The Shadow Order - Books 1 - 8 + 120 Seconds (The complete series): A Space Opera

by Michael Robertson

  When the short man looked at Seb, Seb offered him his hand. “Seb.”

  The creature nodded as he shook it. “Phulp.”

  “Phillip?”

  “No, Phulp.”

  If Seb said ‘Phillip’ quickly enough, it would have the same effect.

  Silence suddenly engulfed the place and the hairs lifted on the back of Seb’s neck. When he caught a whiff of the familiar tang of blood and sweat, he straightened his back and looked down into the pit below. As always, the champion had entered the ring and paraded around it. A brute of a creature, this one had four arms. Although, instead of hands, it had sharp, hardened points that turned each appendage into a spear.

  Slow and steady, it walked around the ring and surveyed the crowd.

  Unable to contain his giddiness, Seb bounced on his seat. The sides of his world blurred as his gift kicked in. Regardless of the stabby arms, he’d end the creature within one round.

  Before Seb could think on it any further, he felt Sparks’ attention on him. A look across and he met her purple glare. In the short time they’d spent together, she knew him better than anyone and she knew what went through his mind at that moment. It would be insanity to fight on a covert mission, and he needed that reminder from his small friend.

  “I’ve never been to the pits before,” Seb said, testing the water with the creature next to him.

  A raised eyebrow met his confession but nothing more.

  “How does the betting work?”

  “You bet on the champion, Alusta, and collect a small profit when she wins.”

  “You never bet on the challenger?”

  A sharp shake of his head and the man said, “The challenger never wins.”

  Another encouragement for Seb to go down into the ring, but he held back.

  The smallest Crimson foot soldier Seb had seen so far—smaller than Sparks—stepped into the ring and turned to the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, most of you already know her, but please allow me to introduce you to Alusta.”

  The crowd leapt up. The entire pit shook as they stamped on the ground. Seb grabbed either side of his seat as if that would prevent the place from collapsing. The rickety arena didn’t look like it would hold up to much. Unable to do anything about it, he stood up with the others.

  Four speared arms raised in the air and the insect-like Alusta spun on the spot to take in the adoration, or frenzy, or bloodlust … Impossible to tell what the other people wanted when they came to the pit. Personally, Seb liked the sport of it.

  A glance to his right again and Seb saw the impassive sheen on SA’s face as she surveyed the place. She looked like she knew the position and weaknesses of every creature in the arena. Were it to kick off, she’d fight her way through the crowd and be gone before her victims knew what had hit them. The graceful woman seemed to always have the angles covered.

  To let his excitement out allowed Seb to slip deeper into the role of a newbie to the fighting pits. His words came out fast when he spoke to the man on his left. “When does the fight start?”

  “Just watch it, yeah?”

  Seb wanted to reveal his act. He knew the fighting pits. He knew them as well as anyone—hell, he ruled the places—but he needed to put his ego on the back burner.

  A smaller, more lithe creature joined the overgrown insect in the ring and the commentator spoke again as he looked up at the booth occupied by another Crimson foot soldier; this one was clearly a high-ranking representative of the Crimson Countess. “Are you happy with the contender, sir?”

  Silence swept through the crowd as everyone turned to the foot soldier in the booth. The large beast paused as he seemed to drink in the atmosphere before he raised a thumb at the commentator. The crowd erupted again.

  “Alusta has so far won thirty-nine fights. The record is forty-five and currently held by the purveyor of this fine pit.” A pause to look up at the foot soldier in the booth, who nodded for the commentator to continue.

  “But can Alusta take it all the way and set a new record? We shall see.”

  The challenger had a body covered in yellow fur and a wide mouth. With arms and fists like a human, it looked like its killer move rested in its sharp bite. Its jaw had overblown muscles easily as large as Seb’s biceps. It looked like it could chomp through steel.

  “So without further ado,” the commentator called, the touts flying through the crowd as they took the final bets and shouted at the spectators. “Let the fight begin.”

