by A A Warren
Moving without thought, the powerful muscles in his legs propelled him into a backflip. The glowing beam passed underneath his tumbling body. Landing on both feet, he whipped his arm back and hurled one of his scimitars at Gajoro.
The man batted it aside with the club. Then his eyes grew wide with surprise, as he realized the block had left him off balance. He hopped over the beam as it shot towards him, but the glowing blade caught the edge of his rear foot. He roared in pain, as a trail of smoke rose from the blackened, severed flesh of his big toe.
Even as he landed, Talon hurled his second blade. The scimitar whistled as it spiraled through the air. Gajoro dropped to the metal floor with a loud crash, but he was too late… the weapon slashed across his right shoulder. The razor-sharp edge tore open the blubbery flesh above his bicep, sending a fountain of blood cascading down his arm.
Talon glanced left and right, noting the position of the two spinning energy beams. The higher one was coming around again. He ducked down, then slid his axe from his plasma harness. With a loud hum, the fiery plasma blade ignited. The crowd roared, stamping their feet in the stands, matching the pace of the frenetic drums.
The beam passed over Gajoro as he once again lumbered to his feet. He bared his metal teeth, and spittle flew from his mouth as he bellowed an angry roar. He wiped a reddened palm across his face, staining his skin with his own blood. “Kuta yarek, enough play! Now I crush you, little man!”
“You can try,” Talon replied through grit teeth.
He swung his blazing axe, but Gajoro heaved his bulk sideways, dodging the blow. The club cracked into Talon’s ribs again, sending a white-hot wave of agony through his nervous system.
He flew backwards and crashed into the floor. His vision blurred, and the drums and cheers of the crowed became muted. A single thought pounded through his head.
The beam! The beam is coming!
He staggered to his feet, watching as Gajoro jumped up and over the low energy blade. Talon rolled forward, diving over the deadly beam. He stood up and slashed at the big man’s legs, but his opponent jabbed down with the club. The weapon’s energy field blocked the plasma axe, and sent his swing rebounding backwards.
Before Talon could recover, Gajoro spun the club around, and smashed the weapon into Talon’s forearm. As the discharge screamed through his muscles, his fingers went limp. He lost his grip on his weapon, and the glowing axe clattered to the ground.
Talon reached out, but the high-pitched whine of the energy beam drew his attention. He yanked his arm back and threw himself into another roll.
Gajoro hopped over the beam and lumbered towards him. Before Talon could recover his senses, he felt Gajoro’s meaty fingers wrap around his throat. The crowd leapt to their feet as the hulking brute lifted him into the air by his neck. Cords of muscles popped in Talon’s neck and shoulders, as his opponent tightened his strangling grip.
Gajoro grinned at him, revealing a mouth full of bloodstained metal teeth. His dark beady eyes held a gleam of savage cruelty… With one arm, he hoisted Talon higher into the air. As if on cue, Talon saw a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye…
The higher energy beam ratcheted up several feet along the pole, and the lower beam deactivated. The match was rigged. Gajoro had been waiting for this moment. When the beam swung around again, it would pass over Gajoro.
But it would decapitate Talon’s head from his body.
He clawed at Gajoro’s fingers, but he could not pry the man’s grip loose. Even as he kicked and flailed, he could see a black cloud surrounding the edges of his vision. His hulking opponent was choking the life from him.
No, he thought. He won’t get the chance… the beam is coming!
Talon reared back and threw one of his legs over the hulking brute's shoulder. Levering his body prone in the air, he raised his other leg and slammed the sole of his boot into Gajoro’s face.
He heard a loud crack as the cartilage in the man’s nose snapped. Gajoro released his grip on Talon’s neck, and he tumbled to the ground. His opponent’s hands flew to his face, as a jet of blood gushed down his chin.
Gasping for air, Talon looked up… his vision cleared, and he saw the glowing beam swing overhead, continuing its circuit around the room. The lower beam remained deactivated.
Gajoro bellowed an inhuman scream of rage. He stomped towards Talon, his glowing club held before him in a two handed grip.
