KAHARI

by Dean Kutzler

Blood dripped into Ensign Brody’s eyes from a bright red gash on his forehead.

  Daxton said, “Yeah, not such a good dancer. Apparently, it's the one thing he ain’t good at. You shoulda seen the two sashaying around, and you called me Twinkle Toes?”

  “It accident. I say sorry, “Grôk said, pleading. “I no mean to hurt you. Well, not now.”

  Ensign Brody shot him a look, and said, “Whatever. Head wounds always bleed a lot. I’m okay, but—how’m I gonna see if this doesn’t stop drippin’ in me eyes?”

  “Here.” Daxton pulled his undershirt off and ripped it into strips. “I’m submitting UFWA the bill when we get outta here,” he said, handing it to Ensign Brody.

  Saren blushed at Daxton’s ripped muscles flexing beneath his vest.

  Ensign Brody took the strips, and said, “Thanks…I appreciate this.”

  He tied one around his head and wiped his eyes clean with another, tossing it to the ground and stuffing the rest in his pocket.

  Daxton saluted. “No prob.”

  Daxton noticed Saren staring at his chest, and she quickly turned around.

  “This isn’t good,” she said, hoping the redness faded.

  “What’s that, Commander?” Daxton asked, his voice half an octave higher.

  “There’s no door.”

  He looked at the solid rock wall where they had emerged.

  “Oh—that. Well, we made it through okay—at least most of us,” he said, smiling at Ensign Brody. “So what’s the deal?”

  “I don’t know,” Saren said, feeling her cheek before she turned around. “What I do know is we can’t go back that way.”

  “Ummm,” Daxton uttered. “After my, ah, mishap, I don’t think we want to. I just wish we didn’t have to go through the next Ring.”

  He pulled his vest tight, suddenly wishing he hadn’t given Ensign Brody his shirt.

  She looked around for the first time after stepping from the Kek Ring.

  Rubble littered the landscape from demolished buildings stood in what was once a high-tech housing community. Broken furniture and smashed bits of technology lined the streets, unlike the geometric nightmare of the Kek Ring.

  “I smell barbecue,” Daxton said. “Do you smell barbecue? Now I’m hungry. Smells like my grandmother’s special bbq-chicken.”

  Grôk slowly shook his head and pointed to a smoldering pile of burnt people.

  Daxton gagged. “Oh geez, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Off in the distance, spires of smoke spun into the air, followed by a mix of faint sounds.

  “That sounds like cheering and something else I can’t quite tell what it is.”

  Grôk sniffed at the air, looking at Saren.

  “What is it, Grôk?”

  “Don’t know,” he grunted, continuing to sniff.

  “Come on. Let’s make for that smoke,” she said, watching Grôk.

  “Would that be a good idea, Commander? Do ye think it’s more burnin’ bodies?”

  “Smoke that big I don’t think so. At least I hope not. It’s where that sound is coming from.”

  “What about the path we came through with Faelar with those observation windows—you think we can break one? Then we can skip the other two Rings and go straight to the nice Outer Ring.”

  “If things like your friend Mr. Stiffy the demon haven’t done it, I doubt we could—even with Grôk here. Let’s keep moving. Look for anything we can use as weapons. There’s a path worn into the ground—between those walls. Let’s go see what all the noise is about,” she said over her shoulder, walking for the path.

  Daxton waited, as the rest of the group followed Saren.

  “Go ahead, guys. I gotta tie my shoe,” he said, bending down and quickly pulling the lace loose.

  Once they were out of sight between the broken foundations, he tied the lace up and pulled the object from his vest as he stood.

  He checked once more, making sure no one had backtracked on the path before he looked down.

  Still glowing.

  A nodded to himself and put it back in his vest.

  “Right behind you, guys!”

  ***

  Sniff…

  Sniff-sniff.

  A long, black tentacle snaked up from beneath a hefty pile of rubble, pushing aside burnt trash and slowly slithering towards the clearing, changing color, blending in with the ground, nearly unseen. The tentacle writhed around broken bits of machinery, glass, and furniture—sniffing and probing, testing everything and searching for the source of smell until reaching the spot where the group had materialized from in the wall.

