Galactic Arena Box Set

by Dan Davis

  Rothbard nodded. “Your suit cameras were not operating due to the alien interference fields. We have reviewed your team’s verbal reports but we would like to hear further detail from you.”

  “Okay,” Ram said, glancing at the aliens just a few meters away behind the bars. “What do you want to know?”

  They all started talking at once but Rothbard shouted them down. “One of the most fundamental questions we have is regarding this species’ individual variation. You can see it right now, with the larger specimen captured during the last attack and the smaller one you captured and brought back with you.”

  “Got to stop you already,” Ram said. “I didn’t capture it. That one came with us voluntarily. I said this in my report.”

  The scientists looked at each other. “We wondered if you could clarify,” Marshall said. “We wondered if perhaps you were speaking metaphorically.”

  “What?” Ram said. “No, it was locked up. It was a prisoner and it helped us to find the physicist and then it escaped with us, all by itself. It was only when we came out of the shuttle on the airstrip that Sergeant Gruger had his team jump on it and tie it up and then they dragged it back here. It didn’t even resist them while they were beating the shit out of it.”

  “Indeed,” Dr. Rothbard said. “It is a remarkable specimen. Different from any of the others I have dissected and examined. Different, certainly from the other living specimen that we have in custody.” He gestured at it.

  “Physically different? Other than being smaller?”

  The scientists laughed, to varying degrees.

  “For one thing, the skin of this creature has a distinctly reddish hue, rather than the typical yellow.”

  Ram looked at it. “It’s encased in one of those suits. How can you tell?”

  “It allowed us to temporarily remove a portion of the covering garment they wear for environmental protection. Lord knows, we have unfastened dozens of them from the corpses left upon the battlefield. This one has red skin.”

  “Alright,” Ram said. “And what is the significance of that?”

  The scientists exchanged looks.

  “We don’t know,” Marshall said.

  “Not yet,” Soules said, smiling.

  “Could be anything,” Grahams said. “Pigmentation could be genetic. Probably is. Then again, perhaps the effect is due to some chemical that was given to the creature as part of the experiment. Perhaps, even, as an unintended consequence of said experiment.”

  “What experiment?” Ram asked.

  Dr. Rothbard scratched his chin. “Our hypothesis, based on the reports and our investigations of the red specimen, is that this friend you returned with is the victim of a scientific experiment.”

  “Victim?” Ram said.

  “He was locked away, was he not?” Rothbard said. “Suggests he was not a willing participant. And his skin appears to have a new type of bulbous organ of unknown purpose but of known origin. You see, it has human DNA.”

  Ram thought he had misheard. “I’m not a scientist or anything but that doesn’t seem exactly—”

  “Credible?” Grahams said.

  “Possible?” Marshall said.

  “Exactly,” Ram said. “Someone once told me that alien DNA and human DNA cannot be mixed? That it was not even conceivably possible.”

  Dr. Rothbard raised his hands. “That is true, yes. But the organs do not appear to be integrated with the rest of the organism in any way other than the blood supply.”

  Marshall scoffed. “It is far too early to make such conclusions. We will need—”

  Rothbard turned on her. “Who in the Hell said anything about conclusions?”

  “Who’s DNA is it?” Ram said. “Is it Milena’s?”

  “No,” Soules said. “Doubtful, although it is possible. She was my first thought, in fact. And then you were.”

  “Me?”

  “But I widened the database search and got a closer match. There was a man who fought in the arena, the first human to go up against a wheeler in a fight. A man named Raphael Santos. They called him Onca. Do you remember him?”

  “Vaguely,” Ram said. “He was a normal human so he got torn to pieces.”

  Soules nodded. “Seems like one of those pieces got taken away by the wheelhunter and they did something with it. They’ve had decades.”

  Grahams grunted. “Seems fitting.”

  The others nodded their heads.

  “Fitting?” Ram asked. “How so?”

  Grahams spoke for them. “Well, because a large portion of your own genetic makeup was taken from Raphael Santos. And, of course, Milena was one of his descendants.”

