Planet Kill

by Sebastian Wilde

  The quick dodge was only going to work once against a highly trained assassin who had survived Planet Kill. Pierce needed to think quickly and somehow subdue Dregg without dispatching him. The shitstorm he’d face if he murdered a venerated champion would end his career before it began.

  “You’re no trust fund kid,” Dregg said. “You’re not even new money. Who the fuck are you?”

  “Can’t tell you,” Pierce said.

  “You trying to find a way to bring down the whole system? Get some kind of revenge?”

  “No,” Pierce answered. He scurried backward and away from another strike.

  “Come out with it.”

  “You don’t want to know,” he said. “You won’t like it, so what’s the point.” Pierce spotted a shield and lunged for it.

  “Just so you know, I’m going to chop you to bits and incinerate your body, so you don’t have to worry about the shame of being defeated.”

  “This is Earth,” Pierce said. “You kill me, you face murder charges.”

  “Not likely. Whoever your people are, they won’t want to be found out.”

  Pierce threw up the shield just in time as the other man thrust his blade in a straight line for Pierce’s heart. Then he knocked the blade away and swung the shield around, landing a blow on the side of Dregg’s face. The big man barely winced from the hit.

  Pierce was going to die.

  “Idiot!” Dregg roared. “Now I’m going to make you suffer.”

  Pierce cringed. “I can offer you a deal.”

  “A deal? Why the fuck would I want a deal with you?” Dregg grabbed a spear and whipped it around, slicing into Pierce’s right arm.

  “Because I can get you what you want.”

  “I have everything I need.”

  “Not true.” Pierce’s eyes scanned the room for a weapon that would play to his advantage of swiftness and smaller size. His eyes fell on a crossbow. “There is one thing, and if you help me, I can get you what you really want.”

  Dregg sneered. “What would you know? You came into my home as a liar. You insulted my heroics. Why would I even want anything from you?”

  “Because you can’t get it anywhere else.”

  Pierce lifted the crossbow. It was heavier than he’d expected. He pulled the firing mechanism back and aimed it directly at Dregg’s head, hoping his bluff wouldn’t get called.

  “Put that down, amateur,” Dregg said. “You’re no killer.”

  Better to show all my cards than die keeping secrets, he thought. “You’re right,” he said, as he lowered the crossbow. “I’m no killer, except when authorized.”

  Dregg’s mouth gaped open. “You’re a Fed.”

  “Sort of,” Pierce said.

  “There’s no sort of. You either are or you aren’t. Which is it?”

  “I’m undercover. Which means I’m not supposed to use my position to support my mission.”

  “Which is?”

  Pierce caught his breath. “You want to kill again. Without repercussions. The one thing you can’t do here on Earth. I can make that happen for you, but I need your help first. Pay to play.”

  Dregg lifted the spear above his shoulder as if he were about to throw it into Pierce’s chest. Pierce brought the crossbow back up, but then Dregg placed the spear back in its place above the fireplace on a display stand designed and built specifically for it.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you say so?” Dregg said, suddenly all smiles. “Now that’s a deal I can make: depending on your terms, of course.” He gestured for Pierce to hand him the crossbow.

  Pierce hesitantly did so and said, “I’ve never even been to Planet Kill, let alone fought without the constraints of society. I need a trainer. I need advice. I need to know who the permanent squatters are, and who I can trust. As well as who I should avoid.”

  “But how do you plan on facilitating my needs?” Dregg said, with a dirty smirk.

  “First of all, you can’t tell anyone about how I helped you.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Why would I do that?”

  “Good point,” Pierce said. “Well, I can get you on planet in secret, before the next Reckoning Day kicks off. That way you can get back off again. You can fight and leave. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “Just like that?”

  “Yep,” Pierce said, sweat beading on his forehead.

  “You’re a new agent, aren’t ya?”

  “Relatively. In the same sense that your final foe made you look like a small man.” Pierce tilted his head, looking up at the six foot five, broad-shouldered beast of a man.

  Dregg shrugged. “Guess I have to work with what the universe gives me. Oh well. I’ll take the deal.”

  “Just like that?” Pierce said, mocking Dregg.

  “Yep,” Dregg said, echoing and mocking Pierce.

  “How long do you think it will take to prepare me?” Pierce asked.

  “You’ll never be fully ready,” Dregg said. “But I figure four days, sixteen hours a day, and maybe you won’t die by tripping over your own feet on the first day. The rest is up to you.”

  “Four days is doable. I’ve already gotten approval for going undercover. Can you start now? The next Reckoning Day is in five.”

  “Uh-huh. Now about my payment…”

  “Right. We’ll have to smuggle you in the day before and get you a fight off the books, away from the cameras. Then slip you back off planet before the Reckoning.”

  “Away from the cameras?” Dregg said. “I thought every speck of dust was covered.”

  It was Pierce’s turn to smirk. “When I said ‘sort of,’ I meant it. My team is blackwerks. We make what we need.”

  “They should do a better job of recruitment,” Dregg said, with condescension dripping from his tone. “I was toying with you. If I went full combat, you would have never even known what happened; you’d just be dead.”

