Logan would be the best at adapting.
Recreating the glitch had been surprisingly easy. Logan hadn’t done any basic coding since high school, but he was able to change which consciousness got uploaded to which body. Thankfully, they could extrapolate the minds from the human Logan DNA, and upload them directly into the dinosaur bodies. A half dozen Logans running around with the minds of dinosaurs would have tipped anyone off.
He hoped the T-Rex and raptors were doing okay as the panel below him glowed green, and the door to the origin tubes opened up. Having champion clearance had its perks, for sure.
“Huzzah!” Victor said, following close behind as the two of them entered into the origin tubes.
It was a three-pronged attack. Yrsa and the dinosaurs causing the biggest ruckus, drawing all the guard droids and attack drones to the courtyard.
Crickett and James were working on the Seacole. Prying the doors open, getting people on board. Logan was hoping it was built like most medical ships. In theory, it could take off and into orbit without anyone piloting. They were designed to fly with everyone on board injured or incapacitated. A few buttons pressed and they’d break orbit.
At least, that was how they’d been designed in Logan’s time. This model was twenty years old by his time.
Regardless, Logan and Victor still had a job to do. Whatever happened, after tonight there would be no more Arena of Doom.
They approached the first origin tube. The fragments of bone from Yrsa.
“Okay…” Victor pressed a few buttons on the origin tube. “If I activate the transportation protocol, the sterilizer liquid inside should begin to equalize, meaning we can remove the tube.”
Logan nodded, taking a few steps back, and then slamming his heel into the glass.
It cracked, denting inward, Logan kicking it once more.
This time the glass burst, liquid seeping out. Logan kicked once more, making a hole big enough for his hand to fit through.
As the liquid poured out, filling the room with the stinging smell of antiseptic, Logan reached his hand in.
He pulled out the rib bones, the jaw fragment, and the large thick thigh bone. He walked over to the nearest recycling tube, beginning to slide the bones inside.
The machines inside would instantly begin to break the material down to its base components, readying them for restructure. No DNA could possibly survive the process.
“Ah.” Victor nodded in approval.
Logan looked at the thick thigh bone in his hands. It was strong, well preserved. Not as fragile as he thought it would be. He moved onto the next tube, a mummified foot of a Roman soldier inside.
He slammed it open with the thigh bone, smashing a few tubes and collecting the remains before carrying them to the recycling tube, destroying them on almost a molecular level.
Victor darted down the field of tubes, starting from the other end. He spun around, slamming his tail into the glass, smashing it open. Some of the body parts he put in the recycling tube. But Logan was sure he saw him sliding a few into his mouth, munching as they worked.
Alarms began to blare, Logan around a third of the way through. It was then he paused, looking the origin tube up and down.
His fingernail. The one from the original Logan Rexington. It was held up in the green tinged liquid, bobbing slightly.
Logan sighed, holding up the bone to smash in the glass. He had been given a second life to live. That was more than enough.
But as he brought the bone up to strike the glass, he felt two stabs in his back. He didn’t have time to react as electricity tore into his body, crackling through every inch of flesh. His muscles seized up, the bone dropping from his arms as he crumbled to the floor, shaking.
Agent Glass silently walked up to him, looking him up and down. At least, that was what Logan thought he was doing. It was hard to tell behind those large reflective aviators.
“Oh, you have no idea how much you’re about to suffer.” He grinned wide, his teeth practically gleaming as he crouched down just above Logan. “Do you know what happened last time? When you tried to escape? Oh yes, you aren’t the first clone of Logan Rexington. When you tried to escape before, we literally skinned you alive. This time I think we can do better. You ever had an acid shower and dermigel shower at the same time? Liquid both burning your skin away, and healing you up? Your skin melding together and melting at the same time. The deformed skin can have fun results. Maybe your eyelids will melt together, maybe your mouth. Who knows? We also have chemicals, medicines that means you can’t pass out from the pain. You can stay awake for months, maybe even years in absolute agony. I’ll listen to your screams to lull me to sleep. And this time, if you die? We’ll clone you from the clone, each echo getting more and more deformed, each memory of agony passed on until you are a husk of a being. There is no escape, you can’t—”
Whatever Agent Glass was about to say was cut off as a blur of green slammed into him from the side. The monocle cracked as it fell on the floor, Victor swinging his claws into Agent Glass’s flesh. He screamed, Logan struggling with all his might to move his eyes as Victor snarled with primal fury.
“No, stop!” Agent Glass pleaded. “I was always good to you! I—”
Victor clamped his mouth onto the bottom of Agent Glass’s jaw and snapped back, pulling with all the might a velociraptor could muster.
Thankfully, Logan had just enough muscle control to close his eyes. He only had to listen to the tearing sounds, the strange gurgled scream, as Agent Glass’s jaw was torn clear from his face.
A few moments later, the screams stopped, only the sound of munching and alarms to fill up the great hall of origin tubes.
Logan twitched his fingers, slowly pushing himself up as the blood from Agent Glass began to pool around his body.
Victor sat in the middle of the torn apart man, completely covered in blood. His eyes wide, he bit down on the fingers of a severed arm, chewing on the digits like they were potato chips.
