Fledge

by JA Huss

  "Doesn't bother me, Monk. You guys were the ones all freaked out about it." My eyes follow Ashur as he makes his way over towards us. He stops behind the guy sitting next to me, who takes the hint and gets up to leave. The rest of the table is suddenly on the move as well and within a few seconds, Ashur and I are alone.

  I turn and look at him. "What?" The look in his eyes makes me turn away.

  He sits down on the bench with his back to the table. "Why, Junco? You don't even like the guy."

  I look down at my tray, my appetite gone. "That's not entirely true, Ashur. I like him well enough."

  I can feel him shaking his head at me. "Enough to sleep with him? After seeing Tier last night?"

  I let out a little laugh. "Obviously, the answer to that is yes." I look up at him to make sure this point sinks in. "Else I wouldn't have done it. The best thing about Kush is he's not a complicated guy. He's not my captain or the guy I'm trying to save from death. He's just a friend who's been there for me when I needed him. And last night I needed him and he was there."

  Ashur leans his elbows back on the table and stretches out his legs, silent. I straddle the bench so I can see him better, then wait for him to look over at me again. "Sometimes, Ashur, you gotta just take what you want and stop thinking about it. That's what he did. And to be brutally honest, I'm glad, because if ever there was a night where I needed someone to want me like that, it was last night."

  He nods his head and looks away. "I call that taking advantage of someone who's not really thinking clearly, but hey, you can tell yourself anything you want, Junco. You're the one who fucking fell for it."

  I get up and grab my tray, dump it in the trash and head outside to find a place to smoke.

  It's a small alcove built into the side of the building. I hide there and puff as I lean up against a pillar. Lucan appears, dressed in his overly formal suit, as per usual.

  I look up at him. "What?"

  He smiles. "I don't care who you sleep with, Junco. But you need to make a choice if you want to stay in the 039."

  I just want him to go away and leave me alone, that's what I want. "I don't," I say quickly, "want to stay, I mean. I'll stay with Rache."

  I look up to see how this hits him, but he's still smiling. "Probably a good idea."

  It hurts, it really does.

  "Great." I stomp out my cigar and walk off back to the Deliverance floor to find Kadian.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The Deliverance floor is packed with bodies – fighters, reporters, and auxiliary people who do something, I'm sure, but I have no idea what. I see Kush and walk over to him. "Hey, you do the interview yet?"

  "No, he's behind, says he want to interview us together."

  I scowl. "Why? I might not know him that well, but Kadian is a schemer. He has a reason, probably knows we were together last night."

  Kush just shrugs. "Yeah, probably. If it bothers you, we'll just say no."

  It turns out it doesn't bother me enough to say no when Kadian's staff comes to get us. We do the interview together in a small room that looks down on the stage. Below us I see twenty-one prisoners stretched out in an X pattern as their arms, wings and legs are bound up and pulled taut with wires that attach to various pillars offstage. There are ten on the left side of the stage and ten on the right. In the middle, elevated from the rest, is Tier. The twenty-first offender, the traitor.

  My eyes can't pull away once I realize what's going on and Kush has to lead me over to the chair, out of sight of the crucifixion scene below, in order to snap me out of it.

  "Junco, how does it feel to see Tier up there as a Deliverance offering?"

  I look over at Kadian, hating him for doing this to me. Ryse was right, he's a scumbag. "More determined than ever, Kadian." I smile and the worry leaves me as I play the game.

  "Determined to do what, Junco?"

  "Save him. I think everyone knows by now, the only reason I'm here is to save him."

  Kadian smiles and switches over to Kush. "Are you here to support Junco in her efforts? Or to win the wish?"

  Kush's face remains passive, his signature expression of indifference. "Both."

  Kadian waits for him to elaborate, but Kush turns his head towards the arena so he's is forced to redirect. "Are the two of you aware that the Archers have declared that no pardon wishes will be granted?"