  “I’m sure I would be,” Pierce said, adjusting the sports jacket that he’d donned to pose as a Trustafarian in search of a trainer for trophy hunting.

  “What are you investigating, anyway?” Dregg asked.

  “You know I can’t share that,” Pierce said.

  “Fine, but why’d you pick me?”

  “I’d feed you a line of bullshit, like we need the best, but the truth is, we work with what the universe gives us,” Pierce echoed Dregg, but in a less mocking tone.

  Dregg chortled. “Let’s get started.”

  With the unlikely deal in place, Pierce breathed easy. When he took this mission, he knew the first meeting would either end in the beginnings of what he needed or in his death. For the moment, his arrangement with Dregg wasn’t deadly. There was at least a chance he was going to pull off the impossible.

  3

  The Gambit

  Planet Kill, Upgrade Station: Four Days Until Reckoning

  Letha entered her upgrade station, its roof steepled and its walls carved with images of people fighting. The stations were like temples of worship, each named for a different mythical creature. The one that her team controlled, at least for now, was named Echidna, and had a statue of a half-woman, half-snake curled around the upgrade console in the middle of the temple. As the mother of all monsters in Greek mythology, Echidna seemed the perfect symbol for her team, Letha thought.

  Other stations around the planet were named after various other beasts. One that Letha technically owned was named for Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse, but it was too dangerous to get to. Hostile territory surrounded it. There was also the serpentine giant, Typhon, and the night-haunting woman, Lamia. Others existed, but these were the only ones Letha had ever come across, and even these were in enemy territory at the moment. Sleipner was worth trying to retake at some point, since the various stations had specialties. Echidna would occasionally offer a legendary close-combat striker, such as the shocker, while Sleipner had legendary projectiles. Others focused on shields or more specific weapons. They all offered the standard fare, and i
t didn’t matter to most champions. Affording a legendary item meant both having the credits to pay for it and the level to be able to use it.

  Letha blinked twice to activate her AUG-I, Augmented Interface, that had been installed inside her right eye immediately before arrival on Planet Kill. A screen flashed in front of her. She smiled to see that she had enough credits to buy an upgrade for her shocker. Since her level far exceeded the weapon’s level, she might as well do so. She used it enough to make the upgrade worth it.

  As she clicked to purchase it, the machine in front of her whirred to life, spewing stats onto the screen. It landed on an increased static shock from the glove. On her next level-up, it would be powerful enough to send people flying. But the weapon needed to gain experience to level-up, just as she did, so that would have to wait.

  She pulled out the glove, strapped it to her waist, and sold some of her newfound loot back to the machine. Recent spends on her credits meant she could use the extra money, so parting with the cock blaster and other loot from her recent kill was the best move. Besides, her generals were already well-equipped. No reason to be passing up good credits.

  The last item she contemplated was one she’d coveted many times—a headpiece scanner with air strike capacity. She didn’t know anyone who had ever used one, but Mantis had once told her about someone who rushed into battle, scanned with a system that showed higher-level fighters, and sent hellfire from above. She’d always thought it a legend until an item that fit that description started popping up on the machines.

  But that would be for another day, when she could afford it and justify the need.

  When she finished, she glanced around the room, admiring the workmanship in the carvings; some of battles fought here, others of grand orgies. A true representation of the planet. Not all upgrade stations were the same, but this one was hers. A treasure, to be sure.

  “You’re up, Ghost,” she said as she logged out. Her general seemed to glow in the darkness, passing her with a nod and gentle smile.

  “Not yet, but I could be if you want,” he replied with a wink, and she hit him playfully.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that. Right now, I need a different kind of healing.”

  He chuckled, strolled over to the upgrade station, and got to work on decking himself out with his own credits and level-ups, while Letha wandered back to base. She left her clothes in her bunker of a room, one of several in this carved-out mound of dirt and rock she called a base, and made her way to the baths.

  The hot springs of Planet Kill shared much with those on planets treated as spas for the elite. They were known for their healing powers, and Letha took every opportunity to soak when she was back at base. Warm waters caressed her ankles as she lowered herself into the hot springs. Her guards were on alert, each watching her hungrily. Any one of them could have made a move on her right then, but to do so wouldn’t only mean death, it would mean a very slow and prolonged death. To some of these men, and a couple women, she wasn’t just their Alpha, she was their lover.

  That meant an extra layer of security. She used the jealousy among them to her advantage, though she was sure to assuage it when needed, to keep them from striking out against each other.

  Submerging her shoulders, she leaned her head back against one of the many black rocks that formed the walls of this natural bath, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. The cool breeze carrying a hint of something between lemon zest and rosemary was typical for the days leading up to new arrivals, and Letha had learned to ignore it. Her best guess was that the hosts of this world—those orchestrating it from afar, along with their little pets, the Warden and his hooligans—did this for a calming effect. They wanted all of the fighters to relax right before the slaughter, to build up the audience anticipation as the Noobs arrived.

