“It is always like this with them, mate,” replied Steenini, a venomous acerbity that betrayed the antipathy he felt toward their captors creeping into his tone. “The Vazileks are few and their thralls are many. They rule only through terror and absolute subjugation. They will brook not the slightest insubordination, no matter how trifling, at any time or any place from any person. They are utterly ruthless.”
“Good!” O’Keefe said with finality.
“Good?” echoed Steenini, looking at O’Keefe with a mixture of confusion and repugnance.
“Yes. Very good. Once we get out of here we are going to need an…” Of course there was no Akadean word for army. “We’re going to need allies. The worse the people are treated the easier it will be to recruit them.”
Steenini rolled his eyes slightly, in response to what he had recently begun to call O’Keefe’s “infernal optimism,” but said nothing. A moment later he pointed down at the arena floor. “There,” he said, “it begins.”
O’Keefe looked below and could see that there was one section of the first tier that was not filled to overflowing with humanity, nor was it angled upward from the wall that surrounded the floor. It was instead a flat square cut into the side of the stadium at the height of the wall, which stretched back into the shadows beneath the second deck. A broad staircase reached from its front down to the floor. From somewhere outside, a large pack of dogs now loped out across that square, positioning themselves at regular intervals around its edges. They were followed by a group of lizard guards that formed a semi-circle across the square, facing the arena floor, which stretched from the left front corner, to the midpoint at the center, and then back to the right front corner. Then Elorak herself appeared in an enormous litter, borne by a dozen men. It slowly emerged from beneath the overhang of the second level with her assault robot, as always, following just behind it.
The litter was ornately fashioned and appeared to be completely plated with gold and encrusted with sparkling gems, though O’Keefe would have bet it was all imitation. The Vazileks appeared to lead a Spartan lifestyle to the point of being penurious. It would have been very unlike the bastards to spend any more than they deemed essential on a place like Ashawzut, and he did not think the litter was Elorak’s personal property. A jailer assigned to some backwater prison would never command the type of salary that would be necessary to afford that kind of accouterment.
Atop the litter Elorak sat reclining in a golden chaise with high sides, which looked to have been purposefully constructed in that manner to keep her shielded and therefore slippery posterior from sliding off the seat. The semi-circle of guards parted, allowing Elorak to be carried through it, and then reformed behind her. Her bearers gently laid the litter at the front of the open platform, where the goddess of Ashawzut would have the best view. They then scampered back toward the guards, each prostrating himself before one while in turn the lizards drew harpoons and held their spear points against the spines of the prisoners lying before them.
On the opposite side of the arena, a large section of the wall fronting the first tier of stands opened outward. From it issued dozens more of the lizard machines, throwing up clouds of dust from the arena floor. They continued to grind forward out of the opening and place themselves at regular intervals around the wall until the arena was completely ringed by reptile tanks facing outward toward the center. After them came the dogs, hundreds of them. They too poured forth until there were enough of them to form a second inward facing circle around the floor, just inside the ring of guards. There were so many of them that O’Keefe glanced back at the gate behind them, just to see if the dog on guard there was still present. It was.
“Good Lord,” he breathed in English, “there must be over a thousand of those monsters.” He bent closer to Steenini’s ear, and reverted to Akadean. “Are all the dogs required to be here as well, or are there even more of them running around the colony?”
Steenini shrugged. “Who can say? As no one is allowed to miss punishment, there is never anyone outside to see. It would be my guess, however, that there are many more of them prowling about the complex in our absence, if only to make certain that there are no malingering prisoners wandering about where they might create a little mischief.”
The last syllable had just rolled off his tongue when the guards’ diesels all shut down and the amplified and baleful voice of Mada Elorak reverberated throughout the arena. “For those of you who do not yet know, you have been brought here to witness punishment. The Dominion wishes those who serve us to know the price of disobedience. Observe carefully, and learn what awaits those who would betray us. Bring forth the condemned!”