  “What?” Ram said. “She’s what? She and I were related?”

  “Yes,” Grahams said.

  “No, no,” Soules said. “Only in the sense that we are all related. You are like her great uncle thrice removed. And your DNA was heavily edited. You and she simply shared a distant, somewhat artificial ancestry.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did no one explain that to you?”

  Ram laughed. “I’m not sure. My memory isn’t what it used to be.” He shrugged. “Maybe it is. I don’t know.”

  “Did you get a sense that the alien knew who you were? As an individual?”

  “I have no idea how I would know that. No. I don’t know.”

  Dr. Rothbard pursed his lips. “In your report, you mentioned a red substance in the valley outside the alien HQ. A bacterial mass was how you described it. And you also reported within the lava tube, and I quote, some frothy red stuff bubbling in a cauldron. Could they be the same substance?”

  “No idea,” Ram said. “I suppose so. Do you think it might be the same reason it’s skin is red?”

  “No,” Grahams said.

  “Yes,” Soules said. “Here is what I think it might be. Listen, we are attempting to modify our Earth species to be able to thrive in this environment. Well, what if the aliens are doing the same? But not only are they seeding the planet with their own simple life forms, they are engineering their own people so they can respirate efficiently and cope with the UV light.”

  “You’re reaching,” Marshall said.

  “Am I?” Soules said. “I think it fits perfectly and I think my hypothesis is perfectly testable. So, we will see. Anyhow, it is simpler and more comprehensive than anything any of the rest of you have come up with.”

  That seemed to shut them up. “If you’ve got it all figured out,” Ram said. “I’ll just be outside at my post.”

  “No, no, no,” Dr. Rothbard said. “We would like you to converse with it. Use the translator. We think it is far more likely to speak to you than any of us. And it is far more likely to be friendly with us, unlike this big yellow bastard who attacked us with its weapons and is here against its will.”

  “I don’t think it will—”

  Behind them, the flimsy door burst open and Sergeant Gruger strode in. Ram’s heart sank further when Captain Cassidy stomped in after him, his face thunder.

  Why can’t they just leave me alone?

  Their armor was covered in that fine, twinkling rock dust so they had come straight from reviewing the new defenses.

  “Seti,” Cassidy shouted as they shouldered their way through the benches heaving with equipment. “Why in God’s name are you not at your post? You are a God damned joke. How you could have ever harbored the ambition to become a Marine when you are unable to perform the simplest, easiest of duties?”

  Did I ever want to be a Marine? I don’t remember. What am I, then? Am I a Marine or not? Am I an officer or not? Do I need to follow orders?

  He knew by now that arguing or saying anything would merely make things worse. It was what they wanted you to do so they could chew you out further.

  Ram said nothing.

  “Ah, I’m afraid that’s entirely my fault, Captain,” Rothbard said, holding his hands up in supplication. “I asked Mr. Seti here to assist us with our research. In fact, I insisted.”


  Cassidy’s eyes were flint when he turned on the scientist. “With respect, Doctor, he does not follow your orders. He should follow mine. Sadly, he has done nothing but demonstrate he is fundamentally incapable of doing so. Now, Dr. Rothbard and colleagues. I must ask you to evacuate this area while we deal with the prisoners.”

  Rothbard stared at Cassidy. “Deal with? Do you mean interrogate them? We are making remarkable progress with the translator. Progress that might just mean a Nobel Prize in our futures. It is wildly beyond any of our most optimistic predictions. But I think a meaningful interrogation is beyond our current capability. Perhaps in a day or two, we could struggle through into abstract concepts but that was why I asked Rama here in because we need to consider the culture of the creatures in order to—”

  “Dr. Rothbard,” Cassidy said, his voice shutting the other man up as abruptly as the slamming of an iron door. “We are going to kill them.”

  Over the heads of the Marines and the scientists, both wheelers stirred.

  “You can’t,” Rothbard said, his face flushing. “You damned brute, you can’t.”

