Planet Kill

by Sebastian Wilde

  Pierce punched Planet Kill’s inauguration date—the tenth of November, twenty-one fifty-five—into the keypad, and the door unlatched. He paused before entering, looking at the desk to his left. On it sat a small Planet Kill subscription box from a subsidiary titled “KILL BOX.” He used to think nobody would open one of them, but they were actually very popular gift items, with three to four items per crate, all focused on the champions of the planet. This particular one had a coffee mug featuring Letha, tits fully exposed, winking at the camera. Tan with no tan lines. She had the look of one of those horrid elites on the Paradise Planets, with her blue eyes and perfect physique. Only, her blonde hair was shaved on the side, braids in parts like the Vikings used to do. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he entered.

  The basement debriefing room doubled as a dank and intimidating interrogation chamber. It held a couple of flimsy folding chairs and a table. The witness, or “source,” as Peyton preferred to call her, was pretty, despite the scar running along the side of her neck. Her name was Morgan, as Pierce knew from the source file. He was the only one interested in her case, and this was the first time he’d met her in person. She was clearly a survivor of Planet Kill, but they couldn’t find any video feed of her battles. According to her, that was because she’d been kept hidden and wasn’t even supposed to live through the first day. Then a powerful warlord had taken a liking to her and offered protection. If true, that gave hope to Pierce. It could explain why his wife hadn’t popped up on any video feeds. There was at least a chance Mara was still alive.

  “Hi,” Pierce said, not sure how to approach her.

  “Uh-huh,” Morgan said. “What do you want?”

  Pierce couldn’t help admiring her beauty. She could have risen up on Planet Kill with her looks alone. There was no doubt that if she’d been seen rich people would have given her all sorts of bids, and powerful fighters would have allied with her for the benefit of supplies. It made him wonder why she’d left.

  “To ask a few questions,” Pierce said.

  “What for?” Morgan said. “Haven’t I shared enough? Do you have any idea how risky this is? I want my compensation for forced volunteerism. Then I’m done with this shit. No testimony. No names. I’ve already made a deal. I’m not giving up any more.”

  “I’m not looking for anything like that,” Pierce said. “I just need to know more about the specifics of the trafficking operation. I’m not technically allowed to share this, but I’m going undercover.”

  Her eyes went wide. Pierce wondered if it was because her account would be exposed as false, or because she was excited someone was going to do something about what had happened to her.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Nothing you say leaves this room.”

  She relaxed a little. “Go ahead, ask away,” she paused. “But no names.”

  “Understood. First, are the others like you kept away from video feeds intentionally to avoid suspicion?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know. The warlords would have to be in on it for that to be true. Doubt it. I just don’t think we were prepared, and most didn’t make it very long.”

  “That’s a more likely explanation for why there are so few claims like yours.”

  “But mine’s different. I was there! I suffered, and it wasn’t my choice!” The woman pounded on the cheap table in front of her.

  “And I’m sorry for that,” Pierce said. “That’s why we’re talking. I believe you.”

  She calmed down and took a couple of deep breaths. “What else?”

  “You said no names. But what about positions? Can you at least hint at what type of individuals you saw during your ordeal?”

  “Yes, but I’m not going to answer.”

  “That’s fair. Still, it would be helpful.”

  “Don’t care. Next question.”

  “Were you merged with the volunteers before boarding the transport ship, or during transit?”

  “Before. But we were kept out of the main passenger hold until halfway through the trip. Not sure why.”

  “That’s good. Very good. Helpful. Makes it possible to blend in after launch. What about on the planet? Did you meet or recognize other forced recruits?”

  Morgan’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for the answer. It was clear she wasn’t sure. “Maybe,” she finally said. “Hard to say. No one wanted to be killed for snitching. I thought I recognized one girl after Reckoning Day. I swear she recognized me, too. But we didn’t speak of it. Too dangerous.” He noticed she’d started rocking a little.

