by A A Warren
Almost there… almost to the top!
The clank and whir of the enemy grew louder… The mechanical horde was relentless. They were swarming towards him from all sides.
The sides of the pyramid grew more and more narrow as he neared the top. He heard the clanking of metallic steps opposite him. He raced around and found another mech reaching up for the next step, preparing to climb to the peak.
Grabbing the machine's leg, Talon yanked the robot down. As the mech crashed into the lower step, Talon’s blade swung through the air, and plunged into the thing's armored skull. Sparks flew past him, and the glowing eyes set in the mech's skeletal face dimmed. The mechanical body slumped against the side of the pyramid.
Talon tried to pull his blade free, but it stuck in the sparking mech.
No matter, he thought… Soon I’ll have no need of it.
Using the fallen mech’s shoulder as a step, he climbed up to the final ledge. His wounds burned with white-hot agony. Talon gritted his teeth, pulled himself over the edge. He stood at the top of the towering structure.
The cheers of the crowd rose even louder, drowning out all other sound. Talon could no longer hear the clanking of the mechs, or even his own panting breath.
All he heard was his name.
TALON THE SLAYER! TALON THE SLAYER!
The top of the pyramid was a circular platform, only a few meters in diameter.
A weapon rod floated above the platform, surrounded by a shaft of light. The shaft was about a meter long, and studded with various power cells and magnetic control flanges. It hung suspended in an anti-grav lifter field.
Talon’s lips curled into a grim smile. He dropped his remaining scimitar, letting the weapon clatter to the ground.
He spotted the claws of another mech, grasping at the edge of the platform. A skeletal head rose into view, staring up at him with its unblinking eyes.
The horde was coming…
Racing forward, Talon reached into the shaft of light. He felt a tingle as the lifter field touched his flesh.
His fist wrapped around the handgrip of the strange, ornate rod. He pulled it free, and lifted it above his head. As loud as the crowd’s cheering was, it rose to an even greater crescendo as he activated the weapon.
A plasma blade, glowing as bright as a miniature sun, arched from the top of the weapon.
The beam of light surrounding him turned red.
Massive glowing numbers glowed to life on the dome overhead.
10… 9… 8…
Talon raced to the edge of the platform. The blade of the plasma axe crackled and hummed as he swung it in a wide arc. He had taken the pyramid, rose to the highest point.
Now he had to hold it… The seconds were counting down.
The glowing axe emitted a whining hum, as its blade melted through metal and super-heated the air around it. A wave of mechs swarmed onto the platform, looming over the powerful gladiator. The metal bodies piled up, scrambling over themselves as they reached for him… They grasped at him with their claws, and swung their blades at his flesh.
Then the horde of enemies broke and gave way, as his glowing axe made short work of his clanking opponents. The weapon tore through the mech's arms and legs, leaving sparking stumps in its wake… Twitching debris showered the floor of the arena. The plasma blade left a trail of orange fire as it sliced through the air.
7… 6… 5…
Almost there… Droplets of sweat poured down his face, and stung his eyes.
He swung the axe wildly, fighting on instinct. Whirling, spinning, jabbing…
A mech's blade slashed across his arm. Another struck his leg. His blood spilled across the platform, trickling over the edge like droplets of crimson rain.
Swinging behind him, his axe took off the head of his nearest assailant… He dipped low, and let the weapon continue its arc, chopping the legs from underneath a mech to his right.
4… 3… 2…
As he recovered his balance, another mechanical opponent rose up from the twisted metal carcasses. It towered over him, its long, razor-sharp blade poised to strike.
Talon’s war cry drowned out the cheering crowd. He swung his axe overhead. The pulsing blade descended, cleaving the mech from skull to sternum. Sparks exploded through the air, as the two halves flew apart. They tumbled in different directions, falling down the sides of the pyramid.
The red beam of light turned brilliant blue. A burst of triumphant music flooded the speakers. The remaining mechs froze in place, teetering and falling away from the lone warrior.
The music faded. The crowd hushed. Silence fell over the arena. Then the speakers crackled back to life.
