Omega Games

by S. L. Viehl

  “Why haven’t you repaired your own ships?” Reever asked.

  “After the last attempt to escape the colony, Davidov destroyed them all,” Drefan said. “You can see the wreckage on the south side of the colony complex, where our main transport facility used to be. Be grateful that your ship is still viable.”

  “You have specific data on these repairs that I can review?” Reever asked, and the other man nodded. “Assuming what you say is true, and your plan can be carried out, what is your price?”

  “I want you,” Drefan said to my husband, “to fight in my games.”

  Reever paled.

  “No.” I knew how much Duncan had suffered during the years he spent as a slave. His Hsktskt owner had forced him to fight in the arenas, where he had no choice but to kill or be killed. “My husband cannot fight.”

  “He had no difficulty routing my drones,” Drefan told me. “But if he doesn’t care for bloodsport, I will make it a single match—one with an opponent worthy of his skills.”

  “I will accept,” Reever said quietly, before I could repeat a refusal, “under two conditions. I will not fight to the death.”

  “Agreed,” Drefan said. “And the other?”

  Reever gripped my hand tightly. “I want to first see this worthy opponent fight.”

  The games master turned to Keel. “Have Tya brought to the melee room.”

  We followed Drefan’s glidechair out of the control room and down to what he called the hover view.

  “Our customers became bored with the old stationary observation decks,” he told Reever as we stepped into a large, round, flat-bottomed area furnished with seats. “This allows them to change positions above the simulation, to get the best vantage point. Important when you’re running large programs, and the fighting can become confusing from the ground level.”

  “Your assistant told me that the people I saw fighting were colonists and simulations,” I said. “But they all looked real.”

  “Our simulators are not based on League or Jorenian technology,” Drefan said. “We trade with a supplier who has collected some interesting artifacts from distant worlds. I’ll wager that what we use here is not like anything you’ve seen.”

  The hover view launched down a short tunnel into a spacious, empty simulation grid. We floated silently above it, and then Drefan brought the craft down to what he called the optimum observation level.

  “The grids are modified versions of League standard holoprojectors,” Drefan said as he worked on the console in front of him. “Each simulation is stocked with an appropriate quantity of holographite, which is charged with light energy and converts itself into whatever we wish: weapons, landscapes, climate conditions, terrain, and of course, opponents.”

  Optic emitters flickered as the simulation program initiated, and the yellow and black grid disappeared, replaced by a seething alien jungle and red-brown skies.

  “Itan Odaras,” Reever murmured.

  “You recognize the place.” Drefan sounded pleased. “It’s one of our most frequently programmed simulations.”

  “It is the wrong color.” My husband did not seem pleased at all. “The ground should be soaked with the blood of the three point seven million beings that were slaughtered during the ten years of fighting there.”

  “Our customers want the illusion, my friend,” Drefan said. “Not the reality.”

  Reever met his gaze. “I am not your friend, Games Master.”

  I kept my hand in his, but my attention was drawn down to five figures that entered the grid. Four of them were large crossbreed marauders, dressed out in full raiding gear, with long swords and clubs. The fifth, a drednoc in combat armor, carried huge double-edged battle-axes in both spiked gauntlets. I recognized the drone as the same one that had driven the Tingalean away from me on the surface.

  “Your drednoc is very unusual,” I said. “Why did you choose to . . . ?” My voice trailed off as a sixth and final combatant entered the grid. This one was as tall and almost as broad as the machine giant, but wore a metallic thermal garment and a clear icestone slave collar around its scaled throat. “Your simulations are quite convincing.”

  Reever stood, equally riveted. “That is not a simulation. “

  “Your husband is correct,” Drefan said. “The raiders are generated holographite constructs, but the drednoc and my Hsktskt gladiator are real.”

  “Gladiatrix,” I said, identifying the combatant as a female from her brow scales and pelvic notches. “Was she marooned here when Davidov came?”

  “No. I own her.”