He moaned in delight from the food, his eyes rolling back slightly as he ate.
“Oh, I do apologize.” Victor reached into the inside of his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief. He wiped his mouth, then his jacket, the handkerchief staining crimson red in an instant. “Fresh food just tastes so much better!”
Logan raised an eyebrow, the scar above his eye crinkling slightly. “Wh… what happened to ‘do no harm’?”
“Ah, yes…” Victor stood up, still holding the severed arm in one hand. He offered out his other raptor claw, Logan taking it, the blood smearing on his palm as he shakily stood up. “Technically I shall do no harm to my patients. Agent Glass was not one of my patients. Agent Glass was an arsehole.”
Logan nodded in approval as Victor then spun around, slamming his tail into the nearest origin tube. The glass smashed open, Logan just able to put his hand in, grabbing his single solitary fingernail.
Victor carried on chewing as he moved to the next tube, smashing it open with his tail. Logan knew he should destroy his last remaining DNA sample. Put the fingernail in the recycling tube. Heck, even let Victor eat it.
But as the raptor munched on the severed arm and smashed another origin tube, Logan couldn’t help but slide his fingernail into one of the pouches on his trousers.
He didn’t know why, but something told him he would need it later.
Chapter 35
Crickett peered her head out from the corridor, darting back in as a loose chunk of metal slammed into the wall next to her.
It was absolute fucking chaos.
The T-Rex marched towards a group of guard droids, the bullets tearing through his body as he lunged on top of them. His giant body smashed into them, pummeling into the machines, even digging them into the ground below. There were a handful of raptors running around, lunging at other droids, pulling at their arms as the gladiators from the arena used broken pieces of metal to begin smashing them apart.
And on top of the atmospire was the most bea
utiful thing Crickett had ever seen. Yrsa, a chain gun in hand, straddling a velociraptor, firing up into the drones above. She let out a primal roar, her bulging arm muscles glistening in sweat as she fired.
Crickett bit her bottom lip, feeling dizzy. It took her a few moments to realize someone was calling her name.
“Crickett! We moving or what?!”
She turned to look at James, crouched behind her, the corridor brimming with gladiators. They were all waiting for the perfect moment. There was only one way to get to the Seacole, and it was charging through the courtyard.
With the T-Rex down, their chances were getting worse by the second.
“GO!”
Crickett stayed by the doorway, ushering clones through as James led the charge. He moved swiftly, not stopping to attack anyone or anything. All he did was find the path, darting between downed guard droids, dodging broken drones falling from the sky, avoiding the wagging tails of the raptors tearing into robots.
He dashed forward, a gaggle of geishas following close behind. As expected, any guard droids automatically targeted the highest threats. The raptors, the Viking with the chain gun. They practically ignored the whole swarm of clones moving past them.
Crickett kept her eyes peeled as the clones rushed by her. The ninja darted by so fast, Crickett’s black hair blew into her face. But Yateley was easy to spot.
“Oh thank God!” She grabbed him by the arm, stopping him as Marge slithered past. “We need your help! Get out there and take on those droids!”
Yateley glared at her, then looked out into the courtyard. Grimsaw smashed a large hunk of metal into the arm of a guard droid as a raptor pulled at its leg. Oog was wrapped around another droid, smashing its faceless head in with a metal bar.
All the while Yrsa was firing up into the sky, the bullets from her chain gun tearing into the drones. There were still dozens left, but her aim was getting better with every one she destroyed.
“FOR VALHALLA!” she roared, letting loose a hearty laugh as a drone landed by the feet of the raptor she rode.
Yateley smirked. “I think they’re doing just fine.”
With that, he strode out into the courtyard.
If she’d actually convinced him it would have been a miracle, but Crickett had still done her part.
Kept Yateley back just a few seconds, so he was all on his own.
As he stepped out into the courtyard, one of the raptors with blue paint across his eye stopped tearing into the guard droid, leaping in front of Yateley, snarling.
“Foul beast, let me pass!” Yateley said.
It was Crickett’s idea to show the dinosaurs the footage. Of Yateley snapping Logan’s neck during the first rebellion. Of their fight in the barracks. They all knew how much of a danger he was.
The only clone from the barracks they weren’t taking with them.
“You realize how much of a bastard you have to be,” Crickett said, walking up behind him, “when you’re worse than the Nazis? The goddamn Nazis?!”
Another raptor jumped up, the three of them surrounding Yateley.
He looked around, clearly sizing up his options. Would he try to attack Crickett? She’d be the easiest to fight, but it would mean turning his back on two raptors.
“I haven’t done anything!” Yateley growled.
“Not yet,” Crickett said, “and not you specifically. But you, other yous – have been absolute bastards.”
One of the raptors snarled, taking a step forward.
“This ends now.”
The two raptors reared back, ready to strike.
Then one of their heads exploded, splattering Yateley, Crickett, and the other raptor in blood. All that remained was a smoking neck stump, the body of the raptor crumbling to the ground.
All heads turned to the other end of the courtyard.
