by K. C. Sivils
Tears began to fall from Sarah's eyes as she considered what might have happened to her sister that would make Ellie so cynical. Not all men were evil. She knew that now. There were even some like Sully. The man Sarah wanted.
Shocked at the thought, Sarah raised her head. She'd never considered before, not consciously, how she truly felt about Sully. She knew she liked him and trusted him. He treated her well. Deep inside Sarah knew the times Sully had disciplined her she deserved it.
Now Ellie was claiming they would fight. Her own sister wanted to kill her. Fixing her gaze on the grey wall opposite her, Sarah began to feel anger towards Ellie. Anger for attacking her, for not letting Sarah explain. Most of all, Sarah was angry her sister was jealous of Sully.
Sarah didn’t want to hurt Ellie, didn’t want to fight. But if it was true like Sully and Father Nathan thought, if there were illegal fights and she would be forced to participate, so be it. Ellie was going to get the thrashing of her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HE GLANCED ONE FINAL time in the mirror. XT liked the way he looked. The fights were the only time since he'd been in the joint to wear real clothes. Now that he was a King, he got his choice of stylish wear. XT had picked a purple silk suit with gold pin stripes. He'd had his hair braided in a new design. Two thick gold chains hung from his neck, partially obscuring his tie. His gold and diamond rings returned to him for the duration of the fights.
"You look sharp, for one of your kind," Josef teased, a smirk on his face. Casting a glance at the racist, XT ignored the slight. "You look okay yourself, for an Aryan." Josef wore a black suit, cut in a military style. He was clean-shaven and his hair greased back and shiny.
“Stop it,” Dmitry ordered. “There is to be no squabbling today. We need this to go smoothly. There will be plenty of time when the event is over for arguing. Today, this is business.”
The other two Kings looked at their Russian counterpart for a moment then cast a final hate filled look at each other.
Feeling troubled, Dmitry he took his turn at the mirror. Dressed in a conservative blue suit, he wore a single ring with a red stone. This was about to become bad business. Trouble loomed large in the days ahead.
“It is time,” he announced. The Kings moved to the waiting area in the dressing room. Attired in their dress uniforms, the guards opened the door. One preceded the Kings and the second followed.
“This is what I’m talkin’ bout,” XT said a little too loudly. “Get treated with respect. Not bein’ all bent over with a bag on my head when I go somewhere.” Wisely, the guards ignored the comment as the group walked at an even pace down the corridor towards the arena floor.
As the group neared the floor level of the arena, the sounds of the crowd filtering in to be seated could be heard. The lead guard paused, halting the group just out of sight from the growing crowd, and using his comm, notified the master of ceremony of the arrival of the Kings.
Dmitry felt his pulse race. He never got tired of the attention and the noise of a crowd. The Earth-Russian was certain the high was part of what drove the ancient musicians to live a vagabond’s existence.
“Ladies and gentleman,” the M.C.’s voice announced. “For those of you who are interested, the Kings of Graham will now be seated!” Silence fell over the half-filled arena as a spotlight shone on the floor level entrance. The lead guard stepped out and to the side, avoiding the spotlight. His hands raised over his head, Dmitry stepped out, waving to the applauding fight fans. XT followed, his broad smile displaying he gold teeth. He walked in a swaying manner, waving with one hand as the followed Dmitry. Josef stepped out into the light, his right hand near his belt line, imitating the familiar pose of the ancient dictator. With a stern expression on his face, he walked in a military manner, nodding to various spectators as he passed. The last guard walked behind, avoiding the spotlight.
Reaching their seats, the three Kings, including Josef, smiled and waved to the audience. On cue, the Kings took their seats in the first-row luxury seats placed there specifically for their benefit, all part of the grand charade. Legitimizing the fights for audience’s benefit. Taking their positions behind the Kings, the guards gave off the air of being bodyguards rather than what they truly were, prison guards.
From her luxury box at the top of the arena, Gravestone watched the seating of the Kings. Loud music played over the sound system, as was the custom at other fight venues. She liked the touch. It gave the event a bit of style it had lacked in the early days of the fights. Everything was going according to plan which pleased Gravestone. If things went according to her plan, it would be the last time she had to lower herself to deal with prison scum.
INSPECTOR SULLIVAN.
I looked around to identify the guard talking to me.
You can't see me, Inspector.
Less than pleased at this development, I kept my mouth shut.
Now Inspector, there is no need to act like that.
“I don’t like talking to people I can’t see.”
Well, that will be a problem. I don’t have corporeal form.
I laughed. “What are you, a ghost?”
That got a laugh from whoever was yanking my chain.
I like you, Inspector. You are a unique individual. I haven’t met anyone similar to you.
"That's nice. I need out of this cell right now. Unless you can help me with that, I have nothing to say."
I didn’t like the sound of the laugh that emanated from wherever the voice was coming from. Just a little unnatural for my liking.
Oh, Inspector, if only you knew. I could solve a lot of your problems, and trust me; the way things are looking you are going to have a lot of them today.
