“How terrible,” Boq replies in a condescending manner, making me want to punch his fat face. “I’ll make a deal. Play a round of Ding Dong Tak with me. If you win, you’re free to go. If you lose, I’ll keep you two as my personal slaves and that adorable mechanical dog of yours, too. I’ve always wanted a puppy.”
“No, you’re not taking Toto from me,” I say without pausing to think.
“Ah, so Toto is the name of the cute fellow. Bring him to me.”
Boq waves at the bully who is holding Toto in a merciless vise. He has his beefy hands clasped around the robo-dog’s muzzle to keep him from biting him. No wonder he has been quiet all this time.
My heart sinks when Boq grabs Toto. The dog, finding himself free, suddenly lashes out, biting Boq’s finger. I wait for the munchkin lord to throw Toto against the wall, but he simply laughs and clamps Toto’s muzzle shut again.
“You’ll learn how to be a good doggie in no time.”
“Not so fast,” my companion says. “We haven’t lost the game yet.”
Boq’s eyes gleam with mischief. “So, you have decided to take me up on my offer. Excellent. Most excellent. Tarek, get us a table.”
Within minutes, a round table appears. Boq stands from his couch, revealing to be shorter than I expected him to be. Granted, the munchkins are all short, but I imagined their great mobster lord to be taller than average. It was a silly assumption on my part, probably influenced by the silly pre-space-expansion era movies I’d watched with Adrian. Power is usually achieved by cunning, not brute force.
Thinking about my cousin just reinforces my urgency to get out of here.
The overweight munchkin lumbers to his chair, which is larger and plusher than the others. Resting his forearms on the table, he asks, “Who’s playing?”
“Me.” My brother pulls up a chair, sitting opposite the imposing mobster without an ounce of doubt.
“Really? You don’t seem to be in your best shape.” Boq laughs.
“I’m fine.” The man calmly links his fingers together. “Are we playing Ding Dong Tak or what?”
10
Reo
To make sure I’m not spotted, I spy on the party of mercenaries from a vantage point, hiding in the shadows of the overhang passageway above them. There are four brutes in total, all munchkins wearing their energy-bolt gloves. Walking single file, they keep their prisoners—a man and a woman—sandwiched in the middle. Their hands are bound.
The last mercenary has a small cyber-dog pressed against his chest. By the way his hand is covering the robot’s muzzle, my guess is the little metal dog isn’t friendly.
There aren’t many creatures walking about at this hour. The streets of Scrape Town are dangerous after sunset. Even so, I scan the perimeter, using my infrared sensors once more. I don’t find anyone carrying a weapon, which means they’re probably workers returning home.
The prisoners are being taken deep into the city, most likely to the headquarters of the munchkin who owns it all. The self-proclaimed lord of Scrape Town. I’m proven right when they reach the tallest building in the area. Pertinent information about the establishment populates in front of my bionic eye. Boq’s Playroom is a cantina-slash-gambling house where low criminals mingle and more dangerous figures conduct their shady business. In times of war, those are the first individuals who prosper.
During the walk, no more word is mentioned about the Red Witch’s demise, and I’m momentarily cut off from the main network. All information I have is the one already stored in my memory. Being that far from any operating communication tower has its advantages, but right now, it’s a hindrance. I’ll have to go in and find out what the fuss is all about.
When the mercenaries and their prisoners disappear through the guarded entrance to Boq’s Playroom, I keep moving, using the overhanging passageways until I’m out of the guards’ eyesight. Making sure the area is clear down below, I jump, landing on soft feet. The thud of them hitting the ground barely registers in my bionic ears.
Pulling my hood to cover the metal plaques on the side of my skull, I slink forward, keeping my body pressed to the buildings, until I find the trap door that leads to the basement. I wouldn’t have found it if not for the information I downloaded. It’s well hidden. According to the intel in my memory, Boq’s workers use this entrance to dispose of garbage—and sometimes body parts.