With that, two lizards rolled out of the open doorway opposite Elorak. They each held one end of a rope, a rope that was wrapped around the chest of a man whom they pulled along between them. He was barefoot and stripped down to what looked like a diaper-like article of clothing fastened tightly around his waist. His ankles were shackled and his hands tied at the wrists behind his back. He stumbled along between the guards as best he could, but after moving only a short distance from the entry he tripped over his ankle chains and fell. He briefly tried to regain his feet, but the beasts that pulled him were moving much too fast, and after several futile attempts he gave up the effort and allowed himself to dragged over the floor until the guards came to a halt at the base of the staircase before Elorak.
She dismounted her litter and walked slowly down the stairs, her ever present assault bot following closely behind, until she was standing over the prisoner. “This man,” she said, kicking him, “was given the privilege of working in our kitchens, rather than in the mines like most of the rest of you. He repaid my benevolence with treachery, stealing food for himself that was meant for my faithful canines. This will not be tolerated. For this offense, he will hang.”
The man tried to gather himself, to rise to his knees. He appeared to be pleading for his life, although from O’Keefe’s vantage point his voice could not be heard. Whatever he said, it had no effect on Elorak. She simply kicked him again, this time more forcefully, and turned to walk a short distance away.
A rope knotted into a noose fell from somewhere high in the catwalks that crisscrossed the roof of the arena. O’Keefe was unable to see exactly where it had come from as the catwalks were all high above the lights, which blinded the crowd to nearly all of what went on there. But whoever had dropped the killing rope had obviously measured its length precisely as it swung slowly back and forth at about chest level, a few yards to the left of where the prisoner knelt.
The two guards fired up their engines and dragged the condemned man to the noose. There one of them pulled a long dagger from a sheath at the front of its hull and sliced through the rope that had been tied around the man’s chest. Otherwise, he remained bound. They placed the noose around his neck, tightened it, and the man was abruptly hauled roughly into the air. Blood dripped from open wounds that stretched from his knees to his toes. He writhed at the end of the rope, twisting and gasping until his face was a grotesque mask of crimson. O’Keefe could see now why the man had been dressed in a diaper; the stains appearing on it attesting to his soiling himself as he quickly neared his death.
Elorak approached the spot where the dying man hung. She pulled her knife from her boot, walked around behind the man, and severed the ropes that bound his wrists. His arms immediately began to flail about above his head, searching for the rope, desperately trying to reduce its pressure around his neck. Elorak made a cutting gesture; a slash of one of her thumbs across her throat; and immediately the rope slackened and the prisoner fell in a tortured heap at her feet.
She made another movement to her throat, and her shielding dematerialized. Standing naked over the wheezing man who was still choking for breath, she spat on him, and then reactivated her shield. “You worthless filth,” she said, her voice booming out once again through the sound system of the arena. “How dare you steal from the Dominion? I should have let you dangle from
the rope until your life was leeched away. But because the Dominion is not completely without mercy, I shall give you one chance to redeem yourself.” As she spoke the shackles popped open and fell from around the prisoner’s ankles. “You will fight my guards for your life. If you fight well, I may allow you to return to your former duties breaking rocks. If you fight poorly, you will die.” She turned to one of the guards, and snatched a whip from an unlocked fender box. She tossed it at the man, its hard and heavy handle striking him in the face. “The contest begins now,” she said, and stalked away, up the stairs and back to her litter while the inmate grabbed the whip in his right hand and forced himself, unsteadily, to stand.
As soon as Elorak was seated, the two attendant lizards started their diesels once more, produced their own scourges, and moved forward toward the faltering and stumbling prisoner. One expertly wrapped its whip around the man’s arm and yanked him off his feet, dragging him to the center of the arena before releasing him. The prisoner lurched once again to his feet, clumsily wielding his lash, and made pitiful attempts to crack it in the guards’ direction. But disoriented, weak, and obviously unskilled with the weapon, he merely flailed helplessly away with no effect.
