New Canaan: A Military Science Fiction Space Opera Epic: Aeon 14 (The Orion War Book 2)
Page 18
“Easy now,” a voice called out.
Jessica saw a nondescript man of medium height and build rise from the front row and walk toward the cage.
“This woman here is our guest, we need to treat her as such,” he said with a smile.
The man stepped into the cage while gesturing for his guards to lower their pulse rifles. Once they all followed his direction, Jessica lowered hers as well.
“Sorry about Tommy’s rudeness,” the man said while casting the guard who had shoved Jessica a dark look. She was certain that shoving unwilling contestants was more than OK—losing your weapon to one was likely the reason for the boss-man’s ire.
“It’s OK,” Jessica said and handed the pulse rifle back to the guard. “After he sees a medic about his smashed teeth, he’ll remember better.”
The man grimaced, and Jessica gave him a sweet smile.
“Name’s Johnson. Why don’t you come to my office and we’ll have a little chat,” the man said.
“Jessica,” she replied. “Lead the way.”
“Jessica, is it?” the man chuckled as he led her from the ring and down a corridor between the seats. “Not J-doll then, eh?”
She grimaced at the name the announcer had given her—probably supplied by Camilla.
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Well, I’ll tell Andy up in the booth to call you by the right name from here on out,” Johnson said as he opened a door and gestured for her to enter.
The room was as non-descript as the man. A grey plas desk sat amongst vertical stacks of conduit in an unadorned grey room. Several sheets of hyfilm lay on the desk, and he sorted them into a pile as he took his seat.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing at the chair in front of the desk.
Jessica glanced back at the two guards who had followed her in, and he took her meaning.
“Guys, you can wait outside. It’s OK.” Johnson made a shooing gesture and the two hulking men grunted and left the room, closing the door behind them.
They hadn’t taken her staff, and Jessica surmised that the room must have defensive systems—either that, or Johnson was a lot tougher than he looked.
“There, a bit of privacy, then.” He smiled. “You can guess why I wanted to see you.”
“So that I don’t do something stupid, get shot, and stop making you money tonight,” Jessica replied tonelessly.
“The doll has a brain, does she?” Johnson replied.
“And here I thought you were going to use my real name,” Jessica said with a frown.
Johnson grinned. “Sorry, after hearing Andy say it so much, it’s sort of stuck in my mind.”
“What are you offering?” Jessica asked.
“Right to the point, good. I’m offering you a full-time position here. You can have whatever you want—clothes, men, women, mods, sims, drugs, anything your heart desires.”
“But I have to keep fighting for you,” Jessica responded, crossing her arms and leaning back. “I can tell you right now, this is not an arrangement that interests me.”
“What?” Johnson chuckled. “You’d rather die in the ring tonight?”
Jessica laughed. “Do you have any idea how far I’ve come, what I’ve been through to get here? I won’t die in your shitty little cage, on this crap station.”
Johnson rose to his feet and placed his hands on his plain desk. “I can see we’re not going to come to an agreement—not yet, at least. You’ll come around, though. You were made for this—well, you were apparently made for other things, too—but that’s part of your charm. Oversexed, and dangerous.”
The door opened behind her, and the guards re-entered.
“There are a few more fights going on before your turn is up again. You’ll have some time to think things over,” Johnson said, waving his hand for the guards to take her out.
One of them reached for her, and Jessica whipped the staff around, stopping it mere centimeters from his eye.
“I can walk without you pawing at me,” she said, ice in her voice.
“Whatever,” the guard grunted, pulling his hand back. “Take a left in the hall.”
The guards guided her—without touching or prodding—to a different room than the cell where the EMP blast had hit her. There was a table with a plate of vegetables, some water, and a loaf of bread.
“Eat some food, you’re going to need the energy,” one of the guards said before closing the door.
Jessica didn’t wait a moment before she grabbed the pitcher of water and poured a liter of the cool fluid down her throat. She followed it up with several stalks of broccoli and then broke off a chunk of the bread.
Jessica complied and Iris confirmed her suspicion.
Jessica contented herself with eating some more of the vegetables and polishing off the first pitcher of water. By the time she was done, Iris indicated that she was ready.
It took a bit of extra time for the assimilator to break the mat down, and the strange feeling of small particles flowing beneath her skin set in.
