by Chris Hechtl
Tiberius stared at Marcus but to both of their surprise the bear snuffled then chuffed in laughter. Tiberius shook his head and reached through the bars to Marcus. “Thanks for covering for me, man.”
“Right,” Marcus answered. “Sure thing,” he snorted.
“Next time don't do such a good job,” the bear said, rubbing the back of her head. Marcus had overheard that she'd gotten a concussion as well as a fractured skull. She was tough though and bouncing back like he was.
:---{|}=====>
When they were both released, she snuffled. “Thanks.” Somewhere along the way he'd learned her name was Sue. He'd been surprised that she'd let him know that. He'd been even more surprised that she hadn't held the grudge, or at least pretended she didn't.
Apparently she was smarter than everyone thought.
“For what? The fractured skull or …”
“For not killing me when you had the chance,” she answered, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and arm. “Smart ass ape,” she said, pretending to take a swipe at him. “My tongue is still numb,” she growled. He chuckled. “You suck as a dentist,” she said grudgingly, making him guffaw. “Shut up,” she ordered. He managed to stifle his giggles under her stern gaze. “But … thanks. Don't expect me to go so easy on you though. The next time …,” she warned shaking a finger at him.
“I'm going to have to work harder at it. Gotcha,” he answered flippantly with a tight lipped smile.
“Again smartass,” she growled as they walked out.
:---{|}=====>
Light duty meant light exercise as well as training. Now that the two of them had been blooded, they were no longer noobs. Marcus wasn't surprised that three of his “class” were dead. He just hadn't been around for it, and he wasn't certain if he regretted that or not.
“You both need to learn a bit more showmanship and how to brawl,” a trainer said, coming over to them. “So, you'll be watching the matches until you recover, both here and in the arena.”
“Lucky us,” the bear muttered, jangling her cuffs and chains. “How come I've got to remain cuffed and he doesn't?”
“You're kidding, right?” the trainer said, eying her before he shook his head and walked off, chuckling.
“What'd I say?” the bear asked.
Marcus shrugged.
:---{|}=====>
Once he was back on his feet and pronounced sound, or at least patched up enough to be worked in exercises again, Marcus found he was taking to them with a bit more focus, a bit more … seriously he thought. He had to put all his focus on the training if he was going to survive. For the moment thoughts of escape went back to the deep recesses of his mind. The here and now demanded all of his attention.
Still, he kept his mind going, looking for opportunities, places he could exploit, schedules to log. Each time a guard changed or a servant was replaced, there was a moment where they were learning the routine, which both sucked and made for interesting possibilities.
A month after his first bout he had his second, this time against a pair of Neodogs. That one had been rough. He'd been unarmed like the Neodogs, and he'd been forced to strangle one with his hands while fending off the other with his feet. He'd lost a toe and a lot of fur, but he'd won the fight in the end.
Tiberius also fought battles, advancing through the ranks along with him. His mental notation of who was left in their class started to pall on him. When a second and third class came in under them, he knew they were definitely moving into the veterans and upwards to the elites.
Two weeks before the Horathian holiday season, they were given off to recover for a spectacular series of bouts. They rested, talked, but still did basic exercises to keep in tone. The elder gladiators warned them to keep their conditioning or they'd regret it. Tiberius and Marcus heeded the warning and stuck to their exercise routine religiously.
On the third day, they fell into jogging and doing weight exercises together, even sparring when no one else was available. During that time, they started to fantasize about escaping. At first the tone was in jest, but Marcus saw through it right away.
Slowly, under panting breath they exchanged some of the things they'd noticed as they worked out. Little things, things that they might exploit. “I gave up on trying to find a way to climb out, even at night. They have night vision,” Tiberius said. “Like a cat.”
“I know what it is. I hadn't considered it but should have,” Marcus admitted. He'd seen a few things in his stints in the infirmary, including a tracking chip embedded in their backs. “We need to get that chip out. And get our hands on one of the guards or administrators.”
“Why? Oh, to keep us from getting locked in?”
“And to keep them from tracking us,” Marcus replied. He finished his series of reps and then he changed places with the gorilla. He hefted on an extra hundred kilos for the bigger ape as Tiberius laid down on the bench and then grunted.
“Ready,” the ape said. “Set,” he chuffed and heaved, moving the dumbbells up off the rack and then down to his chest. He took a breath, then exhaled, extending his arms up with the bar. When he inhaled he drew the bar to his chest again, then out.
Marcus acted as his safety spotter, though he wasn't sure how much aide he could provide to the other ape. The weight was rough on him, and his muscles were already shaking and quivering.
“Four,” Tiberius ground out between gritted teeth.
“Go for ten,” Marcus urged, hands cupped under the weight.
“Right, sure, ten he says,” Tiberius groaned, doing another rep.
“We've moved up. You noticed they don't really fix the matches as much as people think? At least not in our hearing. They want our reactions to be real not feigned,” the chimp observed.
“So? Seven,” the gorilla groaned out, getting his arms outstretched. He nearly let the dumbbell fall, his arms were shaking.
“Easy,” Marcus urged. “You've got this. Three more,” he urged.