  Reever made a harsh sound. “That’s not possible. No Hsktskt has ever been successfully enslaved. If they are captured, they commit suicide at the first opportunity.”

  “True, unless the Hsktskt is under a life-debt to you,” Drefan said, rubbing a finger across his chin. “As this one is to me.”

  “You saved the life of a Hsktskt,” Reever said.

  “I bought the life-debt she owed to another.” The games master smiled at my husband. “I’ve shocked you. Surely you know that you can buy anyone or anything if you have the right price.”

  Reever looked disgusted now. “Hsktskt do not sell themselves.”

  I watched the female Hsktskt take her position facing all five of her opponents. She waited in place, unmoving, as the marauders called out insults and the drednoc’s halo deepened to a dark purple. She seemed unaffected by the noise or the number of combatants she would fight.

  “Tya.” Drefan spoke over an audio com that could clearly be heard down on the grid floor, and waited until the Hsktskt looked up at him. “I want you to give our visitors a proper demonstration of what you can do.” He input something on the hover view’s console.

  The female Hsktskt regarded the games master steadily as a sword and shield materialized at her feet. She made no move to touch the weapons.

  “Pick them up, Tya, and use them this time.” Drefan waited, but the Hsktskt remained unarmed. He sighed. “She can be very stubborn.” He pressed another button, and a lyrical chime shimmered through the air.

  The sound galvanized the four marauders, who charged the Hsktskt, roaring promises of death and dismemberment as they ran. Tya waited until the first pair nearly reached her before she dropped and knocked them off their feet with a sweep of her tail. A third heaved his hammer down on her skull, but she rolled out of the way and leaped to her feet. She ripped the skull-basher’s arm from his body and bludgeoned him with it before thrusting her talons into the hearts of the two on the ground. The fourth staggered as his armless comrade fell into him, and she brought two limbs together to decapitate both of them simultaneously.

  I couldn’t breathe, but I could shout. “Behind you—the drednoc.”

  An ax flashed, but Tya heard my warning and moved in time to avoid a fierce, killing blow from the mechanical giant. The second ax might have buried itself in her abdomen, but she seemed to anticipate the movement, bowed her back, and caught the shaft as it swept past with one of her lower limbs. A wrench should have knocked it from the drone’s grip, but it countered the move and spun away. She followed, watching the drednoc’s moves. She did not seem afraid or worried, only focused.

  I gripped the edge of the hover view, the alloy rim bruising my palms. I had never seen anyone but Reever fight with such speed or dispassion.

  At last the drednoc attacked, and raked its spiked gauntlet across Tya’s face, trying to damage her large, vulnerable eyes. She grunted as she dropped and drove her shoulder into the drednoc’s chest plate. I heard the sound of armor denting before Tya knocked the drone back and dropped to the ground to grab the weapons she had ignored since the battle began.

  “Whoever programmed your drednoc,” Reever said to Drefan, “has never fought in the arena.”

  “Indeed.” Drefan eyed the mechanical giant. “Perhaps you can give me some input later.”

  The drednoc reeled back a few steps, and then brought its second ax down with a hook toward Ty
a’s triangular jaw. She met the curved blade with her shield, and sparks flew as the metals clanged and ground together. The ropy muscles in her arms bulged as she countered the force and strength of the drone, and the weapons quivered between them.

  “That’s enough,” I said, afraid to see another Hsktskt die before my eyes. I had watched too much of that on Vtaga. “Stop this now.”

  “Have you seen enough?” Drefan asked Reever, who nodded. He tapped the console and the simulation vanished, leaving only the Hsktskt and the drednoc facing each other. At the same time, Drefan lowered the hover view to floor level and exited the craft, his glidechair soundless as it moved across the grid. “Disarm, Tya.”

  Tya dropped the sword and shield before Drefan’s chair.

  “Very good.” Drefan turned to Reever. “Now that you’ve seen her fight, will you accept my terms?”

  “No,” I said at once. “He cannot fight her. She is too strong. She will kill him.”