  The place fell quiet.

  Chapter 27

  The challenger ran at Alusta, dodging and weaving as it charged, its long and lithe body snaking from side to side. To watch—especially at normal speed—showed its strange and hypnotic effect.

  Alusta remained perfectly still and waited like a praying mantis, her spear appendages raised.

  The challenger screamed and waved its arms.

  Alusta stood statuesque, blinking as the yellow furry creature bore down on her.

  When the challenger jumped, it led with a punch.

  Seb looked at how it opened its powerful jaw. The real attack would come from that. With clenched fists, he imagined himself dodging the blow and driving a hard uppercut to the yellow beast’s chin. He’d slam that jaw shut for good.

  In a flash, Alusta threw a backhand at her attacker and sent it flying away from her. Her limbs moved so fast, Seb barely saw them. The yellow beast hurtled back the way it had come and crashed into the far wall of the pit.

  The crowd gasped to watch the broken form of the challenger slide to the ground. For a second it didn’t move, but then it got to its feet, slightly wobblier than before, yet still with the fight in it.

  The challenger raised its fists and opened and closed its mouth. Its red forked tongue snapped forward, jabbing the air as if tasting the distance between them. It looked ready to lunge again, but Alusta rushed toward it first. She closed the gap of about ten metres in a flash and appeared in front of her opponent. Two wet squelches and she impaled the slim creature on her spear-like legs.

  “Wow,” Seb said to Phulp. “Does this kind of stuff always happen in the fighting pits? It’s so exciting.” Playing the newbie felt like eating glass, but if it helped him ascertain whether he could trust Phulp or not, then it would be worth it.

  Phulp didn’t respond.

  Alusta grimaced as she kept her legs dug into her challenger. The crowd whooped and hollered when she lifted the slim creature from the ground and held it several feet clear of the dusty ring.

  The seating area shook from the crowd stamping on the floor and chanting, “End it.”

  Seb noticed the shake in Alusta’s rangy limbs as she continued to hold the challenger aloft. Despite her speed, Alusta didn’t necessarily have the strength of some of the other champions. Although, maybe she didn’t need it. If he could be an exception for a pit champion, then why couldn’t she?

  The desire to stand up and challenge her itched beneath Seb’s skin, but he remained still. It would serve no purpose. In fact, it would only damage their cause.

  With a loud roar that silenced the chaos around them, Alusta pulled her legs apart and ripped her opponent down the middle. Seb jumped and nearly heaved. He hadn’t seen that coming! A wet tearing sound accompanied the splash of a body’s worth of blood hitting the dusty ground. Like in the square only a short while earlier, the place took on the metallic reek of a slaughtered life.

  Two wet thuds echoed as Alusta shook the bisected creature from her arms. Seb watched her take in the audience with a dark glare, her entire form shimmering as if her skin had a mind of its own. If he went down there now, he’d bang her out in the first thirty seconds.

  An uncommon action for a pit fighter, Alusta walked over to the large Crimson foot soldier in the booth and dropped down on one knee in front of him.

  The shadowed hole where the foot soldier’s face should be revealed nothing to Seb. The large brute lifted its hand. A big green fist, skin like leather, appeared from it
s robe. It raised its thumb at Alusta, the yellowing nail on the end of it long and sharp. Alusta’s face lifted with hope and the crowd cheered.

  Then the foot soldier flipped his hand and pointed his thumb down.

  Silence swept around the pit and Alusta’s face fell.

  The commentator in the middle of the ring stepped forward and said, “Um … are you sure?”

  “Alusta’s getting lazy,” the large foot soldier explained. “She’s not putting on a good show anymore.”

  Covered in the blood of her opponent, Alusta stared up at the foot soldier but said nothing.

  “People come here and spend their hard-earned money gambling on the fights. Alusta’s style isn’t good for business.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Seb said as he leaned close to Phulp. “That was one of the most dramatic fights I’ve ever seen.”

  “I thought you said you’d not been to the pits before?”