  “Good to know,” Pierce said. “Last question, and I’ll leave you alone. Why not stay? Once you were successful and had allies, why not live a better life? You have little here.”

  “If I receive the compensation package, I won’t be poor anymore.”

  “Did you leave because of the chance at being compensated for your wrongful abduction?”

  Morgan lowered her head and sort of froze in that position. Blank stare, lost in the past for a few moments. Her voice became flat, hollow. “It crossed my mind to stay. I debated it for a while. When the opportunity came, I realized something. The entire time I was there, I hadn’t killed anyone. They were hurting each other on my behalf. And the price was my body. I’d have bloody handprints on my body after they’d…If I stayed around, eventually I wasn’t going to be pretty anymore. And then no one was going to kill to keep me alive. I’m not saying what I did was right. But I couldn’t bring myself to hurt anyone directly. Sure, I had no problem with it being done for me. Doing it yourself is different, though. I knew I didn’t have it in me. And Planet Kill ages you fast. I had to take the one chance I was going to get to leave.”

  “You’re not going to share how you pulled that off, are you?”

  There was only silence for a few seconds while Morgan relived those days. “Not a chance.”

  “Understandable. Listen, I really appreciate what you’ve shared, and again, I’m sorry for what you went through.”

  Pierce rose to leave, but Morgan snatched his wrist. Pulled him back. Pupils wide in huge eyes. “Why are you really doing this?” she asked. “You don’t care about justice. This is personal. I can tell. Why are you doing this?”

  “I believe my wife was taken, like you. I believe what happened to you happened to her.”

  She let go of his wrist but kept her gaze on him. “Would you kill for me?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  She shook her head. “No you wouldn’t. You want to be desired. I can tell. You’re the arrogant type. Think you’re beautiful. That no one’s ever thrown themselves at you for your position as an Agent. For your better quality of life. You honestly believe you’re special and different.” She mocked. “When all that’s stripped away, you’ll see the truth.”

  “You’re probably right,” Pierce said. “Yet, I’d like to think I would protect you with no expectations.”

  “We’ll see,” Morgan said.

  “Well, this has been fun,” Pierce said. “I’m out of time. I was only allowed twenty minutes with you. For what it’s worth, I hope you get your compensation. No amount will ever be enough to make up for what was done.”

  Morgan’s face softened at his last comment. Pierce could tell she appreciated it. As he left, he realized his wife was likely also changed as a result of her experiences. He sighed and hoped she was still alive.

  Pierce’s condo looked par for the course at first glance. The usual trappings filled the living room: holographic display of the Planet Kill video feed, a coffee maker, a treadmill. But there was a keypad lock on his bedroom door. After taking his bulletproof vest off and locking up his sidearm, he punched a code into the keypad and entered.

  Inside, two robot women greeted him in luxurious lingerie. One was in black lace. The other wore skin-tight yoga pants and a halter top. They swooned as Pierce crawled into bed with them. Each moaned at his arrival. Each looked exactly like the other. They could pa
ss for twins, but they weren’t. They were the spitting image of his missing wife.

  Once he was on the bed with them, a third woman materialized. She also looked like his wife, whose photograph sat on the nightstand. The third doppelgänger had a more glitchy appearance and was merely a hologram, not a robot. All three retained characteristics that reminded Pierce that not one of them was really his wife. Though the technology existed to make them resemble her even more, he didn’t want it that way. He was afraid it would diminish his drive to find Mara. Make him feel complacent. He couldn’t live without her. He needed the company of the doppelgänger partners, but he also couldn’t allow himself to become too comfortable.

  With his training almost done, and Reckoning Day on the horizon, it was time to enjoy the moment and say his goodbyes in the best way he knew how. He was only human.

  “You three miss me?” Pierce asked thickly.

  They responded by caressing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Kissing him as they ran their fingers along his body, through his thick brown hair.