Talon’s eyes darted to his right… His axe lay on the ground a few meters away, its fiery blade whining as it carved into the metal of the floor. And a few feet past that, the pole that supported the spinning beam rose up from the arena's floor.
A blur of motion caught Talon’s eye. He rolled to his right, as Gajoro’s club swung down, slamming into the arena floor. The beam continued spinning overhead, too high to catch the big man’s head in its deadly path.
The giant man swung again, and the club crumpled a metal grill to his right. Gajoro yanked the weapon free from the mangled floor plate. He and raised it over his head in a double-handed grip.
Talon rolled again… his fingers gripped the hilt of the axe. A shadow fell over him. Gajoro stood poised, ready to strike.
Time slowed to a crawl as Talon let his reflexes take over. He felt his fingers close around the shaft of his fiery weapon. Glancing up, he saw the crimson beam, moving across the far wall. Gajoro swung his club down at Talon’s prone body. The drums continued to pound, their rhythm a pulsing heartbeat of blood and rage.
Talon threw the axe across the floor. The weapon spun as it slid over the metal deck plates. As the beam spun closer, the fiery blade slashed into the central pole, tearing it free from the floor.
A curtain of sparks erupted from the sheared metal, distracting Gajoro. His bulging, bloodstained arms halted their swing in mid air, and he turned to face the explosion. As the loose pole toppled over, the glowing beam angled down, slicing through his outstretched arms. His energy club clattered to the ground and rolled across the floor.
Gajoro looked down, as smoke rose from the cauterized stumps of his severed limbs. The beam deactivated, and the drumming ceased. The roaring cheers of the crowd came to an abrupt halt. The room was nearly silent. Only a few grunts and murmurs of surprise drifted through the charged air.
Gajoro’s mouth gaped wide, but only a low, whimpering groan emerged. His eyes bulged in their sockets. His face was deathly pale, and Talon guessed the man was in shock from his injuries.
Talon lifted himself off the ground. Panting for breath, his eyes glinting with the bloodlust of battle, he grabbed Gajoro’s club off the ground. He stood over the prostrate man and hefted the mighty weapon over his head. The wounded brute didn’t even look up… he appeared unable to tear his eyes away from his charred limbs.
The muscles in Talon’s arms and shoulders tensed. He lined the club up with the injured man’s head, preparing to deliver the killing blow. But something held him back. A familiar twinge, a tingling in his skull. His crystal eye pulsed with inner fire.
“You are free now… free to make a choice…” Her words echoed through his mind, like a fragment of a half-remembered song.
Salena…
He remembered back on the lifeboat, after their crash landing… Vaki had said his eye was glowing, that he called Salena’s name. But Salena was gone now. Swallowed by a collapsing dimension that imprisoned an ancient alien god.
Was it possible? Could their bond still link them together?
He brushed a clump of sweat-soaked hair from his eyes and glanced up into the stands. Queen Katara leaned forward, her eyes half lidded, her glistening lips parted… Her pale skin had flushed with hunger and desire.
He turned and saw Vaki. She was staring at him, her eyes wide with concern.
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. He turned back to Gajoro. The man’s head slumped down as he awaited his fate.
Talon tossed the club aside. He looked up to Katara.
“I am a gladiator no longer
,” he shouted. “When I slay, it is not for sport.”
Makor stiffened. He approached the railing next to Katara, and glared down at Talon with his inscrutable yellow stare. “Honor demands you finish this! To let an injured opponent live is to taint his legacy with shame—”
A violent tremor cut off the alien’s words. The crowd glanced around the chamber as the arena walls creaked and shook. Their low murmurs rose to a series of panicked shouts and cries. Gajoro, weak from shock and blood loss, toppled over. Talon stumbled backwards as the metal grill beneath his feet buckled and twisted. A jagged gash tore open across the floor.
“Orion’s blazing bow!” he gasped. A cloud of steam belched forth from the opening. Another tremor struck, and Talon felt his legs wobble beneath him as the entire room shifted. Bits of metal and debris fell from the ceiling.
