Our Contest

by Phillip Murrell

  “Chivalrous knights, like you?” Melanie asks as she rubs her hands on his neck.

  She feels the stir of an erection from beneath his loose-fitting pants. She’s happy to find out he’s at least tempted.

  “Of course, they’re chivalrous,” Mr. Polite answers. “They rescue the damsel and save the day.”

  “I’m a damsel in need of rescuing from her boredom.”

  Despite her internal revulsion by her captor, Melanie forces herself to kiss Mr. Polite on the mouth as she holds his head close to hers. She repositions her body so that Mr. Polite’s constrained anatomy is separated from her own sexual organs by nothing but their respective clothing. She grinds her hips against him as she kisses. At first it seems to work, but soon she finds herself thrown from his body and lands on the floor. She isn’t sure if he used a force shield or just pushed her, but genuine hurt is in her eyes. She looks up at Mr. Polite and sees the same pain staring back at her.

  “What did I do?” she genuinely asks. “You keep me in here all the time. I’m bored.”

  Melanie swallows her own pride as she forces the next sentence out.

  “I love you. I want to be with you.”

  The scowl on Mr. Polite’s face vanishes.

  “I love you, too, Melanie, but this is improper.”

  “What is?”

  “We can’t lie together unless we’re husband and wife.”

  “Then let’s do that. I want you to be my husband.”

  Melanie swallows a small pool of bile that forms in her mouth.

  “Nothing would make me happier, but your proposal isn’t appropriate. The man should ask the woman and only after acquiring a suitable ring.”

  “Then let’s get a ring.”

  “No. One doesn’t shop for an engagement ring with his fiancée. If you don’t know what she likes, you aren’t ready to propose.”

  Melanie allows Mr. Polite to help her back to her feet. He whispers into her ear as he rubs her back. She forces her body not to shudder at his touch.

  “I’m so happy to hear you bring up the subject,” he says. “It gives me the courage to do the right thing when you least suspect it.”

  Melanie doesn’t waste the opportunity to wrap Mr. Polite in her arms.

  “I like princess cuts,” she whispers.

  She feels Mr. Polite tighten his firm embrace. She follows in kind and sends more thought of cancer into his body. She isn’t sure how long this plan will take. She’s already tried for weeks, but perhaps the contact will speed the process along. She decides to focus on brain cancer this time. She wonders if her decision to spread the cancer is making things take longer. Perhaps she should only focus on the brain from now on. She rubs Mr. Polite’s back and holds the embrace for as long as he wants. Each second gets her closer to her freedom and a safer world for everyone else to live in.

  Claire stands before Mother, sitting magnificently in her throne, as she prepares for an interview that’s been forced upon her. Her recorder hovers between the two and adjusts multiple lenses to capture the confrontation.

  “You ready, Iris?” Claire asks the floating remote.

  The orange light blinks, indicating to Claire that everything is operating as required.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, I guess.”

  Claire clears her throat and looks at the imposing figure that has become her captor.

  “I am prepared for our next recording, Familiar,” Mother states.

  “This is Claire Kennedy, reporting from the Womb, with my normal guest, Mother. She wants to take this opportunity to once again stress the inevitable fate of the ISH; her words not mine. Her fleet will kill us all once she eliminates the Templars. At that time, it’ll be too late for the Malignant living with the ISH to come home. Are you satisfied?”

  “Very much,” Mother says. “I want to protect my children, and I understand that many of you have pets that are too dear to you to leave, so I will offer this small compromise. You may each bring one or two ISH with you when you come home to me. These ISH will not be harmed. Each Malignant owner will have to be responsible for them, but they will also experience my splendor.”

  Claire is surprised by this small, albeit insulting, sign of generosity. She resolves to press the issue and perhaps extend the limit.

  “Why only two?”

  “I said ‘one or two,’” Mother corrects.

  “Why?”

  “I find you ISH amusing, Familiar. You have short life spans and will die soon enough. I can tolerate your presence for a few decades if that’s what it takes to save my family.”

  “You could be talking about millions of humans. That could lead to children and a much longer timeline than just a few decades.”

  “The ISH will be sterilized, of course. That is what responsible pet owners do.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Claire shouts.

  “More so than outright genocide?”

  “So, you admit that killing us is genocide?”

  “It will not change my opinion about the ISH.”

  “Why do you hate us so much?”

  “I find you amusing, Familiar. You have saved many of your kind, including your spouse.”

  Claire’s mind flashes to Benji, but she pushes him aside to focus on her verbal sparring partner.

  “You need to spare all of us. I ask again, why do you hate us so much?”

  “Because you are not natural. You should not be here. This simple planet is not meant to have humans. Other life should be dominant. This is nothing more than a game planet full of resources. I thought you would be pleased to find out you are gifted your life.”

  “For someone so powerful, you aren’t very wise. This interview is over. Turn it off, Iris.”

  The recorder instantly obeys. Claire recognizes the rising anger in Mother and waits for whichever form her rage manifests itself into.

