by C. S. Harte
Jonas studied Quip as she walked through the gloom. So far, she was the only female onboard and the most put-together person he'd seen in a long time. She was impeccably dressed even by the standards of Fleet Officers — her skin-tight outfit hid very few of her curves. Yet, every person she passed avoided looking at her as if doing so would mean their peril. Jonas sighed, having met women like her on pleasure planets. Quip is trouble. Something bad will happen. I know it… He took out the coin from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers.
Quip eyed the coin intensely before looking away. “What’s your favorite color?” She asked in a cheery voice. “Wait, don’t tell me. You were a Fleet Officer? Lieutenant Commander? Captain?”
She’s so odd… Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Officially, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Blue then. And gold too. Oh, you’ll be so handsome in blue! Our patrons love Fleet traitors.” She giggled.
Patrons? Jonas stopped following her. “Where are we going?”
“To the fitting room, silly.” Quip ran back and took his arm. “You have to look good for your debut!”
“Debut?” He shook his head. What did Whisper get me into?
“Those broad shoulders would look good in a cloak,” Quip said quietly to herself.
She pulled Jonas onto the decktram. “Promenade,” Quip said into the camera.
The decktram ascended.
What prison ship has a promenade? I thought Wynter prison had its oddities, but the Dante is quickly catching up.
Quip leaned against the railing of the decktram. Her eyes locked onto Jonas, peering him up and down.
Jonas tried to avoid her gaze but felt his cheeks heating up.
The decktram stopped, and the doors slid open.
Quip clapped wildly. “Yes! We’re here.” She grabbed Jonas’ hand pulling him into the first door on the right and into a massive room that appeared to be a warehouse for hundreds of gladiator-style armor. Some were made entirely of metal, others leather, the rest a combination of both. Every meter of wall space had an armor piece inspired from different periods of antiquity hanging prominently — Roman Legionnaire, Spartan Hoplite, United States Infantry — a stark contrast to the chaos and vileness relative to the rest of the ship.
“Take off your clothes, Jonas. And do it slowly,” she purred at him.
“What?” Jonas coughed.
“Don’t be shy around little old me, big boy. I don’t know how it’s possible to make prison garb so drab and boring.” She began scouring through different outfits. “Besides, don’t you want to get out of your bloodied garments?”
“I'd rather not. I’m OK actually.”
Quip’s expression soured. “We don’t have all day to get you ready,” she said in a harsh tone. “Your first fight is tomorrow night.”
“My first fight?” Jonas' eyes opened wide. Did Whisper trick me? Wait, I know where I am now. Jonas pulled at his face. “This is one of those Arena ships that broadcast on pirated frequencies isn’t it? I wonder how many credits you paid Warden Dunn for inmates like me…”
An ear-to-ear grin appeared on Quip’s face. “Beauty and brains! You might be the perfect guy for me.” She locked eyes with Jonas as she approached him. Her hands wandered over his torso. “Jonas, dear. I need you to strip. Now!” She ripped his shirt open.
Jonas took a step back and removed his blood-stained prison uniform.
Quip traced his pectoral lines with her fingers. “You’re a what? 34 waist? 40 chest? 18 neck?”
He shrugged his shoulders. Why would Whisper tell me to meet her at Caldia Station if she meant for me to be a gladiator here? I need to find a way off this ship. Just survive… I have to survive and find a way to Caldia…
Quip brought different outfits for Jonas to try. “I know what you’re thinking, Jonas.”
“You do?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. I’ve heard it all before.” She switched to a whiny voice that said, “Life isn’t fair. I didn’t sign up for this. I don’t want to die.” Quip stuck a finger down her throat. “BLEH! The way I see it, you’re lucky the Warden sold you to us.” She turned her back to Jonas as she went through more outfits.
Was it the Warden? Jonas thought back to the Warden’s last words where he intended to interrogate him. It seems like Whisper was the one responsible for getting him on the Dante.