Then the vibrations died down. The startled shouts of the miners increased in volume.
Katara rose to her feet. “Silence, you fools! It is merely another quake. Such cowardly mewling is not fit for those who would serve the Toho Clan!”
As her words echoed through the room, the crowd lowered their eyes, and once again fell silent. Talon felt his pulse quicken. Something about this woman had bewitched him… He could not tear his eyes away from her.
“You have won, Talon.” Her dusky eyes darted down to Gajoro, and a frown marred her beautiful features. “Quite a spectacular victory, I might add. The planet itself seems moved by your triumph. You will rest, and your wounds will be treated. Then you will join me for dinner, and we will discuss the aid you request.”
She spun around as her throne folded in on itself and lowered into the platform with a mechanical hum. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “There will a price, warrior. Of that, you can be sure.”
Her white-robed ladies-in-waiting arranged themselves at her side, and she exited the chamber. Makor gave Talon one last silent stare, then he followed her into the shadows beyond the arena.
Chapter Fifteen
Talon paced down the long, dark corridor. A pair of security guards flanked him on either side, clad in scuffed, battered armor. He could not see their features under the tinted helmets, but he could tell one of them was an insectile Kyt’kan. A port on the back of the alien’s armor exposed his shimmering wings, folded against the rear plating.
He was not bound, but the men had insisted he leave his weapons in his quarters. He felt naked without his axe on his back, but he complied with their demands. The sooner he and Vaki could get off this planet, the better.
As they turned the corner, a shadowy figure stood in their path, impeding their progress. He stepped forward, letting a beam of light fall across his face.
It was Makor.
“I will take him the rest of the way,” he ordered. “You two are relieved.”
The two guards glanced at each other, their expressions unreadable beneath their visors. Then they turned and marched down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the smooth metal walls.
Talon stood his ground and glared at the tall aquatic alien. “You gave me your word we would not be harmed.”
Makor tilted his head. “And were you?”
“I nearly lost my head.”
Makor’s bubbling breath drifted through the air. “And yet here you stand. Head and all. It would seem the only one who was harmed was Gajoro. I knew a true student of Orex Griff would have no trouble against a foolish lout like him.”
Makor gestured down the corridor. “Come. The queen is waiting.”
Talon grit his teeth, then shrugged. He followed the aquatic alien down the corridor. "Good. I am eager to leave this planet before another quake tears this place apart."
“There are active volcanoes buried deep beneath the ice,” Makor replied. “It was only a tremor, nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I’ve felt a few of these tremors since we crashed into this ball of ice. They seem to be growing stronger.”
Makor shot him a sideways glance. “I would think it would take more to unnerve a veteran of the arena like yourself.”
“Speaking of the arena, you seem to hold my old mentor in high regard.”
Makor nodded. “Orex was a skilled warrior, true. But I found his honor lacking.”
Talon stiffened. “Orex was the most honorable man I ever met,” he snapped. “He’s the only one who ever gave a damn about me, since the day Rufa Omdura found me in the blood pits.”
Makor turned his gaze down the corridor. “I do not expect you to understand. You are not of the Consortium. You do not know our ways.”
“So you keep saying,” Talon muttered. “But in my experience, true honor goes beyond borders on a map.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Makor replied. “Seeing as Orex's debt is now yours.” Something in his tone gave Talon the distinct impression that the alien was grinning beneath his hydro-mask.
“What is this debt you speak of?” Talon muttered. “I do not like the sound of it.”
“In due time,” the alien gurgled. “For now, you have other matters to occupy your attention.”
As they turned a corner, a row of workers marched single file along the wall, moving in the opposite direction. Their faces and bodies were hidden beneath dusty, grime-covered suits and helmets. An electronic voice called over the loudspeaker.
“OPERATIONS CREW AA-7, PLEASE REPORT TO ORE-SLICER BAY, SECTOR 10-C9. NEXT SHIFT BEGINS IN TWELVE MINUTES.”