“You know, I think the cups may be made of glass,” Jessica said aloud.
“You got it,” Jessica responded.
Afterward, she pushed the remaining glass shards under a chair with her foot and did her best to make the table look the same as it had when she entered. That taken care of, she sat in the chair with a leg draped over the arm.
Jessica didn’t have long to wait before the guards came back to fetch her for the next bout. They led her back to the cage, where the crowd roared at the sight of her.
She looked for Jonathan in his front-row seat, but he was nowhere to be seen. Camilla was still in her place, looking decidedly less certain of herself. Jessica blew the hired gun a kiss and mouthed “stick around” before turning her attention to the man who had just entered the ring.
He was different from the previous combatants. Everyone she had fought up to this point was more about the showmanship than combat skill. This man was different. He wore only a loose pair of shorts and tight, black gloves.
All the better to hit you with, my dear, Jessica thought to herself.
The cage door closed and they began circling one another. Slowly, they felt one another out, he would feint with a fist, then she with a kick.
Though the break and the food had helped her energy levels, she still felt weary. Her day had started over twenty hours ago, and she still had drunk more than eaten for most of the evening. Luckily, thi
s wasn’t her opponent’s first fight of the evening either—given the presence of several bruises and a gash above his right eye. With any luck, he didn’t feel much more energetic than she.
They continued to circle, then a feint from the man turned out to be a real attack and his fist met her side, causing her to grunt from the force as much as the pain. She brought her staff down on his arm, and he grabbed onto it with his other hand.
For a moment, they stood toe to toe, staring into each other’s eyes as they each tried to secure the staff as their own.
“Sorry about this,” he said with a smile, and his hand flashed up and grabbed her hair. He twisted and fell, bringing her down with him. The staff, trapped between their bodies, broke in half.
Jessica rolled away and looked down at her stomach. A red welt stood out where the broken end of the staff had whipped across her body, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. In her right hand, she held a half-meter of the staff, while her opponent clutched almost a meter.
“I always get the short end of the stick,” Jessica muttered.
The man launched into a flurry of overhand blows, most of which she managed to deflect—though several got through, smashing into her shoulders, forearm, and thigh. He was fast—faster than she was, and stronger, too. His movement thus far had revealed no weaknesses or tells.
Jessica replied.
Jessica said as she blocked a blow and delivered a counter, which her opponent blocked in turn.
She blocked an overhead blow from the man and lashed out with her boot, a feint she hoped he would fall for. He took the bait and pivoted to avoid the strike. It gave Jessica the opening she needed to drive the jagged end of her staff down into his right side.
The wood tore through his skin and stuck in the carbon-fiber enhanced muscles underneath. Jessica barely managed to hold onto her piece of staff as he leapt back.
She never took her eyes off her opponent as the crowd thundered around the ring.
Her opponent gave his wound a cursory look before turning back to Jessica, his eyes burning with rage—or maybe determination. Jessica wasn’t certain, but neither bode well for her.
Pain burned through her mind, and her vision blacked out, but she kept her focus with single-minded determination and drove two fingers into the wound she had created on his side.
The man cried out in agony and fell back, pulling away from her, but her task was complete. The nano Iris had prepared was now inside his body, seeking out his internal augmentations and shutting them down.
Jessica fell to the ground and scrambled backward, trying to put some space between them as her vision began to clear.
“Fucking brain,” Jessica cursed aloud as she struggled to her feet.
Her opponent was still upright, though looking somewhat disoriented. If there was ever a time to press her attack, this was it. She bent down, snatched up her end of the staff, and lunged at him again, this time aiming for center mass with the sharp end of the stick.
His reaction was a moment too late, but he still managed to move a few vital centimeters. The staff hit him in the shoulder. The impact had the force of her entire body behind it, and the staff tore clear through the man, where it wedged between two poles at the cage’s entrance.
She didn’t wait to see if the move had finished him off, and with what remained of her strength, delivered several blows to his face, neck, and stomach.
Her opponent had the good sense to fall unconscious, and Jessica stepped back and let out a primal scream, dimly aware of the sight she must present, battered, clothes torn, and covered in sweat and blood.
She wiped her forehead and saw that her hand came back stained red. He must have got a few lucky shots in while they were in close quarters that she hadn’t noticed at the time. Either way, it was done. Another victory on the scoreboard for her.