  Letha had learned several cycles ago that the perfect time for her to strike was when the others were relaxed and placid. It was one of her key advantages. As a woman, her fighting wasn’t about some sort of blood rage or testosterone kick. She had avoided the stimulant packages others relied on so heavily, “stims,” as they were called, because they dulled her senses. Out here it was all about her wits and senses, making strategic moves on her enemies like one big game as she worked her way to the top.

  That’s exactly what it was, after all—at least to everyone watching—simply a game. Planet Kill wasn’t just a random place where people ended up, it was an entire planet of people attempting to climb up in society. With each kill, your chances went up. Kills could be random or directed by the outside. If a viewer had enough money and wanted a player dead, or simply thought it would be fun to turn two of them against each other, all they had to do was pay.

  In fact, Letha still remembered how her old office, a group of mechanics on Space Station Nephthys, had all chipped in back in the day to coordinate one of those fights. That was, of course, long before she had arrived. Before she understood what it meant, on a personal and human level. Back then she had joined in as they watched their champion destroy her opponent. Mantis had been that champion, and even before they met, Letha idolized her. That was before Letha understood how the fighters’ hierarchy worked, or that Mantis had never been happy about being little more than a glorified serial killer.

  The woman had taught her and passed along the finesse, the stratagem that Letha now possessed. She had truly played the game, but luck had also played a part in it. In this sense, Letha was confident she could separate herself from the others and stand out in a world where her status was determined by her ability to work smarter and harder.

  Today she was determined to do both. She needed to take out one of her biggest competitors before the Noobs arrived. Fireshot, the man called himself, though she imagined he likely had some old-style standard name like Ned. He had his followers and would be doing some heavy recruiting from the new batch. He was one of the smart ones, watching her and mimicking from his part of the planet. Far enough away that making a move on him left her without a fallback option unless she won.

  Not winning? That wasn’t an option.

  A shuffling of feet pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see one of her men there, standing with his cloth wrapped around his waist, a bulge visibly growing beneath the cloth as he couldn’t help but take in her beauty. He offered her a fresh bar of soap. She accepted the soap, licked her lips at the sight of him, but then turned away.

  Not before the kill, she reminded herself. Here it was work hard, play hard, but she only allowed herself to play hard in that sense as a reward. She needed anticipation ripe, so that when she and her warriors went into battle, they would fight with the knowledge that they would reap both emotional and physical satisfaction when it was over.

  She rubbed the soap along her skin, standing to give her guards a little extra motivation as she slid her hand around the contours of her breasts, then submerged back into the water and let her hand journey down between her legs. A moment of teasing herself, a moan of yearning, and then she stretched, cracked her neck, and exited the bath.

  Aisha had her towel ready. Letha took it, smiled at the blush in the woman’s cheeks, then turned to slowly dry herself while facing the warmth of the sun’s rays. If she remembered correctly from watching the games before her arrival, the cameras most often came from the direction of sources of light, such as the sun. That made sense, to get the best lighting, angles, and clearest pictures. As always, she was all about giving them a show, working to get her points, working to earn favor from the crowds.

  “Your armor is ready,” Aisha said.

  Letha thanked her and dressed, putting on first her undergarments, outer clothes, then strapping on her shoulder guard and other ‘armor,’ as Aisha had called it. The important part about fighting as a woman on this fucking planet wasn’t just surviving; it was making the fight entertaining. So while she wanted key defensive pieces, a glimpse of side boob and a nice ass went a long way in the advancement of her position.


  She wasn’t being conceited when she imagined the number of people back home with posters of her well-toned ass stuck to their walls, the words “Planet Kill: Letha” slammed over it in bright purple letters.

  It disturbed her that she was considered a sex object and, to some, even a role model. How many children across the universe knew about her and saw the same path they assumed she’d taken as their escape from poverty? There were plenty of stories about such so-called heroes as The Ox, who had been raised in the streets of Space Station Escape, forced to eat rats to fill his belly, do worse in dark corners, and wake up next to fifty-credit hookers puking their guts out—male and female, young and old. He’d come to this planet, earned a name for himself, and now lived like a king in the upper echelons of humanity, on the elite planet Montauk.

  All of the young people who didn’t want to turn tricks for money saw Planet Kill as their means of escape, and that sickened Letha. For her, it was only about survival at this point, but when she finally did manage to win enough to leave this place, she meant to depart with enough power to make a change. To go after the creators themselves, after she’d had her revenge on others.

  Right now, Fireshot was her target. She slung a rifle over her shoulder and strapped a pistol to her hip and a blade at her waist.

  Taking a chance, Letha smiled at Aisha and said, “Do you feel you’re ready to defend the base?”

  Aisha’s eyes went wide, and she nodded before answering, “I’d rip off their heads and jam them so far up their own assholes, no one would ever think of attacking us again.”

  Letha laughed, liking the spunk of this girl. She’d found her cowering in the corner of a ravine, hiding behind two dead men. When asked what had happened, Aisha had simply replied that they’d tried to hurt her, so she had killed them. She was simple like that, and that’s why Letha liked her.