by Tristan Vick
Naturally, this made it extremely difficult to fight in. Every step shifted in an unpredictable direction, jumping required more energy as you sank in whenever you kicked off. And, although it was softer on the body for those nastier tumbles, getting back up was that much more of a struggle.
Running on the sand wasn’t easy either. In fact, it took double the effort, and she wasn’t used to it. She was a little worried when she became winded just traversing from one side of the arena to the other. But, eventually, she arrived at her destination and reaching out with both hands she began to pry at the bottom half of the severed pincer.
She tore off half of the claw and then, holding it in both arms like a lance, she turned back toward the crab, who watched her with its one remaining eye.
Danica hollered as she tore through the sand, her bikini and shell armor scarcely providing any security as she went. Using her powers she generated a ramp out of energy and ran up it. When she was high enough, she threw herself over the edge, spiny-lance-crab-leg in both hands.
She sailed through the air and came down onto the back of the startled creature with a thud. Using its own jagged claw against it, she swiped at its remaining eye. The first hit didn’t do much but the second hit cracked the eye stem. A third broke it open more fully, and a fourth chop finally took it down like a pesky weed.
Unable to see, the crab grew panicked and began to scuttle in a tight circle. Danica lost her footing and toppled off the shell, landing in the soft sand with a padded thump. She rolled out of the way as the crab’s needle-like toes came dangerously near and then pushed herself up and dusted off her hands.
She didn’t like seeing the creature in agony and knew exactly what she needed to do—put the poor thing out of its misery. Bringing down another energy barrier, between herself and the spinning crab, the crustacean collided so hard against the energy wall that it knocked itself out. Then Danica spun the biggest energy disk she could muster and launched it high into the air. It sailed all the way to the top of the stadium’s sail-shaped canvas roof, sliced clean through it, and then came right back down again, slicing through a second time in a different spot.
A silence fell across the crowd as they watched with bated breath. The spiraling energy blade came back down and landed directly on top of the crab’s back with a squealing sound of energy and armor grating against one another.
Sparks shot up as the disc cut the crab right down the center. As the orange serration line began to cool, both halves broke apart and fell to the sand.
Smoke rose from the smoldering insides of the two halves, which were well cooked by Danica’s energy blade, and the audience erupted into cheers. Danica, still on a high from her victory, climbed halfway up onto one of the larger legs and raised her fists over her head triumphantly.
As the cheers and applause began to die down, she shouted, “Dinner’s on me!” and sparked another flurry of celebratory ovation.
As the crowd went wild, as if on cue, some Bre’lal men dressed in white chef’s hats and aprons, came out and dragged the various fragments of the crab to the fringes of the stadium. They began tossing large chunks of crabmeat up to the spectators, who greedily feasted upon the spoils of Danica’s victory. A larger portion of crab was carted off and taken down to the kitchens under the arena where it would be prepared for the other gladiators’ evening meal.
When Danica returned to her shared cell, Ladgara, stood leaning against a wall pretending to ignore Danica’s presence.
“Well?” Danica asked, throwing a hand onto her hip. “Pretty good for someone who always messes up, right?”
Ladgara’s languid glance with her one good eye sparkled pink. She smiled pithily and said, “It wasn’t half bad. And, if I’m being completely honest, you looked quite fetching in that get up.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re horny as hell and want to mash this.” Danica gestured at her rockin’ hot body and grinned. Then licking her white teeth, she smiled even brighter and said, “But you ain’t getting any of this, sweetheart.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” Ladgara said with a light hearted laugh.
Danica shrugged. Then looked around and asked, “So, where are the showers?”
Ladgara pointed at the ceiling. Danica looked up and, sure enough, in the center of the room where a light fixture would typically be, there was a rain-styled shower head instead.
She looked back at Ladgara. “You can’t be serious?”
Ladgara shrugged.
