by Dante King
“Others?” she asked. “Like you?”
“Human, yes,” I said.
“There are many humans on this planet, but none like—” She stopped before lifting a hand to her mouth. “I believe there might be some of your people in Brazud. But I doubt you will like what you find.”
“What makes you think there are others like me?”
“Because I have heard that some fight in the arena. Powerful humans.”
Was there someone else from the Revenge who’d inherited Void powers? Had the Lakunae grabbed another crew member and gifted them with abilities, like they’d done to me?
It was unlikely, but it was still the best news I’d had in days. I’d seen the scrap with the Federation insignia, but this felt like more hard evidence.
Yaltu looked distraught at not informing me of the superpowered human earlier.
“It’s okay,” I said as I placed a hand on the soft skin and scales of her arm. “You didn’t connect the dots. But now, I’m eager to get going. If even one of my people are there, I have to find them.”
“I cannot go with you,” Yaltu said, sadness in her tone. “I am wanted by the guards. They wish to kill me to end the lineage of my father’s rule. I am prevented from entering.”
I thought she was some kind of anti-authoritarian who’d gotten in the way of the planet’s slave trade. Still, there was no way she could get any closer to the city.
“Skrew can go with Jacob!” He pounded two of his fists into his birdcage-like chest. “Skrew knows the way. Skrew knows the big, big gate.”
What he considered help sometimes wasn’t, so I was a bit wary of bringing him along. I also recognized that I still needed a guide. Like it or not, Skrew would be going with me. I’d just have to keep him on a short leash.
I turned back to Yaltu, prepared to tell her that I was ready to go, but something in her expression made me hesitate. She looked concerned, but more at the immediate situation than the danger of the entire mission.
“You do not have to bring Skrew with you,” she explained. “You can make him go, or stay.”
It seemed she had a complex relationship with slavery. Sometimes, she seemed to despise it, while she accepted it at other times. I supposed growing up on this planet had made it second nature.
“Skrew is free,” I reminded her. “He can go or stay as he pleases. I can’t order him otherwise. I could tie him up and hang him upside down from one of the nearby trees. Other than that, he’s free to do what he feels is right. I’m no one's master.”
“It is the way of the Sitar that the strong command the weak,” she whispered. “You are strong, and Skrew is weak. He recognizes your strength, which is why he is happy to serve. It is the way of the Sitar, so it is the way of the people on our planet. The strong always rule over the weak. It has been this way as far back as the eldest among us can remember.”
“The people should choose their own leaders, for better or worse. The strongest person doesn’t always make the best leader.”
“You are correct, but I have worked hard for them to see that. Perhaps now they will.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Your power will be visible to all people. You will draw attention. Others will want to challenge your power to prove their own. But for people to truly listen, Skrew must act like your slave, and you as his master.”
“Simple,” Skrew added helpfully. “Skrew has practice. Skrew was a slave. Then, big Jacob smashed Cobble and bonked him hard. Smashed and squashed. Pow! Made Cobble dead. Such awesome! Jacob was smashy and punchy! Made big muscles!”
I ignored the vrak and looked at Yaltu. “I’ll do my best to keep my head down. These clothes should help.”
I handed Ebon to Yaltu. “This almost got Madomar destroyed. Hold onto it for me until I return.”
The sword had been more than useful, but the Lakunae’s powers would make up for not having a weapon. Besides, I wanted to be careful in Brazud and not draw attention. Skald’s bugs and hovercrafts had been one thing, but I wasn’t willing to test my abilities on a city filled with soldiers. Ebon could stay with Yaltu for now. Besides, it would give me a reason to return to her.
“I will keep this safe,” she promised and clasped Ebon reverently. “Be sure to return in one piece. I’ll have a bath waiting for you should you choose to return.”
That was a deal I was more than happy to make.
“Okay,” I said, turning to Skrew, “you ready to go?”
“Skrew is ready.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After Skrew and I left Yaltu’s hideout, we traveled a well-worn road toward Brazud. After only a few hundred yards, we were met by throngs of aliens trying to make their way through the city outskirts to the walls. Most appeared lost, but some looked as if they’d done it before and were on a mission. Those in the lead had a few dozen others trailing them, obviously hoping the alien in front would take them to a shortcut. Almost every species I saw was unknown to me, and likely unknown to the Federation. Humanoids made up approximately half the number, and the other half were varying shades of beast, insect, or walking cosmic blob.
Brazud, like Madomar, evidently dealt heavily in trade. I didn’t know how so many alien species had ended up on this planet, and I hadn’t seen any evidence of interstellar transport. Was it the remnants of a slave colony? Some kind of intergalactic safari where the whole planet was filled with diverse species? Any guess I made was probably far from the truth, but I didn’t really care about how all these species had gotten here. I only cared about humans today, specifically those who’d been on the Revenge.
As we approached the city walls, the banners I’d seen from the air increased in numbers. They were hung from trees and buildings by vertical and horizontal poles. They fluttered from the walls, which were constructed of the best bits of scrap I’d seen so far.
