by Sara King
Juno managed to push Athenais’s arm away with both hands, but before she could twist away from the side of the ship, Athenais kneed the other woman in the crotch. Several Warriors came running to help, but not before Athenais had kicked Juno to the deck and smashed her foot into her face. She kept kicking even as they pulled her away.
“You’re lucky I don’t have another anchor!” Juno screamed, getting to her feet. She stepped forward and kicked Athenais in the stomach as her Warriors held her down. Athenais felt the air leave her lungs in a painful whoosh. She tried to double over, but Juno kicked her again. And again.
When she was done, Athenais was dazed and incoherent. Juno ordered her tied beneath Taal’s corpse, in the middle of his congealing pool of blood. Then Juno squatted in front of her and waved a blue vial under Athenais’s nose. Her head swaying drunkenly, Athenais barely heard Juno say, “This is going to be the best high I ever have.” Then Juno went belowdecks, leaving Athenais alone with a squad of Warriors.
Athenais spent the next few hours slowly regaining her bearings. Juno had broken her nose and split her scalp in several places, but it was the cold, congealed blood dripping on her from above that left her shattered.
Dallas was sober by the time the technician came to the edge of the pool and shook her gently. Dallas sat up—she had slid back under the regen liquid during her sleep—and pulled off the respirator.
The woman in the white lab coat looked apologetic. “It is the Emperor’s Will that you go to the arena.” She nodded at three Warriors standing in the door. “I’m sorry, Dallas.”
“Sorry for what?” Dallas asked.
At that, the intercom came on. It was Juno’s voice, spiteful and angry. “Since you still have not shown yourselves, I invite you both to visit the arena. You ever heard of the Roman blood spectacles? Imagine a starving, hyper-intelligent, thousand-pound shark in a tank with a hundred pound airhead with a harpoon. She survives that, we will find something more fitting. Let the games begin.” At that, the intercom switched off.
“Oh,” Dallas said. She glanced at the men waiting for her. “Any chance I could get some more of that drug, then?”
The technician shook her head solemnly. “You’ll need a clear head.”
Dallas sighed and slopped out of the regen tank. The technician handed her a towel and then directed her to stand on a scanning platform for one final examination.
“Your vitals, core temperature, brain activity are all normal.” The woman said so with a sadness to her voice. “Looks like the treatment was a success.”
“Yay,” Dallas said, stepping off the platform to her clothes. “Now I can become fish food.”
The technician leaned close. “Be sure you go for the eyes. Sharks protect their eyes at all costs. I saw a man once who survived by gouging the shark with his fingernails once he lost his harpoon.”
Dallas gave her a grateful look. “You’re really nice. Thanks.”
The woman gave her a timid smile and stepped back as the three Warriors stepped toward her. One of them held out his arm, indicating that she should follow them.
Dallas made a disgusted noise. “At least wait until I get dressed, okay?” When they continued to stand in front of her, she said, “In privacy.”
The three men glanced at each other confusedly, then turned their backs.
“Not where you can see!” Dallas cried. “Get out!”
The Warriors obliged and left the room, but stood with their backs in the doorway, lest she try to escape.
“Barbarians,” she muttered. She quickly dropped her towel and tugged on her clothes. To the technician, she said, “I don’t suppose you have any bite-resistant undergarments?”
The woman shook her head. “They will take your clothes before putting you in the tank.”
Dallas frowned. “You sound like they’ve done this before.”
“A couple times a week,” the woman replied. “It is one of Our Guiding Light’s most favored diversions.” Had Dallas seen a twist of disgust on the woman’s face, before it was hidden again?
“Does the guy with the harpoon ever win?” Dallas asked.
“Um…” The woman gave her a pitying look. “Well, sometimes, I’m sure.”
“Wait,” Dallas cried, “What about the guy who clawed at the shark’s eyes?”
“Oh, he died a few hours later. He’d lost both legs and a good portion of his pelvis.”
“Oh,” Dallas said.
