Tales of the Federation Reborn 1
Page 31
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I could be just throwing you to the bear here, not helping you. Show some appreciation,” the trainer growled.
“I will when I win. If I win,” Marcus replied. His eyes turned to the trainer. “No shield?”
The trainer scowled. “Sword and shield in one. Count your blessings you've got that much. They didn't want to make it too lopsided. She gets what nature or the white lab coats gave her and nothing else,” the trainer said, pointing to the bear getting a back and shoulder massage from a couple servants.
“I think she's got enough as it is,” the chimp said dryly.
“Heh. Yeah, there is that. Mass has a quality of its own I suppose. She'll come at you on all fours, then rear up if she's smart. Waddling in just exposes her tummy and throat. She might try to backhand you or hook your legs and pull you down or trip you up. She'll try to throw your speed assessment of her off. Watch it.”
“And going down is death. Gotcha,” Marcus said. “Stay out of her reach, dart in. I watched her; she moves slow. I'm guessing it is an act?”
The battle scared dog flicked his ears. “Something like it. She can probably move faster once the adrenalin kicks in for real, so watch it,” the trainer said, eying Marcus. “You've done something like this before?” he asked carefully in a neutral tone of voice.
“Gladiator? No. Fight club for extra creds? Yeah,” Marcus admitted, flexing his hands around the sword grip. It was a two-handed broadsword due to the size and handle length. Two handed for a human, but he could wield it with one if he had to.
Something told him he was going to have to—a lot. But he'd lose half his striking power and chance losing the thing if he did. So be it.
“Ah, then,” the trainer said nodding. “That explains why you are so calm,” he noted. Marcus just shrugged as they wrapped his wrists and arms with bandages to protect them. He looked to his left to a stage hand who was waving urgently. “You are up next,” he said, guiding Marcus into a cage airlock. The ramp was down, but the door was still closed. “Watch for the light but keep your eyes averted. You don't want sand in them when you have to run out.”
“Right,” Marcus replied with a nod. “Thanks.”
:---{|}=====>
Fleet Admiral and Praetor Malwin Cartwright was amused by the show. He knew some of his family were getting bored by the blood sport. The younger grandkids hadn't been thrilled. He'd brought them to get over their squeamishness, but it was not to be, at least not on this day. Ah well, he thought absently, sipping his beer. His wife poked him. He looked up to see they were on the view screen. He smiled, wrapped around her, and then made a show of kissing her thoroughly.
That earned applause from the masses. He liked the sound of it.
The director urged them to watch the next match. “The next pair should serve your interests, Praetor. The Chimp is from Dead Drop. The bear is from Garth,” he said slyly, eying the admiral.
The Praetor snorted in amusement at the director's antics. “Really?”
“Yes. The bear kept to the Arctic Pole and away from civilization as much as possible. She's almost completely feral and known to hunt people. Not completely regressed into primal but close enough. I saved her battle for this occasion,” the director said, seemingly pleased with himself.
“And the chimp?”
“A fair fighter though untested in true battle. We know he is from Dead Drop but little more. It matters little I suppose.”
The Praetor took a pull of his beer and then eyed the director with curiosity. “It seems like a mismatch. What are you trying to pull, Director?”
“Do you wish to bet on them?” the director asked, smiling indulgently.
“I'd normally bet on the bear. Mass has a quality all on its own. A bear has a lot going for it; it can absorb damage unlike the ape. But something tells me …,” he frowned as the speaker called for attention announcing the match. The ramp doors opened and the two combatants came up them warily to size each other up. Silently the doors closed behind them.
Admiral Cartwright eyed the chimp, his manner, the stance. The way he moved, swinging the blade slightly as if to test it. Finally, the Praetor nodded once. “I think I'll stick to the chimp.”
“As you wish, sir,” the director said with a nod in return. “Loyalty to one's birth world, no doubt?”
“No, something … else,” the admiral said warily. The director frowned slightly, then all eyes were drawn to the combatants.
:---{|}=====>
“To the honor of the Empire! Fight!” the speaker called out, barely heard over the roar of the crowd.
Both combatants looked to the lights around the perimeter and under the guest box. When they turned from red to yellow then green, they nodded once and then moved in.
Cautiously Marcus circled to his left, keeping the sword between himself and the bear as she closed the range. He learned he had to be fast on his feet. She might be cautious, but she immediately started to move faster the closer she got.
He also noted how she put her hand paws down. She tried to gather sand up a few times to throw at him, but he changed directions to keep her off balance.
Every ounce of his concentration was on the bear. It was on her, studying her. Studying her as his breathing slowed and a corner of his mind replayed a mantra to center himself. He had to stay in the moment, not give in to fear or aggression. Stay focused meant staying alive. Don't get cocky. Slowly his fur rose, but he ignored it.
But his attention went back to the hand paws as he backed off and wheeled around her, trying to get at her massive rump. She hadn't been declawed, but her claws had been cut. They'd given her some sort of glove that covered her stubby fingers and claws with artificial claws on them. He wondered briefly if they had tasers like the sword.