“Right,” the gorilla answered, groaning as he got the eighth rep up. He strained to hold it for a moment then slowly let it down again.
“Every time we think we're going to have it easy, it's not. They try to balance the gigs. At least mine,” Marcus said.
“Nine …,” Tiberius said, shaking some more.
“One more,” Marcus urged.
“Damn sadist,” the gorilla muttered as the bar came down. He strained, veins exposed on his temple and arms as he tried to lift the bar. He got it up, but not at full extension. Marcus quickly guided it into the rack yokes.
“You did good,” Marcus observed. “Not everyone can bench press two tons,” he observed. “New personal best,” he said as the gorilla swore, arms held loose at his sides. “Break something?”
“No, I wish I did. I think I'm going to need a soak though,” the gorilla groaned. Since they were veterans, they were allowed to soak in the spa after bouts or when they were sore. If they weren't chained up, it would be like some sort of spa Marcus thought wryly.
“Rest for a minute,” Marcus said, handing him a towel and water bottle. “Coach wants us out for another jog shortly.”
“Damn it,” the gorilla muttered, dabbing at his face with one end of the towel before he blew his nose on it. Marcus grimaced and turned away. That lowering of his guard earned the towel going up and over his head as the gorilla stood and dropped it disdainfully.
“Hey!” Marcus laughed, fending the offending thing off. “Yuck!”
“You need a shower too,” Tiberius observed.
“Yeah, now I do,” Marcus drawled.
“Sure,” Tiberius said. “Just don't drop the soap,” he said.
“Right,” Marcus retorted, shaking his head as they stretched and made their way to the outside.
:---{|}=====>
Tiberius quietly apologized for getting knocked out in his first match.
“You don't think I didn't know? Everyone thought it; no one could prove it. Not that it matters now,�
�� the chimp said.
“Still …”
Marcus snorted. “You did what I would have done. No apology necessary.”
“But …”
“No, Sue didn't get it on the ass. Trust me. She might have but …”
Tiberius chuffed and mock swiped at him. He eventually caught Marcus and drew him in for a headlock and noogie.
“Ow!” the chimp growled, rubbing at a fresh scar.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, that one you can be,” the chimp said as the gorilla released him. “See anything in the infirmary? I thought it would be good, but they've got cameras and an airlock system. You have to be buzzed through to get in and out. The person on the outside in some room watching through the cameras has his button on the door locks.”
“Damn it. So that's out. Galley too. Same for backstage and the tunnels. They've got a lot of the easy places covered.”
“No laundry either or not much of one, just stuff from the infirmary and the aprons from the galley. Same coverage I'll bet,” Marcus observed.
“Check.”
“I will if I can,” Marcus said dubiously.
“You know one of these times one or the other of us isn't going to return. We've been lucky up until this point,” Tiberius said.
“Then we'll have to find another partner,” Marcus replied.
“Right,” Tiberius said, looking up and then away. “A year.”
“What?”
“Remember the Horathian holiday season is coming up again. We've been here another year.” He rubbed at the scar on his face that creased his brow and cheek but had just missed his eye. “That makes four.”
“Yeah. Sucks,” Marcus replied. He inhaled and then exhaled noisily. “One day at a time.”
“Yeah, I know.” Tiberius looked up to a distant window they'd identified as being the directors. He wasn't surprised that the man was there, looking at the courtyard.
What bothered him was that the man was looking at the two of them. He quickly ducked his head. He didn't want to show defiance, but he didn't like what it meant.
:---{|}=====>
“They seem rather chummy,” Lomis said, eying the gorilla and chimp as he came up to where his boss was standing with his hands clasped in front of the window. “They train together quite well. Should we break them up?”
“I believe so, during the next match set. It's tiered, and it's about time they are matched against each other. Such pairings are normal of course. Usually they are friends or siblings or of the same species. I've left this for a little too long I guess.”
“You think they are planning to escape, sir?” Lomis asked.
The director snorted. “Of course! They are but animals but even animals desire their freedom. So pitting them against one another in the next series of games should nip that in the bud.”
“If you say so, sir,” Lomis said, making a note.
:---{|}=====>
“What do you miss most, the horizon? The food?” Sue asked as Marcus and a pair of servants helped to get her outfitted.
She was battered, more so every year. The heavy scaring made it hard for her to move as fast as she had before. She limped all the time. Her last battle had been against a trio of primal hyenas who'd done their best to tear her throat out or snap her spine. They'd nearly succeeded. She'd in turn torn the throat out of several opponents along the way including two of them. That last time she'd given in to her blood lust before getting approval from the guest box and crowd. The crowd and booed at that, despite her being outnumbered three to one.
Most likely her next battle would be her last, Marcus thought. He wasn't certain if he should feel remorse or not. They were in a strange situation, friends but also mortal enemies. He shook himself when he realized she was expecting an answer.
“The forest. The trees, and yeah, the flowers,” Marcus finally answered.
“Heh. Not much of that up north,” Sue said dreamily. “Just kilometers of open country. The snow … gods of space I miss that,” she said dreamily.
