“Is that how you got through the tough times in the Resistance?” Kelbara asks, stepping back into her cell more. She's trying, and the talking combined with my order helps. “Bottling it up inside?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, crouching down and studying the room around us. Rock, bars, a control panel and lights, that's it. Not much else. “Although this is new for me.”
“I thought they made gladiators stay in cages before the Blood Moon fights,” Kelbara asks. “What about that?”
“They were holding tanks for those who were fighting next, that's it. Ten years in the Games, maybe a total of five hours in the cages. I've never been captured like this before. Back in the Resistance, I spent more time running and hiding than fighting.”
“But your skills....” Kelbara asks, and I chuckle.
“They were built for hit and run, hit and hide. Most of the skills I learned for the Resistance were centered around keeping people alive and mobile. It was a lot more worrying about supply problems than actual combat. There was a very good reason the Resistance only did hit and run attacks. Most of the people were going to get slaughtered if we'd gone up against real troops. We were a Resistance built out of farm hands, maids, and sex slaves, not gladiators.”
Kelbara nods, squatting down as well. “I figured as much. You're different, though.”
“Thanks, but this is still new territory for me. I mean, I asked Mogar to help me with this in the off chance that I got captured but....”
The door to the room opens, and three people step in. I recognize Ambaris and Tauria immediately, but the third I've never seen before. He's tall and wide, with a build that can only be called blocky fat, like he used to be built like a tank but over the past decade or so he's let the efforts go to seed. More noticeable though is his face, which is roughhewn looking like it's been hacked out of pink clay by a preschooler with a lot of enthusiasm and very little talent. He's overdressed too, with rings on every finger and an ornate tunic that does little to distract from his overall ugliness. If anything, it makes him stand out all the more.
“Well, well, well, what a pleasant housewarming gift,” Tauria says in her brittle, shrill voice, a false warm smile on her face. “You know gentlemen, I didn't think I'd receive such a warm welcome up here in the far north.”
“I see you're back on the drugs,” I grunt. “You're fucking delusional, Tauria.”
“That's Queen Tauria to you, human,” Ambaris growls. “You got away from me once, Jensen. I won't be so kind this time.”
“You're lucky Tauren didn't chop your balls off,” I shoot back. “Or did you think that being kept in that nice cell was punishment?”
“You kept me in a cell, I keep you in a cell,” Ambaris counters, turning to look at Kelbara. “And you.... how you've disappointed me, Kelbara.”
“You've been disappointed in me since before I was born, Ambaris. Simply because I don't have a dick. I may not like it, but I'm used to it,” Kelbara says, shaking her head. “Your opinion of me doesn't matter anymore.”
“Enough of this,” Tauria says, cutting off the argument between father and daughter before it can turn into a yelling match. “Soon your sham of a government will be crushed, my son will be dead, and that abomination that is in that bitch's belly cut out and eliminated, and I'll be right where I'm supposed to be, on my throne.”
“You're going to be dead, you dried up, insane, drug addicted bitch,” I hiss, controlling my anger. “Open this cage, and I'll end your Slaver rebellion in about thirty seconds with my bare fucking hands.”
“That will never happen,” Ambaris growls, kicking the cage I'm in before going back to Tauria and putting an arm around her tiny waist. He smiles, and I think I prefer him scowling, a smile just looks wrong on his face. “Will it, my beautiful Queen?”
Tauria shakes her head, smiling and kissing Ambaris, and I'm treated to the disgusting sight of watching them nearly start to make out in front of us. “Ugh, please, I had lunch not that long ago. Besides Tauria, do you really think that we believe you'll share the throne with anyone? I don't see Ambaris as a King.”
“Who said anything about King?” Tauria asks, smiling and cupping Ambaris' crotch. “However, Grand Vizier and Royal Consort.... those are quite nice titles too, aren't they my dear Ambaris?”
“Yes they are my love,” Ambaris says. Love? Ugh.
“Give me a break. That's disgusting,” Kelbara groans. “Just disgusting.”