The height of the wall was its main defense, at least 10 yards in most areas with some parts rising another five beyond that. Here and there, I could see markings resembling serial numbers, company names, or logos. I began to wonder how many other civilizations were represented just in the barrier.
I waited until the crowd thinned out enough to whisper a question to Skrew. “What do the banners mean? Are they here all the time?”
“No,” Skrew whispered back. “Red banners mean arena fights. Fights of blood and death and smash and kill and scream and die. Red banners mean people. Called arena. Scary fights. Jacob not fight. Means more guards. Guards find competitors. Some say want to fight. Others make to fight by guards. Some fight good. Some die if Skrew fart on them.”
The walls were marked with conduits that looked welded into place. Pipes weaved in and out of the metal structure. As I followed them with my eyes, I discovered small devices protruding from them like barnacles. A quick inspection revealed that two of them were lights.
So, Brazud had functioning power. I thought back to the refinery where I’d rescued Skrew. Had it been a powerplant of some kind?
The only thing that was missing was long-range weapons, but the guards patrolling the walls carried what looked like close combat weaponry. They wielded six-foot-long wooden poles topped with stylized axe-heads. The weapons resembled ancient halberds. But the whole point of having a wall was to give the guards time to destroy the enemy before they got close enough to attack with a polearm. So where were the long-range weapons?
The extra security and my strength were going to make things a bit more difficult. If the guards were on the lookout for arena contestants, they might try to scoop me up to toss me into the arena. I’d have to work harder at keeping a low profile.
Things just got a bit more difficult and would definitely slow my search.
We joined the enormous line that gathered in front of the closed gate. The line to enter the city was miles long, and nobody seemed happy to let us through. A few hard looks convinced them to stand aside, but avoided forcing my way through. Doing so might draw unnecessary and unwanted attention.
After a good while, we got through the line. I had to hurry out of the way of a large circus wagon being pulled by at least 60 bug-like aliens. They looked exactly like the ones I’d battled in Madomar. I quickly turned my head away, just in case one of them had escaped the carnage and come here.
Once I was certain I was far enough away and there were enough bodies to keep the short bugs from having a clear view of me, I turned to take a closer look at the circus wagon. The keeping of animals for entertainment had been banned long before I’d been born, but I’d always been fascinated with the pageantry and outlandish costumes some of the performers wore.
The wagon rolled along on huge wheels constructed of solid metal. The wagon carried a cage, festooned with gold representation of the skulls of at least a dozen different species. In the back was a six-armed brute, twice as tall as me, marching back and forth in the cage. Its entire body was covered in scars; they stood out because of their light purple color against blue skin. The alien had obviously been in a lot of fights, and I wondered if the cage was just for show, if it was for the alien’s protection, or if it was a slave.
I didn’t see any guards escorting the wagon, but the bugs pulling it probably served double-duty. I felt bad for the brute. His only escape from a fight would be death.
“Must get to gate,” Skrew whispered to nobody in particular. “Get to gate, then to guard. Get to guard then inside. Get to inside, then to Bada-dabu. Bada-dabu knows things. Must see Bada-dabu.”
As we approached the gate, I noticed guards of various species, but only one vrak. Yaltu had said the guard who’d let us through would be a vrak.
The four-armed guard looked up from his boring task of telling people “No, I won’t open this gate” at least a million times. His polearm was a little different. It had short spikes jutting from the sides of the ax blade, which would make it more difficult for him to cleave an enemy in two. However, it would also be a bit more intimidating to the untrained eye. A battle avoided was a battle won.
At the sides of the spikes were dull silver rods with another piece protruding at almost a right angle from one end. It looked like an electronic club, possibly a less-than-lethal weapon for crowd control.
His uniform fit him snugly. It was a dark shade of blue with black piping around his ankles, four wrists, and neck. His chest, front of his legs, forearms, and shoulders all looked a bit thicker than the rest of the uniform, and I was pretty sure there was some kind of armor concealed underneath.
“Gate closed,” he said as we got closer.
“Open gate,” Skrew demanded.
The guard answered with a growl and a suspicious glance between us. The hand holding the polearm gripped the weapon tighter while the rest of his fingers flexed, preparing for a fight.
“We were told you’d open the gate for us,” I explained, pulling Skrew behind me.
The guard’s little eyes narrowed so much, I doubted like he could see me anymore. “Who said?” he asked, and then he lowered his voice. “Are you the one Yaltu sent?”
“Yes,” I answered.
The guard stared at me for a moment, probably trying to gauge whether or not I was a spy, someone sent to test him, or the real thing. When I didn’t look away, he nodded.
“Hurry. Get in.”
With that, he turned toward the gate, inserted a key, and gave it a quick twist. The 30-foot-tall gate opened on silent hinges, and Skew and I slipped inside.
The city was a bustling nest of bodies, buildings, music, arguing, and loud-mouthed drunkenness. Towering structures obscured the horizon, and even though I was among the tallest people there, I still found it difficult to see anything more than 10 or 20 yards away. The smell of cooking food and the stink of unwashed flesh filled my nostrils.
Dust shifted underfoot as I moved through the street and tried to get my bearings. Skrew trailed along behind me and kept his head down.