The nations that are still free from the control of the witches have this wrong assumption that the munchkins are a merry race of little people who enjoy bright colors and singing. The only thing they aren’t wrong about is their sense of style. The most fortunate munchkins still dress as if they were a festive candy.
The trap door is locked by a digital lock. It’s new but not the most advanced in terms of encryption. Extending my index finger, I use the small connector which slides out from it to link my system with the lock. As I expected, the encryption is simple, and it takes me less than thirty seconds to decode it.
Opening the door just enough to slip through, I switch my view mode to night vision and head for the stairs, which are just around the corner. A strong scent of rotten food and biological waste has me wishing I could block out the smell. In truth, I’m able to, but it wouldn’t be wise. I’m in enemy territory, after all, and I must not hinder myself of any sensory stimuli.
Laughter travels through the cracks of the door above. The sound would be muffled if I still possessed my old human hearing. Now, it’s as clear as if I were standing next to the amused party. When I went through my transformation, many of my former peers said I was lucky. The memories of their comments are as bitter today as they were then. They didn’t understand the consequences of my new set of skills or the price I paid.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I wait a couple of beats, listening to the sounds in the room on the other side. I push the handle down when I catch a break and find the hallway empty momentarily, as I knew I would. I keep my face concealed under the hood. I haven’t forgotten the munchkins who wanted to take me away for my parts. Cyborgs are not uncommon—at least, not in the most populated areas of Oz—but it seems Munchkin country has gotten stuck in the past.
I’ve been in Oz for five years, and it still amazes me how different each region is from one another. Some are as modern as the most prosperous planet in the Star Freedom Alliance solar systems. Others possess technology reminiscent of Earth’s pre-space-expansion era. But the most peculiar aspect of this planet is how magic is woven in the fabric of politics and daily routine of the natives, even if it’s not available to everyone. Most of the folks who can yield magic learned through the studies of alchemy. A scarce number of them were born with it, such as the Great Wizard of Oz, a mysterious man no one outside of Emerald City has ever seen.
Keeping to the shadows for now, I go over all the noise and voices, trying to locate the distinct timbre of the woman who the mercenaries brought here. Her feistiness in the face of danger was not the only thing that made me curious about her. She is not a native. The pilot suit she wore told me she’d recently arrived in Oz, but from where in the galaxy exactly, I still need to find that out.
I hear her voice. She’s on the other side of the cantina, through a set of doors. Pulling up the blueprint of the place, I locate her. She’s in the gambling room. I step out of the nook I was hiding in and use the zoom feature in my bionic eye, finding the entrance to Boq’s private entertainment area blocked by two human guards. I twist my lips into a grin. I’ve never met a human I couldn’t bribe.
It’s time to make my presence known.
I move away from the shadows completely and stride through the cantina with the air of someone who belongs. The dimly lit room smells of dashed hopes of a country torn by war. It’s also a ragged hive of villainous scum. Without the use of my arm weapon, my chances of leaving this place in one piece if all those lowlifes decide to attack are forty-to-sixty. I don’t like those odds. But even if the information I’m seeking is no longer worth the risk, I ca
n’t simply ignore the woman. I’m all too aware that this is not a logical urge. She must have awakened some long-forgotten, primordial instinct from the days I wasn’t this … nightmare.
The guards stationed at the double doors stiffen when I approach.
“Good evening, fellows. Is there still room for one more eager player tonight?”
“The playroom is full,” one replies, eyeing me with suspicion.
Switching to my infrared vision, I analyze his body heat and pulse. There’s a slight increase in the former but nothing to make me cautious. The same can be said about his companion, although he’s watching me with less suspicion and more curiosity. He’s the guy I need to persuade.
“Are you sure?” Pushing my cape off to the side, I touch the coin pouch attached to my belt. It clinks with the sound of thick gold coins. Both guards drop their gazes to it. “I just got paid, and I’m looking forward to some excitement tonight.”