“Who is this? If you aren’t going to let me out, don’t waste my time.”
This, the voice said in a slightly ominous tone, is Sally. I’m the prison A.I.
That changed things.
“I apologize Sally. I’m just a little irritated. Corona had no right to lock me up and obstruct my investigation.”
He is the Warden.
Sally sounded a little miffed at my attitude.
Yes, Sally, he is the Warden. But, his prison is a crime scene. The Alliance sent me to investigate the murders.”
Sally was silent. Evidently, she had to consider this.
You are correct. Alliance law does allow for outside investigators under certain conditions to have jurisdiction. I only ask you be respectful of Warden Corona.
I almost laughed. This Sally had looked up the law.
“Sally, let me out so I can finish my investigation. If you do that for me, I won’t bring charges of obstruction against Warden Corona.”
Humans lie all the time. How do I know I can trust you?
Being the A.I. for a prison, I suppose it would be only natural for Sally to pick up on that unfortunate trait of humans.
“I’m not lying. I want to close this case and return to Capital City. I can’t do that if I’m locked up in a prison cell.”
That is logical. I will release you.
A loud buzz sounded, and the lock clicked, letting the cell door open slightly. I didn't waste any time getting out of the cell. As I hurried towards the exit, Sally had one last thing shoe to drop.
Inspector, I just thought I would tell you. Those illegal fights you've been worried about? They are starting in just a few minutes. Oh, and that lovely assistant of yours? I can't believe the Alliance let a little princess like that carry a badge...she’s on the fight card for today, a cage match against her sister. The crowd is going to love that.
I didn't wait to hear more. If I'd been a little smarter, I would have asked Sally where the fights were. I'd been through most of Graham, and there wasn't any place suited for what I envisioned was taking place.
Sometimes I forget my own rule, the one about staying calm and thinking things through.
I was thinking about getting my weapons back. Especially my .50 caliber kinesthetic projectile weapon
, I felt naked without its weight sitting on my right hip.
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
MY, THAT ONE IS IN a hurry. Oh, this is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see the look on Gravestone’s face when the Inspector shows up ready to kill.
If Dale doesn’t see I’m doing this for him, well, that’s the end of our relationship.
Sally messaged the guard at the property room, clearing the release of Sullivan’s weapons. She’d have to go back and delete records later. Better yet, Sally decided she’d electronically sign Gravestone’s name ordering the release.
"EXCUSE ME. SORRY TO bother you. This is my first time, and I'm afraid I don't now how to get to the arena."
The attendant gave Father Nathan an odd look. Evidently, everyone was supposed to know these things. It made him feel even more uncomfortable than he already was, wearing stolen clothes.
“Sir, I’m sorry...”
Father Nathan figured it was time to be difficult, like the other elites in attendance. "Look, I paid a king's ransom for this trip. If you cannot be of help..." he glanced at her nametag, making a show of doing so. "Amy is it? Then point me in the direction of your supervisor, please. Surely you can do that?"
Amy looked like a young mother, which was why he’d picked her. She needed this job and the income it brought in. Her frown was replaced by a pleading smile, making the priest feel even more like a heel.
“Sir, the next shuttle to the arena will depart in five minutes from Gate D, over there.” She pointed down a dimly lit corridor towards what appeared to be a seldom-used airlock. “Should you decide you wish to go to your resort, simply stay on the shuttle. It will stop at all the three resorts before returning here. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Noticing several high rollers watching the exchange, Father Nathan felt himself sinking deeper into the mire of his transgressions. He was going to have to sell this.
"Now, Amy, truthfully, was it that difficult for you to have solved my problem? I will consider not lodging my complaint prior to my departure.”
Amy couldn’t help herself. The look she gave the good Father would have killed if that sort of thing were possible for a human to do. He turned and carried his case towards the airlock she had indicated. The high rollers joined him.
“The help here is not the best,” one of them volunteered.
“Tell me about it,” he complained in agreement.
“Course, this far from civilization, what do you expect. She’s probably some tart serving time at the prison for prostitution.” His friends snickered in agreement; not realizing the poor girl simply needed a job and the money it would provide. Father Nathan decided since he was already committing so many sins in his efforts to help Sully, pounding a few of the idiots in attendance would make much difference.
If Sully couldn't arrest them, then maybe he would beat a little decency into them.
Father Nathan took a seat near the pilot of the shuttle, hoping his newfound acquaintances would forget about him. Thankfully, they recognized some other gamblers and made their way to the back of the shuttle.
As we lifted off, he leaned forward to get the attention of the lone flight attendant. “Will we be going directly to the arena?”
She smiled, thankful it would seem that Father Nathan had not put his hands on her to ask his question.
“Yes, we are. I see you have your luggage with you. You may check that at the entrance to the arena or have it checked on through to the resort you are staying at.”
He nodded his thanks and looked back at the rest of the shuttle behind him. The attendant skillfully removed the lecherous hands of the man seated behind him, all the while smiling as she took his drink request.
