by C. S. Harte
500,000 to Jonas.
Galen wailed in pain as he squirmed on the ground.
Jonas pushed himself up. He held his sword to Galen’s good leg. “I’m not a traitor!” Without hesitation, he pressed the Coryzinian stone trigger, activating the chilling effects of the sword.
Frost climbed up Galen’s leg, wrapping it in a heavy blanket of ice.
500,000 to Jonas.
A hush fell over the crowd as they waited for the climax of the fight.
Galen slammed his remaining fist into the ground and whimpered. Adrenaline coursed through Jonas' veins. His savage instincts were taking over, driving him to stomp on Galen’s frozen leg, shattering it. As far back as he could remember, Jonas was never a cruel person. He never, in his life, intended to cause anyone pain. Yet in the span of 48 sol-hours, he killed a human being and fought another in life and death combat. Rising star Fleet Officer to traitor to gladiator. Is this… Is this my life now?
1,000,000 credits to Jonas, more than he ever hoped to have in his life.
Every spectator chanted, “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
Jonas lifted his sword over his head.
“Kill him!”
The words swirled around him, funneling into his mind like a virus, infecting deep inside his brain, down to the core of his soul, reprogramming his very being.
“Kill him!”
Jonas gripped his sword with both hands.
“Kill him!”
There were no voices of contradiction. No one to stop the madness corrupting his mind.
“Kill him!”
Suddenly every shout in the arena went silent, pacified by a singular, soft, sweet voice. “Give the audience what they want.”
Without hesitation, Jonas stabbed Galen in the heart.
8
2,203,512 credits. The winnings included the prize purse, the flourish bonuses from the crowd, and Jonas’ share of the ColonyNet stream pool.
Jonas lay on Dr. Zechiel’s operating room table with 3rd-degree burns to his right forearm and left ankle. Six broken ribs. Multiple organ bruises. And a smile on his face. A video of his fight replayed in the room. He watched it intently, focusing on the moments when his credits climbed.
Zechiel picked up a laser scalpel. “I’m shocked you’re still alive. Honestly, I am. I counted several times during the match when you should’ve died.”
Do I have enough credits for a less annoying doctor? Jonas kept a grin on his face.
“Your opponent was an idiot. That’s why he’s dead. He went for the credits. That cost him his life.” He placed a plastic bar in Jonas’ mouth. “Bite on this. I don’t have any anesthesia.” Zechiel removed the dead skin on Jonas’ forearm with the laser scalpel.
Jonas held in his scream for as long as he could before passing out from the agony.
“Pain is the price of living. Always has been. Always will be,” Zechiel mumbled and continued his work.
Quip entered the surgical room without her usual smile. “How is he?” she asked without sounding concerned.
“Out like a baby. He’ll be fine after a few skin graphs, calcium infusions for his bone breaks, and a few days of cellular regeneration therapy,” Zechiel said while continuing his work.
“Are you as surprised as I am that he won?” She traced a vein on Jonas’ arm with her finger.
“Yes, considering he wasn’t chosen to win.”
“Can you fake an accident during this operation?”
Zechiel finally looked up. “Is that what you want me to do?”
Quip rapped her fingers on her chin. “Hmm. It’ll be worth more if he dies on camera. We’ll have him fight the new beast from the Wynter Station in the Level 5 Arena tomorrow.”
“Oh, that should surely kill him. I like that!” Zechiel cackled. “But he won’t be ready. I doubt he could even stand up on his own tomorrow. We have to make it look real at least. Viewers won’t pay as much if they think it’s scripted.”
Quip snickered. “Everything is scripted, deary. Some things more than others.”
“I know that.” He sneered. “I meant, we can't be too obvious about it.”
“Give him a healing biomod.” She plucked a syringe filled with a bright orange liquid from the prep table. "While you’re at it, give him stamina too, in the slight chance he wins. I might want to spend some time with him before he dies.”
