomed to sleeping on the cot’s tight canvas. Its lack of comfort was
rivaled only by its lack of size. The thing was only a few feet wide so if I
turned over in either direction, I risked falling off or hitting the wall. The
only benefit of fighting in the games was that if you managed to survive, you
got another night in the suite with a proper bed.
I thought about the conversation I’d had with Nela the
previous day. I wondered what people were doing on other worlds. I’d suggested
there were thousands of others. I didn’t really have any scientific evidence to
back that up. But the little Astronomy I’d studied led me to believe that was
certainly possible. Our galaxy alone had billions of stars, each one with its
own solar system and ring of planets. I wondered how many of them were like earth.
Perhaps thousands was a low estimation. Here, on Sideros, the aliens looked
just like people from Earth, a fact that flew in the face of traditional alien
conjecture. I was curious if all aliens looked just like us. I doubted that
could be possible. Other worlds would have different atmospheres, ecosystems,
and climates. It would only make sense they would look different than us.
As I drifted in and out of shallow sleep, wild images of
what Hollywood depicted aliens looked like passed before my mind’s eye. Some
were probably from my own imagination. I’d never really watched or read a lot
of science fiction, but when I had, I was always intrigued by writers’ and
directors’ depictions of aliens. I supposed they would have been supremely
disappointed with this place.
The guards arrived early that morning, which wasn’t a
problem since I had never really fallen asleep. I was tired, but I knew I could
take a long nap in the suite as soon as they dropped me off, just like last
time.
The ride through the tunnels was as unmemorable as I
remembered. I thought about how long it must have taken to burrow through the
rock to create the passages for the little mine trains. Engineering wonders
always impressed me like that. Maybe I was easily amazed.
When I arrived back in the suite from before, I found my
self strangely happy to see Sam standing in the middle of the floor with her
holographic smile and one hip stuck out to the side.
“Good to see you again, Sam,” I greeted the AI as I would
have anyone else and sauntered over to the window.
“It’s good to have you here again, Finn,” she seemed
pleased at my polite entrance. “Though, I am still not sure why the game master
is intent on having you fight twice in one week.”
I gave a quick look over my shoulder to make sure the
guards had already left. “This room is probably bugged, huh?” I asked as my
eyes scanned every possible crevice of the place. She frowned and nodded.
“It’s okay,” I said rebelliously. “I’m guessing they’re making
me fight twice because the emperor is trying to get rid of me.”
I didn’t care who heard me at that
point. What else could they do to me anyway?
She seemed bothered by the statement. “Trying to get rid
of you? Why would he do that? You have been his most entertaining fighter in
recent memory. Everyone in the city is talking about you.”
I wondered how she knew that but didn’t
press the issue. “I’m sure it will only be a matter of time until the crowd is
chanting your name. You will soon become the favorite of the arena, and the
world.”
I sat down on the edge of the couch while she spoke and
looked out over the city, observing the golden rays of morning sunlight bathing
the buildings, streets, and trees. The light was pushing its way up the
hillsides towards the mountain peaks. The pavement and sidewalks of the city
streets were still eerily empty, save for the few police cars that roamed
along.
“Maybe,” I replied after a long, thoughtful silence. “The
people will cheer for anyone, though. They were all going wild for Darwinius,
and he was a bad guy.”
I watched
as a flock of birds flew high above the arena roof, cutting and bobbing through
the air as one. I thought it best not to tell Sam what Jonas and Nela were
saying about me, that I was the one who would free the people. Part of me
didn’t even know if she would understand.
“You seem pensive,” she observed. “Is something bothering
you?”
I had to admit whoever designed this AI had done a
brilliant job. The ability to observe and detect human emotions was spot on.
“It’s nothing, Sam. I’m just thinking about the games.”
I got up and lumbered over to the bed, collapsing onto its
billowy surface, and letting the softness envelop me. The holographic image
moved near to the side of the bed and looked at me as if searching for a
question. “Do people on Earth have games?”
It was a puzzling thing for her to ask. “Yeah, but not
like your games here. In our games, people aren’t trying to kill each other.”
Her electronic face contorted, perplexed at my answer. So
I explained, “We play games with a ball or a little round disc. Football,
baseball, hockey, soccer, basketball, there are lots of games. But none of them
involve killing someone, though some of them do get pretty violent.”
