There was a collective scream of delight and fury as the fight concluded and everyone in the room shifted on their feet.
Showtime.
Handlers grabbed Bedivere’s arms, ready to hustle him out onto the fighting pad.
“You’re up, Killer,” Chedomir said. “Don’t get your face rearranged, either. Lady Mary paid for another night. You must have impressed her.” His gaze flickered from Bedivere’s bare toes to his head. His smile was nasty.
Lady Mary and her sadistic lover, Conroy. There were lots of things Bedivere couldn’t recall any more and probably a ton more he didn’t know he had forgotten, but those two he remembered.
As the handlers quick marched him out to the fighting pad, Bedivere grasped the fury and held onto it, letting it build and heat.
* * * * *
The Savage Pits. Unknown Location. FY 10.187
Brant stood on the cold metal grid, feeling the chill eat into his bare feet. They had stripped him down and even made him bend over to check for secret weapons. One of them had roughly cut the leather holding his hair back and probed under his hair for blades or miniatures. That one had reluctantly handed the thong back so Brant could tie his hair back again. He needed to be able to see clearly for the next few minutes.
The noise in the retrofitted space station cargo hold was ferocious. There were over a thousand people pressed in around the four sides of the hold. There were no seats. They had been herded in like cattle and squashed into the narrow few meters around the edge of the hold yet it wasn’t stopping them from stomping and jumping, screaming their enthusiasm and appreciation for the show.
There was a single large round landing pad in the middle of the room that had been lifted up level with the rest of the floor and locked in place. It was maybe thirty feet in diameter. All around it was…nothing. Brant looked over the edge nearest him. There was space beyond. A long way below was the shining blue glow of a planet, lighting up the hold with ethereal light. A molecular membrane had to be keeping the atmosphere in the hold in place. A body, though, could pass through the membrane without resistance.
Brant had watched a body drop through it only a few moments ago. The winner of the fight had stomped on the man’s hands as he had clutched desperately at the edge of the pad, until his broken fingers couldn’t hold him anymore.
The cheer that had gone up as he screamed and fell had been ferocious. Brant’s guts had twisted as he listened to it. The whole fight had been appalling. The end of the fight had driven home how brutal these savage pits were. The man had clearly lost. They could have hauled him back onto the pad and kept him for another fight, yet the crowd had demanded the kill.
The cold climbing up Brant’s ankles felt like the chill of deep space creeping through the metal. It matched his mood.
He shifted, testing his footing on the metal grid. He flexed his fingers.
“You ready for this?” Connell asked in his ear.
“Shut up,” Brant said. He was going to need every scrap of concentration now. Over on the other side of the hold there was a surge of people surrounding a core of men as they progressed to the catwalk that had been slid out to the edge of the pad. The current champion was entering the ring.
Brant braced himself. His heart was running too hard. He was already breathing too fast. If he didn’t calm down he would start hyperventilating, then it would all be over.
Bedivere was pushed out from among the entourage onto the catwalk and Brant sucked in a fast breath that stung as it whistled down to his lungs. He barely recognized him.
Bedivere was naked just as Brant was, which meant that all the scars and bruises and old wounds were visible. His body was a crazy quilt of violent history. The really scary part was his face…and his eyes. As he walked out onto the pad he sized up Brant. There was no recognition in his red eyes. None.
“Glave save me!” Connell whispered. “That’s really him?” The distress in his voice was clear through the microscopic transmitter. “What have they done to him?”
“If you do what you’re supposed to, we’ll find out,” Brant murmured, trying to move his lips as little as possible. “Now shut up, will you?”
The catwalk retracted, leaving the two of them alone on the pad, facing each other. The crowd started chanting and for a moment Brant couldn’t make out what they were saying. His heart was pounding too heavily in his ears.
Then he heard it.
“Kil-ler! Kil-ler! Kil-ler….!”