  “It is only an exhibition match, Doctor, and Tya will do as she’s told,” Drefan informed me. He gave the Hsktskt a thoughtful look. “Won’t you, my dear?”

  The Hsktskt female studied me and then Reever, but I saw no emotion or concern in her saucer-sized yellow eyes. She seemed less animated than the simulations she had fought. Slowly she tilted her head back, baring her throat in a gesture of submission.

  “Very good,” Drefan said.

  I could not believe a Hsktskt female warrior had just capitulated to a warm-blooded cripple whose neck she could snap with one flick of her wrist. Not after watching her fight the way she had. “Is everyone on this planet insane?”

  Instead of taking offense, the games master grinned like a boy. “Probably.”

  Tya straightened and went to exit the grid. She paused after passing the drednoc, turned, and looped one of her arms around its head. With a wrench she tore the sensor case off the chassis and tossed it at Drefan. The drone’s head landed in his lap. She looked at Reever again before she departed.

  “Well.” Drefan picked up the drone’s head and regarded it ruefully. “I did instruct her to give you a proper demonstration.”

  Drefan insisted we share a meal with him, and I agreed to, but not because I was hungry. I needed time to think of something I could offer him in return for repairing Moonfire that would not require Reever to fight that Hsktskt.

  I didn’t care what Drefan claimed she would or would not do. The image of her tearing the head off the battle drone would not get out of my head.

  We went to Drefan’s quarters, where Keel was waiting. The games master ordered the Chakacat to prepare a Terran meal, and then moved his glidechair over to a cabinet, from which he removed a container of spicewine. Although he had only one arm, he deftly poured it into three servers.

  “Why do you want my husband to fight Tya?” I asked. “Why not a simulation? They can be programmed to assure that he is not harmed.”

  “There is no sport in that, Doctor,” Drefan said as he handed us each one of the servers. “I know of only one other Terran to whom a Hsktskt owed a life-debt. I never thought he would crash on Trellus and become indebted to me. Can you blame me for wishing to recreate such an event?”

  “I did not fight a Hsktskt on the sands to earn the life-debt,” my husband said. “I stopped the assassination of an important Faction member.”

  “It’s said that you did that by dragging the assassin into the arena,” Drefan tacked on, “and cutting him to pieces.”

  My husband gave him a bland look. “Such stories become overblown legends that barely resemble the actual events.”

  Drefan lifted his server in a silent toast. “Yet you were adopted by TssVar and made a member of the Faction for what you did that day. It must have been quite impressive, seeing as TssVar also adopted you as a blood brother.”

  “I would like to know where you have gotten your information,” my husband said casually.

  “Here and there. Rumors abound in my business. “ Drefan regarded his server. “The last of my spicewine. I have another three bottles, and then I will have to make do with synthale until we rid ourselves of Davidov.”

  Reever didn’t touch his server. “How did you acquire Tya’s life-debt?”

  “Davidov sold it to me.” Drefan smiled as I gaped. “It was the last transaction he made before he shut down the colony, in fact. I suspect it was to punish her, or us, but I could not pass up the bargain.”

  “Hsktskt do not allow themselves to be treated like commodities,” Reever told him. “They consider it beneath them, like most warm-blooded behaviors. Did Davidov tell you any details about how he acquired her life-debt?”

  “He told me that she held the rank of centuron during the war. He met her just after her superiors had apprehended her for deserting her post, or something like that.” Drefan shrugged. “I presume you know what the Faction does to military deserters? Davidov refused to give me any of the specifics, and Tya never speaks of it.”

  “They’re hung upside down in public, and then they’re beaten to death. Slowly. It takes some weeks for them to die.” Reever regarded the other man closely. “Davidov spent many years freeing Hsktskt slaves. I find it unlikely that he would rescue a member of the Faction.”

  The smooth brow over the crater that had once been Drefan’s eye lifted. “You know Davidov well, then.”

  “We have shared some causes in the past.” Reever’s expression remained impassive. “Why do you wish me to fight her in front of an audience? Is this some creative form of execution?”