Since the city was surrounded by walls and couldn’t necessarily grow outward, it appeared that most of the long-time residents decided to go up. This resulted in buildings that tipped, tilted, and threatened to fall over at any moment, crushing anyone who happened to be unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Creative workers had welded pipes, girts, and bracings between buildings in order to stabilize them. At first glance, I didn’t see any that appeared to have collapsed, but their haphazard construction and the faded paint of their mismatched pieces made damage repair difficult to spot.
If a fight broke out here, improvisation would be a key factor. For instance, the tall flagpoles. Each one had to be 20 yards long. By ripping one of them out of the ground, I was certain I could bowl at least 20 of my enemies out of the way.
Then, there were the wares the vendors were selling. Some were miniature figurines made of plaster, ceramics, or even metal. A good hard throw could send one through an enemy’s chest, which would definitely stagger him, if not outright kill him.
Still, there was nothing like having my blade in my hand, especially if I ran into armed enemies.
But a fight avoided was a fight won, and there was more to my mission than simply feeling safe. It didn’t help that everyone seemed to be on a short fuse. In some places, especially around the food and drink booths, the bodies were packed tight. Those who had already made their purchases had a tough time clearing out for the next person.
“I was here first!” someone growled in a low, gurgling voice.
“Says you,” a higher pitched voice snarled. “Move now, or I’ll cut your face off and wear it as a hat.”
“Guards!” a third alien shouted.
Within moments, two guards in small hovercraft entered the area. Their mere presence caused those around to suddenly have better things to do with their time and money. The vrak pilots eyed the two combatants.
“What is happen?” one asked.
“This pudu tried to cut into line,” said a gray-skinned, blob-like monster of an alien.
“I did not,” snarled the smaller of the two, which resembled an armadillo. “He threatened to cut my face off and wear it as a hat!”
“I did not.”
“Show knife,” a guard interrupted.
“I, well,” stammered the big alien. “I forgot I had it on me. I was going to bring it to a guard as soon as I—”
His monologue was cut short when the guard fired a harpoon net at him. The thin webbing wrapped around the rotund alien several times before dozens of small hooks snagged its tough-looking skin. The hovercraft strained under the alien’s weight but managed to lift him from the ground. A few moments later, both vehicles were only a speck in the distance.
“What’s going to happen to that one?” I whispered to Skrew.
“He will fight,” he replied. “Jacob must follow Skrew. Bada-dabu that way.”
“So, anyone who is accused of a crime is taken into the arena?” I asked incredulously.
“We keep head down, find Bada-dabu. Quickly.”
We headed off in the direction Skrew indicated. I made it a point to take his advice and not make eye contact with any of the aliens around me.
I’d been trained to spot subtle shifts in crowds, so when I saw people reverse directions suddenly, I knew something had changed. Above the bobbing alien heads, a helmet came into view. The crowds pressed together on both sides to make room for the helmeted alien.
“Enforcer,” I whispered to Skrew.
I grabbed the vrak by an arm, turned 30 degrees to our right, and began making our way through the crowd. Avoiding a fight would be best for the innocent people who’d be caught in the crossfire. Not only that, but my goal was to find lost crew members.
Skrew wisely kept his mouth shut for once. As I pushed him along, the crowds thinned, and the stench rose. The sanitation in this part of the town was far less professional, and we had to be careful where we stepped. The vendor stalls weren’t as well-appointed or maintained as those closer to the center of town either.
“Yo
u look like a human who enjoys watching other humans get smashed!” someone to my left said as something was pressed into my hand.
I instinctively dropped the object, took a small step back, and lifted my hands, ready to grapple whoever had just touched me.
The vendor, a hairy beast resembling a gorilla stretched horizontally like taffy, stared at the item I’d dropped on the ground. The colorful piece of paper floated in a narrow stream of urine.
“You have to pay for that,” the vendor growled, glaring at me with his black eyes.
“No, thanks.” I turned away.
“I’ll give you a discount, then,” the vendor continued. “Obviously, you’re too weak to watch it in person, so maybe you’d prefer to watch from outside. I’ll give you a discount on that ticket as well, so you can.”
“I said no, thanks,” I replied, a little more firmly.
Then, the creature made the stupidest move he may have done in his whole life. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me close. I was so stunned by the move, all I managed to do was laugh. I’d seen pushy vendors before, but nothing like that.
“Your kind should feel privileged to be in the city at all,” the vendor said, his wide mouth curled downward in a frown. “You humans are weak and pathetic. You’re stupid and slow.”
“Really?” I asked him.
“Now,” he said, motioning to my ping-pouch full of the gold rings, “hand over the money.”
I debated shouting “guards” and getting this vendor tossed into the arena. But if they were cherry-picking their fighters based on appearance, I knew that they’d prefer to take me rather than the sales guy.
“And what if I don’t?” I asked, leaning closer to the brute.
One part of me wanted to rip his arm off and shove it up whatever he used for an ass. The other part of me heard Yaltu’s words about remaining undetected. I’d seen what the guards did with people who caused trouble; they made those people fight to the death.
Any delay could mean the death of whoever had survived from the Revenge. They were my people, and their survival meant more to me than my pride.