Lord Zemka. No fruity cocktail in his hand this time. Instead, he held what looked like a musket of some sort. Crickett had seen them a few times in the arena, the weapons of the future.
If she remembered correctly, this one was called a plasma rifle.
“Sir Yateley!” Lord Zemka called out. “I will share all my riches with you, if you bring me the head of Logan Rexington!”
Yateley grinned. “It will be done!”
He turned on his heels and ran. The other raptor leapt forward as Lord Zemka took aim.
Crickett lunged, grabbing the raptor by his tail, hauling him back. His clawed feet left grooves in the sand as the glob of heated plasma soared past, instead smashing into one of the guard droids behind them.
“EVERYONE FUCKING RUN!” Crickett bellowed at the top of her lungs.
Lord Zemka chuckled, taking aim with his plasma rifle once more, his teeth gleaming as he fired.
The remaining clones and raptors began to scatter. Most of the drones in the air had been obliterated, and barely a few guard droids remained.
But a plasma rifle changed things. Definitely for the worse.
Crickett dashed forward, the Logan raptor next to her easily keeping pace. As they ran, a ball of purple plasma flew past them.
Grimsaw screamed, his hand evaporating in a second, the plasma amputating the limb and melting the metal bar he was carrying. He roared in pain, Oog darting away from them, rushing after Yateley as he disappeared into the other corridor, heading towards the Seacole.
Another plasma ball, blasting into the wall next to them.
Another.
Crickett wasn’t going to make it to the end of the courtyard.
But there was somewhere else she could go.
“Come on!” She grabbed the raptor by the scaly wrist, changing their direction.
Heading straight towards the atmospire.
Yrsa took aim with her chain gun, squeezing down on the trigger, aiming towards Lord Zemka.
The drone flew down, blocking the bullets, as another machine fired at her.
The laser blasted into her forearm, the chain gun dropping from her grasp. The raptor beneath her leapt off the atmospire, following Crickett and the other raptor as they all leapt inside.
All four of them in there safely, Crickett pressed the buttons she’d pressed dozens, maybe even hundreds of times over the past two years.
The floor beneath them shook, Yrsa clutching her injured arm as the atmospire began to rise, the door slamming shut. Crickett went to the window, watching as Lord Zemka took a few shots at them, the plasma searing the outside of the elevator, but causing no real damage on the incredibly thick metal.
A few moments later he turned back to the dwindling crowd, firing once more.
But almost all of the clones had made it out.
Crickett breathed in deep, Yrsa sweating, the two raptors panting as they got their breath back. There was a moment of strange quiet, only the low rumble of the atmospire as it began its ascent up to space.
There was nothing any of them could do.
It was up to the Seacole now.
“You’re hurt!” Crickett rushed forward, tearing a piece of her shirt off, wrapping it around Yrsa’s arm. The Viking nodded in appreciation as one of the raptors let out a strange clicking sound.
Crickett looked up from her kneeled position on the floor as the raptor held a first aid kit clumsily in his clawed hands.
“Oh… right…”
Crickett took the kit from him and got to work tending to Yrsa’s wounds. One on the arm, and another semi-healed wound on the leg.
She focused solely on the task at hand, even though Yrsa was so close she could feel her warm breath on her neck.
It was going to be a long ride up the atmospire, that was for sure.
Chapter 36
James watched in awe as Marge slithered through the gap in the sealed door. The strongest gladiators had worked themselves to exhaustion, smashing into the welded door with knives, with chunks of metal from downed flying droids. Finger were bruised, some of them bleeding. James had shoved his own fingers into the gap, pulling at the jagged meta
l as hard as he could. The dermigel stung as he rubbed it into his hands, the flesh growing back on his fingers.
But when the gap was big enough, Marge slid through without issue, her boneless body pressing itself thinner than a couple of inches. It was like watching water spin down the drain.
A few moments later there was a satisfying click as she pressed some buttons on the other side.
The door slid open, James moaning in relief.
The rest of the Seacole was now open.
Sure, there were other doorways that were sealed shut. But they had at least one entrance into the rest of the ship.
“Marge!” he said as she slid back out, the other gladiators beginning to storm their way in. “Find the bridge. You’ll want to activate something called a standard takeoff program. Or was it protocol?”
None of the gladiators had written anything down for their escape plan. They didn’t want any physical evidence whatsoever of what they were planning.
“Either way. Get up there and get this ship going.”
Marge saluted with one of her tentacles, moving out into the ship. If Logan was right, the ship would take off into orbit without issue.
If he was right.
James rushed back down through the metal corridors of the Seacole, heading back to the main doorway. He’d walked in and out through the doorway a dozen times, stopping for the first time in months to examine his surroundings.
He stood, looking out onto the ground, the piece of tarp protecting them from the elements. A ten-foot gap between buildings. Well, one building and one space ship.
He’d only just found out a few days ago that the medical bay wasn’t a permanent structure. It was a ship. Sitting just outside the rest of the arena.
When the sound of bullets stopped echoing out from the courtyard, James knew something had either gone really bad, or really good.
He waited a few moments, clutching his hands so tight his knuckles began to turn white.
Arena of Doom (Clone Squad #1) Page 19