  Kush answers without even turning towards Kadian this time. "Our plans never included pardon wishes, Kadian. How naive do you think we are?"

  It's true, too. My wish is not a pardon and Kush said his wish was to be captain.

  "What are your wishes then, if you don't mind sharing with the arena. Everyone is anxious to see how Junco plans on saving Raubtier from his certain death sentence."

  Kush doesn't even skip a beat. "You'll see our wishes when we win, not before."

  Kadian smiles indulgently now. "But only one of you can win, Kush. Who will it be?"

  Kush shrugs. "How the hell should I know."

  Kadian has had enough of Kush and I've got a new respect for the attitude that suits him. My respect must show on my face because my first question hits the mark. "Junco, which of the many men in your life actually has your heart? There won't be much left if you keep parceling it out like this."

  "Tier." It comes out automatically. "It always has been and always will be Tier."

  "OK, let's switch gears, your love life is getting too complicated, Junco. Tell us why they call you the snowbird?"

  I shake my head at him. "I can't tell you that, I have no idea."

  "What is a snowbird? Do you have them on Earth?"

  "Well, yes. Juncos are snowbirds, little winter sparrows that live in the mountains near my home. Or what was my home, after the nukes, there's nothing left, I hear. All the Rural Republic juncos are dead now."

  "All except one, right?"

  "Sure, right. All except one."

  Apparently he's had enough of our lackluster performance because he signs off the interview. Kush and I disengage ourselves and head towards the ready room.

  "Well," he lets out a breath, "that was fucking fantastic."

  I have to trot to keep up with him so I grab on his arm and tug him back to slow down. "Shit, how did I ever think he was a decent guy? I mean, the nargala was fun and all, but he only took me so he could get me on camera in that designer dress."

  He slows his pace and puts his hand in the middle of my back to direct me into the ready room where most of the fighters have already arrived and are reading through the rules. They flash across my vision screen and I greet my AI. Decided to finally show yourself, eh? She ignores me and the rules begin to scroll. I read them as Kush reads along on the giant screen at the head of the room.

  No weapons.

  Killing is not required, nor prohibited.

  Falling below the red line denotes a forfeit.

  The last man standing wins a wish.

  The winner will execute the prisoners in the manner they choose.

  Healing, up to the value of a hundred thousand rills, will be provided to all fighters who survive, unless they use their wish to compensate for overages.

  I look up at Kush. "So basically, stay above the red line and don't let anyone kill you."

  He smiles. "Got it in one, Junco."

  Then we go fill out our wishes. You're allowed to have conditions for final health status in case your injuries exceed the allotted amount of health care, but I don't bother and from the speed by which Kush fills his out, he doesn't either. We press enter on the screens and they are sealed, only to be opened by Rache once the winner is determined.

  The screen flashes to the filled arena. The nine Archers sit at the end opposite the stage where the prisoners are strung up, probably directly above my room. People are screaming and cheering, the odds are flashing last call on a giant board. I'm the favorite to win.

  And then they call us to line up on our predetermined spots. Kush's spot is across the room from me, so he l
eans down and kisses my cheek. "See you at the end, snowbird."

  I grin up at him. "Yeah, sure, Kush. Good luck."

  Everyone takes their place and we settle into the ebb of activity that I use to predict start.

  And then we are flying upward, the screams from the arena filling our ears, the hammering of stomping feet vibrating the entire structure, the lights dim and crackle as the various G-fields are activated.

  Our feet come free and Deliverance begins.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I have the neck of the guy next to me before he even knows what's happening. One swift twist later he's the first official forfeiter and I've set the standard for just how fucked-up this fight will be. In the end, the decision was based on logistics, not emotion. Killing is just so much easier than injuring.

  I shoot up in the air after that and fly as hard as I can for the smallest and weakest of all the fighters, a girl not much bigger than me. She sees me targeting her and dives down below the red line.

  Something to be said for common sense.