Talon narrowed his eyes as the faceless horde shuffled past them. “How many shifts do you operate here? Your ore-slicers seem to run day and night.”
Makor kept his eyes forward as they continued down the corridor. “We are here to work. Productivity equals profit.”
They stopped at an arched doorway. A gold Aoshon symbol stretched across the smooth metal panels. A pair of guards stood on either side of the doors, wielding vicious looking force pikes. Their armor was a mish-mash of the mining colony’s security guard uniforms, and black plates scavenged from Kujita warriors.
The guards crossed their pikes as Talon and Makor approached. The alien raised his good arm and thumped it against his chest in a salute. “This man has been granted an audience with the queen.”
Their pikes slid apart, and the men pivoted on their feet. They raised their free arms in twin salutes.
“Sai!” they shouted in unison. “Manata maigi kovo dekisumi.”
“Enter,” Makor translated. “May your meeting be profitable.” The doors slid open.
Talon glared at the alien for a moment, but his expression remained cold and unreadable. With a slight nod, Talon turned and walked past the guards into the queen’s chamber.
He glanced around the spacious room as the doors hissed closed behind him. The queen’s chambers consisted of several raised platforms, surrounded by brushed metal walls. A few pieces of furniture decorated the polished metal floors, but the space was mostly empty. He saw no sign of Katara herself.
A soft blue glow emanated from a row of giant circular windows to his left. The light was from outside, reflected off the vast, jagged peaks of ice surrounding the colony. The air in the room was cool, and smelled fresh. Run through private filters and scrubbers, he guessed. The place felt cold and clinical, more like a medical bay than a royal chamber.
He stepped up onto the nearest platform, and walked across a lush ivory rug, an animal skin of some kind. On the opposite side of the platform, a shimmering tapestry hung between two metal walls. The artwork's deft brush strokes depicted a pastoral scene… a towering pagoda, overlooking an orange sea of fire. The molten rock seemed to pulse and glow with an inner fire. As he stepped closer to the tapestry, the perspective seemed to shift, and move with him… he saw a herd of animals, giant stork-like reptilian things, with golden scales or feathers. The creature’s leapt into flight, soaring over the sea of fire.
On the roof of the pagoda, a pair of Kujita Warriors bowed, then assumed a dueling stance… their glowing swords each depicted with
a slashing stroke of red ink.
The longer he stared, the more details he could make out in the intricate scene. He reached out and touched the glowing tapestry… a crackle of energy leapt up into his finger as a ripple ran through the scenery. Then the scene resolved again. The two tiny warriors stepped forward and clashed swords. The golden reptiles disappeared into a purple sunset.
Suddenly, the details faded away. The scene became pale and translucent, like frosted glass. He found himself staring through the hazy panel into a pair of deep brown eyes, so dark they looked like two obsidian gems. A delicate silvery brow arched above one of the hypnotic orbs. Frosted lips grinned.
Talon stepped back. “Iberon’s harem,” he hissed. “You looked like a ghost back there.”
The woman behind the translucent screen laughed.
It was her… Queen Katara.
Chapter Sixteen
Katara stepped around the wall and approached Talon. She wore a sleek, low-cut gown of black silk. A thick silver necklace studded with purple jewels snaked around her neck. The opulent jewelry dangled in the valley between her ivory breasts.
“Do you like it?” she asked, gesturing to the luminescent art on the wall. “The tapestry is by Muramaso, a revered artist from my home world, Aoshu.” She reached out and let her fingers drift across the glowing scenery. The layers of detail rippled, then once again became solid and opaque. The reptilian birds continued their distant flight into the sunset, as the warriors’ blazing swords clashed.
“This scene depicts the Toho ancestral castle, at Kuji Mountain,” she said, her voice filled with longing. “It is a sacred spot, the training grounds of the first Kujita.”
Talon felt it again… the air around the woman seemed thick and intoxicating. He felt groggy, only half awake. He followed her lead and touched the tapestry. The scenery seemed to reset. The warriors parted and bowed again. Fluttering their wings, the bird-like creatures leapt into the air once more…