The guards exchange a glance.
Then, the one who spoke to me first replies, “There’s an entry fee for late arrivals.”
Of course there is. Humans. The same in every galaxy you go.
“I understand.” Hiding my treasure pouch from view once more, I pull from my sleeve two Emmerlin crown coins worth more than what I paid for my fake scan-doc.
I try to control my amusement when I read the guards’ reaction—not only their external, but also their internal ones. Increase in their temperature and heartbeat. I bet they’ve never seen a crown coin up close.
I toss them toward the guards. The coins disappear in their greedy hands faster than one can blink.
With a flourishing motion, they open the doors to the gambling room, but not a soul looks in my direction as I enter. Those who are not busy with their games are paying rapt attention to the main event in the room.
Boq, who is more grotesque in person than the picture stored in my memory, is sitting at a game table, grinning from ear to ear as one of his dealers shuffles cards. Opposite him is the white-haired man who was captured with the woman. His back is to me, but the readings of his body vitals reveals he’s as calm as the serene sea. Does he not know that Boq never loses a game?
I switch my attention to the reason I’ve decided to risk my mission. The pilot. There’s a quickening of my heartbeat as I scan her face. She’s attractive, but it’s the mix of defiance and sweetness she exudes that I find most intriguing. Her full lips are pressed in a thin line, and her eyebrows are furrowed as she watches the dealer distribute the cards. Thick bangs are swept across her forehead, matted and dirty. She’s been fighting recently. Maybe with the Red Witch if what I heard is true.
It’s hard to believe the average-sized human would be able to fight against one of the most powerful witches in the land of Oz. Does she possess some hidden talent I’m not detecting?
Suddenly, my metal arm stirs as a low humming only I can hear commences. The defensive mechanism is powering up. But how? As far as I’m aware, there isn’t any reserve of white or blue crystals nearby.
I switch my vision to X-ray. Maybe Boq has a crystal hidden here that my sources failed to inform me of. I don’t find anything in the room, but once my gaze sweeps past the pilot, I spot two small fragments of crystals. I’m taken by surprise, and it’s not something that happens to me often these days. For those small pieces of crystal to have any effect on my energy levels, they would have to be extremely powerful. Only the Red Witch and the Raven Witch had access to those. Unless …
Changing my vision mode to infrared again, I see the power those fragments are producing. They are shining so bright; it makes it harder to get any other readings from her. There’s no doubt now. She killed the Red Witch and took her powerful crystals. I’m still busy processing this new revelation when a hard slap on the table catches my attention.
Boq is fuming from his mouth, staring daggers at the man playing against him. It seems the scum lord has lost the first round. Something is not right here. I move closer to observe the game better. Nothing about the young player’s demeanor has changed. He’s still collected as he plays a cautious game. Ding Dong Tak is akin to blackjack, a popular card game from my former home planet, Old Earth, which means one can guarantee victory if they can count the cards. Not many possess that skill. Only the most brilliant minds do. It seems Boq’s opponent is one of them, which doesn’t bode well for him.
The young man sweeps off his forehead a strand of hair blocking his eyes, allowing me to see the mark of the Faulk Order. Only those destined to become alchemists receive that mark during childhood. It’s clear Boq doesn’t know what the tattoo means; otherwise, he would have never accepted the man as a player.
Either way, things are going to end badly. I can use the distraction to my advantage and whisk the pilot to safety. The question is, do I bother saving the alchemist as well?
11
Dorothy
At first, I don’t understand the rules of the game they are playing, but as it progresses, I recognize it for an altered version of blackjack, a game from a few centuries ago that is still popular on New Earth and even in Tethis. The symbols on the cards are different, but there are four distinct decks, just like in blackjack. Colonists from Earth definitely settled here.
My companion has already won three rounds. I’m beginning to suspect he has the ability to count cards, because no one can be that lucky. Boq must have caught on to that, too, if the murderous glances he’s aiming at my companion are any indication.