“Lord Ambaris here is going to make sure that my royal line continues, and our child will be much more noble than you ever were,” Tauria says, at least letting go of Ambaris' cock. “For now though, I think I shall retire to prepare for my.... ascent to the throne.”
“It's not your throne,” I hiss. “It's Tauren and Audra's.”
“For now, which is why you're going to be kept right where you are,” Cassell says. “Actually, you're going to answer some questions I have, and then if you answer quickly enough, I might let you live long enough to see our beautiful Queen take her crown from that pretender Tauren before you die.”
“Answers? I'll give you answers,” Kelbara says. I glance over, surprised, but I see in her face that she's got something else in mind. “The answer is Kelbara, out of Gwendolyn by none, and I'm going to rip your fucking throats out.”
Her words actually seem to sting Ambaris, who studies his daughter for a moment before saying anything, shaking his head. “If only you'd been born a boy, Kelbara. What a son you would have made. Too bad I wasn't able to get you to let go of the stupidity that comes with being a woman as well. Very few women are, outside of my lovely Tauria here.”
“I'm sorry old man, but who are you talking to?” Kelbara asks, raising an eyebrow. “You speak to me as if you're speaking to your child. Yet... I have no father.”
Ambaris recoils visibly at that before he turns. “Fine then. Cassell, I suggest you start your questioning quickly, that shuttle they were in most likely sent information back to Mogar. I smell his stench all over these two as well as that piece of infernal equipment. Come, my lovely Queen, shall we?”
“We shall. Let's... enjoy some free time before we must prepare for my flight. Ah, twelve hours, twelve hours and I shall have my kingdom back. Such a nice thought.”
Ambaris and Tauria leave, Cassell remaining behind. He doesn't look happy with the way that Ambaris' hand rested on Tauria's waist, but then again, I don't really give a shit right now. Cassell turns back to us, studying. “So... who shall I start with first?”
“Like it fucking matters?” I hiss, hoping to draw his attention away from Kelbara. Whatever he has in mind, he obviously good enough at what he does that Cassell doesn't think he needs to have guards in here with us. “You're going to get two things from us, jack and shit.”
Cassell smirks, shaking his head. “You know, Ambaris never was as efficient as I was with finding or keeping slaves, did you know that? Kelbara here can tell you, while Ambaris and I collaborated more than once on slave catching and auctions, I never did have the problems so many other owners and dealers had with escapes. You want to know why? It's a secret that even Ambaris doesn't know.”
“You ate anyone who looked strong enough to get away from you?” I taunt, and Cassell turns a few shades pinker. “Guess not. Ah, I got it. You were too busy letting Ambaris cuck you with Tauria for you to care.”
“No... and you're going to pay for that. Actually it's because I'm quite good with these,” Cassell says, going over to the control panel on the wall and pushing a button. Suddenly, the bar in front of me sprays a fine mist in my face, and I fall back, coughing and hacking. “Ah... much better. And in a few minutes, we can begin our questions.”
Chapter 19
Kelbara
No, not the drugs, not the drugs again. I stagger back, but my legs are weak, and I can barely see as Cassell waits until we both fall to the floor, Jensen still fighting as hard as he can to stay up. “Oh, go ahead and fight it Jensen, it's quite foolproof,�
�� Cassell says, watching Jensen. “Come now, do you really think your little mental tricks Mogar may have taught you will work? I've listened to his bullshit before, but these drugs don't work on the mind, they work on the body. The reason your legs don't work isn't because your mind isn't clear, that only makes questioning more difficult, but because the nerves between your brain and your legs are temporarily.... out of order. You see, that was Neyton's error. He wanted to control the minds and hearts of his slaves. I don't care if my slaves hated me, I just cared about their obedience.”
Jensen collapses, and Cassell hits a button on a wall control panel and opens the door to his cell, using a key that's in his pocket. From the ceiling two di-car cables descend, and Cassell uses the shackles at the end to lock Jensen up, the cables retracting to pull Jensen to his feet by remote control. “I rarely had to use this, I'm glad it still works. Some of the clients I brought up here wanted to make sure their purchases were.... performance ready.”