Jessica walked to the far side of the cage, staring out into the crowd, dispassionately noting the hunger and excitement in their faces. She must present an amazing fetish vision for some in the crowd.
She heaved a sigh and tore a strip off her already tattered shirt. She tied it around her head to keep the blood from dripping into her eyes. Behind her, Jessica heard the cage door open, and her fourth opponent cried out as he fell to the ground. It seemed that the cage door hitting him had brought him back to consciousness.
There was more moaning as the guards pulled him from the cage, and then a voice came from behind her.
“Jessica?”
She turned to see Trevor standing in the center of the cage. He appeared fresh and clean, either he had been given time to clean up since his last bout, or this was his first of the night.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his hands upturned, and his brow creased in a deep frown.
“Camilla didn’t like me touching you,” Jessica said weakly, before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the cage floor. “I’m not exactly here of my own will.”
Trevor turned around and caught sight of Camilla’s grinning visage before bringing his furious look down to Jonathan, who had returned to his seat sometime during the last fight.
“You fucking grease stain. I don’t fight conscripts,” Trevor bellowed. “Let us out right now!”
Jonathan rose and walked to the edge of the cage before speaking in a soft voice that would not carry beyond the ring.
“Tonight you do, Trevor. You do or I kill her, right here and now. Make it look good—put on a quality show and I’ll let her out of here alive.”
“You pile of shit,” Trevor cursed. “I won’t do it. Your low-rent mercs can’t take me on, I’ll rip them limb from limb!”
Jonathan touched the door of the cage and the bolt slid into place. “And how are you going to do that from in there?”
The guards stationed around the cage leveled their weapons on Jessica and she saw Trevor’s shoulders slump. He turned around to her.
“I’m sorry Jessica…it’s the only way,” he said.
“Hey,” she gave a weak smile, “at least I put my money down on you.”
Over his shoulder, she could see a cheshire grin spread across Camilla’s face.
“I’m going to kill her when this is done,” Trevor said quietly as he took up his stance.
Jessica nodded and pushed away from the cage. “Do that for me. I’d really appreciate it.”
They started off at a languid pace, Jessica had more energy than she had let on—it had been her intention all along to lull her next opponent into a false sense of superiority—but her reserve wasn’t as deep as she hoped. The nano production had taken more from her than she thought it would.
Still, for Trevor’s sake, she wanted to make things look good. There was no point in both of them falling on Jonathan’s bad side—he
would still have to live on the station after this night. Jessica, if she survived, could get the heck out of Chittering Hawk and never look back.
They traded blows, and she managed to land a solid hit under his jaw that drove him back a pace. His eyes narrowed and his expression grew angry.
“Is that how you want to play this?” he asked.
“You idiot, it’s how we have to play this,” Jessica replied. “Now hit me like a man, not the shitty little crystal carver you want to be.”
She saw her words have the desired result, and he set his teeth before he realized what she as doing. Then, his eyes widened and softened.
Her AI didn’t reply, and to his credit, Trevor pressed his attack with more conviction than Jessica thought he would. She avoided most of the blows and blocked the rest—though blocking a strike from his boulder-sized fists didn’t hurt much less than taking the hit would have.
They fought for what seemed like an hour, but Jessica knew it was just a few minutes. Fatigue pulled at her limbs, and she could feel her reaction times worsen. Trevor, on the other hand, was fresh and spry, and even though she had landed a few good blows on him, appeared to be entirely unfazed by them.
They were in the midst of a furious exchange when he made it past her defenses and swept her leg. She fell to a knee and looked up at him towering over her, breath coming in ragged gasps.
He raised a fist high. “I’m sorry about this,” he said.
Jessica closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to come, but it never did. Instead, a familiar voice called out.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, big guy.”
She opened her eyes again to see Cargo standing at the cage’s entrance, a wicked-looking railgun leveled at Trevor.
All around the arena, the crowd had fallen silent, eager to see how this next event would play out. Planned or not, it was all just part of the night’s festivities for them.
Beside Cargo, his face a mask of rage, stood Jonathan. Looming over him was the scowling visage of Thompson. Glancing around, Jessica saw Nance and Cheeky on either side of the ring, each holding a pair of plasma pistols, gesturing for the guards to drop their pulse rifles and back away.