I thought about a rugby game I’d seen
once on television and some of the hits in football and hockey.
“So you do not have fights?”
I had to turn around my description slightly. “We do. But
the object isn’t to kill. In boxing or mixed martial arts, people fight each
other and try to knock each other unconscious or get them to submit. But they
aren’t trying to kill each other. And there are no weapons allowed.”
I thought for a second. “A long time
ago, though, there were empires that held fights like yours. They were called
gladiator games. The Roman Empire used them as a way to appease the mob. Men
would fight to the death exactly like they do in your arena. Sometimes, the
Romans would simply release a group of innocent people into the arena and let
them be slaughtered by wild animals or butchered by men with weapons. It got to
the point where it wasn’t so much about the competition as it was the bloodbath
that ensued.”
I recalled horrific
images from lessons in high school depicting innocent people being killed in
The Coliseum.
Sam was processing everything I’d said. “Why did they stop
those games?”
I rolled over on the pillow, anxious to get some actual
sleep. “Because they were barbaric. Only sick, deranged people would enjoy
watching such a thing. They cheered for it much like your crowds do here.”
“Is that why you won’t play to the audience?” she asked
bluntly.
I nodded my head. “The people need to see these games for
what they really are, a terrible waste of human life, and a means of
manipulating the mob.”
“Shouldn’t the criminals be punished,” she appeared
magically on the other side of the bed so that I was facing her again.
“Sure.
With due process.
On
Earth, we have a system in place that allows criminals to be judged after
evidence of their crimes is provided. We don’t just arrest people and sentence
them to death.”
My explanation
seemed to satiate her curiosity for the moment; she gave a single nod.
“You must be tired, Finn. I doubt you get much sleep down
in the prison. I will let you rest.”
Sam disappeared and the blinds over the windows began to close
automatically, I assume because she was closing them for me. My desperately
exhausted mind eased its way into sleep’s darkness, sloshing through a sea of
random thoughts.
Suddenly, I felt something cold touching the skin around
my neck then in another place, and another. Several points of contact slowly
wrapping around my throat. I realized someone was in my room, putting their icy
hands around my neck. But I couldn’t see who it was. I tried to open my eyes
but they felt like they were being pressed shut by some external force. The
grip of the frigid hands became tighter and tighter around my neck as I began
to gasp and choke for air.
I tried to scream out but all I could get
out,
was a short cough. My hands tried to pry the unseen
fingers away; however they had a death grip that I couldn’t even budge. I
thrashed around in hopes that I could at least wriggle my way free. Still, the
menace held me tight. The cold hands squeezed tighter and tighter, closing off
my air passages completely. My lungs begged for air and my brain began to get
hazy. In a few seconds before, I would lose consciousness permanently. One last
time, I desperately tried to peel a few of the fingers away from my neck with
no avail. I gave a final push, and forced out a few, barely audible words,
“Away from me.”
A surge of energy passed through my body that felt like an
electric shock. I instantly sat up and opened my eyes. My momentary sense
relief was overcome with realization that I was in my dorm room, in my bed. And
right in front of me, only a few feet away, was the most chilling thing I’d
ever seen in my life. Hovering over my comforter was a pair of charcoal-black
hands. There was no body, no face, just hands floating in the darkness over me.
Again I spoke, this time in a commanding voice. “Leave me!” I shouted the
words. There was a shrill shriek as the hands flew backwards away from me and
disappeared into the wall.
I snapped awake again and found myself back in the suite,
on Sideros. A thin line of light stole its way through the blinds, onto the
floor and up the wall a few feet away. My heart pounded in my chest like a
jackhammer. The clothes I had on were drenched in sweat. I blinked rapidly and
looked around the room, making sure I was really awake.
“Sam?” I said aloud, wondering where the proxy had gone.
“Yes, Finn?” she answered, appearing near my bed. Her
image seemed more ghostly in the dark.
“Could you open up the blinds?” I asked, trying not to
sound panicked. “I’m done sleeping, I think.
The shades over the windows began to open up instantly and
some of the lights flickered on. I was still breathing heavily, trying to
collect my thoughts.