  Seb didn’t respond and his face heated up.

  After he’d looked at him for a few seconds, Phulp added, “He’s the champion and has the record for the most fights. At some point he has to stop Alusta from fighting so he can remain champion. You just saw what she did then. If they let her continue, she won’t even have to break a sweat to beat his record.”

  The two soldiers didn’t speak, but the smaller one in the pit continued to look up. Finally, he said again, “Are you sure?”

  Utter silence consumed the place before the large soldier’s voice boomed around the room. “Finish her.”

  The Crimson foot soldier in the ring pulled Alusta to her feet, her two more prominent legs still dripping with the blood of her opponent.

  Several foot soldiers entered the ring with blasters raised. They all pointed them at the pit’s champion, who instead of looking at them, looked up at the large soldier who’d sentenced her to death. As she stared at him, the air lit up with laser fire, tearing through her and dropping her to the ground a second later as a broken and bloody lump.

  A glance down the line at his friends and Seb saw all three of them watching the pit, their faces fixed in shock.

  The sound from the crowd picked up a second later as they spoke amongst themselves. The foot soldiers dragged Alusta’s body away.

  Phulp shook his head. “That’s such a crappy way to die. The Crimson foot soldiers are power-hungry grunts who like to dominate anyone and everyone. They get humiliated every day by the Countess. By disempowering them, she starts a chain reaction that sees them doing the same to others. The people at the end of the chain take the hardest kick.”

  Seb needed to hear Phulp’s dissent before he trusted him. “Look, I’ve been to the fighting pits before.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But this is my first time on this planet.” A quick glance at the other three, who now watched his conversation with Phulp, and Seb said, “The first time for all of us. We’re here for reasons I can’t go into, but we need to get into the wealthy part of the city.”

  A shrug and Phulp shook his head. “I’m not sure who can help you do that.”

  Seb pulled a loaded credit card from his pocket and showed it to the small man. “We can reward whoever takes us where we need to go.”

  The eyes of an albino—red against his pale skin—widened and Phulp smiled. “Well then, since you say it like that, come with me.”

  Seb looked at the other three and gave them a thumbs-up.

  The five of them stood up and left the pit.

  Chapter 28

  The transition from the fighting pit to the slum brought the acrid reek of waste back to Seb. An involuntary twist gripped his face and he pushed the back of his hand against his nose as he looked at Phulp. “How do you put up with the smell?”

  A shrug of his small shoulders and Phulp said, “I’ve spent enough time here that I don’t notice it.” He inhaled to the point where his narrow chest puffed out. “It smells like home to me now.”

  Almost dizzy from the ammonia reek of urine, Seb continued to screw his face up but didn’t reply.

  The further they traveled from the pit, the narrower the pathways got, so the group fell into single file. They headed deeper into the slum, moving among the foggy streets with the elevated city in front of them. Having left the pits, the cold bite in the air nipped at Seb and he did his coat up to his neck, his shoulders lifting in reaction to the harsh conditions.

  The group remained mute as they walked. Many other beings moved through the ramshackle mess around them. They too kept quiet, their footsteps the only real sound in the place.

  Every hut had similar dimensions and were built from junk. The rickety dwellings leaned into one another for support. To pull one down could level the entire slum.

  When Phulp stopped, Seb looked around and said, “What are we doing?” His voice carried through the foggy dark and a few beings looked over at him.

  Pulp spoke in a whisper. “I need to get something in the shop.”

  Seb frowned and looked around them. When he glanced at Sparks, SA, and Gurt, they all seemed as confused. “What shop?”

  Phulp pointed at the hut directly in front of them that looked the same as all of the others. “I need some food for now and some for later too.”

  Seb followed Phulp in. Now the canvas door had been pulled aside, he saw the wonky shelves loaded with tins and packs of food. Every product in the place had a long shelf life. Canned, dried, powered … fresh didn’t exist in this shop. And why would it? No shop owner who wanted to survive in such an impoverished place would load their shelves with products that went off quickly. Dust covered some of the tins, while others looked like they’d been recently put on the shelves.