“You would have been dead soon. For what?” Quip said the next question in air quotes, “Betraying your Commonwealth?” She scoffed.
“I didn’t…”
“It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t. My point is that they make up the rules. If you don’t follow them, you forfeit everything. Even your life. That’s rich, isn’t it? They control your life even before you were born. Freedom in this paradise of a republic was always an illusion.”
“That… actually makes sense,” Jonas said while shaking his head. I can’t remember why I joined Fleet over a decade ago. What life I had before, Fleet completely erased my memories. His eyes followed Quip as she floated from one row of armor to another. This woman is not who she seems…
“You’re the strong, silent type. I like that… a lot, actually.” She licked her lips. “You can get rich here you know. Only the strong advance.”
Jonas nodded.
Quip smiled and clapped. “I think I found it! Try this on.” She handed him a silver chain mail armor with a blue leather breastplate. On the front, an insignia of an eagle wing, similar to the one used by Fleet. “I think this will look adorable on you!”
He slipped the armor over his head.
“I like that it shows your sexy abs. And the blue matches your eyes making you look even more dreamy.” She giggled. “What style weapons do you prefer? We don’t allow ranged weapons like rifles or guns. It’s all swords and blunt melee.”
Jonas shrugged. “Swords.”
“Follow me then.”
They made their way to another room with hundreds of swords resting on tables and hanging off walls.
“Take whatever you like.” Quip gestured for him to walk around.
“Thanks…”
“Oh no, we should thank you,” she said in a warm voice. “Without fiercely handsome warriors like you, we wouldn’t be the second highest-rated channel on ColonyNet.”
“What’s the highest-rated channel then?”
Quip spit on the ground. “Both the Commonwealth and the Alliance have state-run media. Impossible to be higher than those when those channels are mandatory.”
One particular blade drew Jonas to it. He lifted a broadsword with blue-tinted steel and a golden hilt. Encrusted into the handle was a large aquamarine gem that appeared to have a navy blue liquid swirling inside. The hilt felt cool to the touch, growing colder the longer he held it.
“Good choice,” Quip giggled. “It’s an ice blade. Do you know how to use one?”
“Is there something special about this sword?”
“Oh, you’ll figure it out.” Quip wandered away. “C’mon! We have to fix your neuromods or maybe get you new ones.” She turned around. “This is so exciting! Are you excited?”
5
Having settled on a set of gladiator armor and a weapon, Jonas followed Quip as they walked through the promenade. The shops on one side of the promenade were all closed, haphazardly boarded up. Some had the telltale scorch marks of a raging fire. The opposite side seemed to be one grand cocktail lounge behind a long, continuous glass pane. A handful of patrons huddled inside, separating into small groups.
“That’s Limbo,” Quip said. “It’s a good way to relax in between matches. And an even better way to blow through your winnings.” She smirked.
They passed more businesses, each serving a different vice.
Jonas couldn’t help but notice the silhouettes of people having sex behind the semi-transparent glass of an establishment called, The Lust Garden. “This ship… It’s not what I expected.”
Quip laughed. “You Fleet officers, you're all
the same. You see the universe a certain way, the way you think it's supposed to be — logical, orderly, black and white — completely blind to what the universe actually is; irrational, chaotic, with infinite shades of gray.”
That’s not true. My life is proof of chaos in the universe. Jonas wanted to argue but decided against it. He didn’t care to share his life’s story up until this point and changed the subject. “The people on the airlock deck. The ones half-dead.”
“What about them?” She shrugged.
“What happened to them?”
Quip turned away as she spoke. “The Dante is a meritocracy. The better you fight, the better the show, the more you earn. You don’t always have to win, but you always have to put on a good show. In return, whatever pleasures our gladiators want, we go out of our way to get it for them... only if you give the audience what they want. It gives you an incentive to work harder and win. Always try to show a little charm, a little personality.” She molded Jonas’ cheeks into a smile. “Make the viewers fall in love with you. That’s how you get bonus flourishes which means more credits. Remember that during your fights.”