“Are you alright, Finn?” her face was genuinely concerned
as she spoke.
I wasn’t even sure at that point. “Sam, did anyone come in
while I was asleep?”
She looked like she was thinking for a second then said,
“No. No one has come or gone since you were dropped off earlier this morning. I
was just about to have your food delivered so you could eat before the
games.”
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, curious.
“Six hours,” she responded mechanically.
Six
hours?
It seemed
like I’d only been unconscious for a few seconds. Sam was still looking at me
with a confused gaze.
“What’s the matter?” I inquired. “Why are you looking at
me like that?”
Her holographic finger extended towards my neck. “Your
throat. Did you try to choke yourself in your sleep?”
My heart had begun to slow down until I heard her
question. Then it began to thump again as I realized what she was looking at. I
swung my legs off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. “Lights on,” I
ordered, causing the automatic bulbs to glow to life. In the mirror, I saw
something that gave me chills all the way to my toes. I ran my fingers across
my skin cautiously, not sure I believed what I was seeing.
In the mirror’s reflection were two large bruises on my
neck in the shape of hands.
I walked through the doors of the arena antechamber to a
sound very different from my first fight. This time, it was a mixed reaction of
cheers and boos. I heard one guy yell out that I would pay for what I did to
Darwinius. I assume the man must have been a big fan. Others were more
positive, politely clapping or raising their fists in the air, though they were
in the minority. A few even called out my name as I made my way down the red
carpet towards the massive arena doors.
No one could hear my stomach grumbling. I was starving.
Even though Sam had food brought to the room, I was barely able to get any of
it down. I’d virtually ignored the bounty of food she’d provided and quickly
chosen the same clothes and weapon as I had before. I was a little relieved to
see the fight would be with swords. The katana style blade was the only thing I
was comfortable with.
My nerves were still shot from the dream I’d had with the
dark hands. Questions still riled in my mind as I neared the entrance.
Who did the hands
belong to and why were they trying to kill me? How had they infiltrated my
dreams on this planet? Moreover, if all of this was a dream, how was I dreaming
within a dream reality? Was that even possible?
I needed to see Jonas. But
first, I had business to attend to.
The giant gates opened and the crowd roared into a similar
mixture of boos and applause as I stepped out onto the dirt of the arena floor.
Like before, I gave them no show and trudged out to the center where some of
the other fighters were already standing. I could see my opponent approaching
from the other side. His round helmet left much of his face uncovered,
revealing something strange and dark about him. I realized as I got closer what
that oddity was. It was a lack of humanity. He was a killer and felt no emotion
over what he did or how he did it. His expression was one of someone who might
be clocking in to an office job, just going about his normal routine. And that
routine was murder.
I barely heard the game master’s announcements as we all
came to a halt in the middle of the arena. He performed, what I was now
assuming to be his normal spiel, with all the pomp and fanfare of a circus
ringmaster. I stood next to Tota, who seemed a little uneasy.
“You’re going to be fine,” I said out of the corner of my
mouth. I could see him trembling slightly.
His head shaded towards me. “I’ve never faced anyone as
strong as him,” he replied in a terrified whisper. “I can’t beat him.”
I could hear the despair in his voice.
I forgot all the requirements of standing at attention for
the crowd and looked directly at Tota. He swallowed hard and looked back at me
for a second before facing forward again. “It’s going to be okay.” I tried to
sound like I actually believed what I was saying. But deep down, I had a
horrible feeling about his chances. He was smaller than I, and weaker. The
biggest difference between the two of us was the newfound power I possessed.
Poor Tota would have to rely completely on his training, wits, and limited
abilities.
The guards ushered us back to our holding pens. I entered
mine and sat down on the bench where I had before, anxiously watching through
the window to see how things would unfold. The tension in the crowd was
palpable as they were eager to behold the unusual treat of two arena games in
one week. Their bloodlust had reached a critical mass and was ripe for new
perversions, just like in ancient Rome.
While we waited the crowd continued to stir. A minute
after they slammed my gate closed, the first fighters were released from their
areas and charged across the field. It was a battle royal between two fighters
from the red and black sides. One was obviously stronger than the other, but
the man from the black banner was cunning and skilled. I put my head
down,
already growing tired of the sick display the audience
was putting on. Each time one of the combatants was cut or stabbed, the rabid
fans roared with delight at the sight of fresh blood.