She rocked her head, then charged full bore at him. Her burst of speed wasn't unexpected, but it was faster than he'd liked. He jinked left and then dodged and rolled to the right side, tucking the sword in. He got to his feet and ran some distance to get some space between them again.
“Where are you running, ape? You know you can't get far!” the bear jeered at him as the crowd booed.
“If you think I'm going to stick around where those claws are, you are sadly mistaken, lady,” he taunted right back.
“What these?” she pretended to look at her artificial claws. “I didn't care for the manicure and pedicure, but these'll do I suppose,” she flexed them in his direction. “Or these,” she said, snapping her jaws before she took a stance and roared at him.
“Yeah, right,” Marcus muttered, bobbing and weaving, keeping his sword arm up. He grabbed some sand with his off hand and threw it at her, then charged in as she charged, open mouthed. She got a mouthful and eye full of sand making her cough and close her eyes momentarily. That was the opportunity he needed to sweep left and swing, slicing her shoulder and flank with the sword tip.
:---{|}=====>
“First blood!” the speaker crowed over the PA system.
The Praetor's eyes narrowed. She might be wounded but it was a flesh wound. He'd seen bears fight before, and a polar bear was the king of the bears, or in this case, queen. She was hardly out.
“He learns quickly,” the director murmured.
The Praetor looked over to the director briefly before he saw movement out of the corner of his eye in the arena, and his eyes were drawn back to the spectacle.
:---{|}=====>
She bellowed as the crowd cheered. “That hurt!” she snarled, her good hand paw going to cover the wound momentarily as blood flowed. He got out of reach again and then started the circle again.
“Right,” he drawled. “You got a boo boo,” he taunted as her eyes twitched and she shook her head, getting rid of the sand. The blood dripped, and she pretended to limp on that side. “You aren't fooling me you know,” he said.
“No, but it looks good for the crowd,” she said in a low voice. He snorted.
He tried to dart i
n when she exposed her right flank and haunch, but it was ruse. She backhanded him contemptuously, roaring as he stumbled back, clutching at his bruised and battered left arm. Her claws were sharp and had ripped through the thin show armor the pirates had outfitted him with like it was tissue paper. The cuts welled with blood, but the pain from the bruise was worse. His arm felt like lead as he flexed it.
“What's the matter, got a boo boo?” she taunted, throwing his taunt back into his face.
“Funny,” he muttered, rubbing the arm and elbow. “Not bad.”
“No, we're just getting started, ape man,” she snarled. “I'm going to make this hurt. I'm going to take out everything they've done to me on you. That's just the way it is,” she growled.
“Sure you are,” he said, beginning to pant. He bared his teeth. “Bring it,” he snarled.
:---{|}=====>
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Cartwright murmured.
“It's not over yet, not by a long shot,” her husband said, resting his hand on hers. She glanced his way dubiously, then back to the arena.
:---{|}=====>
The bear rose onto her hind legs and swiped at him. He tried to dart in to get at her flank and haunches but she turned in place. She might be lumbering, gaunt, he could see the ribs under the shaggy scarred body, but she was still an apex predator.
He got a couple light gashes onto her legs before she backhanded him again, sending him dancing back as he assessed the injury. Light, on his shoulder which made him cringe a bit, but he slowly relaxed and tried to block the pain out.
“Hurts, doesn't it?” she snarled, waddling in to swipe at the sword as he darted it at her to keep her back. “That's not going to stop me!” she bellowed.
He knew she was going for the flat of the blade so he turned it and cut the back of one hand and then let her catch it with her palm. The blade cut into the padding and covered fingers before he got it clear.
She shook her paw, slinging blood around as her other hand paw clutched at it.
“Problem?” Marcus asked, trying to circle again.
“You'll know it when you feel it,” she said, rubbing at her hand paw as she glared balefully at him. “I was going to make it quick.”
“No, you weren't. They would make you pay if you did,” he answered, eying her.
“Do you think I care what they want or don't?” she demanded.
He snorted. “You wouldn't be here if you didn't. You'd be in a box or dead,” he answered.
“Smartass ape. Think you've got all the answers,” she said as he darted in to her flank to cut. She backhanded him again, this time throwing him off his feet. He rolled with the blow, feeling the claws dig into his shoulder again and tricep. He felt her try to get a grip as the claws dug in but managed to get clear in time. She tried to move in to crush him, but he kept the roll going with the sword pressed against his stomach. A swipe grazed his thigh and calf, but he kept rolling, moving as quickly as he could, ducking and rolling. Tumbling practice in the side show was paying off; the sword darted out as he took a knee to cut at her wrist as she tried to swipe him.
:---{|}=====>
“See? It's over. He's toast,” one of the grandkids said, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. “They might as well get the next group going,” he said.
“Don't think it is over,” Elley said, jutting her chin out. “She's not done,” she said loyally.
“The bear? I was talking about the chimp!” her brother said, tweaking a pigtail.
Their grandfather caught their eye and then nodded to the arena. Slowly they turned back to the battle.
:---{|}=====>
She bellowed, free hand going to the wrist as he ducked and got clear. “That hurt!” she bellowed, lips writhing in a snarl. Blood wasn't so much dribbling as it was flowing now.