“Can’t.” Zechiel shook his head. “Doesn’t have the credits. He’ll spend everything he just made on a new BIP and replacement neuromods. His previous strength neuromod was damaged. It’s useless now.”
“He doesn’t need strength. Remove it completely. Put the balance on my account.”
“This is a new Quip.” He stared at her sideways. “I never knew you to be generous.”
She shrugged. “I need something to spend my billions in credit.” Quip ran her fingers along Jonas’ raw skin. “There’s something about this one. He’s important to a lot of important people. I find that irresistibly sexy.”
Zechiel sighed. “If we’re done here, I work faster when you’re not around.”
Quip held Jonas’ hand as they strolled through the promenade. “You were amazing yesterday. I saw a champion in you.”
“Thanks. I have to admit, a part of me enjoyed the fighting. It felt like a…” Jonas pictured the cheering of the standing arena crowd as he held his sword over Galen’s heart. “… release.”
Quip seemed to have added extra shimmies to her gait today while wearing another skin-tight dress.
“You weren’t just freed from a physical prison, but a mental and emotional one.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be honest. It was… invigorating to see.”
They entered a new area of the promenade with fewer shops and less lighting.
Jonas looked around to find himself alone with Quip. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” she replied in a saccharine voice and pushed him forward.
Thoughts of a romantic interlude with Quip raced through Jonas’ mind. Jonas never had a girlfriend. He dated a few times while at Academy, but he was very career-focused then. No one caught his eye for more than a few drinks. No one stayed longer than a nite. He wanted to make Captain before 25 and perhaps Admiral by 45 — dreams from a different life and person. Could I picture myself with Quip? Go through life fighting for money? Killing for credit?
“Here we are! The Peach Pit!” She jumped up and down next to Jonas.
“Is this a restaurant? Are you hungry?” He scratched his cheek.
“Always! But the menu on this restaurant is different.” She snickered and led Jonas inside.
There were no tables, only bar seating, lounges, and sofas. Plenty of half-naked women and a couple of fully nude men milling around. All heads turned toward Jonas as he entered.
“I see.” Jonas stopped a few steps inside, feeling the urge to leave.
Quip tugged at him. “Do you prefer real or virtual?”
Jonas didn’t have an answer ready for her. “I thought…”
She tilted her head as she stared at him. “Oh!” Quip covered her mouth as she laughed. “What did you think we were going to do?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Jonas tried to turn and leave.
Quip stopped him. She caressed his lips. “Silly boy, you have to work your way up to me. I only give myself to the most impressive of fighters. Even then, I have to like you — a lot.” She fluttered her eyelids. “I’m not that kind of girl, you know.”
“I never said…” Jonas' ears turned red. “I didn’t think you were.”
“I understand men of your type, fighters have…” She placed her hands on his inner thigh. “… needs. That’s why we offer the services we offer.”
“You said I spent all my credits on my new mods.” Jonas tried to think of non-sexual thoughts. “I'd rather save for a replacement strength neuromod.”
“It’s important you don’t take too much punishment in your fights.”
&
nbsp; Jonas cleared his throat. “I’ll try to keep that in mind next time.”
“Lucky for you, the Peach Pit has a customer-friendly policy: the first time is always free. That’s how they get you hooked.” She winked. “So… real or virtual?”
Jonas studied the selection of women in the lounge area. None of them look like Whisper.
As if reading his facial expression, Quip said, “Nothing strikes your fancy? I guess we’ll do virtual then.”
He shrugged.
Quip guided Jonas past the hostess. “I’ll take care of this one, sweetie.” She steered him into one of the virtual rooms. “Have a seat.”
Jonas sat in a soft, cushioned chair that automatically reclined as he pressed his back into it.
“Just think about your ideal girl and the virtual simulator will do the rest. Let me know if you need to stare at my ass a little longer.” Quip wiggled her backside.
“What…” Jonas looked away.
She laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t see you.” Quip picked up a visor attachment and gently lowered it over his eyes. “Since this is your first time. It’ll take a few minutes to learn your neural patterns. It’ll be faster in the future.”
The world went dark around Jonas. His face became ashen. “I can’t see,” he said as he tried to take off the visor.
“Shh, that’s normal.” Quip took Jonas’ hands and rested them on the side of the chair. “Give it a moment. The system is tapping into your optical nerves. Haven’t you done virtual sex before?”
“No, actually.”
“A virtual virgin. That’s. So. Hot." She pretended to fan herself. "Here I thought I couldn’t want you more,” she spoke softly into his ear.
“I never felt the need to pay for sex, virtual or otherwise. I’m not that type of guy,” he said with a grin.
“I’m getting a good sense of the kind of guy you were, before you came here, before they branded you a traitor.” She traced her fingers on his arm.
Ribbons of color started to appear across Jonas’ vision as darkness gave way to light. “Something is happening.”
She patted Jonas’ inner thigh. “I’d say so. Have fun, Jonas. I’ll see you in an hour.”
Jonas smiled. “Thanks, Quip... for everything.”
Quip reached for his hand but stopped halfway. Her expression changed from a mask of smiles to one of concern, half-biting her lip, with her eyebrows drawn in together. She walked backward out of the room.
Jonas’ vision flashed white for a moment, then black again. Layers of a new world fell into place as if dropped from the sky. He was back in his old prison cell on Wynter Station. Not what I had in mind as a pleasurable venue.
“Morning, Jonas,” Whisper said as she stroked his hair.
“Whisper!” He looked over to see her curvaceous body naked under the airy blanket.
The room changed. They were somewhere Jonas had never seen before, a spacious bedroom with wood-paneling, shag carpeting, and a holo-screen playing a classic movie on the opposite wall.
Jonas heard birds chirping outside. “Are we on Earth?”
“Is that where you want to be?” Whisper kissed him passionately.
He pulled away after letting the kiss linger. “I don’t know what I want. I think… I only want you.”
Whisper rolled on top of Jonas and kissed him again. “I have to show you something. Close your eyes,” she said in a teasing voice.
“OK,” he said with a laugh. Jonas felt heat all around him.
“Open your eyes now.”
His eyes blinked rapidly while surveying his new environment. Dirt encrusted floors, rusted walls. A strong smell of fermented urine and body odor stung his nose. “Are we on the Dante?”
Whisper suddenly had clothes — her red and black combat suit. She held his hand, leading him forward through the ship’s corridors. “Yes, we’re on the Dante.”
“Why are we here? This is far from my ideal spot for… sex.”
“There’s something you need to see. It’s important.” Her eyes darted around looking for enemies.
They passed a young girl, roughly 16-years-old standing in a little recess in the wall, dressed in an all-white combat suit. Her eyes, remarkable rainbow-colored irises, followed Jonas as he walked. She had extremely fair skin making her appear ghost-like relative to the gloomy darkness of the ship.
There’s something about her. I’ve seen her before, but where? How can a child be on this ship? Jonas tugged at Whisper to stop. “Who is she?”
The young girl kept mouthing words, but no sound came from her mouth.
“I think she’s trying to tell us something, but I can’t hear it.” Jonas tried to get closer.
Whisper pulled him back. “We have to keep moving. Time is not our friend.” She held his chin and turned it toward her. Slowly she mouthed, “Listen, this is important.”
They continued to the engineering bay of the Dante.
Without pointing at anything, Whisper asked, “Do you see it, Jonas?”
There was no one else in engineering, only rows and rows of ion engines that filled the air with a steady staccato of drumming.
“Can you hear it?” Whisper closed her eyes.
“I don’t see or hear anything.” Jonas closed his eyes. “All I hear are the engines.”
“Listen, Jonas. Listen and find it. You have to.”