Bedivere didn’t circle around, psyching himself into the fight. He leapt without warning, his big hands out to grab whatever part of Brant he could latch on to. The handlers who had taken Brant’s money had warned him. “Don’t let him get both hands on you. You’re fucked if you do. He’ll drop you over the side. Show over.”
Brant dodged and backtracked, aware that the edges of the pad were sharply limiting his ability to fall back.
Bedivere drove forward relentlessly and his fingers closed around Brant’s arm. Brant wrenched his arm out of Bedivere’s grip, rammed his fist into his stomach and spun away.
He had aimed for the liver and had connected squarely. He had felt his knuckles sink into Bedivere’s flesh and ram up against the organ beneath. It was a classic disabling strike, designed to stress the liver and spread all the bile and toxins the liver processed back into the body. It made an opponent sick and weak almost instantly.
Yet Bedivere was coming after him, his eyes filled with madness and fury.
Fear coiled Brant’s guts “Where are you?” he demanded.
“Coming!” Connell cried.
“I’m not going to last—” He ducked as Bedivere swung his fist then made himself roll fast to get out of the way of the vicious kick to the side of his knee that Bedivere had masked with the fist swing.
Brant’s back scraped over the metal grid as he rolled. He jumped back onto his feet as fast as he could. Bedivere wouldn’t let an opening like that pass.
Bedivere was already bearing down on him, his hands outstretched once more for the fatal double grip. Brant ducked and spun out of the way and the crowd hissed and roared its disapproval. They wanted combat and Brant wasn’t giving it to them.
“Where?” Brant demanded.
“Other side to you,” Connell said. “I’m in place.”
Brant studied Bedivere as he turned around and headed back toward him. “I don’t know if I can reach you.”
“Try,” Connell said. “Play dirty if you have to.”
“I already gave him my best dirty shot.”
“Try your second best.”
“Right.” Brant stepped closer to Bedivere, swinging his right fist in a roundhouse to the jaw. Bedivere reacted as anyone would. He twisted to his right, moving his head out of the way. That opened him up to Brant’s left fist. He jabbed hard, straight at Bedivere’s throat. The blow was hard enough to crush his larynx. Brant didn’t wait to check results. As Bedivere made a choking sound he stepped around his folding body and leapt for the other edge of the pad.
“Now!” he said sharply.
The oblong metal object came arcing out of the jostling audience, high over any heads, heading directly for Brant. He got his hand up and snatched the miniature rattler out of the air, flipped it so it was the right way around, turned and aimed at Bedivere as the man came at him yet again.
Brant’s heart leapt. He made himself fire.
The blast threw Bedivere backward. If he hadn’t been so close to Brant when he fired, Bedivere would have been flung out over the edge of the pad into the vacuum below. Instead, he skidded along the metal on his back, his arms and legs useless.
He came to a stop only a few centimeters short of the edge and lay still, his sightless gaze turned upward.
“And I’m out of here,” Connell breathed. He couldn’t speak loudly, for the dock was totally silent and absolutely still with surprise. Brant had broken the rules, what rules there were. He had killed their champion.
Then, the sounds of
outrage and anger leapt from every throat in the room. If the pad had not been separated from the crowd by fatal vacuum, they would have lynched him on the spot.
As the catwalks extended out toward the pad and the handlers lined up with rattlers of their own pointed at him, Brant pressed the muzzle of the rattler against his heart, which was beating unevenly. He glanced at Bedivere’s still body one last time, then pulled the trigger.
Chapter Two
Charlton Space City, New Cathay (Ji Xiu Prime), Ji Xiu System, Perseus Arm. FY 10.187
Lilly was deep into the latest city immigration requests when Yennifer buzzed her desk.
“May I come in?” Yennifer’s voice was a sweet soprano, which matched Yennifer completely.
Lilly put the board down and let the door open. “Of course you can. Who else can I talk to if you don’t?”