“Right,” Marcus panted.
“You aren't going to win. It is only a matter of time, ape, before I get you. You'll bleed out long before I do,” she vowed.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said, circling, this time slower but to his left to favor that side and not his wounded right. He wanted to keep her guessing about his true speed and injuries.
Truth be told, he wasn't so sure about them himself.
“I'm gonna take this thing out of your hands and ram it up your ass,” the bear snarled, low and ugly, eying him balefully. She darted in and snapped and then bit the sword blade before he could get it away from her. Marcus shook like a rag doll as she tried to get him to let go. He tried to twist the blade to cut her mouth, but it was all he could do to hang onto it. While he was doing that, he had to dodge her claws as well.
In desperation he triggered the taser, jolting the bear. She froze, so he got the upper hand and twisted blade out of her mouth, cutting it and her lips as he pulled it out in a welter of blood and saliva. He went to one side and thought about hitting her in the eyes, but instead, he rabbit punched the bear in the throat as he climbed onto her back.
She seemed slow to recover, snorting and shaking. She tried to buck him off, but her muscles were still weak. He sliced at her back with the sword tip to gall her, then hammered at the back of her head several times with the pommel until the bear dropped with a flop and groan. He was thrown forward but barely hung on.
The bear's slack jaw opened, and the tongue lolled out one side as her bloodshot eyes rolled back. The sudden, unexpected upset hushed the crowd. Many murmured in disbelief that such a great beast had been laid low so easily.
:---{|}=====>
“Well! That was unexpected, now wasn't it!” The director said, giving a shaking laugh. He hadn't expected the match to go so well. He'd expected the chimp to bungle it, lose the sword, get torn apart, or to cut into the bear and disembowel her. But none of those things had happened.
“It was indeed. One wonders if he had the advantage from the outset,” the Praetor asked mildly.
“Indeed not. We did try to make it more even, but as you can see, he did get a bit battered,” the director said, lifting his chin. “I think both fighters fought well. But ultimately it is up to you to decide.”
“Ah yes, the gift of life or death,” the Praetor said as his grandchildren turned to look at him.
“Please don't kill the bear,” little Ellie asked in a small petulant voice.
“We don't always get what we want, little lady,” her grandfather scolded mildly.
“But …,” she jutted out her jaw and lower lip in a pout.
“I'll certainly consider it,” the Praetor said mockingly as he studied the two opponents.
:---{|}=====>
Marcus panted as he stepped back and turned to the box. He grabbed the bear by the nose and pulled her head up and back, exposing her throat for his blade. But he kept his eye on the guest box and waited, praying the bear stayed unconscious until someone made up their damn mind.
The special guest rose slowly, clapping. Others in the box did the same, looking to him. Slowly the standing ovation spread around the stadium. Marcus turned, watching it sort of like a wave out of the corner of his eyes. He could feel the bear's hot breath on his hand, but it was even.
Then his eyes went back to the special guest standing by the director. The silver haired human extended his fist at arm's reach and held it there for a beat until the crowd quieted. When there was a proper hush, he gave a thumbs-up and smiled broadly. Marcus nodded and stepped back, letting the bear's head drop with a flop. He wiped off his hand, getting snot on his fur. For the moment he didn't care; he just panted and felt good about being alive.
While he was distracted, the bear was taken off by a pair of robots and two human guards.
“I wouldn't have thought that would have happened,” one of the humans said, as Marcus let his sword drop to rub at his sore arm.
“Me neither. But I bet the fix was in. Always keep an eye on the underdog I suppose,” the first guard said.
Marcus was hurt but he'd won. “Fix?” he asked, shaking his head. He'd won either way.
“You are full of surprises,” Lomis said, nodding to him. “Get him patched up. He and the bear live on to fight another day. Perhaps they'll even have a grudge match some day,” he said.
Marcus sighed and closed his eyes. The little bastard just had to ruin the moment he thought.
:---{|}=====>
Marcus was in the pit's infirmary for a week, nursing his injuries. The bear was there as well, but she was chained to the wall opposite him. She glared, but near the end of the week, the glower had faded. Their time in the infirmary was glorious in its simplicity. They had to put up with the stench of chemicals, shit, piss, and blood, but they were allowed to sleep in pens while they recovered. They were well, their bandages were changed by other servants or slaves, and they didn't have to run or work out for the first four days of their convalescence. After that it was a brief period of rehabilitation to assess their range of motion before they were put on light duty.
Marcus was allowed one visit by the other gladiators. He was surprised that the Horathians had allowed it. Tiberius came to check in on him on the fourth day. Apparently the broken bones had been set and placed in casts. He had a walking cast on his ankle and did his best to hobble around on it despite the fetters. “Lucky you, you two are out of the fetters,” he said.
“Only to heal,” Marcus said.
The female snorted. “Speak for yourself,” she muttered, eyes still closed. The silverback looked over to her. She made a show of toeing the chain around her ankle, then lifting the one dangling from the wall and attached to her collar.
“Oh.”
“Well, she's one hunka woman. And apparently kinky so …”