God forgive me. I’m going to hit some people before the end of the day.
CHIEF O’BRIAN LOOKED up at the sound of someone knocking on his door.
“Enter.”
He was slightly surprised to see his Chief of D’s stick his head through the door. Normally Markeson just let himself in like he owned the place.
“Come in.”
O’Brian waited for Markeson to take a seat. The Chief noted Markeson looked uncomfortable, ill at ease. Something he’d never noticed before from the arrogant detective.
“What do you need?”
Markeson squinted his eyes and ran his finger along the inside of the collar of his expensive, tailored shirt. He was definitely nervous.
“Chief, this prison thing.”
“Sullivan making progress?”
“Yeah, Chief. He is. And you know Sullivan. If there’s a Romulan hornet's nest, he's going to kick it."
O'Brian tossed his tablet on his desk and leaned back, making his chair squeak.
“What has Sullivan done now?”
“Sir, he may have uncovered an illegal fight ring at the prison.”
“So. That’s not that big a deal. We’ll just bust whoever he says needs busting and get the prison authorities to send a new warden.”
“Sir, if I’m right, this thing is far bigger than Inspector Sullivan realizes.”
O’Brian smelled blood in the water. Like any good predator, he visualized the kill and what it would mean for him. He might be able to retire sooner than he thought.
“How big?”
“Off world money could be behind it.”
“Big sports book?”
“Not just that. Pay-per-view.”
Markeson let the Chief think for a moment. They had to handle this carefully. Informants and leakers riddled the local Alliance courthouse. If they simply asked for open warrants the word would get out before they could get to Persephone.
“If we handle this right Chief, you’ll get that last promotion, and you can retire early. Maybe even a nice bonus. We'll be confiscating who knows what as part of the statutes preventing financial gain from illegal gambling operations."
The Chief smiled at the thought. He’d read Markeson right.
“And you’ll get my job.”
Markeson smiled back. “Never crossed my mind Chief.”
“I know just the judge.” Chief O’Brian picked up his comm. “This is coming out of your bonus Markeson. Just thought I would let you know in advance.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SALLY HAD KEPT HER word. She even surprised me by arranging for the release of my weapons.
I hurried to the tiny spaceport. I pulled the comm Josephson had given me and sent a link to the Father.
“Where are you?”
“It’s a long story. Where are you?”
"On my way to the fights. Evidently, there is an arena nobody is supposed to know about.”
“Far side of the moon,” I guessed. “How do I get there?”
"Take the shuttle. Act like you belong, and you'll be okay."
“And just how did you do that in your cleric’s outfit,” I asked.
“Sully, let’s just say I have some more sins to atone for,” was all my friend would say.
“One more thing. It’s important.”
“What?”
“Sarah’s been grabbed. They’re going to force her to fight Ellie.”
The pause on the comm was a long one.
“I won’t let that happen. I promise. Just get here as quickly as you can.”
I answered by breaking the link.
A ground shuttle was about to close its doors and lift off. I put a halt to that by displaying my .50 caliber sidearm.
Needless to say, I was on the next shuttle to the fights.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” the ring announcer cried. “In tonight’s first bout, in the red corner, the challenger, serving ten to fifteen for embezzlement, dressed in the red trunks, is Xander Spillman!” The announcer paused to let the crowd roar its approval and the ring girl to prance around holding up the large, lightweight digital screen indicating the first round was about to begin. Continuing, he shouted, “in the blue corner, a one time winner already, fighting for his pa
rdon tonight, serving twelve to fifteen for assault and wearing the blue trunks, Patrick Donohue!”
The referee motioned for the two fighters to approach the center of the ring. Wearing all black except for blue latex gloves, the referee was huge, easily two meters tall and 150 kilograms of steroid enhanced muscle. Close cropped hair and a permanently fixed scowl on his face left no doubt who was in charge of the fight.
Gleefully the announcer informed the crowd of the rules for the day’s fights. “Each round will be three minutes in duration. The first three rounds will be fought without weapons. A fighter can be saved by the bell, except in the case of bleeding out from a fatal wound! All holds and fighting styles are permitted! Let the fights begin!”
A single ring of a bell sounded, and the fight clock started. The referee motioned for the combatants to fight and stepped back and out of the way.
Donohue smelled fear and started circling the smaller Spillman. Easily weighing ten kilograms of muscle more, Donohue planned to earn his pardon by putting on a show.
He’d end it in the second or third round after wearing down Spillman with repeated body blows.
Cutting off Spillman’s retreat, Donohue threw a left jab and scored. He followed with two quick rights to Spillman’s kidney, nearly doubling the smaller man up. A left jab scored again, splitting Spillman’s lip and almost knocking the embezzler’s mouthpiece out.
Hurt, Spillman lunged in anger and walked into a knee to the abdomen. This time he went down, clutching his stomach. Nausea filled him, and seconds later he vomited, earning boos and abuse from the crowd. Donovan, a natural predator, raised his arms and worked the crowd.