  “Me too,” Pierce said. “But I have some bad news.”

  All three made pouty faces at the same time. “Tell us,” the holographic Mara said.

  “I have to leave for a while. A long while. Might not even come back.”

  “Don’t go,” the twin Maras said in unison. “Stay with us. Why would you ever need to leave?”

  “Because this isn’t real,” Pierce said. “It’s amazing, sure. But none of you are sentient. I could ask you to leave, but you wouldn’t. You’re only programmed to appear like you choose this.”

  “We do choose this, and we choose you,” the holographic Mara said, as if on cue.

  “Exactly,” Pierce said. “You’re making my point.” He was about to go on, but the twins pulled his pants down and ran their lips along the side of his cock, in sync.

  “The real Mara would never approve of this,” Pierce said.

  “How do you know?” the holographic Mara said. “We’re modeled after her personality, and we choose how we interact with you.”

  “That’s true,” Pierce whispered, taking in her words and getting a curious look in his eyes. If this was the kind of thing her simulated version enjoyed, he wondered what else Mara had desired but not shared with him.

  “Stop overthinking,” the holographic Mara said. “Make us happy.”

  “Wouldn’t want to disappoint.” He cupped her breast and wrapped his lips around her nipple. Kissed it as passionately as if his real wife were still here.

  The three of them whimpered with pleasure as Pierce wiggled down to the holographic Mara’s vulva and began licking, enjoying the taste and smell as if it was the last time he’d do this.

  The best part was that all three of his simulacra Maras had their sensory input synced with each other, so if he pleasured one, the other two would feel it in equal measure. All the more fun. Pierce always was a watcher. Not of the Planet Kill video feeds, necessarily. That was entertaining, but what he really enjoyed the most was direct interaction. Couldn’t live without it. Being able to see one of the Maras squeal in delight as he continued pleasuring a different one was a special treat. He could be involved and watch at the same time. Not to mention, it was a good idea to prepare for unexpected sexual liaisons on Planet Kill. He had no idea what he was about to get into.

  The three Maras started trembling with pleasure all at once, pulling him out of his thoughts. He could feel what was happening. Their robotic-but-lifelike bodies trembled, cried out, and all three came in unison.

  Afterwards, Pierce asked for a moment alone. When he used to make love to the real Mara, she liked it when he stayed inside her for a while after they’d finished. She’d said it was all about the intimacy, and that she enjoyed the lingering effects just as much, if not more than the act itself.

  He couldn’t bring himself to do that with her duplicates. It was too intimate, and he only wanted that feeling with his real wife.

  Once the ladies had gone, Pierce picked up a device that flashed a holographic slideshow of Mara and him together. Shutter shots of them meeting, his proposal, their wedding, their honeymoon. He could feel himself about to cry, so he put the device down and got dressed. There was no time to waste. He needed to be ready for his mission.

  Once he arrived at Dregg’s home, he didn’t bother knocking. He knew that Dregg kept a security feed live at all times. He imagined Planet Kill had changed him. Or maybe it had brought out his true nature. Either way, Pierce had a hard time grasping how Dregg had been able to adjust back to civilized society. And he was starting to wonder if he was going to have similar challenges.

  The door slid open, and the huge man towered over him. “How are you tonight, P.F.?”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Let’s get to training.”

  Dregg looked at him with sly, narrowed eyes. “Missing your wife much?”

  Pierce tensed up. “How do you know about her?”

  “Told you at our first meeting,” Dregg said with a smug grin. “Looked into you. Already knew you were an Agent when you walked in.”

  “So you know why I need your help. Why I’m going.”

  “Yes, I know everything. I am smarter than you think, P.F.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “I only offered to train you so I could pretend you were an intruder and I could get away with ripping you apart.”

  A long, uncomfortable silence passed between them.

  Then Dregg burst out laughing. “You believed me! Idiot! So stupid!”