  “My patience with you is nearly expired,” Mother threatens. “I understand the games you play, but do not overestimate your entertainment value. I have ways of punishing the people you love without violating the rules of Our Contest.”

  “Then do it, bitch. I’m not your property.”

  “I comprehend that now. Pity. You just killed yourself.”

  Claire closes her eyes and waits for the death blow. Once more, it doesn’t fall.

  “Admiral Drorus, create a recording that simulates this one’s painful celebration. Then send it to the people below along with the recording she just made. Remind the Malignant on the planet that it is their only way.”

  “You’re going to fake my death?” Claire asks, genuinely confused.

  “Yes, and I hope it brings copious suffering on your spouse and other relations.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I can do whatever I want. You will find your treatment to be harsher from now on. Beginning with a leash.”

  Claire feels shackles forcefully clasp around her ankles, wrists, and throat. The cold metal stings her skin. The sensations linger far longer than they should. Claire realizes that the Malignant metal is maintaining its temperature. She allows herself only a moment of self-pity before hardening her heart and staring a new definition of hate at the quasi deity in her presence.

  “I believe you finally comprehend your predicament,” Mother taunts.

  Claire sits on the floor to offer a small amount of relief from her new confinements. Iris is removed by a guard. Claire feels like she’s just lost her only ally on this vessel.

  Ibbles sits at the head of a large table with several key A-Men surrounding it. Among the team are Roger, Sooyoung, and Vick. Ibbles waits for Roger to finish the report he requested.

  “Sir,” Roger states, “in summation, the recruits are combat ready, and we’re standing by for your orders.”

  “How many do we h
ave now?” Ibbles asks.

  Roger turns to Sooyoung to answer.

  “We have eighty-nine ready, with sixty-two more who are going through the process. Purpose and devotion is flooding them. Soon they’ll beg to go on missions, just as the others have.”

  “Excellent,” Ibbles gloats. “What about combat training itself? I’m happy the mind is willing, but is the body capable?”

  Roger answers. “Yes, sir. Agent Brant can share skills between anyone he chooses. He’s taught the recruits English, martial arts, marksmanship, advanced driving, and various other tasks.”

  “All of them?” Ibbles asks.

  “Well, no,” Roger admits. “He can teach all of them, but like most augments, his powers only extend to a maximum of ten individuals at a time. We have to mix and match power sets based on the mission, but at least we all understand each other and have confidence in each other’s fighting ability.”

  “It’s a hell of a thing to see,” Vick opines.

  Ibbles, Roger, and Sooyoung all stare at Vick and give him the clear impression to shut up.

  “How do they all stay under Purpose’s influence?” Ibbles asks.

  “They beg for it when it eventually wears off,” Sooyoung answers.

  “How long is that?” Ibbles asks.

  “Usually after a day,” Roger answers. “He’s one of the few who can extend his influence on far more than ten.”

  “How much more?”

  “We’re not sure because we run out of augments before he runs out of purpose,” Sooyoung says.

  “Good,” Ibbles says. “Good brief.”

  “Sir, a question, please,” Roger says.

  “What?”

  “Have you seen the reports sent from Claire Kennedy?”

  “Of course, I have. I watch them with the President whenever they air. Why do you ask? You better not be looking for a reason to abandon us for the Malignant.”

  “Absolutely not, sir,” Roger states. “I want to know if the President has said anything about how to defend against genocide?”

  Vick thinks that Ibbles actually looks apologetic that he doesn’t have an answer.

  “I don’t know.” Ibbles sighs. “Just get me an army.”

  “Yes, sir. We’re well on our way, and many of them have amazing powers that we can put to use,” Roger says.

  “Show me,” Ibbles demands.

  The A-Men take their government handler to an observation window overlooking a training area. Vick watches as a smile slowly spreads across Ibbles’ face. He watches as A-Men of various genders and ethnicities train against each other.

  One A-Man splits into multiple people. Unlike the Templar, Lottery, this augment reduces in size with each separation until there are over a dozen bodies that are only six inches tall each. The action figures charge across the training area and easily take down a young woman who snaps her fingers and charges the air. Vick hears a pop as the woman fails to get her target before they swarm over her.

  It’s a neat trick, Vick thinks, but the Templars have better ones.

  Flaimeson and Millantra lie naked in his bed. The two partake in pillow talk as they catch their breath.

  “I am so glad you did not need a celebration, too,” Flaimeson announces.

  “Thank you,” Millantra says. “But I am surprised you are not spending more time with all the new options. I know I have quite a fun time with many of them. That Paddy is especially spry.”

  “You are lucky then. Apart from Julie, the women are rather prudish.”

  “I have noticed that, too. The humans of Earth are so unusual. They are inconsistent. They all dance and sing and joke with multiple people, but then proclaim sex is only for one. Those who actually agree to multiple partners are ostracized.”

  “They have prohibitions against prostitution, too.”

