This woman looked like she’d been created in a test tube.
She didn’t even look like one of Trazen’s “consorts,” who tended to have dyed hair and light eyes that Jet always assumed came from enhancement surgery. A few might have had other kinds of surgeries, too, but something about them still struck Jet as being like her...maybe the expressions on their faces, or maybe just their overall body type. Something about them remained lean, feral, matter how well fed they became from Green Zone food, or how soft their muscles grew from Green Zone pampering.
This woman looked like something else.
Like the human version of a baby T-Rex.
Jet continued to stare at the strange-looking woman as she hung on the arm of a young, muscular Nirreth who kept knocking over things on the food and drink tray with his tail. From his movements and his facial expression, they’d spent some time indulging in venom before they got here. They’d probably imbibed more than a little alcohol, too.
Jet didn’t recognize the young Nirreth, either, but he must be a member of the Royal family, or he wouldn’t be sharing their box. He looked darker though, like the Nirreth who lived here, on Astet, rather than on Earth.
She glanced up at one of the dead-eye cameras as she thought it, and frowned.
She felt Trazen there.
That probably explained the real source of her feeling like eyes followed her every move. The knowledge that Trazen worked close by, probably in the ops center right above where she sat, vibrated her nerves more than it should have.
Trazen would have heard all about her and Laksri by now, just like Richter had. The fact that Laksri and Jet spent most of the trip to Astet in their quarters hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone, least of all by the Ringmaster, Jet suspected.
She’d already wondered if she’d end up having to be the one to determine Trazen’s real motives in coming to Astet. She had the venom connection to him, after all.
She already suspected he’d let himself be led here...orders or no.
The one time her mind toyed with the idea in the vicinity of Laksri, however, the Nirreth prince just about burst a blood vessel. They’d argued for a good thirty minutes...most of it via the venom bond since Laksri hadn’t wanted either of them to speak of it openly, even then. Venom bond or no, he’d sworn at her, made accusations, threatened her...done everything but pin her down and make her promise not to go near Trazen again.
Laksri lost his temper completely in the first five seconds of that conversation, his face a distorted mask throughout his efforts to impress upon Jet what a terrible idea he thought it was for her to try to collect intelligence on the Ringmaster using any method, much less by attempting to use his own venom against him.
Laksri didn’t want her going anywhere near Trazen.
Further, the idea of Jet doing anything to strengthen the venom connection between her and the Ringmaster angered him to the point of complete irrationality, especially when he was under the influence of venom himself. He told her that the second she opened to Trazen willingly, she’d never be free of him. Never. He would always have a hold on her, as long as both of them remained alive.
Jet didn’t miss the implication there, either, in terms of Laksri and herself.
Further, Laksri seemed to truly believe that once Jet allowed that bond to form, Trazen might simply kill her. He’d wait until after he had sex with her, of course. He’d wait until he thought he couldn’t use her anymore, for intelligence or whatever else. He’d also wait until the timing would benefit him the most politically...or at least not harm him.
But if he killed her, especially if he did it slow and sexualized her death, it would erase the “Samurai” myth of Jet in one fell swoop. Jet’s image would collapse as the iconic symbol of human freedom and fighting spirit. She would be reduced to an animal, useful for sex and easily disposed of afterwards. There might be some clucking of tongues and shaking of heads, but they would no longer view her as an equal, or even as fully sentient.
Jet would be seen like the rest of them.
A house pet, broken by a careless owner.
It would also make Laksri look weak. It would give the splinter group among the Royals an opening, if only by causing the populace to doubt him. They wouldn’t trust a prince who couldn’t protect his own companion from an encroaching male, no matter how it happened.
The fear in Laksri’s eyes as he explained all of this told Jet how serious he was. He really did think Trazen would kill her. By the end of their argument, Laksri even started listing names of Trazen’s previous consorts, showing her images in her head of what had happened to them, the condition of their bodies after they’d been found.
After that, Jet kept her thoughts on the subject of Trazen far away from Laksri.
Still, she didn’t blow him off.
She’d known Trazen was, at heart, a murderer. His standing in the Rings alone attested to that, even apart from how he maneuvered politically. She’d known that Trazen’s interest in her had always been primarily political. She’d never thought about it quite the way Laksri had presented his case to her, but she knew he saw her as a pawn on the board, not as an actual person. Before he’d stung her, Jet assumed Trazen only pretended interest in her to rattle Laksri...maybe to rattle Richter, too. Laksri’s possessiveness made Trazen want her, she figured, if only because he didn’t like hearing no.