  Pierce shook his head. “Your idea of humor baffles me.”

  “The feeling’s mutual. That would be one hell of a kill, though. I mean, they’d be talking about it for years.”

  “Yep, I’d be one hell of a kill. You would too.” Pierce dropped all expression from his face and put a hand on his sidearm.

  Dregg stopped laughing. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. Simply to shut you up. Can’t stand your fucking laugh.”

  Dregg sneered. “You won’t last one day there.”

  “I’m fine with that. At least I’ll have tried.”

  “To find your wife? Heh. Stupid plan,” Dregg said. “Even if you find her alive, she won’t want to come back. She’ll have changed. And if she’s dead, you’ll grieve a second time and hardly be in a state of mind to fight, let alone live through the experience. You, my little friend, are going to die. Alone, on another planet, with millions of people watching it for their evening entertainment.”

  “But at least I’ll have tried.”

  Dregg stared at him. Sized him up in a new light. “You’re determined. I’ll give you that. But I still think it’s stupid.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his thick neck. “But who am I to judge? Never loved anyone that much. For what it’s worth, I hope you find the truth. Really.”

  Pierce removed his hand from his sidearm. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “No need to thank me. Just get me what I asked for, and we’re good.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Pierce said. “It’s time to go.”

  Dregg’s face lit up. It was the happiest Pierce had seen him.

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight. Settle your affairs, and I’ll come get you.”

  Dregg stepped outside and locked the door behind him. “Settled. Let’s go.”

  “Seriously?” Pierce raised an eyebrow.

  “Seriously. Let’s go. I’m itching to feel blood spill over my hands.”

  The unlikely pair left the house and headed for the launch bay.

  7

  Mistakes Were Made

  Planet Kill, On the Run: Three Days Until Reckoning

  The failed assassination of Fireshot had dealt a huge blow to Letha’s team. They paused at a high point to take inventory and check if they were being pursued. The air was dry and hot now, even in the shade from the trees. Cold nights, hot days—typical.

  Letha wiped sweat from her brow as she lean
ed up against a tree. She looked over her survivors. Only six left, not including her two remaining generals. That meant nine total. Nine badasses who could totally hold their own, but not enough to rally and strike back, especially considering the numbers she had seen in the fortress. Two of the newest members had been killed. The woman who had been smiling at her—maybe flirting—would never see another sunrise, never hear another moan of orgasm. Nothing. Gone to the nebulous cloud of nonexistence, or wherever people went when they died.

  She wasn’t the only one injured, either. A couple of them were bleeding from stab or slash wounds, and Brink’s clothes were singed. Likely some skin beneath was, too. One of the women had a bullet hole in her arm. Trunk was helping apply pressure.

  “I’m dealing with your wounds now,” Kale said. He lowered her to the ground and examined her leg, then shouted at one of the others to help him out.

  “What the fuck happened back there?” Letha asked, more to herself than anyone else.

  “Hubris,” Kale replied.

  “Shut your ugly mouth,” Brink butted in. “You talk to her like that again—”

  “Enough,” Letha interrupted, turning on Brink. “Since when did I say I wanted to be surrounded by ‘yes’ men? Do I treat you like I’m some tyrannical warlord who’ll cut out your tongue if you talk back to me? What the fuck?”

  Brink glowered, then looked away. “Fine, you fucked up. Happy?”

  “No, I’m not happy. How the hell can I be happy right now? But having an honest discussion is sure as hell better than not, so in that sense, sure. Happy as a unicorn shitting rainbows. Now that we’re all happy, let’s figure out what the fuck we’re going to do about this.”

  The other fighters were now staring at her, so she felt the need to continue.

  “I’ll tell you what the fuck we’re going to do. First, pick ourselves up and find our closest alliance. If they don’t to take us in, we knock their damn doors down. We turn around and hunt down any pursuers, then we lay low. We find out what the gossip is, and mend our wounds… and pride.”