“But I’m sure you can win,” the woman insisted hurriedly. “Our Guiding Light wouldn’t use it to judge the gods’ favor if the innocent couldn’t win.”
Riiiiiight. If what Dallas had seen of the pig-eyed woman had been any indication, she probably blew off an arm or something before throwing her victims in the vat. She acted like a spoiled toddler that had somehow scrambled to a professorship in an academic guild. The dichotomy was unnerving.
Dallas swallowed and took a long look around the room, trying to come up with some excuse to stay in the cozy little regen room with the nice lady and her various creepy-looking medical apparatuses. Then, reluctantly, she sighed. “Guess I should go. Thanks for patching me up.” She gave the technician a brave smile and, when the woman didn’t come up with some last-minute urgent treatment to spare her from a shark attack, she marched after the Warriors. The technician followed her to the door, then shut it sadly behind her.
The Warriors had been leading her for several minutes before she noticed that one of them was wearing a different color footwear than the others.
“Those are nice boots,” she commented.
The Warrior in the lead gave her a sour look. “Keep your mouth shut unless you want a pike in the face.”
One of the Warriors walking at her elbow sighed and leaned close. “Ki’lan is a bitter old floater. Doesn’t have enough women in his life. He’s sensitive about his boots. Lost his good ones when his ship went down last year.”
“Shut up, Yutin. We aren’t supposed to talk to the girl, remember?”
“Aw, come on. What harm in it? Look at her. She couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“That’s not the bet you made for tonight’s match. You think she’ll actually do some damage before the shark eats her.” The big Warrior scoffed. “She’s just a pampered little pussy.”
Dallas reddened. “At least I’m not a big, stupid knucker.”
The man walking on her other elbow hooted. “You hear that, Ki’lan? I think she insulted you!”
“Let her,” the man growled, his voice dangerously low. “If she does it again, I’ll break her nose before we throw her in the shark pool.”
Dallas flinched. Blood was bad. She’d heard that sharks were like redcats with snaggleteeth and a worse attitude. Still, though, she couldn’t help but quip, “You mean you’re actually the one who throws me in? That’s surprising.”
The Warrior in the lead glanced back at her, scowling. “Why?”
“Because I’d think a coward like you would shit yourself, getting so close to that big, scary shark.”
Ki’lan turned on her in a flash and slammed a fist into her gut. As she doubled over, gasping, he sneered in her face. “Anything else to say, brat?” When she could only huddle against herself, trying to catch her breath, he snorted. “I didn’t think so.”
He had turned away when Dallas muttered, “I take it back. You’re not afraid to go near that shark. It’s afraid of you.”
“That’s right,” Ki’lan said, smiling. “See?” he said to his companion, “with the proper application of corrective force—”
“…because you’d screw it in the ass if you ever got the chance. That’s why you don’t have any women. You like fish.”
The two Warriors on her elbows glanced at each other. “Is that possible?” one of them asked. They had to restrain Ki’lan when he lunged at her, red-faced. It took both of the Warriors to subdue him, and Dallas stood there grinning while they held him against the wall, shouting at him to calm down.
&nb
sp; Ki’lan finally shook them off and started walking again. The other two Warriors gave his back an irritated look and shoved Dallas after him.
“You know, I hear cod are nice. All smooth to the touch, not so scaly-like.”
“Best be quiet,” Yutin said. “Next time he takes a swing, girl, I’m not stopping him.”
Looking at the malicious promise in Ki’lan’s face, Dallas relented.
They had been walking several more minutes before Yutin started and glanced at the narrowing hallway around them. “Ki’lan, you moron, we missed the stairs.”
“Oh shit. You’re right.” With a lightning-fast motion, Ki’lan swiveled and punched Yutin in the throat. Yutin collapsed to his knees, eyes wide, his hand clutching his neck. The other Warrior beside Dallas shouted a curse, staring at Ki’lan in confusion. He never saw Ragnar come up from behind until he was sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from the scalp.
Dallas glanced at Ragnar, who was already pulling the bodies from the hall, and then at Ki’lan. She leaned closer, peering up at the guy who had punched her. “Stuart?”