Danica rolled her eyes and then quickly undid her armor and slipped out of her bikini. She peeled off the bottoms and tossed them in the pile with all the rest. Then placing her hands on her hips again, she struck a pose and, facing Ladgara, said, “There. Satisfied?”
Ladgara’s grin grew into a full smile and reaching up she mashed a blue button on the wall. Icy cold water instantly shot out of the shower head. The freezing water prompted Danica to squirm and wiggle and otherwise do a strange and unnatural dance.
“Cold...” she gasped, hopping around under the frigid shower, “too...bloody...cold!”
Once the sand and sweat had been cleaned off, Ladgara hit the button again and the water drizzled to a standstill, only a few stray plips squeezed their way out of the small holes in the shower head after the fact.
“Maybe in the next fight you can use those spears you call nipples to flay your enemies with,” Ladgara quipped, nodding at Danica’s chest.
Danica looked down and embarrassed by how far she was nipping out, quickly covered herself. Scowling at Ladgara, she said in an agitated tone, “Oh, shut up,” and then flipped her off.
Ladgara laughed it off and, then, just to mess with Danica, hit the button again.
“You bitch!” Danica screamed as the cold water drenched her once more, raising massive goosebumps all over her body.
Ladgara laughed, finding it absolutely hilarious. Her laugh, which began as a throaty chuckle, slowly grew into a bawdy, head back, full on torrent of laughter. It was so infectious that Danica cracked a smile across her pursed, icy-cold, doubly blue lips. Eventually, they were both laughing, just like they used to back in their academy days when they were dorm roommates and were fresh and still had an air of innocence about them.
“Admit it,” Ladgara finally said. “You missed me.”
Danica, her entire body drenched in nothing but goosebumps and freezing droplets of water, smirked and reaching out, she clutched Ladgara’s elaborate pirate shirt and reeled her in. At the same time, Danica hit the button and turned the showers back on.
Ladgara screamed playfully as she was drawn into the cold water with Danica.
“There, let’s see how you like it,” Danica said, not relinquishing her grip for an instant—not even when Ladgara tried to pull away and retreat.
Both of them stood frozen, gazing at one another, remembering the passion and heat of their mutual arousal. Then, Ladgara quickly began peeling off her layers of clothes.
Screw it, Danica thought, giving in to the temptation, and quickly assisted her, anxious to help her get out of her clothes.
A heap of wet clothing piled up around her ankles, Ladgara pushed Danica up against the cold rock wall and began kissing her neck. Her Prussian blue lips dappled Danica’s lavender neck with warm kisses that made her feel amazing as the cold water ran down their bodies.
After a few pecks on the lips, their chests bunched up together, Ladgara looked at Danica with her one good eye and asked, “Do you remember our first time?”
“How could I ever forget?” Danica asked. “I’d never been with a woman until you.”
“And, as I recall, I was so good that I turned you off of men for that whole year.” She licked her lips in a salacious manner, her gaze never shifting off of Danica for an instant.
Instead of answering as expected, Danica shot her a curious look. “I don’t remember that.” A slow, devious grin formed on her mouth and she added, “Maybe you should remind me.”
34
Aboard the Shard, the holo-gymnasium walls were lined with matte gray paneling and stippled with silver holo-vid orbs lining every surface. Off to the side, there was some commotion; Jegra shouted at Callestra to duck down.
Callestra dipped low and Jegra leaped over her, shooting into the air with such speed she blurred out of sight then reappeared again once she’d reached the zenith of her jump. Here she seemed to hang in air for an impossible amount of time before abruptly plummeting down onto the back of the Centurion battle scorpion.
It wobbled with the weight of her coming down on it and then took several clumsy steps before finding its footing. Rising back up on all six legs, it tried to shake her off, but it was no use. She merely dug her fingers into its armored back and began prying off its metal plating with her bare hands.
Callestra heard the metal scream as if in agony as she wrenched it open, exposing the red and blue fibrous wiring of the inside, which looked exactly like sinews of densely packed muscle.