They approached a large circular, open area with benches, trees, and tables. Lively music floated through the air. To their left was a saloon with a band playing on a small stage.
“Is this a park?” Jonas narrowed his eyes. “In the middle of a ship?”
“Is that odd to you? Seems natural to me.” Quip poked Jonas in the ribs. “Get it? Natural?” She laughed hysterically.
“Yes, I got it the first time.” He rolled his eyes.
“These trees were imported from Earth. My favorite is the Sakura tree.” Quip picked up a blossom from the ground and showed it to Jonas. “This helps remind me there’s beauty still left in the universe.”
Jonas shifted his eyes from the flower to Quip. She might be the most unexpected thing on this ship.
“Word of caution about Dr. Zechiel, our resident expert on BIPs and neuromods. He may not look like a typical doctor. That’s because he’s not actually a doctor,” Quip said with a smirk. “We call him doctor because he hates it and, well… all doctors in general. So don’t call him a doctor since he’ll be operating on you.” Quip laughed. “Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “What was I saying… Well anyway, he has a surprising knack for all things neuro and biomod related.”
Jonas nodded and followed Quip into a tiny room close to the park.
A small, pudgy man with burnt orange skin, approached Quip. He had an eyepatch on his left eye, and his right hand was missing two fingers. His hair was curly, a mixture of salt and pepper, heavy on the salt. The lighting in the room was abysmal, definitely not something considered surgically optimal. The air carried a heavy, overpowering smell of chlorine, but not strong enough to completely mask the visceral smell of blood and organs. There was a steel operating table in the center of the room which appeared recently used judging by a red liquid steadily dripping down the corners.
Jonas shook his head at the sight and kept his distance from the doctor.
Quip whispered something into the Zechiel’s ear making him sigh.
He then approached Jonas and tilted his head up. “So you’re the fresh corpse.”
Jonas dropped his jaw. “I’m sorry, what?”
Quip bent over laughing. “He says that to everyone.”
Zechiel shook his head and said with a perfectly straight expression, “No, you’re going to die. It’s statistically likely that being a gladiator will get you killed. I just thought you should know that.”
Jonas drew his eyebrows together as he looked at Quip who still wore a bright smile on her face.
As if reading Jonas’ mind, Quip walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to fight.”
“Really?” He jerked his head back. “Good, I don’t want to.”
“But you have to pay off your debt,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What debt?”
“The cost to break you out of prison, silly!”
Jonas’ breath quickened.
“Lots of people were involved in your escape. You thought it was easy to break out a traitor a day before execution? There’s the rescue fee, the transportation fee, the various payoffs to look the other way, the…”
Jonas began zoning out. I knew it was all too good to be true. Still, I’m alive… I would be dead right now if I never took Whisper's hand on Wynter Station.
“… and, of course, the fee for my time and services. I don’t do things for free. Unless you turn out to be the ONE.” She giggled. “Are you the ONE, Jonas?” Quip folded her hands under her chin and blinked rapidly.
I’m surrounded by crazy. Maybe I’m already dead, and this is hell.
Zechiel coughed and waited for Jonas to look at him. “Just shut up already you idiots, especially you." He pointed at Jonas. "You’re alive, you should be thankful. Even if you’re going to die later.” The last part of the sentence was said under his breath.
Jonas released a heavy sigh and rubbed his face.
“Now let’s get to work.” Zechiel brought Jonas to a screen in the back of the room. “These are my services and what I charge.”
Strength Neuromod, 500,000 credits
Speed Neuromod, 500,000 credits
Quickness Neuromod, 500,000 credits
Agility Neuromod, 500,000 credits
Dexterity Neuromod, 500,000 credits
Stamina Neuromod, 1,000,000 credits
Is that how much mods cost? No wonder Fleet requires ten years of service in return. Jonas groaned. “That is a lot of credits…”
“I may look small, but I spend big at the card tables.” Zechiel shrugged.