The Warrior grinned.
Dallas kicked him in the shin. “You bastard! You hit me!”
“Dallas, damn! It was to keep up appearances! Calm down!” The big Warrior hobbled backwards, away from her.
“You didn’t have to be such a jerk,” Dallas cried, kicking him again.
“Feel free to shock the monkey,” Ragnar said from the floor. He was kneeling with a wet rag, wiping up the blood.
“Dallas, I had to say it. This guy I took over is an asshole. They would’ve known something was wrong.”
“You called me a pussy,” she muttered.
“Dallas,” Stuart said, leaning close and touching her arms. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Mollified, Dallas snuggled a bit closer, leaning into his big, warm chest. “Thanks for rescuing me. I thought I was sharkbait.” Then, when Stuart just stood there like a board in front of her, Dallas slapped his bicep and said, “Kiss me, stupid. You just rescued your damsel in distress.”
From the floor, Ragnar groaned. “Oh please.”
But almost tentatively, Stuart wrapped his arms around her and, as she leaned up eagerly to meet his lips, he gave her a tiny peck on the cheek.
For a long, stunned moment, Dallas could only stare up at him in dismay. Stuart started fidgeting under the intensity of her scrutiny. “You call that a kiss?” she finally blurted.
Stuart had the good sense to blush. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat, looking down at her. “Dallas, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask—”
“You know, you guys could help me with this,” Ragnar growled, holding up a bloody rag.
Something he wanted to ask her? Dallas frowned up at Stuart, then glanced at the shifter, who was busily cleaning up the mess. Figuring he was just a complainer who had things perfectly under control, she looked back up at Stuart. “What do you want to ask?”
But the suzait cleared his throat again and pulled away. “Never mind. Sorry. We’ve gotta get moving.” Much too quickly, he went to help Ragnar mop up blood.
“Now we get Tommy,” Ragnar said, tossing the rag inside with the bodies and shutting the door. “And get the hell off this rock.”
Colonel Howlen sat in his chair, staring at the door to his room. It was locked, two Warriors posted on the other side. He could hear them talking, laughing. Two of them were playing dice, the painted fishbones rattling against the stone floor to cheers and curses.
Tommy’s fingers clenched the blue vial in his hand, white-knuckled.
They were killing Dallas. Probably right now, as he sat there, dinner still warm in his belly, free to go to sleep whenever he wanted. They were killing her and there was nothing he could do about it.
Juno had won. She’d finally gotten him. By bringing Dallas back for medical attention, he’d signed his own psychological death warrant. Now he was hers, and both of them knew it. Dallas’s death would just be the start. Then the good doctor would bring him the corpse, show him the video, pick that little chink in his armor open ever wider until it was a gaping, festering wound.
Guilt and hopelessness were crushing him on the inside. He was finding it hurt to breathe. They had revived Dallas just so they could kill her properly. The whole world was a damned game to this woman.
A game that he had just lost.
Tommy should have fled. Maybe he would have gotten to another system fast enough to save her. Even if he hadn’t she would have died quietly, not as a spectacle.
Howlen popped the cap from the vial and immediately winced as the room was filled with a powerful fishy stink. They must dilute the stuff somehow, he thought. Otherwise only a madman could manage to swallow it.
Howlen put the lid back on and set the vial on the table in front of him, studying it. After all his years monitoring the drug trade on T-9, he had only heard of this stuff a couple times in passing. From what he had gathered on his shuttle runs, ‘floater wash’ was another word for what the criminal underworld called ‘Xenith.’ It was whispered that the high it created was unlike any other—some even called it a spiritual experience, a nectar of the gods that allowed the users could communicate with the dead—and that the rich would pay outrageous sums just for a few drops. He had no doubts that Juno had used it to finance her massive fleet. From the whispers he’d heard in the loading bays, probably a single drop would be enough to get utterly wasted.
Tommy watched it, considering.