The lizards suffered from no such disadvantages. They wheeled about the man faster than would have seemed possible for beings mounted into large and cumbersome vehicles; moving from side to side, pivoting, roaring closer and then farther away, all the while adeptly employing their own lashes. Every few seconds a bloody new welt appeared on the doomed Akadean, each one ripping a pain infused yelp from the flagellated man’s throat.
It was over in minutes as he simply collapsed; face forward, to the ground. The lizards lowered their whips and backed away as Elorak again descended the stairs and strode out onto the floor. Approaching the fallen prisoner, she used the tip of her boot to roll him over onto his back.
She stared down at him pitilessly. “That was not a very good fight,” she said with mock sympathy. “I’m afraid it’s impossible to let you live after such a dismal showing.” Pulling her blaster from the side of her boot as she retreated a step, she casually leveled it at the prone inmate. He looked up at the Vazilek woman and mouthed something to her, but whether he found the strength to speak audibly O’Keefe again could not say. If he did, again it did not help him, for a second later Elorak blew him into pulp. She returned the gun to the side of her boot and climbed back to her seat. Her bearers scampered back out across the platform, hoisted her litter carefully up to their shoulders, and carried her back beneath the stands. Then the dogs and next the lizards began to vacate the arena. When the noise of the diesels faded away, the only sounds that remained were the echoing heaves of what must have been hundreds of Akadeans simultaneously retching from the scene they had just witnessed.
Several minutes later the dog standing guard outside O’Keefe’s section of the arena lifted a paw and pushed down the lever that unlatched the gate. It swung open and the dazed and sickened men began to slowly file out. They were met by guards in the passageway. The half mechanical beasts escorted them back to work, where they picked and chiseled through the rest of the day with horror etched upon their brains.
Later, after lights out, when he was sure everyone in the barracks was sleeping, O’Keefe hopped out of his bunk, shook Lindy and Steenini awake, and then sat crossed legged on the floor between them while they leaned their ears in closer to his lips.
“Hey,” he whispered in a voice so low that only his friends could hear over the low rumble of patrolling reptiles, the snores of the other inmates, and the rasping of tossing and turning bodies atop straw mattresses. “You guys weren’t asleep already were you?”
Steenini turned his head to O’Keefe and mumbled, “I thought I was, but I may have been mistaken.”
Lindy propped himself up on an elbow. “What is it?” he asked.
“I know how we’re going to do it,” O’Keefe said.
“Do what?” asked Lindy.
“Get our asses of here, that’s what. The arena, that’s the key. Did you watch Elorak today? She dropped her shielding for a moment in the arena, to spit on that poor sonofabitch. That’s when she’s vulnerable. If I can get out there in the arena with her, I’ll blow her ass away.”
“And just how would you do that?” Steenini asked skeptically.
“Remember when we first got here, when I pushed on ahead of you and said I had to stash something. It was a weapon. I put it in a crack in the wall of the entry tunnel from the dock. I know exactly where it is; I memorized the shape of the crevice. All I have to do is get back there to get it. Once I do that, it appears that one doesn’t have to try very hard to find himself in the arena. Then when she gets close to me and drops her shield—bang!—she’s dead.”
O’Keefe could sense Steenini regarding him in the darkness, looking at him as if he were a madman. “What if she doesn’t drop her shielding?” he asked. “What then? You know, it’s not like she does that at every punishment.”
“It’ll still work,” O’Keefe said excitedly. “The vortex, the vortex in front of her shield generator that you told us about. Remember? You said a man swinging a pick hard enough, directly into that vortex, could bring down the shield. Well that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll put a bullet,” he said, using the Akadean word for “projectile,” “right in the middle of that emblem and blow her away like lint. As close as she got to that guy today, I know I could make that shot. With my arms out, the muzzle would be damn near inside the vortex. There’s no way I could miss.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? What about her assault robot?” It was Lindy, his dubious tone of voice indicating clearly that he shared Steenini’s opinion of O’Keefe’s intentions.