I wish I could tell the young man to lose one round so as not to be so obvious, but I can’t really communicate with him. Maybe if I shift my stance, catch his attention somehow, I can try to signal him with my eyes. I begin to inch closer to Boq’s side when movement on my peripheral catches my attention. A tall man wearing a hood and dark clothes is standing right behind my friend. I can’t see his face, but it seems he’s watching the game with keen interest, just like Boq’s minions.
Only the bottom half of his face is on display, revealing a sharp, strong jaw and wide lips. For some reason, my eyes remain trained on his mouth longer than normal. He angles his face slightly in my direction, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I feel the intensity of his gaze just the same.
Who is this guy?
Something happens in the game, which makes Boq slam his beefy hand on the wooden surface, rattling the colorful coins spread on it.
Leaning forward in a menacing way, he points a finger at my companion. “You couldn’t possibly know I had those cards in my hand, Scrawny.”
“If you’re implying I’m cheating, you’re a mis—”
“I’m not implying!” Boq slams his hand on the table again. “I know you are. Seize them!” He stands abruptly, pushing his chair down onto the floor in the process.
The closest brute to my right reaches for me, but with bound wrists, I hit him in the face before he can grab me. He lets out a roar while clutching at his face. My companion is already back on his feet, and somehow, he manages to dodge another one of Boq’s associates. Despite feeling oddly protective of him, I turn away to search for Toto.
Mayhem commences. Players—who I suspect aren’t honorable folks—take the opportunity to steal as many playing chips as they can while others aim for the door. Tables and chairs are tossed or crashed over people’s heads. One broken piece of furniture is hurled in my direction, and I know I won’t be able to leap out of the way, but, suddenly, something akin to lightning hits the piece of broken furniture, breaking it into small splinters.
I look over my shoulder, trying to discover who saved me. It was my companion. Did he just create that energy sphere out of thin air? Is he a sorcerer?
A string of angry barks pulls my attention to the corner of the room. I can’t see him, but I follow the sound Toto is making. I try as much as I can to dodge the creatures who are fighting among themselves and Boq’s henchmen as I traverse the sea of pandemonium.
Finally breaking through the blur of limbs and punches,
I spot Toto backed into a corner, snapping at the munchkin who is trying to grab him. I prepare to charge when someone grabs me from behind. My back hits a wall of solid muscle and metal while my body becomes trapped by arms made of steel. A gloved hand is pressed against my throat while someone’s lips move closer to my ear.
“Don’t panic. I’m trying to help you. If we go now, we can escape without Boq knowing.”
“Trust me, I’m planning on it. Now, let me go.”
Unable to use my arms, I stomp on his instep. The grunt that follows is most satisfying. But I don’t have time to rejoice in the feeling, for the munchkin trying to take Toto has succeeded. I don’t know if he’s one of Boq’s minions or not, but he won’t steal my dog.
I take off after the creature, reaching him in two long strides. Curling my fingers around his shirt collar, I yank him back with a hard pull. He falls on his ass, releasing Toto in the process. The robo-dog jumps in my arms, and only then do I pivot to see who tried to whisk me away. It was the mysterious man wearing the hood. Only he’s no ordinary human. He’s a cyborg.
His hood is crooked now, revealing more of his face. His robotic eye shines blue where the light hits him. We lock gazes, but the connection only lasts a few seconds. One of Boq’s human guards is running toward the cyborg, his gloved hand poised to fire.
“Watch out!” I warn.
The cyborg whirls on the spot, twisting his upper body out of the blast’s path. It hits the floor next to me, sending Toto into panic mode.
“It’s okay, boy. I’ve got you.”
The cyborg is now engaged in a hand-to-hand fight against the guard. He seems to be winning.
Now, where the heck is the guy I was trying to help? I scan the chaotic scene in a frantic manner, hoping he’s okay. Considering how badly injured he was, he can’t possibly sustain fighting against so many foes, magic or not.
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