  The tentacle gingerly poked and prodded the ground until it touched the bloody strip of shirt Ensign Brody left behind.

  The ground suddenly shook and rumbled, and in an explosion of rock and debris, the entire clearing erupted into the air. Hundreds of tentacles lashed from underneath, frantically snatching and tossing bits and pieces of garbage aside until its mouth found the succulent morsel, devouring the blood-soaked rag in a second.

  The mouth puckered inside the massive blob, caving like a black hole and forcing its head through the other side of its body. Hundreds of tentacles whipped around in a complete three-hundred and sixty degrees—now twitching and aiming for the path.

  Sniff, sniff..

  Undulating, twisting, moving, seeking…

  Blood…

  Searching…

  Always searching for blood—human blood.

  ***

  “What the unholy fuck was that?” Daxton shouted, spinning around.

  Hundreds of fragments and bits of ground exploded into the sky over the spot they’d entered into the Inner Ring.

  “Isn’t that where we just came from?” Ensign Brody said.

  “Yeah,” Daxton said, his eyes tracking the rain of rubbish.

  Grôk sniffed at the air, making a face and turning towards Saren, slowly shaking his head.

  Whatever the scent was it had him rattled.

  “I don’t know,” Saren said, taking his cue. “Maybe it’s the machine you had to fuck with, or—“

  “Maybe it’s something else. I vote we don’t stick around to find out. Boss Lady?”

  “Agreed! Let’s move people. Let’s get some serious distance between us and whatever that explosion was.”

  Saren, Daxton, and Ensign Brody were tired from fighting—exhausted from running but the fear of whatever caused such an explosion was more than enough motivation to fuel the pace.

  Grôk was the only one showing no signs of fatigue after running for a few miles.

  “I see the smoke,” Saren said.

  As they slowed to a jog before the smoke, they all saw what they had feared.

  A massive pile of charred bodies easily triple the size of the last, smoldered in the dying embers of logs they’d been placed upon.

  The sound of cheering was loud, mixed in with desperate, savage screaming. Whatever was happening on the other side of the large foundation wall near the bodies was bad—very bad.

  Saren held a finger to her lips then poked them toward the foundation to get what was going on behind.

  They quietly followed behind Saren, Grôk stooping as best he could to remain hidden, and stepped in line alongside the wall.

  Daxton watched as Saren swung long, silky hair over her shoulder, almost blending in with the body armor. She held it in place and peeked around the corner of the wall, careful not to let the sheen of the body armor catch any attention.

  All eyes were on her face when she swung back around, releasing her hair and sitting down.

  “Well, the good news is there’s a door, just like the one in the Kek Ring,” she whispered, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “All black and shimmering, just waiting for us to pass through.”

  Daxton held out a palm, wiggling his fingers. “Come on—give it. The bad news?”

  “There are two guards on each side.”

  “The big guy here can take care ‘o that,”
Ensign Brody said, patting Grôk on the knee.

  “Cyborg guards.”

  Ensign Brody slumped down against the wall. “Why couldn’t I have found a weapon? A knife even.”

  “Well—hold on there, me Lucky Charms, the marshmallows ain’t all gone yet. We took down one, how hard can another be?”

  “There are two more on top of that,” Saren said.

  “Ex-squeeze me? You just said—“

  “They’ve set up a ring, and they’re taking challengers. They’re fighting opponents to get through the door to the Middle Ring.”

  “Fighting…Why’s it always gotta be fighting,” Daxton said, plopping down next Ensign Brody.

  Saren rubbed her forehead, and Grôk leaned over and quietly asked, “Is fight one at a time?”

  She shook her head. “Not from what I saw.”

  Grôk sat back.

  “Really? How is that even fair?” Daxton said.

  “Nothin’ be fair in this—this wretched place.”