“What about it? I’ll have three shots. That’s how many projectiles I have left. I take out Elorak with the first, and then bring down the robot with the other two.”
“You plan to take out a Vazilek assault bot with two tiny projectiles?” O’Keefe could tell Lindy did not believe it possible.
“Willet, a forty-five is a big piece. It packs a wallop, especially at the ranges we’re talking about here. With two shots, I’ll take that fucker down, trust me.”
“All right, mate,” Steenini interjected. “Suppose all this works out as you say it will. When it’s over, you’ll still be alone out on the arena floor, surrounded by damn near a hundred guards and who knows how many dogs. Everyone else will be locked in the cages. What do you propose to do then?”
O’Keefe chuckled. “None of them know anything about a Colt. I might have a thousand rounds left for all they’ll know. And after they see what I’ve done to Elorak and her protector, they’ll hesitate. I seriously doubt that any of them wants to be the first to die. And when they hesitate, I’ll start negotiating. You said it yourself, Bart, they’re all dependent on Elorak for food and, in the lizards’ case, fuel. Without her they get neither. So I just convince them that if they let everyone out of the cages and play nice, we’ll arrange to get them what they need to stay alive.”
“As simple as that, huh?” Steenini deadpanned.
“Yeah, as simple as that.”
“Hill, I’m sorry, but you’re crazy. That will never work. Look, mate, I find it highly doubtful that the sequence of events will unfold as you say it will. And even if it does, this weapon of yours, how are you going to get back to the dock to retrieve it? I’m not sure any of us can even find the hangar area from here, but I am sure that it’s a long way and there will be plenty of beasties and dogs between here and there. And even if you find a way to be assigned there during the day, the guards and the dogs are going to be watching you every second. How are you going to get to this weapon without them seeing you? And if somehow you manage to do that, how are you going to get it into the arena? You saw how the man was dressed today. They put him in a breechclout. That’s not a one-time thing either; that is how they dress everyone for punishment. How do you think you are going to conceal this weapon fro
m them while they are putting you in what amounts to little more than a diaper? You’ve seen the security measures they employed upon our arrival. They run everyone through a scanner and cavity search those they have any doubts about. I don’t know what they do to men before they go into the arena, but considering how close those men get to Elorak, you can bet they will be at least as careful with a condemned man as they are with just a simple, garden variety, neophyte internee. Have you thought about any of these things?”
“Hey,” O’Keefe said defensively, “I didn’t say I had it all worked out. That’s why I brought the whole thing up, to get input from you guys, to start working out the details. But the point is that we have a workable plan now. We know when Elorak is unprotected. All we have to do is figure out a way to get me and the weapon into the arena, and we can get out of here. I think that is at least worth considering, don’t you?”
Lindy stared at him slack jawed for a moment before finally speaking. “I was beginning to think, after getting to know you better, that what I had always been taught about aberrants was all wrong, but it’s not. You Earthers are all mentally ill, you’re simply insane. Go back to bed.” Lindy rolled over with his back to O’Keefe and said no more.
O’Keefe turned to Steenini, who shrugged and rubbed his chin between a thumb and forefinger for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Hill, I don’t mean to throw unnecessary doubt on your intentions,” he said. “But I have to agree with Willet. Your plan is just a little daft, if you don’t mind me saying so. You’ll only get yourself killed and accomplish nothing.”
O’Keefe leaned back against the side of Lindy’s bunk and sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said gruffly, so flustered that he whispered more loudly than he should have. “You guys go ahead and give up. I don’t care. But there has to be a way to get out of here and I’m going to find it. Now I need to get my gun back first of all, so let’s try and think of a way to get into that tunnel and retrieve it. I think the both of you could at least agree to help me figure out that much. Just think about it.” With that he got to his feet and climbed back into his bunk.
The Empty Warrior Page 48