  After that I'm attacked from all sides. My wings thrust and twist as I evade, then flip around and change direction, using my momentum to bowl into the middle of my attackers. They scatter and I choose the closest one and drag him down to the gravity plane, not the mushrooms from last night, but a long, flat stone surface that pulls you down relentlessly once inside the field. No one wants to follow me down there, so I have him to myself. He tries to understand my grappling moves, but simply can't. I break his ankle, then crack his head on the stone and stop to catch my breath.

  A large guy comes out of nowhere and knocks me down, his hands around my neck. My foot goes up and catches him in the head, he flinches, but keeps hold, preventing oxygen from reaching my brain. I see the stars of unconsciousness coming when I snap back to my senses and chop him repeatedly in the temple. He loses his grasp fractionally, but I take advantage and twist my body around, then send an elbow into his gut and the palm of my hand slams up against the underside of his jaw. I hear a sickening crack and he lets go of me. I kick him in the teeth a few times to make up for the marks he left, then lean down and twist his neck until he's limp.

  Another guy is standing a few feet away, wondering if he should take his chance at me, and decides he should with a grin. His claws come out and they are the length of good-sized swords. I fly upward and leave the gravity field behind, better to engage this one up top. He follows me, much quicker and skilled in the art of flying, and grabs my foot and tugs me backwards. My body crashes against him and then his razors rake across my stomach, splitting open my armor and penetrating my skin.

  I scream and squirm, but he keeps hold. Our thrashing propels us over to the transparent barrier and he smacks my head against it face-first. The blood spouts out from my nose as the people behind the barrier pound against it so hard the vibrations thump against my body. I see his reflection in the glare on the barrier, but I force myself to stay still. His hands are going for my throat, ready to snap my neck when I reach up and over my head and drive my razors into his skull with as much force as I can. He screams and the people on the other side of the barrier go wild. I push off the wall and swing his body up over mine, then flap my wings as hard as I can and crash his head into the barrier.

  Paybacks are always a bitch.

  I pull out the claws and turn him around so he has to watch, then force his teeth to meet my knee in a blood-spattering crunch.

  Before I can even take stock of the scene another guy slams me against the wall. I recover with the help of free-G momentum and fly, flitting in and out of other pairs and trios busy fighting each other and then press my wings flat against my back and tuck and reverse thrust. My follower smacks into me hard, and we bounce apart like the perfect inelastic collision demonstration in a cadet-school physics lab.

  My smaller mass has me taking the brunt of the energy transfer and I go careening off, slamming face-first into a huge guy who looks like the only thing that could possibly make him happy right now is dismembering my body. He grabs my arm and twists it behind my back. I can almost feel the tendons in my shoulder stretching. I flip my feet up in front of me, over his head, and before he even knows what's happening I've got his neck locked between my thighs and I'm squeezing the life out of him. His body goes limp and begins to float in the fight wind. I let go, then push him as hard as I can down below the red line.

  I finally have a chance to take stock and spy Kush across the arena, but he's busy killing, so I leave him be.

  The guy from before has a team with him and they surround me. I fly down to the G-platform and wait casually to see if they really want to try this.

  They do.

  All four of them circle me, crouching a little like they know what the fuck to do when I come at them with hand to hand moves. I immediately hunch my shoulder and duck my head, coming off as submissive as possible. It pumps up their rage and they stand up a little taller. I turn my hips so my right shoulder is facing the guy closest to me without taking my peripheral eyes off the other three, then talk him up. "Come on guys, let's team up. I'll make us all rich." My arms are bent, my hands talking along with my words, and they stop noticing the movement. I scoot a fraction towards the nearest guy and then slam my palm into his mouth and hammerfist him in the neck, halfway between the ear and the spinal cord. The brain stem chop will take out anyone, you don't even need that much force.

  He doesn't get back up.