“Your champion has triumphed once again! Talon the Slayer has won!”
As the crowd burst into applause and cheers, Talon hefted the axe above his head. The pyramid lowered to the ground. Steam blazed from hydraulic vents as it slowly collapsed into itself. Talon remained standing. He ignored the pain from his wounds, the trails of blood and grease smeared across his limbs.
He ignored the scalding steam blasting from the jets around him. He even ignored the crowd, as they chanted his name over and over.
Everything faded into the background. A single thought raced through his mind, drowning out all other sensations…
I did it… I won.
I am free…
Chapter Three
Talon allowed a pair of guards to lead him through a dark tunnel beneath the arena. Although he towered over them in height, each guard wore head-to-toe battle armor. Heavy pulse rifles hung across their backs, and they wielded long, savage-looking neural pikes. Talon knew a single touch from the weapon's disruptor coils would flood his nerves with agonizing pain. He had experienced the stunning lash of such weapons before.
So he forced himself to stare straight ahead, and kept his temper in check. He ignored the indignity of the restraints binding his wrists, and the cold metal tang of the collar around his neck. Soon enough, they would be a distant memory.
Soon he would be free… Free to leave this desolate rock. Free to make his way through the stars that blazed across the arena’s eternal night sky.
The guards approached an ornate, gilded door. The gleaming entrance was set into a gnarled rock wall, part of a network of caves running beneath the arena. The thin, gaseous atmosphere of the planetoid outside was toxic to most life forms. Talon had spent five years sealed in these catacombs, breathing recycled air from life support systems. The clear dome of the arena was his only view of the outside world.
One of the guards touched a panel next to the door, and the golden panel slid into the rock. They led him forward into the large, spacious chamber beyond.
The room smelled of perfume and scented oils. The sickly-sweet odor barely masked a damp, underlying scent of sweat and mold. Colorful silk tapestries hung from the walls. Glow orbs hovered overhead, bathing the chamber in soft, pale light. Talon heard whispering and laughter from the shadows.
He turned, and saw a pair of Angelion courtesans roll across a circular bed. The massive piece of furniture dominated the far end of the chamber. The Angelions were a matched pair, one male, one female. Their pleasure-enhancing antenna pulsed with an inner light, and their shimmering gold skin reflected the glow orbs overhead. The pair looked up, and regarded him with half-lidded eyes. The female laughed and gave him an inviting smile. Then they turned their attention back to each other, their fingers tracing the curves of their naked, entwined bodies.
A squat, heavyset figure strode into the room. A thick fur robe was belted around his rotund body. His curly purple hair was blown astray, mussed by the beams of a sonic shower, no doubt. His beady, piggish eyes darted from the pleasure slaves on the bed to Talon’s muscular body. He uttered an exaggerated sigh, and nodded to the guards.
“Oh for Iberon’s sake, are those necessary?” His booming voice spoke with the authority of one used to being obeyed. “Release this great hero at once!”
“Lord Omdur
a, I—” the guard’s hesitant voice crackled through the speaker in his helmet.
“I said at once!”
As the guards complied, the man known as Rufa Omdura waved his hand over a panel in the wall. The panel slid open, revealing a rack of crystal bottles. He removed a brilliant crimson decanter, pried out the stopper, and inhaled deeply.
“Ah, Nova Centauri red. Join me, my boy! I promise, the swill in your quarters is nothing compared to this!”
Talon rubbed his wrists, as the metal cuffs sprang loose and fell to the floor. One of the guards scooped them up. Then the pair stepped back, flanking the exit.
“I am grateful for the luxuries you provide.” Talon forced himself to mind his manners. But his eyes glowered, and the impatience in his voice was impossible to mask. “But, it is time for me to leave. I am eager to be on my way.”
Rufa handed Talon a glass of the shimmering liquid, then took a sip from his own goblet.
“Patience boy, patience. What good is freedom if you don’t take time to savor the finer things in life?”
Talon shrugged, and took a sip of wine. He glared at the squat, pacing man over the rim of his glass, then licked his lips and nodded. “It is good.”