Yennifer looked around the big room as she moved past the piano, crossed over the numerous rugs and rounded the sofa that was placed to take full advantage of the lead-lighted and high peaked windows and the view they offered. Beyond the windows was the edges of the city, then nothing but stars. Ji Xiu itself was on the far side of the city at the moment and New Cathay was far below. The planet that provided anchorage for the city never hove into view.
“Yesterday, I saw pictures of houses that looked like this room,” Yennifer said, moving over to the desk Lilly sat behind. “They were from centuries and centuries ago. I didn’t realize you had been inspired by history when you created it.”
Lilly smiled. “I borrowed. The style has been repeated many times, far back into history. It’s out of fashion at the moment but I like how cozy it makes things feel. Is there a problem?”
Yennifer smiled. She was a petite woman, with a heart-shaped face and masses of rich brown hair. “I thought I would tell you in person that Connell just docked.”
“He did?” Lilly breathed deeply, calming herself. “Six weeks…and now they turn up again.”
Yennifer shook her head with a tiny movement. “It’s just Connell.”
Lilly swallowed, fear blooming in her chest. “Do you know where they went?”
Yennifer looked sad. “I do, only because I am the citymind. If I told you, I would be giving you privileged information.” She looked over her shoulder as Connell pushed open the big, heavy door to the suite and stepped inside.
Lilly had long ago got used to how much Connell looked like Fareed. He kept his hair shorter and was a clothes horse, always parading in something new and colorful, while Fareed went for basic black. The difference just seemed to draw attention to how much like each other they were. As they were essentially each other’s clone, that was understandable but Lilly still had moments when she sometimes treated Connell just as she would Fareed, before she remembered.
Connell was holding his arm up against his chest, favoring it. There was a rip in the fur-lined and edged jacket he was wearing. The edges of the tear were blackened and beneath, Lilly could see blood.
“What happened?” she asked, alarm nudging her fear even higher. She and Yennifer met him halfway across the big room, just in front of the sofa. Connell hugged Lilly with his free arm. For once he didn’t let his hand slide over her back, down toward her ass as he sometimes did, just to tease her.
“It’s all right. Everything is fine,” he said quickly. “Well, sort of fine.”
“Where have you been?” Lilly demanded. “Not a single word from either of you. I’ll kill him when I see him.”
“I’m pretty sure you can see him now,” Connell told her.
“Where is he?”
“He should be emerging by now.”
“Emerging?” Lilly brought her hand to her throat. “He…died?”
“It’s a long story,” Connell assured her. “Lilly, we found Bedivere. He’s back, too.”
Lilly couldn’t help it. Her gaze moved toward the door on the far left. The one that hadn’t been opened for years.
“Is Bedivere fine, too?” Yennifer asked softly.
“You can probably tell that better than I can,” Connell told her. “I don’t have access to the therapy center datacore.”
Yennifer gave him a small smile. “I was asking as me.”
“Why don’t you come and find out?” he suggesting, looking at Lilly. “I have to have this seen to, anyway.” He lifted the injured arm. “I think Bedivere might like to see some friendly faces when he comes around.”
Lilly frowned. “If I can manage a friendly expression, I will, but I’m not making any promises. Nine years, he’s been gone, almost to the day.” Yet she found her feet were moving to the door all by themselves, as if she was eager to see him. “And you two have been gone for weeks, too. What hole did you pull him out of, anyway?”
All Connell’s good cheer faded. His eyes shadowed. “Wait until you hear the full story, Lilly,” he said gently. “Then, maybe, you might want to hug both of them after all.”
* * * * *
Like all such awakenings, this one was sluggish and confusing. His vision was slow to adjust—he’d never used these eyes before and they would need to settle into his old brain patterns.
As his vision adjusted, he remembered his name. Bedivere. And he remembered what he was. Everything was there, including….
“Brant.” He groaned and closed his eyes.
“You’re welcome.” Brant’s voice. Dry and weak.