As this was happening, a tall and athletic Dagon woman, wearing only a sports bra and spandex athletic shorts, dashed onto the scene. She held a massive battle axe in her hands and struggled to carry it due to its ridiculous size. With a grunt, she called out, “Here!” and swung her whole body in a full circle, like a shot putter, gaining enough momentum to toss it up to Jegra.
Jegra reached out with one arm and caught the handle of the axe in her hand, holding it straight out as though it were a wooden staff.
“Thanks,” she said. Then taking it in both hands and raising it high above her, with a grunt, she brought down the pommel of the axe directly onto the exposed circuitry of the robot.
Sparks hissed as the loud crunch of the axe’s head bit into the strands of wire. A grouping of frayed copper wires curled up as she struck another blow to the soft, exposed area, sending up another spray of sparks which danced along her sweaty bronzed skin.
The robot’s servos whined in protest as it tried to continue fighting the two women, but already handicapped, its mainframe fried, all it could do was kick spastically.
Eventually, the Scorpion toppled over and Jegra rode it all the way to the ground like a surfboard. It plowed face-first into the dirt and she leapt off its back and landed light on her feet, hopping and skipping to counter the momentum, until she skidded to a stop. She made it look so effortless; it was as though she’d done it a thousand times before.
“Impressive,” Callestra said, smiling at Jegra as the empress swung her axe across her shoulders and casually sauntered over to her.
A demur smile formed on Jegra’s chapped, sunbaked lips. “When you invited me to join you in the gymnasium for some vigorous training, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. You know, on account of you being an insanely competitive, raging bitch and all.”
This caused Callestra to laugh. “I assure you, you’re a royal pain in my ass, too. And I wouldn’t even be here right now if Lord Emperor Dakroth hadn’t ordered me to do so.”
This caught Jegra by surprise. “Really? What did he say, exactly?” she asked, her stern gaze softening into one of genuine interest as she gazed inquisitively at Callestra.
“That’s it. Just...get to know Jegra better,” she answered with a shrug. “And since we’re both warriors, I felt this would be an adequate bonding experience.”
Jegra let the axe head drop to the ground and using it like a walking stick to lean on, she rested both hands on the pommel and laughed. “And how’s that going?” she asked.
Callestra eyed Jegra up and down. “It’s not completely...awful...” she admitted with a bit of reluctance. A wry grin formed on her lips as she assessed the empress.
In that moment, as they giggled like a couple of old friends, she felt that maybe she’d misjudged Jegra. She wasn’t so much her rival as she was the sort of warrior that Callestra aspired to be. That admission was hard enough to realize, let alone make. But maybe that had been Dakroth’s intent all along?
There moment was interrupted by the chirp of an incoming call and Jegra answered it.
Lycia appeared as a blue glowing hologram before the two women. She looked at them both and then taking an over dramatic bow, said, “My Grace.”
“You needn’t do that,” Jegra said. “You’re like my own daughter.”
Lycia straightened herself and then looked over at Callestra and made a lewd purring noise.
“Who’s this snot-nosed gahki?” Callestra asked, scowling at Lycia and folding her arms across her chest in disapproval at the unwelcome intrusion.
When Callestra looked back, the girl was making two sets of scissors with her fingers and mashing the wedges together in an explicit manner. Wriggling her eyebrows, she made sensual moaning noises which prompted Jegra to speak up.
“Callestra Van Morgan,” Jegra said, gesturing to the hologram of Lycia, “meet my daughter, Lycia Alakandra.”
Callestra shot Jegra a stunned look. “Your what?!”
It didn’t make any sense. First of all, the girl was half Jegra’s age, and she knew for a fact that humans didn’t have extensive lifespans. Not like Dagons or Nyctans, whose species each lived in the range of two and three hundred cycles, respectively.
What’s more, she was positive Jegra hadn’t been impregnated at thirteen cycles young by any Dagon person. So, how in the bloody Helios could she have an eighteen-year-old daughter of Dagoni lineage?