Rufa turned to the panting aliens writhing on his bed. “You hear that? Finest vintage in the galaxy, and that’s all he has to say. ‘It is good.’ Ha!”
The Angelions tittered. Again, the female’s languid eyes darted across Talon’s muscular body and blood-streaked armor. Rufa squinted at her in irritation.
“You two, leave us. I have business to discuss with the lad. It won’t do to have you distracting him.”
The pair disentangled, and wrapped their golden-hued flesh in silks and sheets from the bed. They padded from the room, the female sparing a second to cast one last leering glance over her shoulder.
Rufa shook his head. “It’s a good thing you made me a fortune tonight, my boy. I’ll end up spending most of it on the talents of those two lovelies.”
“I hope you enjoy yourself, my lord. But as we agreed, it’s time for me to go.”
Rufa nodded absent-mindedly. “Yes, yes, I remember. One hundred victories in the arena. Impressive tally. But you must realize, this arena, this planet… This is just a tiny rock, wobbling around the outer reach. The inner worlds, the heart of the Dominion… that’s where the real prize lies.”
Talon took another sip of wine, and regarded Rufa like a cat, sizing up unknown prey. “I wouldn’t know. Nor do I care.”
Rufa gestured with his glass, allowing the liquid to slosh over the rim and spatter the floor. “Don’t be so hasty. Think of it! Huge crowds, ten times the size of here. A hundred times! And the fighters there are soft, spoiled… They’re nothing like you. Why, you’d be a sensation! Talon the Slayer, savage warrior of the outer reaches!”
“Rufa… we had a deal.”
The corpulent man’s voice took on a sly, conspiratorial tone. “You’d get a cut of the purse, my boy. High General Kyr has his hands full with that upstart prince and his rebel forces. He needs entertainment like you. A spectacle, to keep his citizens occupied while he deals with that pretender to the throne. His supporters are all wealthy nobles, you know. They’d shower you in chips!” Rufa drank down a long gulp of wine, and wiped his mouth. His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “And their wives would pay double to visit your bed…”
Talon set down his glass. After years of bloody combat, a decade in slavery, all the while fighting and killing for men like Rufa, he had developed a second sense for treachery. He felt his blood boil, and his eyes glowered with rage.
“What have you done, Omdura? Why do you speak of this to me?”
Rufa took a step backwards, and gulped down another sip of wine.
“Now now, boy. I did it for your own good. Trust me, this is for the best. You’ll see. You—”
Talon’s muscular arm shot out. His thick fingers wrapped around Rufa’s throat.
“I have fought for you on this desolate rock for the last five years!" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I’ve spilled blood, both my enemies’ and my own. I’ve slaughtered beasts and men, torn mechs asunder, and filled the pockets of your robe with chips of all colors.”
“Gu… Gah…” the man’s reply was a gagging cough, as he struggled to breathe through Talon’s iron grip.
Talon heard the guard's footsteps stomping behind him, but in his rage, he paid them no mind. His fist squeezed tighter around Omdura’s throat.
“You fat, greedy little man… What have you done? Out with it!”
Suddenly, he heard an energy discharge, crackling in the air behind his shoulder. Before he could turn, a wave of indescribable pain flooded his nerves. He could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing else… The agony overrode all other sensations.
The neural pike swung again, striking the side of his head. He saw a brief white flash. It seemed to last no more than a second. But when his vision cleared, he was laying on the floor, with no memory of how he got there.
Rufa bent over him, his sweating bulk supported by the two guards. He coughed and sputtered as he struggled to regain his breath.
“You ingrate!” he snapped. “I should toss you back in the blood pits where I bought you from! I have given you everything… a place to live, the clothes on your back, weapons and training to fight! It was I who taught you to speak, taught you to read! And this is how you repay me?”
Talon staggered to his feet.
“I am your slave. Nothing you gave me came without a cost,” he growled. "And the price was my freedom."
“Guards,” Rufa snapped.