  Gruger slid forward, a hand close to his side arm. “Steady now, Mr. Rothbard, sir. Let’s not get emotional.”

  Rothbard scowled. “Excuse me, Sergeant. I am having a discussion with your superior.”

  “There is no discussion to be had,” Cassidy said. “These creatures are in my custody and you have been allowed to perform your experiments on them. And now they will be destroyed.”

  “But why?” Marshall asked. “What has changed?”

  “They are massing for an attack once more. Our drones detected them assembling in the hills. More than ever before.” Cassidy sighed and Ram saw for a moment how the man was exhausted. His eyes were raw, wild. The captain blinked and his poker face was back again. “And the alien ship in orbit. According to the shuttle pilot and the calculations run by the AI, it won’t be long now before it swings back around to a close orbit of the planet. The battle between it and the Sentinel will happen soon, if it hasn’t already. Any enemy ship in orbit could bombard our position and wipe us out in a single strike.”

  Dr. Rothbard looked around at everyone. “Yes? And? Is this not precisely the same situation we have been in these last few days?”

  “But now it’s crunch time, sir. And we do have one new guest to consider.” Cassidy gestured to Ram and nodded at the smaller alien. “This one came home with him. And your tests on it have caused some of us to feel considerable concern.”

  Rothbard looked offended. “How so?”

  “It is, may I say, fucking disturbing. It may be a spy. It may have some vile purpose that you people missed in your examinations. I will not risk the fact that it may be dangerous.”

  The scientists collectively objected and the Marines tried to shout them down.

  Ram watched the wheelers. Both squirmed and writhed.

  He stepped up to the warring groups, looking down on them. “Is the translator still broadcasting to the aliens?” he asked.

  No one appeared to hear him. The big wheeler stood up taller.

  “Excuse me,” Ram said, wishing they had allowed him to retain at least his sword. “The aliens appear to be—”

  He recognized the attack when it occurred. It was the same as in the lava tube. A piercing agony that gripped the muscles and filled the ears with ringing. Blinded and in pain, the people fell, muscles spasming. Behind the bars of its cage, the large alien wrapped clawed hands around the steel, braced itself with the enormous feet. Ram found himself on one knee, his vision smeared.

  The wheeler pried the bars open until one broke off.

  Then another.

  Ram tried to step up to it but his muscles would not obey him and all he could do was watch through blurred sight while the wheeler ripped the scientists apart. It sliced their heads and necks open with the huge claws and dark blood sprayed over everyone, as high as the ceiling and showering the Marines in shining red.

  The monstrous creature reached down with one powerful hand to seize Captain Cassidy’s neck armor. The captain fought to bring up his sidearm but his hands were shaking.

  With the other clawed hand, the alien speared Cassidy’s head under the jaw and lifted it up, crunching bone and popping ligaments, skin, and veins as they stretched and ripped apart. It tore the captain’s head from his body, the skull thudded on the ceiling and bounced away.

  Gruger writhed on the floor, sliding in the pool of blood as the wheeler ran over him, squashing him beneath its footpads and rising into its full height.

  Ram fought his muscles even as they shook beneath him. The soles under his feet struggled to grip in the hot, stinking blood.

  Somehow, Ram got to his feet.

  He stood just in time to throw his hands up and grab the clawed hands that whipped in toward his face. Ram leaned on the alien’s arms and held fast to them. Its claws flicked and scraped on his armor at the shoulders and around his gorget.

  But he was weak and half blinded and his limbs would not obey. Ram slipped and went down on one knee while the monster forced him down further, forced him to the slick floor. One of the claws scraped through the skin on the top of his head, spilling his own blood down his face.

  This is it. Some soldier I turned out to be.

  The wheeler exploded in a shower of guts and blood, splattering over him. Its giant corpse fell on him, giant limbs collapsing into a bundle within its alien exosuit.

  Its terrible electromagnetic discharge ended just as abruptly as its life. The disabling effects switched off and Ram dragged himself free of the oppressive weight that leaked thick, stinking gore. He swiveled his head, searching for his savior, expecting to see Marines in the room with smoke drifting from the barrels of their guns.