  “Very odd,” Millantra agrees. “It is a shame that our ship prostitutes all died during the attack. I am sure they would have been able to change a mind or two.”

  “Perhaps. These people are so young, practically children. I do not think they will change their ways any more than Mother will change hers.”

  Flaimeson rests his back against the headboard. Millantra sits up with him.

  “What is on your mind?” she asks.

  “I am just thinking about what Father said earlier today.”

  “Which was?”

  “I asked Father what he discovered about the Olympus. He learned a lot, but he mostly wanted to speak about Baldr.”

  “Baldr? Who was he again?”

  “Father reminded me that he was one of Odin’s sons.”

  “The ship’s navigator?”

  “Correct.”

  “So, why is a forgotten son so important to Abel?”

  “I do not know. Baldr was not too important. He is remembered on this planet as a sort of purity god for some. At least he was, but all Gudz who crashed on the Olympus are remembered in one way or another as a deity.”

  “What exactly did Father say about Baldr?”

  “Simply that he was the most important Gudz to find.”

  “Even more than Eve or Adam?”

  “Now you see why I am still perplexed by this.”

  “Did Father say what happened to Baldr?”

  “No. I asked, but he seemed distracted and soon brought up something else.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  Flaimeson considers his words. “It seemed like Father was intentionally changing the subject.”

  “That is unusual. Father usually encourages questions. At least from what I have heard and the little I have seen.”

  “I am going to think about it for a cycle more. Perhaps Votary or Smith will explain further.”

  “I doubt Smith knows, and Votary does not seem inclined to say anything to anyone. He is the most unusual person I have ever met in over five thousand years of life.”

  “He is, but I respect him. He is the only one of these new Gudz who believes in showing Father any respect.”

  “True. I seethe every time they use his birth name. The only reason I do not punish them is because Father seems to like it.”

  “He does, but I will never change. It is probably the one thing they do that Mother most hates. It is a good thing they do not realize how informal they are with him.”

  “It probably is. I am going back to my room now. I will regard you later.”

  Millantra rises from Flaimeson’s bed completely nude. She steps over her discarded clothes and exits his room.

  “This will hopefully help the prudes grow up,” Millantra says with a wink.

  Flaimeson simply laughs as she passes from his view. He laughs again when he hears Power.

  “What the hell? Yo, girl, wait up. Let me holla at you.”

  Before his door shuts, Flaimeson sees Power running in the direction that Millantra left in.

  Tina wakes from her all too brief sleep by the sound of her front door slamming. Her pulse quickens as lingering fears of Yuri flood her with adrenaline. She reaches into her end table and pulls out a 9mm pistol. She checks to make sure it’s loaded and heads toward the front of her home.

  Tina rounds the corner at the top of her steps and quickly lets out a soothing breath as she sees Keith standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Tina sets the pistol down on a table holding a potted plant near her. She rushes down the steps and hugs her son. After a few moments, she releases him and sees the distress in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Sweetie?” she asks. “I thought you wanted to stay at your father’s house?”

  Keith avoids Tina’s gaze and walks into the living room. Tina follows him and joins him on the couch. She waits for him to share the news that
she suspects, by his body language, she already knows.

  “I would have called, Mom, but I know the hospital needs you. I had Mason give me a ride back.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later, Mom. I’m just really tired right now.”

  “No, if it’s about Jenny, I need to know this now.”

  “She’s not pregnant, if that’s what you think.”

  “I wasn’t. I was thinking she did something foolish, like break your heart.”

  “She’s out, Mom. That’s all that matters right now.”

  “You seem rather calm about it. I want to believe it’s because you’ve grown up, but the paranoid in me thinks it’s because you’re just keeping it to yourself.”

  To Tina’s surprise, Keith rests his head on her shoulder. She instinctively wraps her arm around him like she did when he was a child and she was still his hero.

  “Life’s forced me to get tougher. When the world could literally end at any moment, I can’t let something like a stupid girl eat me up. I’ve been down that road of numbness before and don’t want to walk it again.”

  “Well, I can appreciate the perspective,” Tina says, “but it’s still a bit too dark. The world isn’t going to end. More people are beginning to realize that, and more businesses are starting to open again. We’re even getting more doctors and nurses, so I feel comfortable coming home to sleep instead of going to my office.”

  “I should let you get back to it then,” Keith says.

  “I’m awake now,” Tina admits. “Why don’t we just watch a movie together?”

  “It’s past midnight, Mom.”

  “And a teenaged boy has a bedtime?”

  Keith chuckles. The sound warms Tina’s heart.

  “Fair enough, Mom. What do you want to watch?”

  “Perhaps not a movie. I’ve been binge watching the Zombie Walkabout seasons. I’m up to number three. It’s actually pretty funny.”

  “I told you it would be. The season three finale is literally the best episode of the whole series.”

  “So, what do you say we get some ice cream—”

  “Ice cream, Mom? No offense, but that’s the chick way of dealing with a breakup.”