  A wrinkly old female stood behind the counter. With a square face like a tortoise and a neck as long, she watched her two customers through large milky eyes. A slight smile rested on her wizened face.

  Phulp had a basket on his arm, which he filled with products.

  “I thought you said you wanted a little bit of food,” Seb said.

  “And food for later. It’s not often I meet someone with your resources. Where the next meal comes from is one of our biggest worries. You can help me alleviate that stress for a while, and I can help you out, yes?”

  Hopefully Phulp would be true to his word. Seb nodded at him.

  Sparks had come to the door of the shop and she peered into the dark place. A frown crushed her brow as she watched Phulp gather his shopping and then looked at Seb with raised eyebrows. Seb nodded. Were the roles reversed, he would have checked on her too. It felt good to know someone had his back.

  The shop didn’t provide bags, so every one of the group carried several items each as they followed Phulp through the stinking and winding streets again. The small creature weaved through the twists and turns as if driven by an innate guidance system, and as Seb—at the front of his gang—tried to keep up, he also watched the ground for the large pools of urine and faeces.

  Phulp stopped outside another hut and Seb rolled his eyes at him. “Another shop?”

  The red albino gaze of the waxy-skinned Phulp softened and he smiled. “No. This is my place.”

  As he entered the small dwelling, Phulp pulled the curtain back and led the group inside.

  Built for someone of Phulp’s stature, Seb couldn’t help but smile at Gurt as he crouched down to get into the place.

  “What?” the large Mandulu demanded. His horns pushed up his face as he locked his jaw tight.

  Seb laughed. “You look ridiculous crammed into this tiny hut.”

  Zero humour met Seb’s comment.

  Each member of the group passed Phulp his food products and he proceeded to stack the shelves in his small dwelling. In one corner he had a fire pit that he must have used for cooking; in the opposite corner he had a pile of blankets and fabrics that he must have slept on. Depression sank through Seb as a heavy weight. “How do you stand to live here?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Phulp responded.

  �
��Well, I mean—” Before Seb could say anything else, Sparks silenced him with a sharp elbow in his ribcage.

  “What he means,” Sparks said, “is that the smell must get to you sometimes. You have a wonderful home, but having to put up with other people’s filth right outside your door …”

  A warm smile lit up Phulp’s face. “Like I said earlier, I don’t notice the smell.”

  Clearly still riled about the size of the place, Gurt spoke more to himself than anyone. “I don’t know how; it bloody stinks.”

  Ignoring Gurt, Phulp addressed Seb, Sparks, and SA. “If you want to remain off the grid, you stay in the slums. It can be quite beneficial if the soldiers don’t know who you are. The surveillance inside the wealthy district is so tight, they know when you’ve farted and expect you to excuse yourself.”

  Seb sank a little where he sat. “So you don’t know how to get us into the wealthy part of the city?”

  “I didn’t say that. Only that the surveillance is fierce in there. I can get you wherever you need to go on Solsans … for the right price, of course.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “Morning,” Phulp replied as he shuffled over to his makeshift mattress and lay down. “When the morning comes, I’ll get you into the heart of the wealthy district. Although, after that, you’re on your own. It’s not a place I like to stay in for long, and if the Countess finds out I’ve helped you …” Phulp tailed off and his red eyes lost focus.

  Seb looked at the others in his group. SA and Sparks seemed content to rest, while Gurt continued to remain crouched over in the corner, a deep scowl on his angry face.

  As much as Seb wanted to provoke him by laughing at him again, he kept his mirth to himself and sat down on the cold and hard ground.

  Chapter 29

  Seb learned of the ambush when he woke up to a loud crash and a sharp pain of something falling down on top of him. Before they’d gone to sleep, Phulp had slipped a wooden pallet across the entrance of his small hut. That pallet currently lay on top of Seb, along with the weight of a Crimson foot soldier pushing down on it.