I thought about the things I’d discussed with Jonas, and I
still wondered if these people were worth saving. Enslaved by a man who
appeased them with violence and controlled them with force, heir minds had been
brainwashed, and they had been turned into savage, nearly unconscious
creatures.
When they erupted into a wild cheer, I knew the fight had
ended, and looked to see the man from the red group holding up the head of his
opponent. I turned away from the gruesome spectacle, significantly nauseated.
The crowd loved it, though, and continued to applaud until the victor had left
the floor.
The game master announced the next two fighters with
slightly less enthusiasm. It would be a short fight between someone from the
yellow group and a man from the red banner.
Tota’s fight would be after that. I wondered what the
young man was thinking. He surely was overcome by fear, nearly to the point of
pissing himself. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps he was more capable than I gave him
credit. I doubted it.
The second battle actually went a little longer than I
anticipated, and the result was a huge upset. The fighter from the yellow group
ran much of the time, a strategy that seemed to be key to their philosophy.
Fortunately for him, he was in fairly good shape and was facing an opponent
who’s girth prevented him from running for long periods of time. Eventually,
the game master had called for the lions to be released to speed up the result
and force the action. What the game master hadn’t anticipated was the red
warrior lunging for his opponent with a wild attack, losing his balance, and
stumbling into the waiting jaws of a hungry lion.
Of course, the crowd was overjoyed at the outcome, save
for the ones who had bet on the battle. I could hear several angry comments
about lost money from the seats just above my holding cell. On the inside, I
was glad the guy from the yellow banner won. I wondered how often they even competed,
much less won a fight. The members of that group seemed more like sacrifices
than warriors.
The game managers pulled the lions back into their cages
and cleaned off the remains of the fallen warrior, a process that took well
over fifteen minutes to complete. I certainly wouldn’t want to be one of the
guards tasked with that grizzly job. After they were finished, the stadium
began to buzz again. It was time for Tota’s fight.
The game master built up the momentum of the crowd as he
introduced the two men. The one from the red group trotted out confidently. He
waved to the raving fans as he slowed to a halt. His helmet presented two metal
horns that curved up and forward, making him look like a strange amalgamation
of man, beast, and machine. The chiseled fighter was obviously the favorite to
win and seemed unaffected by the fact that someone from his group had just been
killed moments before. There was a lack of affect or empathy in some of the
combatants, which I found disturbing. Tota walked out from his area slowly. The
sword he carried was designed like a Saracen weapon. I remembered seeing some
like that in the history books I read during high school. They were
dramatically curved with a wide end that came to a crescent shaped tip. Their
cutting power had been tremendous when used during the crusades in defense of
the Holy Lands. For some reason, though, it looked out of place in Tota’s
shaking hands.
He stepped cautiously across the dirt, reluctantly
dragging his feet as he moved. Tota looked like a deer caught in a car’s
headlights, wide and full of fear. I moved close to the window, even though
part of me didn’t want to watch. The mob’s cheering built to a steady boil as
the two fighters neared each other at the center of the ring. I could see that
the red warrior was saying something to Tota, but I couldn’t make out his
words. From the looks of his movements, I guessed he was taunting his weaker
counterpart. He motioned with one hand for Tota to attack, luring him in.
Tota lifted up his weapon and swung it hard through the
air. I had to admit the velocity of the swing was much more fierce than I’d
thought possible for someone of such a small build. His opponent, though, was
not surprised, and easily deflected the volley with a swipe of his own sword.
The larger man laughed as if he’d just swatted away a fly. Then he beckoned
Tota to come again.
He’s
toying with him
,
I thought. I realized I was gripping the bars of the holding pen tightly as I
watched. Again, Tota stabbed at the man and once more, his fiercest attack was
made to look feeble against the expert fighter. Still, Tota kept on the
offensive, swinging and thrusting as best he could. At one point, the red
warrior stepped to one side and stuck out his foot as Tota passed, tripping the
young fighter and sending him sprawling to the ground. The villain stood over
him laughing as Tota scrambled to get back to his feet. Of course, the crowd
was overjoyed at the show and the man played to it, lifting his hands over and
over again, beckoning them to cheer louder.