Cassell turns to me, opening my door and dragging me out, using another set of shackles to bind me to the door. “I'd have done the same with you, but I didn't want my clients turning this holding area into an orgy. I'm a businessman, not a pervert.”
“Doesn't look like it from my point of view,” Jensen whispers, his voice barely audible. “You're just as much a monster from where I'm hanging out.”
“Still a funny man. We'll see,” Cassell says, turning to me. “Now Kelbara, I'm going to ask you some questions. I suggest you answer them.”
“Or what? You torture me?” I rasp, finding my voice. “Try it, fat boy.”
Cassell shakes his head and walks out of the room, returning a minute later with what looks like a metal pole. “Highly modified stunner, and something I use for my own experiments,” Cassell says. He sets the pole down and then takes one of his rings off, lifting the gem. “You didn't think I wore this costume trumpery just for appearances, did you? No... this one's green. I suggest you don't anger me to the point of using black.”
Cassell pours a powder from his ring into the pole, closing the top and putting his ring back on. He goes over to Jensen, who turns his face away and tries to hold his breath, but it doesn't matter, Cassell just jabs the pole into Jensen's chest, the hiss of a hypodermic injector filling the air. Cassell steps back, smirking as Jensen starts to moan, his muscles trembling as his face is etched in pain.
“I have four levels, one for each ring on my right hand,” Cassell says, turning to me as I watch helplessly as Jensen starts to flop, his body thrashing from side to side as the drug goes through him. “This one happens to turn every pain sensor in your body on at once, not all the way up, but very painful still.”
“Stop it, make it stop!” I cry, trying to do something but I can't. “Stop!”
“As you wish,” Cassell says, poking Jensen with the other end of his pole. An electrical buzz hums as Jensen's shocked, but when Cassell pulls his pole back, the drug's been neutralized. He holds up his right hand, lifting his fingers to highlight each ring as he talks. “I'm quite good at what I do. Now.... yellow will make him piss his pants it is so painful, while red.... well, I've seen people go temporarily mad from the pain. Black..... there's no coming back from the blackness.”
“You're a monster,” I hiss, tears streaming down my face. “Jensen?”
“Tell.... nothing.... order,” Jensen rasps, his head sagging. “Order!”
“You can follow orders, or someone you obviously care for will die,” Cassell says. “Now, first question. What was that wonderful little toy that the automated defenses shot down?”
I glance over at Jensen, who shakes his head. He's dripping in sweat, but he raises his head to look me in the eyes, and I swallow, knowing I'm risking his pain again. “It's a shuttle.”
“What kind of shuttle? I've never seen anything like that before,” Cassell says, “And I have a collection of shuttles.”
“It's a Federated Industries Constitution class cruiser,” I answer, trying to pull answers from anywhere I can to sound convincing. So what if it's from a video I watched on Mogar's database a few weeks ago, big deal. I just have to keep it sounding convincing. “Newest thing.”
“And highly modified,” Cassell says. He's going along with my line of bullshit so far, he obviously isn't as knowledgeable of shuttle makers as he pretends to be. “What are the fans in the back for?”
“Air conditioning.”
Cassell clucks his tongue and turns, jabbing Jensen with the drugged end of his pole again. Jensen starts moaning, Cassell ignoring my demands for him to stop until Jensen's hair hangs limp with sweat and the air reeks of his pain induced perspiration. Still, Jensen never cries out, and instead grunts, his cries held behind clamped lips. Cassell waits, then shocks Jensen again, deactivating the drug.
“That was all the green in the dosage, I'll have to up to yellow next time,” Cassell says, turning his stick around again and filling it up with the contents of his yellow ring. “I'd prefer not to use it, besides pissing his pants he's most likely going to need to wear diapers for weeks afterwards.”
“You're just going to kill us anyways,” Jensen groans, struggling to get his feet underneath him again. “If you get the chance.”
“Perhaps, but you can die painlessly or painfully, your choice,” Cassell notes. “Honestly, I've heard Ambaris say that he actually respects your fighting skill, he might even grant you some form of life to go back to the Arena. That'd be a heroic death at least, wouldn't it? Jensen, the undefeated hero of the Arena against a squad of Queen Tauria's finest Royal Lancers?”