Some of the easiest ways to die were by drug overdose. Millions of Utopis each year expired in this manner, and Howlen had never seen a more peaceful expression than the drool-encrusted face of a tanga-weeder who had sucked in a bit of the leaf with his smoke. Even sleep did not rival the peace of a drug-induced death. The Trader said it put its users into a state of ecstasy, where the user was one with his world. That’s what he wanted. A happy, painless death. Maybe a little euphoria before the stuff overpowered him.
Tommy looked away. Unlike Athenais, he did not intend to allow this mentally-disturbed clown to have her satisfaction. He was not going to die in a glorified fishbowl, food for a genetically enhanced shark. And he was definitely not going to drown strapped to an anchor in cold black water ten miles under the sea. He would rather crawl out his window and dive into the rocks below.
But why go through that mental agony when he had a much easier route, right here in front of him?
Howlen’s eyes once more slid back to the blue vial. Was one vial enough to kill him? What was the normal dose size? Did he even need to down the whole thing?
Thinking about swallowing the vile stuff made Howlen’s stomach flutter. Maybe the rocks would be easier. After all, if he vomited it up, he would have to go that route anyway. Might as well get it over with.
And yet, why not try it? He’d rather not have his last moments be a few brief seconds of terror, followed by a brief instant of obliterating pain. He wanted peace. He wanted this whole, huge disaster to go away, before Juno grew bored with her blood-red shark pool and came looking for him with a video chip.
Howlen reached out for the vial again. He lifted it up and popped off the cap. The overpowering reek of fish penetrated the room, but he ignored it.
He thought of his family, slaughtered by the suzait on Jonin. Would they meet him on the other side? Was there another side?
There was one way to find out.
Howlen tipped the vial back and swallowed it all. He forced it down, then held the tingling liquid in his stomach despite his reflexive desire to expel it.
Almost immediately, a warm sensation of peace overwhelmed him, just as he hoped it would. His arms and legs began to feel heavy and numb, so he dropped the empty vial and curled up against his chair, closing his eyes, surrendering to the bliss.
Suddenly, though, an arc of blinding white light snapped through his brain, jolting him. It happened again, and his legs and arms twitched in response. The light came more rapidly, throwing
him violently from the chair in a series of powerful convulsions.
No…this is all wrong, Tommy thought as his body slammed into furniture, breaking the table and tossing the chair against the wall, where it shattered. He felt his eyes curl up into the top of his head, his fingers squeezed into tight fists as his arms and legs thrashed the floor. Lighting was striking him everywhere, electrifying his brain, coursing through his core.
Outside, one of the dice players shouted at him to keep it down.
This isn’t the way it was supposed to be, Tommy thought as the agonizing streaks tore through his body, leaving him foaming at the mouth, his body uncontrollable. I was supposed to go to sleep.
Athenais shifted in the seat beside Juno, watching the platform before them with interest. The water in the enormous tank rippled as the shark swam around and around, sometimes cutting through the surface with its dorsal fin.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Athenais said, after an hour passed with nothing but an empty tank. “What kind of shark is that, anyway? Looks kinda like a great white. Maybe if it swims around a few more times, I’ll be able to get a better look.” She leaned closer, thoughtful. “Nope, not that time. Nope. Nope. Still can’t quite get it. Nope.”
Juno, whose mood had deteriorated throughout the entire episode, barked at her to shut up or be thrown into the tank as an appetizer.
Because Athenais already had an arm growing out of her shoulder socket, she decided to sit back and inspect the back of her eyelids for light-leaks. “Let me know when something interesting happens,” she said.
Another twenty minutes later, Juno perked up when a Warrior came running across the platform, his hair matted with blood. He stopped beside Juno’s private booth, pushing the guards aside to whisper into her ear.
“Turned on you?!” Juno snarled, jumping to her feet. “You imbecile! It was one of them!” Juno shoved him away from her in disgust, into the arms of her personal guards. With an imperious finger pointed in condemnation at the bloodied guard, she shouted, “For his failure, it is My Will that you throw that one in the tank, instead.”