Tota stumbled backwards, still holding out his sword as
menacingly as he could. The crowd had begun their chant,
bera, bera,
bera
!
Satisfied he had entertained them enough, the red warrior
went on the attack and stepped towards Tota, who now assumed a defensive
stance. The larger man swung his massive blade at Tota’s shoulder, narrowly
missing due to a glancing deflection from the Saracen sword. It was followed,
though, by a kick from a heavy boot that struck dead center of the target. The
red fighter’s foot sunk into Tota’s shiny metal chest piece and sent him flying
ten feet back, hitting the ground with a jarring thud. His sword jostled from
his hand and lay a few feet away as the enemy approached.
He pushed himself backwards along the ground, kicking out
with his feet as he did. The crowd’s eerie, monotone chants grew louder still.
Finally, Tota was able to pick himself up off the ground and turn to run. As he
did, a flame shot up from the ground in the direction he was turning, and he
stumbled backwards towards his pursuer. A trap door had opened with fire
beneath it, apparently another one of the game master’s tricks. Beleaguered,
Tota faked one way then cut the other in an attempt to sprint to his sword that
still lay on the ground.
“Run,” I said, almost to myself. “Run to the center.”
My eyes were locked in on the young
fighter. But he didn’t hear me. And he didn’t think what I was thinking.
Instead, he made a play for his weapon that was too close
to the enemy. He took two big steps and dove through the air towards the
Saracen blade. The red warrior anticipated the move and slid the edge of his
sword in an upward, diagonal motion. The sharp metal caught a weak spot
underneath Tota’s armor and opened a huge gash in his abdomen. He doubled over
in agony, gripping his stomach that soon began oozing blood through his
fingers.
I realized I was gripping the bars on the gate so tight,
that the metal was beginning to bend. I could feel the strange surge of energy
beginning to run through me as I watched. The red fighter had his back to me
now as he stepped over towards Tota, who lay crumpled up on the dirt. His face
was contorted in pain, but he realized his only chance to survive was just a
few inches away. With desperation, he reached out and grabbed the handle of his
weapon, yanking back on the handle as the red fighter brought down the tip of
his long sword.
Tota whipped the wide edge up with all his remaining
strength, but it was too late. The point of his enemy’s blade pierced through
the metal chest plate and into the dirt beneath. Tota’s arm dropped down beside
him and his body began to shake violently for a minute, then slowly became
still. The crowd roared as I stared on in disbelief.
“No,” I shook my head. “No!” I yelled as the victor jerked
his weapon from Tota’s body and held up the crimson soaked blade in triumph. He
continued to play to the audience, begging for more and more applause. Anger
coursed through me, and my thoughts produced only one recurring theme:
revenge.
I stepped back for a second then lunged forward with my
shoulder. I heard the sound of metal bending, twisting, and snapping as the
gate exploded from the force and went flying across the arena floor, nearly
bent in half. I stood on the dirt just outside my holding area, staring at the
man who’d just killed an innocent kid.
A kid like me.
The crowd grew silent, save for a few “ooo’s” and “ahhh’s.” Startled, the red
warrior turned towards me. I could see his eyebrows bent in a frown underneath
his horned helmet.
“Guards!” I heard the game master’s voice over the
speakers, “Seize him!
He is not
permitted to be on the floor until the other combatants are off!”
As he finished his sentence, I saw a
door opening nearby. I didn’t wait for them to come out. I jumped hard and
soared through the air, leading with my foot and kicked the door back into
place. It gave way easily under my strength and slammed shut. I reached up and
grabbed one of the metal bars ripping it from the gate’s window, then jammed it
between the door and the frame. I could hear the men beating against it from
the inside.
I turned to see the red warrior’s eyes narrowed further,
his face standing out amid an ocean of faces, all frozen in shock and
curiosity. He started taking a few steps towards me and motioned with a hand
that he accepted the challenge. I glanced at the game master out of the corner
of my eye. He was standing next to the emperor in the box, looking like he was
about to have a stroke. The emperor’s emotions seemed more contained; he
watched with a sinister intrigue.