“I'd rather fight you, one on one,” Jensen growls, planting his feet. “I'll even do it with one hand behind my back.”
“Intriguing, but I must pass,” Cassell says, turning back to me. “So, as I was saying Kelbara, questions. When are the royal troops attacking?”
“When you least expect it,” I answer, swallowing my fear as Cassell threatens Jensen with the injector tip again before poking him with the shock end instead. “I don't know!”
“I don't believe you,” Cassell says. “Now, I don't want to risk Jensen's usefulness, so I'll give you a little time to think about it. Besides, it's time for lunch.”
Cassell closes Jensen's cell door before going over to the controls for his shackles and lowers the cables. Jensen's still bound, but he's able to move some at least. Not that he can, he falls to his knees, his hair hanging in his face as his chest heaves in deep shuddering gasps. “Jensen?”
“I'm okay,” Jensen whispers, rolling to the side and sitting down. He looks up, his eyes haunted, but he's still there, and I'm shocked when he smiles. “What, you thought that was difficult? You should have seen some of the gladiator training I've put myself through. Makes Mr. Green seem easy.”
He's lying, I can tell by the haunted expression on his face, but still I take heart. “I wasn't sure what to say.”
“You're doing fine,” Jensen reassures me. “Seriously, just let him try his worst on me. He thinks once I go black, I don't come back? He'll see.”
I shake my head in amazement, wishing I could sit down. “So how are you doing it?”
“Simple,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You've got something to tell me. I can't just up and give up before that, can I?”
I see the genius in his order for me not to tell him how I feel, and I smile, nodding. “Okay. So what did you think of my answers?”
“Nice. Might want to draw him out with the bullshit more though. Give him a reason to sometimes believe you.”
“You know he's probably listening in?”
Jensen nods, chuckling. “That's okay. I guess he'll just have to wait until we're face to face for me to tell him the secret of the multiphasic flux capacitance circuit that's in the shuttle.”
I can't help it, I laugh, and it helps. We lapse into silence, Jensen gathering his strength and closing his eyes, assuming a meditative pose. I wonder if he's going into what Mogar described as his memo
ry estate, the place where he's able to put his mind when things are not working for him. Mogar's tried to get me to start the discipline, but I'm not ready yet, it'll take time. But I give Jensen his peace, letting him prepare for the next round of torture.
The door opens, and Cassell comes back in, wiping his mouth with a silken handkerchief. “Ah, delicious. While the food here isn't quite as nice as it is on my estate in Far Valedonia, sometimes good honest food is just what a man needs.”
I roll my eyes, trying to give Jensen more time to prepare himself. “You know Cassell, you look like a man who could afford to skip a few meals from time to time.”
Cassell pats his enormous stomach, not offended at all. “Be that as you may like, Kelbara, a lot of people would be upset by that. But you must understand, I see each kilogram on my body, each centimeter that I gain around my chest and stomach as evidence. Evidence of my success. Oh, I haven't always been this rich and powerful, not at all.”
“Let me guess, street kid from the capital that made it good through hard work and dedication. Oh, and being willing to exploit sentient humans for slavery,” I grunt, literally spitting at him. “Don't make me laugh.”
“Why not? Actually, I'm from the equatorial regions, my father was a platinum miner who worked his ass off for his noble employer. I got out of that racket by being an underground gladiator. Not quite as famous as your little boy toy Jensen here, after all Tamarians don't seem to like watching us slaughter each other as much as they enjoy watching the pale skinned animals go at each other, but that's fine. I built my fortunes, betting each win on myself, until I got a big enough score that I was able to start in slaving. Between that and knowing how to pick up cheap land that I could then use my slaves on, I came to where I am today.”
“A soulless monster who should have died in the underground arenas decades ago,” I shoot back, shaking my head. “Just how many have died to feed your greed?”
Red Planet: The Revolt (Tamarians Book 2) Page 16