“I don’t…” Jonas tilted his head. “Wait…” The drumming faded, replaced with another steady beat.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“What is that?” His eyes burst open.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He followed the sound to its source. “No…” His skin turned pale. A pit formed in his stomach.
Attached to one of the ion engines was a massive bomb with a countdown timer that read less than 60 minutes.
“We need to get off! NOW!” Jonas turned around looking for Whisper, but she disappeared. “Whisper? WHISPER!” He frantically searched for her. “We have to get to the escape pods! Whisper!”
A hand from behind him touched his shoulder.
Jonas turned, expecting Whisper but saw the rainbow-eyed girl instead.
“Save yourself, Jonas. Save yourself. Survive,” she said in a soft, melodic voice and began floating away.
Jonas followed her. “Wait!”
When she turned the corner, she disappeared.
The world faded to black again.
Quip pulled off his visor. “Did you have…” She stared at Jonas’ pained face. “What’s wrong?”
9
Jonas rubbed his eyes. Sweat dripped off his body. His hands were clenched into fists.
“You either had a mind-blowing experience or a horrible one, judging by the look on your face.” Quip laughed.
That was all a simulation, right? Or a dream? Why would anyone blow up the Dante? How could they? Should I tell Quip? Would she believe me or think I’m crazy? Jonas yawned. “I think I fell asleep in the chair.”
Quip nodded. “I’ve seen people do that.”
“First time is free, right?” He feigned a smile.
“Yes. Next time you fall asleep, do it in your own bed, silly!” She tapped his butt playfully. “Speaking of beds, you’re a rank higher now. I can upgrade you to a slightly smaller room, but at least you won’t have to share it. I’ll take you there.”
They left the Peach Pit and hopped on the nearest decktram.
“Deck 8,” Quip said to the computer. “You have another fight in 12 hours. This time you won't have your strength neuromod. Don't rely too much on enhancements. The key to moving up in this league is to win fast and without taking too much punishment.”
“Do fighters ever leave this ship? Can they stop fighting?”
“What are you asking?" She narrowed her eyes. "Whether or not you can leave?”
He shrugged. “I guess I am.”
“Sure you can, honey. You just have to pay the 200 million credits you owe us for breaking you out of Wynter.”
Jonas felt a punch to his stomach as he heard his debt total.
“We’ll even sell you a slightly used shuttle to go wherever you want. At a fair price, of course.”
That’s an obscene amount. I’m no better than a slave. Escape is my best option. I will not survive long enough to pay that debt. Jonas noticed Quip watching, studying him as if testing his responses. He turned to her. “You said I’ll be fighting a rank five opponent? What’s the purse for that round?”
“250,000 credits. A strong win with lots of flourishes would get you close to 5,000,000 credits.”
Jonas shook his head. “Not fast enough. Move me up to a higher-ranked match.”
“My, my, Jonas darling. I don’t think that’s a good idea. For your second fight and with only a healing and stamina biomod? I would hate to see you die before we have some fun together.”
Jonas crossed his arms.
The decktram doors slid open.
A foul smell resembling a concoction of human bodily fluids assaulted Jonas' nose, though not nearly as strong as the airlock deck.
“I’ll see what I can do, cutie.” She pinched his cheeks. “Higher-ranked matches are scheduled far, far ahead of time.” She stepped off the decktram.
Jonas followed her. “Thanks.”
Quip brought Jonas to an enclosed room which looked eerily similar to his cell in Wynter.
He hesitated to go inside.
She pushed the small of his back, forcing him toward his bed. “This floor used to be the maximum security wing of the prison ship. We’ve since converted it to be slightly more hospitable.”
“It seems like only a couple of days ago I was in a similar place.”
“Then you should feel right at home!”
“Am I free to walk around the ship?”
“Of course!” Quip beamed a smile. “This may be a former prison transport ship, but no one is a prisoner here. Though that’s not to say the Dante is a safe place for young children.”
Jonas’ eyes darted toward her. Why would she reference children? Does she know about the rainbow-eyed girl?