  Instead, it was the other wheeler standing there, the small one. The one he had rescued from the lava tube. In upright wheel configuration.

  It held a wheeler pistol in its hand.

  Ram froze.

  The alien placed the weapon back on the workbench and rolled slowly back through the twisted, broken cage and settled itself in the corner.

  14.

  Kat slipped into the back of the hall while that mad bitch, Director Zuma was banging on to the assembled masses. The shuttle was almost ship shape but it was irritating to be summoned to the assembly while there was real work still to be done. But people liked meetings, for some reason. Meetings, group discussions. It was like a sickness that some people were unable to shake off. Meetings were a way to defer, diffuse or deflect cowardly individuals from taking decisions. Meetings were the opposite of action.

  But, she was an officer in the UNOP Navy. So, she attended, as requested.

  “The wheelhunters are massing once again, yes,” Zuma was shouting out to the mumbling crowd. “But we have time. We know they advance slowly, methodically. Once this meeting is concluded, however, we shall all take our posts, yes.”

  A voice shouted. “What about the alien already inside? We can’t have one loose, even if some of you are treating it like a pet! What’s to stop it doing what the other one did?”

  Around the hall, a few voices were raised in support of the general sentiment.

  “The remaining alien prisoner is under control,” Zuma said. “It is safely contained. And it was that alien that killed the other one and saved Rama Seti’s life in the process.”

  The giant loomed at the side of the hall, at the front. His eyes were staring at nothing, a thousand yards away. Kat had seen the look plenty of times, most of those times were recent. Maybe half the people in the hall had the same look. But they weren’t covered in dried blood, like Ram was. His short black hair was thick with clots and his armor was caked in flaky, brown blood.

  “Now,” Zuma continued, “the most senior military officer is Lieutenant Tseng.”

  Around her, Kat heard the grumbles and murmuring about the man’s suitability. While the Marines officer limped onto stage, the crowd muttered ques
tions about his ability, physically and mentally, and Zuma’s judgment for backing him.

  “Yes,” Lieutenant Tseng said as he dragged himself upright. “I am the ranking officer on the planet. And I am now in command of the defenses. We have lost Captain Cassidy. Sergeant Gruger survived the attack but is gravely injured. But please, everyone, do not despair. We are as strong tonight in arms and physical defenses as we were this morning and we shall fight off this next attack successfully. You all know the tactical situation. To those of you civilians who volunteered to bear arms, we all thank you. Our medical support teams are fully prepared. You who will carry ammunition to where it is needed and relay messages between fire teams will do so courageously, I have no doubt.”

  He stopped, looking around as if searching for what to say next.

  Kat winced. No doubt. It was a poor choice of words to end on. It was everyone’s doubt about Tseng that was the problem. She wondered if he would avoid it or address it.

  “You were expecting Captain Cassidy to lead you into this battle. We all were. But the UNOP Marine Corps is not about any one man or woman.” Tseng looked at face after face in the room, as if he was attempting to make eye contact with all of them. “You were each chosen for the mission for a reason. You are experts in your field, you are dedicated. You are creative problem solvers. Amongst the best that humanity has ever produced. And the Marines here are no different. Every private, corporal and sergeant on this outpost knows their business and each of them will do whatever is necessary to keep this outpost secure. The plan is good. We are well supplied. Now, all we need do is to each play our part and we will secure this planet for humanity against our enemy.”

  No one spoke. No one cheered their new military leader, which, as far as Kat was concerned, might be a worry. Then again, no one chucked anything at the man, so that was something, at least.

  Kat wished she could somehow bring Sheila to these things. It made sense to limit the breadth of data that AIs had access to but it would have been entertaining to have Sheila’s insights and comments. Even the new version of Sheila with the savaged memories would be better than standing at the back, alone, listening to adults needing to be reassured, as if they were children. What the civilians needed was for someone to stroke their hair while whispering that everything was going to be alright.