  “Her kind have enslaved and slaughtered millions of members of humanoid species, including the founders of this colony,” Drefan said. “If anyone should be executed, it should be her.”

  “I will not fight to the death,” my husband reminded him. “No matter what she or any of the Hsktskt have done to you.”

  Keel interrupted the conversation to announce that the meal was ready, and then silently left Drefan’s quarters. I would have been happy to wait until the men finished eating before I started my meal, as I didn’t recognize the unappetizing-looking stew Keel had dialed up, but Reever touched my arm and linked with me.

  Eat with us, he said. It is Terran custom, and Drefan responds better to you than me.

  What do you wish me to ask him?

  Find out how he came to be here on Trellus.

  I sampled the stew, which contained cubes of synpro instead of real meat. Despite this, Keel had somehow made it savory with a skilled addition of piquant herbs. I complimented the dish and inquired as to what had been added.

  “I believe it’s rosemary, thyme, and sage,” Drefan said. “My assistant grows Terran herbs for me in one of the agridomes.”

  “There is nothing like food from one’s homeworld. “ I tried very hard not to remember some of the things I had eaten on Akkabarr. “What made you leave Terra and journey all the way out here?”

  “I intended to stay on the homeworld and increase my family’s holdings.” He wheeled over to the prep unit and returned with a server of water. “My pursuit of that goal eventually brought me here.”

  “Were you injured on Terra, or while you were traveling?”

  “I lost my limbs in a mining accident.” Drefan glanced down at his leg stumps. “I wanted to die after it happened. A friend convinced me that my life was not over.” He said life as if it meant punishment.

  “So now you indulge bloodthirsty game players and rescue rogue Hsktskt cowards.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose I do.”

  “You must have paid Davidov a great deal for her life-debt,” Reever said.

  “Twenty thousand stan credits,” Drefan replied. “Hardly a blip compared to what I could make if I gave your wife to Davidov.” He glanced at me. “I don’t think Tya is a coward. If she were, she would never fight as she does.”

  He gave nothing away in his tone, but I sensed that he actually cared about the Hsktskt female. “Has she ever said why she deserted her post?”


  “Davidov told me that she botched a raid, and she didn’t want to face the consequences. Excuse me for a moment.” Drefan moved his chair over to the console, where he summoned Keel.

  “I understand that a Hsktskt raid wiped out the original colony on Trellus,” I said when Drefan returned to the table. “Surely Mercy and the others who survived cannot be pleased by Tya’s presence on Trellus.”

  “No one outside my staff knows Tya exists,” Drefan said. “Nor will they, until I broadcast Reever’s match with her throughout the domes. It should be quite entertaining.” He turned to my husband. “That is, if you agree to fight her.”

  Reever put his hand over mine. He is not telling the whole truth, but unless he helps us repair Moonfire, we cannot leave Trellus.

  I didn’t want him to go anywhere near that Hsktskt, but he was right. Davidov had left us no choice. I trust your judgment.

  To Drefan, Reever said, “I will fight her.”

  Eight

  Drefan would not allow Reever to leave Omega Dome until I performed the exams on his staff, which I calculated would take several days. I had an obligation to return to Mercy House to do the same there. I suggested contacting her and making arrangements to share my time between the two domes, but Drefan refused to let me signal the brothel owner.

  “I have to tell her about the Tingalean,” I said. “Her drednocs were destroyed, defending me.” Hopefully we would not be expected to pay for them as well as the salvage, or Reever and I would never get off this world.

  Reever caught my arm and swung me around to face him. “You were attacked?”

  I’d forgotten that he didn’t know about the skirmish with the Tingalean. “It happened when I came here from Mercy House. I wasn’t hurt.”

  “You two have a great deal to discuss,” Drefan said. “You will stay here tonight with Reever, Doctor. I will signal Mercy and make arrangements with her on how best to share your services until the exams are completed. But if either of you tell Mercy or anyone outside Omega Dome about Tya, I will void the repayment agreement.”