  “What’s with all the noise, anyway,” Daxton said, leaning over her for a look.

  She felt the heat of his body on her face as he leaned over, and she held her breath. Once he realized he couldn’t see without revealing their location, he pulled back coming face to face with Saren—eyes locked in a moment—then he sat back as she exhaled.

  So she felt it, too.

  “The noise—” Saren said, as Grôk stood up to his full height. “Grôk! What are you doing? They’ll see you. Sit down!”

  The look in his eyes told her exactly what he was doing.

  “No! There’s too many. You can’t!”

  “Aye, buddy—Donnae do it!”

  “Now is time I make distraction. You all go into black water.”

  Without another word, Grôk stepped around them out into the open, and Saren stood up to stop him.

  Daxton reached up quickly grabbing her arm before she was seen, too.

  “Let go of me!”

  She snatched her arm back and powered up the wristcom.

  “Sshhh—sshhh,” he said, trying to keep her quiet and stop her from making a mistake.

  She glared at him with fire flaring in her eyes.

  “It’s too late. You’ll just drain that thing. Don’t let it be in vain. Step ‘round that wall and we’re all done.”

  He flicked his eyes left, and she looked at Ensign Brody with his head hung low.

  “You might not give a fuck-all about me, but I know you don’t wanna get him killed.”

  She hesitated for a moment, and he thought she was going to run after Grôk.

  “That’s not true,” she said, powering down the wristcom, the fire in her eyes dying down to a vacant stare.

  He gently reached out, laying a hand on her arm to comfort her and she pulled away from his touch, standing up.

  Time to bring out the balls.

  “Here’s the deal,” she said, hooking a thumb at the wall. “Hundreds of aliens are around this wall—species I’ve never seen. They all want out and will do anything to get it. I’d bet my ship the weakest ones are at the back, here, and right now, all eyes are on Grôk.”

  The crowd roared as Grôk shoved his way down to the ring.

  “He’s the biggest thing out there from what I saw. His only competition is those Cyborgs. I’d say he’d have a chance, but those things aren’t like the one we took down. They’re operating with their own intelligence. Nobody is pulling their strings. The guards on the door were laughing at the other two ripping the heads off an Aldarian.”

  Daxton hopped up, mouth hanging open.

  “What—an Aldarian?” Ensign Brody stuttered. “I never in all me years saw anything take one down. They be the most vicious things in the known galaxies.”

  “Brody—focus! The time is now. We gotta act. We stick out like sore thumbs because we’re the only humans here. The story about Kahari is true.”

  “It’s just a fairytale,” Daxton said. “Right?”

  “You were right—this isn’t time to get a big head. We gotta conceal our identities. There are two Vaticonians at the back of the crowd.”

  “Aye, the ones with robes! But what are they doin’ here? Aren’t they a peaceful lot?”

  “Yeah, when no one’s looking,” Saren said.

  “Should be easy enough taken ’em out,” Daxton said, nodding. “But what about a third disguise? One, plus two, makes three.”

  “Dax, hand him your pistol.”

  Oh, it’s Dax again, is it?

  “No, that don’t work for me. He and I are cool and all, but—just, just no,” he said, shaking his head.

  “We don’t have time for this. Grôk’s must be close to the arena by now.”

  “Think up another plan, Thorn. You been good at it so far.”

  Ensign Brody sat on the ground, head bouncing back and forth between them.

  “I’ve thought it out. There’s no other way. You’re a goddamned pirate for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you never lifted a weapon off somebody. In that crowd out there you’d have your pick.”

  She peeked around the wall.

  “He’s almost there! Now’s the time, they’re watching to see what he’s going to do.”

  “I ain’t no pickpocket, Thorn, that’s hittin’ below the belt. I was a proud, hard-workin’ man before the Scarab came.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s hidden in there?” She nodded at his vest.

  Ensign Brody looked up raising an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  He played it off cool, and anybody else might’ve believed him, but not her. She wasn’t a fool—and she’d seen him hiding it. Far better men than he tried, and failed getting something over on Saren Thorn.