“That'd be nice to see too, to actually experience a sunset or sunrise again,” Tiberius said wistfully.
“Yeah, that,” Sue sighed heavily. She padded off to be outfitted with her final weapons now that her armor was strapped on.
“You know who you are fighting?” Tiberius asked almost casually, looking over to the chimp.
“Nope, you?”
“No. They like to make it interesting I suppose. Blind matches.”
“Yeah,” Marcus replied, sighing heavily, “to the death too. See you on the other side?” he asked, extending a fist.
“You know it,” Tiberius replied, fist bumping him. “And pray I don't have to fight that bitch.”
“Me too,” Marcus replied. Tiberius nodded as he left.
:---{|}=====>
Over the past four years, Marcus and Tiberius had made a name for themselves in the pits. Just before Marcus was to go on stage he readied himself. He was eager, eager to get it over with so he could rest and recover. He saw a pair of load lifters guiding a litter down a ramp. He saw a bloodied hand paw fall off and drag. It was white but stained with blood. The robots went over to a heavily guarded chute and dropped the body into it like so much refuge. The Neobear's body tumbled off the litter and down the chute to disappear as if she'd never been.
“Good bye, Sue,” Marcus said, shaking his head. He tested the fit of his shield and armor, then checked to make sure he had enough traction on the ramp for his run. He planned to leap out to dazzle the crowd.
He rushed up the ramp and then leapt as planned, flashing his sword and shield as he somersaulted. He landed in a crouch a good four meters from the top of the ramp, growling and ooking, banging his shield as he turned in place before he faced his opponent.
That was when everything changed, when a familiar shaggy shape faced him. When the two ape friends were pitted against one another.
His heart quivered and then sank in depths of despair he thought he'd rid himself of.
That was when Marcus realized there was no escaping the pits. Even if they had managed it, his limited knowledge of the past, of what Horath had once been would be useless. There was no place to go, no one who would risk taking them in and helping them hide and get to safety. They would stand out and be hunted wherever they went.
“Let's make it a good one,” Tiberius said simply.
“Agreed,” Marcus replied, brown eyes locked to his friends.
The two apes circled, banging their swords against their shields and then against one another in a show of force and intimidation, but also in show of support for each other.
“Remember, to the death. But I promise, I'll escape,” Tiberius said.
“No you won't,” Marcus answered.
“What?”
“Fight!” the speaker ordered.
“Neither one of us will,” Marcus said, done with talking as he waded in to fight for real and for what hopefully would be the last time.
The Score
AKA a Matter of Antimatter Two
Proofread by Thomas Burrows, Carlos d'Empaire, Wayne Gaskin,
CAST:
Connie Julip: Connie for conniptions. Real name Constance. Sixteen, single, parents died in the plague, human. Works at a rundown diner to make rent. Occasionally turns tricks when she's desperate for money.
Eric Sagot: Seventeen, single, alone like Connie. Human with cat eyes. Scrounger, occasional pick pocket and scam artist, self-taught engineer. Works as a handyman to make ends meet.
Lieutenant Brig Thornson
Sergeant Phil Haigh
Commander Doctor Helen Richards
Nohar Rajestan: Yellow Neotiger, sleeper, former army sergeant, former cyborg, planetary security commissioner.
Syed: PS assistant director.
Hank McCoy: Blue Neocat, tinkerer and engineer. Chief engineer on the planet.
Ed, Akeman: Two thugs for Boss Maroni.
Ch'cl'll: Small time Veraxin fen
ce and bookie working in a district of Boss Maroni. Owns a pawn shop as a cover for his various criminal enterprises.
R'll: Proprietress of the local arcade.
Boss Maroni
Eric Sagot shook his head as he saw the crowd. Quite a group, and he knew it would be tempting to go through it and pick a few pockets. But one look at a couple of security people and he knew he'd been made as trouble so he slouched and stuck his hands in the pockets of his battered hoody. Better to behave and throw them off he thought with a mental grimace. He fought the urge to glare back at them. Let someone else they were overlooking make a buck that day because they were focused on him. Besides, he had other reasons for being there he thought.
Legit reasons, he thought, mind warming once more to the thought. Just about everyone and his or her brother had the same idea it seemed, to try to get rich quick. Well, that was fine, but he had an inside edge. He might be on his own, but he was a natural scrounger and self-taught engineer. He could turn anything for a profit given enough elbow grease. Most of the yahoos in the cavern entrance had no clue about what they were trying to get. They had more credits than sense and it showed.
He just needed the right opportunity. The big bulky stuff was out; he needed something portable. Something he could carry on the bus ride home with him. That limited his options. His feline eyes scanned the small crates. No, no, maybe … he grimaced at the opening bid prices. At that level he might as well have stayed home.
He was limited on his funds. He had sixty credits on him, and that was going to have to give him the score he craved. Well, sixty-four, but he'd need the four creds to get home with. That meant he had to be careful and not get caught up in the bidding frenzy such events evoked. He was bidding with his own hard-earned funds this time, not credits from a client. Money he needed to eat and well, truth be told, pay the rent within a week.