One of the guards touched a small, glowing panel on his belt.
A wave of blue energy sprung from the collar around Talon’s neck, enveloping his body in a stasis field. He struggled to move… to strike the guards with his fists, or clench Rufa’s throat once more in his iron grip. But he was frozen in place. He could not even blink.
Rufa stood before him and shook his head. “It didn’t have to be like this, Talon. This could be a good thing for you. You see, you’re no longer my slave. I’ve traded your contract. Did it weeks ago, before you earned tonight’s victory.”
Talon struggled to form words, but the stasis collar held him in place. Even breathing was a struggle, and only shallow, ragged puffs of air entered his lungs.
“A Lord of the Dominion, named Sartarus. He’s your new owner now. Why he wanted an outer world dreg like you is anyone’s guess, but he sent me the chips once he verified your scan. He paid me a hundred times what you’ve earned in this arena… no small sum, to be sure.”
Talon forced his mouth to move, to form a single word. It was a titanic effort, as the field sapped all inertia and motion from his body.
“Why?” he gasped.
Rufa sighed. “My boy, the galaxy is complicated. Things aren't as simple as they may seem to you in the arena. And freedom… that is not within my power to give. Before each fight, you stand beneath the red beam. It scans you, confirms your identity, yes?”
Talon was silent, unable to muster enough strength for even a curse.
Rufa nodded. “It’s called the blood scan. Every single blood cell in your body, trillions of them, have been cataloged and registered. And no technology known to man, not even the dark energy of alien mystics, can alter every drop of a man’s blood… Not without killing him, at least. Your blood is registered in the archive as a slave. On any civilized world, you’ll always be scanned, with or without your knowledge. Without a master, the authorities will tag you as a runaway slave. By Dominion law, as decreed by High General Kyr, you are property. If I release you, another will claim you. You have no rights, no standing… You will never be free, not the way you wish. It’s simply not in your blood.”
Rufa smoothed out his robe. He poured himself another glass of wine, as he glared at the frozen figure before him.
“I’m sorry, my boy. I truly am. I lied to you. Gave you false hope, I know. But eve
ry man has his price. That’s a lesson you’d do well to learn.”
He drank another gulp of the glowing red liquid, letting it stain his lips and chin as he gulped it down. Then he waved his hand, and gestured to the guards.
“Take him away.”
The two guards gripped him by the arms, and dragged him to the door. Talon wanted to struggle, fight back. Or at least curse the bloated, tiny man who had betrayed him. But he could do nothing.
“Wait!”
The guards stopped, as Rufa turned back to face them. He stepped closer to Talon, sizing the man up with his beady eyes. His voice regained its commanding tone, now that the powerful gladiator was immobilized.
“One last thing. I have a surprise for you later. You may consider it a parting gift.”
He sipped his wine, and turned away.
“That will be all. Don’t hurt him too much. Can’t damage the merchandise, after all.”
The door slid open, and the guards dragged him out. One of them swung his neural pike, striking Talon's back. Again, he felt the overwhelming wave of pain spasming through his body. The white flash filled his vision, and his eyes fluttered closed.
As he fell to the ground, he slipped into the cool, dark embrace of oblivion.
Chapter Four
Talon’s body glistened with sweat. His powerful arms pulled his chin up to the steel bar that hung from the roof of his quarters. He panted for breath, then lowered himself and repeated the exercise. His eyes still flashed with rage, and his bronze skin was flushed from exertion. He had performed the training routine for hours now, each move drilled into muscle memory by his old battle instructor. He had hoped the exercise would calm his jangled nerves. But every fiber of his body still felt raw and tingling, a side effect left over from the touch of the guard’s pikes.
He pushed the pain from his mind, and focused on his movements. His shoulder blades pinched together. The muscles in his back popped like metal cords as he raised and lowered his body again and again, at a slow, steady pace. Then, with one last gasp of breath, he yanked his chest up, spun over the bar, and released his grip. He flew forward, spinning into an aerial summersault. After flipping through the air and landing on his feet, he sank to his knees to absorb the impact.