  He silently stood his ground.

  Now it was the waiting game—which she didn’t have time for. She would’ve taken the pistol from him, but she needed his help. The crowd was now the loudest it’s been.

  Poor guy must be in the ring.

  Daxton looked up, hearing the sudden roar of alien-voices and thought about the sacrifice Grôk made for them.

  He met Saren’s eyes with a cold, hard stare and handed the pistol down to Ensign Brody.

  A smile wavered on her lips, only a second, and she said, “Ensign, stay out of sight and work your way around this crowd until you’re along the left side of the door. I saw another wall you can hide behind. Watch and wait for our move. Don’t engage anyone. The moment you see a chance—with or without us—you get in that opening. They’ll be too focused on the fight, but be sharp.”

  “Aye-aye, Commander!” he said, quickly sneaking off, happy to have a weapon.

  “You and I need to take out those Vaticonians, quietly. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t like giving up his gun, but her lady-balls were back, and he would trust her—for now.

  Saren poked her head around the wall holding a fist to her back.

  Grôk was knocking the other aliens out of the lineup and almost to the stage. The crowd was riveted by him.

  The Cyborgs stopped laughing.

  Good.

  She opened her hand to the ground pumping it down twice, then signaled with two fingers forward.

  In a crouched stance, Saren and Daxton slipped out from behind the wall and snuck up behind the Vaticonians gibbering about the newcomer, oblivious to what was about to happen.

  When Grôk stepped into the ring, the crowd roared, and Saren nodded at Daxton.

  In unison they stood, hooking an arm around each Vaticonian’s necks and violently jerking them back so hard not even a gurgle could escape. The robes would help drown out any sound that might escape.

  The hooded figures desperately clawed at their throats, eyes red and bulging as they helplessly ground their heels into the ground, while Saren and Daxton dragged them back behind the wall. Once there, the pair kept tightening their holds and choking the life from their bodies until they stopped twitching.

  Once they released
their grips, black liquid came flying up through their crushed windpipes and out their mouths, spilling onto the ground. In one big pool, the fluid gathered together and darted out from behind the rock.

  Saren scrambled on the knees of her body armor over to the edge of the wall and watched the liquid roll off unseen through the crowd.

  Daxton was disrobing the dead aliens while Saren hopped to her feet, watching the door. A moment later, the liquid rolled up onto the ring and snaked around the guard’s feet, returning to black wavy liquid in the door. Either they hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

  And neither did she.

  “Here,” Daxton said, holding out a robe. “This one’s a little smaller. Now I see why the Vaticonians wear these robes. They’re ugly.”

  She pulled the robe over her head and cinched up the drawstring, pulling the hood down over her face. “They’re disfigured from birth, so they avoid a lifestyle of vanity.”

  “How—holy. Whatta they do, dump acid on their heads,” he joked.

  “Yes,” she said, flatly. “They also castrate most of the males. Only a few are chosen to breed. It’s why they went extinct. How many weapons do you think you can snatch without getting noticed.”

  “Like I said before, I was a—“

  “Yeah-yeah. Hard-working man. How many?”

  “How many do you want?”

  “As many as you can carry. Aim for the most lethal if you can.”

  Daxton fished around inside the inner pocket of the robe and pulled out an Anhkara Cross with a sharp, pointed bottom. It served as both a deadly knife and a mild plasma weapon. One scratch poisoned its victim, sending him to the ground in an agonizing death. Depending on the size of the victim, the plasma setting either stunned or killed. No options.

  “Hmmm. That’ll be good at close range,” Saren said, feeling the outline of the one in her robe. “It’s a start.”

  “Plenty a room for more, I’m ready.”

  “Let’s go,” she said, nodding for him to lead the way.

  Saren followed his lead, and no sooner had they entered into the crowd of aliens, Daxton had already snagged two, homemade weapons from the clueless onlookers, designed from the broken bits of technology lying around.

  The hooded pair worked their way through the crowd, getting as close to the ring and door as possible.