“It’s a long story,” she replied, waving her hand as if to brush aside the details and shelve them for now. “What’s up, Lycia?”
“I don’t know how to put this,” she began, throwing her hands on her hips, “but your girl, Dani, is...well...” She paused and took a breath for dramatic effect before continuing on. “It’s probably better if I just show you.”
“Then show me,” Jegra said somewhat impatiently, tired of all this dancing around the subject. Whatever it was, she was sure she could handle it.
The hologrid flickered all around them and suddenly they were standing in the middle of an arena on some distant world.
Lycia waved her hands and the hologrid of the gymnasium flickered and then the battleground simulation faded and reformed as the arena back on the planet Arkadia.
There was a loud, throaty scream, and all three women turned to see Danica, dressed in traditional Arkadian shell armor and a scarcely supportive, sand colored bikini that did little to dissuade the ebb and flow of her bulging bits.
“What’s all this?” Jegra asked, puzzled by what she was watching.
“This is from yesterday,” Lycia explained, waving her hand and skipping through the holovid to the point she wanted to show her.
Danica clutched another female gladiator, an orange skinned Polletesian from Gamidon’s fourth moon, Pollex, in her arms. The opponent struggled in vain to break free of Danica’s standing chokehold.
With a crunch, the Polletesian’s neck snapped and her arms fell limply by her sides. She sank to her knees; her lifeless eyes stared out in shock as the unbearable weight of the realization of her demise remained permanently frozen onto her face.
Danica relinquished her chokehold and the woman tottered briefly then toppled onto her side. Dead.
Thick orange blood dribbled down Danica’s lavender skin as she stood over the dead woman. Panting heavily, she turned to face the crowd, ignoring the large dagger that was lodged in her back, just over her left shoulder blade.
A large Dragonian man, his body emblazoned with a cross-hatching of scars, roared out and thumped his chest domineeringly as he postured for the crowd.
Danica huffed angrily and sent a tuft of loose hair fluttering away from her eyes. She looked over at the towering meathead who stood a dozen or so meters off looking unimpressed.
He suddenly decided to take her lack of intimidation personally and charged her, roaring out his most daunting battle cry as he lumbered toward her.
Without even hesitating, she reached behind her back, ripped the dagger out and, with the snap of her wrist, flung it across the arena at him.
It spun through the air and impaled the lizard man squarely between his eyes before he had made it halfway to her. His combined momentum and muscle-memory carried his lifeless body forward another couple of steps before he crashed to the dirt and his corpse, finally, skidded to a stop.
His jaw dislocated, his tongue flopped out onto the ground and there was a short silence that settled across the stadium while the audience took a moment to process what had just happened.
Right at the moment it became clear that Danica had won her match, the crowd erupted with roars and applause. As was her style, she fought fast, dirty, and lethal. And she never resorted to using any of her powers—a fact she was personally proud of.
Exhausted from the match, Danica stood hunched over, barely able to stand, her lungs burning as she gasped for each breath, which seemed not to want to come. Amid the ongoing laudation, she finally took a large, achingly deep breath and then, mustering up her last ounce of remaining strength, raised her left arm victoriously.
The arena erupted with another burst of roaring ovation and the telecaster announced her new ranking, coming in at twenty-fourth on the competition bracket and still climbing.
“Ladies and gentle creatures, with this string of victories, the Traitor of Dagon is a traitor to us no more,” the announcer informed the crowd. "Redeemed in the arena, Danica Valencia has regained our confidence as a warrior elite...as...” he paused as he contemplated the best suitable name for this new, meaner, version of Danica then finally revealed, “The Queen of Menace and Mayhem!”
The crowd cheered again. This time it was for the rebirth of Danica as a champion.
Jegra turned to Lycia with a half angry and half astonished look. “What’s this?” she asked, still trying to figure out what the Helios it all meant.