  His buddy has me in a chicken wing before I can blink, both of my arms locked in his, thinking he's gonna hold me there so his friends can beat the shit out of me, but he's wrong. He head butts me from the back and my vision blurs from the impact. Inside I fly into a private rage and bring my right leg behind him, stretch it all the way over until it's outside of his right leg, then simply stand up. He falls back like an idiot and I hear the crowd go wild. I take a chance and finish him off with two sharp stomps to his jaw, one halfway up the side, where there's a tiny little hole that allows nerves to pass through the bone, and then a second up where the jaw meets the skull. Another hotbed of nerves. I hear the crack and smile as the pain in his eyes registers.

  The sharp stab against the side of my neck knocks me down on the ground and the other two guys are on me now as the blood from the razors pools and sticks to my hair. I grab the shirt of the first guy as the second guy holds my legs down. Their razors are clawing at me, blood is running down my legs and arms inside my uniform, but the pain never even materializes. The adrenaline running through my bloodstream takes care of that.

  My hands crawl up his shirt and I pull him towards me, biting off the top of his ear once it's within reach. His blood drenches me and makes him panic and forget to hold tight. I hammerfist him in the back of the neck relentlessly while his buddy tugs on my legs to pull me out from under him. I let go and allow myself to be pulled. When I'm free of the defeated bleeder on top I thrust my upper body up and grab the other guy's neck, squeezing until he has to let go of my legs and pry my little fingers off.

  My legs scramble and get between us and I simply kick him off me. He goes careening across the stone slab but I'm on him before he can even decide if he wants to get back up. I slash his throat so deep his final heartbeats pulse up in the air like a fountain.

  The ear bleeder isn't done with me and now it's one on one.

  He rushes and connects with my stomach, sending me careening backwards, sliding across the smooth stone surface. I decide to make an example of this last asshole because I'm getting tired. I kick him off, girl-style, a few quickies to the balls, one to the jaw, and then scoot backwards and stand up, crouching a little to egg him on.

  He bounces back up, still sure of himself even though he's about to lose consciousness from blood loss. He looks down on my diminutive size and takes his last step. I slide in, grab him around the knee with one hand, then pinch his Achilles heel with the other. After that it's a simple little pull. He goes down and I keep hold of his heel, squeezing, b
ut I don't finish him. I let go and wait as he sends me backwards with his flapping wings. I hunch over, pretending to be out of breath and tired, ready for it to end.

  He takes the bait and gets back up like a dumbass.

  I walk towards him and grab him with both hands, one behind the neck, the other on his bicep, and swing into a flying arm bar, taking him down and slapping him on the stone. It's the exact same move I pulled on Ashur when we trained for Fight Six, except this guy has never seen it before. Most of the time the flying arm bar is a bullshit flash move that almost never works. But here, his head crashes into the stone so hard the skull hemorrhages blood and bits of bone fly up and sting my face.

  The crowd goes wild as I push all their bodies off the slab and watch as their names go dark on the scoreboard.

  And then I look around to see where we are.

  Kush is standing at the other end of the slab, just watching me. I smile and he walks over and gives me a hug. There are still half a dozen fighters but three of them go dark in the next few seconds and the other three nod to us and dive down.

  They're done.

  And only we are left.

  I stare up at Kush, breathing hard. "Well, you wanna win, or should I?"

  He pulls me to him again and leans down into my ear. "It's all you, Junco. You are the only reason I'm here."

  He flies off and dives down below the red line, then flies back up and stands on the slab, bowing to me, gesturing towards the prisoners that await my Deliverance on the other end of the arena. His name goes dark and then there is just me.

  And twenty-one prisoners that I am supposed to kill.

  I turn to face them for the first time since entering the arena and I feel sick to my stomach. Every one of them is barely hanging on. I don't know for sure how long they've been strung up like that, hours at least, but it has taken its toll and their heads slump like they are already dead, a sharp contrast to their erect bodies, and each rigid limb, wings included, being pulled taut in all directions by the wires that connect them to the pillars off-stage.