Quip stepped into the conversation. “Don’t worry, one big fight and you can afford all of that and more.” She turned her head to the side and said out of the corner of her lips, “You might even be able to afford me.”
“How much do I win per fight? You never mentioned that.”
“Well, there’s nine rank levels. You’re new, so you start at nine and have to work your way up to level one. At level nine, each win is worth 10,000 credits plus whatever flourishes you perform — dismemberments, decapitations, anything disgusting really — and whatever bonuses the viewers want to give you.” She pinched Jonas’ butt. “I would give you a bonus for that cute butt of yours!”
“Quip,” Zechiel said sternly. “You know the rules.”
“I know, I know.” She pouted then turned toward Jonas. “I’ll be back for you after you wake up. Try not to miss me too much!” Quip blew a kiss at Jonas and left the room.
“She means nothing with all that flirting. Quip is playing a role, trying to get your confidence up, so you don’t wet your pants before your first fight. You should know that. You’re one of the more ugly men I’ve seen come in here,” Zechiel said in a dry tone.
Jonas clenched his fist as his face started to flush.
Zechiel looked at Jonas’ closed hand. “See, you’re stupid too. Thinking you should hit a guy who’s about to operate on you. It won’t be long before you die. Just pick something and let’s go. You’re wasting my time.”
Jonas scanned through the list of neuromods again.
“And here’s the list of biomods.” Zechiel swiped at the screen and flipped to a new list.
Harden skin - 1,250,000 credits
Harden skeleton - 1,500,000 credits
Cybernetic arms - 2,500,000 credits / arm
Enhanced healing - 3,000,000 credits
Retractable claws - 500,000 credits / claw
Fire resistance - 1,000,000 credits
Fire generation - 2,000,000 credits
The list continued with hundreds of options.
“Aren’t biomods illegal?”
Zechiel threw up his arms as if was tired of hearing that question. “THAT’S AN OPINION!”
“I didn’t realize Commonwealth laws were considered opinions.” Jonas said while turning his head away.
“Anything that hurts my bottom line is an opinion I choose to ignore.”
Jonas sighed. “Just re-enable my biological information panel. I already have the strength neuromod installed.”
“You’re going to die if you go up against the other gladiators with just your strength neuromods. There are combatants with half a dozen neuromods and biomods.” Zechiel muttered under his breath. “Fine, if you die before I get fully reimbursed, I will reanimate your corpse just to kill you again.”
“I don’t want too many replacement parts and nanites coursing through my veins. I especially don’t want Neuro Rot.”
“Neuro Rot only presents in 90% of cases with people who live longer than 50. Trust me, you won’t live to see your 30th birthday. Why not enjoy speed AND quickness? Have extra long stamina too.” He looked into Jonas' eyes as he said, “You won’t have a chance with Quip unless you have stamina mods.”
“I don’t have any desires for Quip or becoming the next great gladiator. Just reactivate my BIP, thanks.”
“Are you sure? You should listen to me. I’m the closest thing to a doctor on this ship.”
“I’m sure,” Jonas said sternly.
“Oh, what does it matter?” Zechiel shrugged. “You’re going to die, anyway.”
6
Jonas followed Quip down a series of maze-like corridors.
She occasionally turned her head back and smiled at Jonas in a way that unnerved him. “Almost there.”
Along the way, Jonas kept staring at the underside of his right forearm as he continuously flexed his wrist. There was something off about Jonas’ newly re-activated biological information panel. Every time he twisted his wrist a certain way, he felt something inside his forearm, something he didn't remember feeling before.
“And here’s your half-star accommodation.” Quip waved Jonas into a two-by-three meter prison cell with a bunk bed. “You can work your way up to the other stars. For now, you’ll have to share with a roommate.” She moaned softly as Jonas brushed past her chest into the cell. “The Dante started out as a prison ship, after all. Most of the decks are taken up by the promenade, the arena, the captain’s quarters, and of course, my quarter. If you play your cards right, you could join me there one day.” She winked at him.