Bedivere tried to sit up and couldn’t. Of course, he’d have to train the muscles. He could turn his head, though. He opened his eyes again and fought to make them focus on the object in front of him.
Finally, the image joined up with memory and made sense. Brant was sitting in a floating chair—he wouldn’t be any stronger than Bedivere right now. His hair was short, again. His skin was pale. The white tunic was almost the same color.
“Why do I remember everything?” Bedivere demanded. “I stopped backing up weeks ago. Deliberately.”
“Your backups were becoming more and more sporadic, so we switched you over to live feed backup. That’s how Connell tracked you.” Brant shrugged.
Bedivere rolled his head back and stared up at the pristine white ceiling. “It didn’t occur to you that I might object to remembering everything?”
“It was the only way we were going to be able to find you.”
“I didn’t want to be found!”
“Too bad.”
“Hades take you…how dare you override my will?”
“If you really had not wanted to be found, you would have killed yourself, quick and clean.”
“And ended up right back here!” He pummeled at the cradle holding his useless body. The motion was weak, barely a movement at all.
“Here is where you should be,” Brant said firmly. “Not that…that perdition we pulled you out of.”
“I was exactly where I wanted to be.”
“So where everyone else wants you to be doesn’t count?”
Bedivere closed his eyes again. It was easier that way. “I wasn’t needed here,” he muttered.
“Catherine isn’t here anymore,” Brant said shortly.
Even the mention of her name hurt. Bedivere drew in a sharp breath in reaction.
“There are people here, many of them, who will be glad you’re back. Be grateful for that, Bedivere,” Brant told him, his voice still dry and didactic. “Hold onto the life you’ve got, no matter how it feels. You taught me that, remember?”
“Cat taught you that,” Bedivere whispered. He turned his face to the wall. “You should have left me there.”
* * * * *
Brant directed the chair to move him out of the therapy room. His arms were starting to respond more quickly and naturally. Already, the body felt like his once more, although exhaustion was already dragging at him. A few simple movements drained this body of energy, for it had never moved before. He would have to sleep and eat and exercise for weeks, now, to build the muscles up.
When Connell had first proposed the plan, Br
ant had considered the cost worth it. Right at this moment, though, he wasn’t so sure.
Connell caught up with the chair and walked alongside for a few paces.
“They let you in?” Brant growled. Therapy clients were supposed to be given complete privacy and protection in their weakened state.
“They let the city administrator and the citymind enter. The two of them are a potent combination.”
Brant sighed. “Lilly and Yennifer are here, too?”
“I asked them to wait at the front,” Connell told him. “I thought there might be…issues.” He glanced at Brant and lifted a brow.
“There is,” Brant said shortly. “How angry is she?”
“Pretty mad,” Connell confirmed. “I think most of it is fear, though. You died. She has a lot of questions now. Better go and see her. Get it over with.”
“Show me the way.”
Connell led him through the clinic, passed medics and therapists who started clucking about contamination and repressed immune systems. Brant assured them he would be back and followed Connell out to the waiting area at the front of the clinic. It was a small parkland, with trees and grass and running water. He could even hear birds cooing at the top of the trees.
Lilly and Yennifer were waiting on one of the benches. When Lilly saw him coming, she jumped to her feet and hurried over to him. Her face was working as she battled to hold back her emotions.
Brant drew in a shaky breath. Seeing her after an absence always made him feel this way. The wave of longing and gratitude that she was in his life would swamp him, making him tremble with the strength of it.
By the time she reached him, he had managed to get his arms up and she slid right onto his lap and wrapped herself around him. She kissed him. Hard. “I am so angry with you,” she breathed. “But later. We’ll deal with it later. I’m just so glad…oh, Fareed!” Her eyes were glistening suspiciously.
He had enough strength to hold her against him. It would do for now. She laid her head on his shoulder in the way she did and his heart swelled.
Yennifer reached them. She wore a small smile. “It’s so good to have you back, Brant.”
Cat and Company Page 2