He wanted her simply because Laksri had her.
He wanted her to show he could take her away from the other male.
The problem was, when Trazen actually stung her, none of those things she thought she knew about him and his motives rang true. The idea that he might torture her, rape her, and then just bleed her out, simply as some political message as to the worthlessness of humans, flat-out terrified her, but she almost couldn’t make herself believe it of the person she’d felt on the other end of that venom. The fact that he’d convinced her he was something other than what she knew him to be probably scared her more than anything.
It also angered her to the point of nearly irrational rage.
She knew that might be partly fear, too.
Even the thought of letting him sting her again sent such an intense reaction through her system that she knew her perceptions of Trazen had to be distorted still. Hell, she could admit it. Her wanting to spy on him through the venom felt like nothing but a rationalization. Some part of her wanted Trazen to sting her again. That same part of Jet fantasized about him in her less-aware moments, even revisited their brief encounter in her dreams.
That part of her wanted to give Trazen an excuse.
According to Laksri, that part of her might just get her killed.
When the door opened behind her, not only to the booth that time, but to her own, partitioned row of seats, Jet jerked her eyes backwards.
She relaxed only marginally when she saw Laksri’s face.
Noting the tense look there, she forced herself to relax her own facial expression, if only to reassure him. After his brief pause and stare, Laksri resumed walking down the sloped aisle. He slid onto the bench next to her with his usual liquid movements, looking over at her only after he was situated, his tail coiled just past the opening between the lower bench and the padded backrest.
“We’re all right,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, even as he slid an arm around her shoulders. “Relax, Jet.” Kissing her again, he raised his voice, although he still spoke quietly. “We will have our own food coming,” he added, nuzzling her face. “...And drinks.”
Jet nodded, her eyes back on the window in front of her.
She jumped slightly when Laksri coiled his tail around her. When she looked up that time, he frowned, his eyes holding an open scrutiny. A low panic hit as it occurred to her that he might have picked up on her thoughts about Trazen through the remnants of the venom. She deliberately blanked her mind, but not before Laksri let out a low hiss, the anger in it audible.
“Don’t bother,” he growled softly. “Think about him,
if you want. I’m sure he enjoys it.”
Sighing a bit, Jet conceded defeat.
“Is he here?” she said finally.
“You know he is,” Laksri said, his voice still curt.
“Have they started?”
Laksri gave a short nod. “Hours ago. He is upstairs.”
She nodded again, biting her lip. “Laksri, don’t be angry. You really don’t understand––”
“Save it, Jet.” Laksri’s tail unclenched from around her, flicking in irritation behind both of their backs. He started to speak again, then seemed to think better of it, covering over his hesitation by making his voice softer once more. “...It will start soon.”
“How soon?”
He glanced at the timepiece set in the floor below the window. “Thirty time increments.” Glancing at Jet, he hesitated. He must have seen her trying to convert that in her mind, because he added, “...Forty-six minutes. Give or take.”
She smiled tensely at that, in spite of the anger she still felt on him.
In addition to speaking English more frequently and with more sophistication, he’d started using her human expressions more often. His English had improved to the point where she almost wondered if he’d been faking it before, pretending he didn’t speak it very well.
He grunted a little, but his arm tightened around her that time, and she felt his amusement.
“No,” he said. “Unlike you,” he added. “...With Nargili.”
She smiled a little more genuinely at that. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” he said, smiling back.
“After all,” she said, shrugging as she leaned into his hard side. “There’s only so many times I can come up with something polite to say when I’m being called a ‘special mammal’ and being asked for a quickie sting while you’re not looking...”
Laksri laughed aloud at that, shaking his large head.
She heard the irritation there too, though. He gripped her tighter in the pause, and Jet couldn’t help but feel the tension he carried through his fingers. She considered asking him to sting her, so she could hear his thoughts through his skin more clearly, but she wondered if that was such a good idea, either.
He heard her that time, too, and rolled his eyes, snorting a Nirreth laugh. Glancing over at her stare, he smiled, leaning closer to her again.
“No, it is not such a good idea, Jet,” Laksri murmured, nuzzling her face with his. “You don’t want to miss the preliminaries, do you...?” He gave her a teasing look, glancing over his shoulder at the Nirreth seated behind them.
Even so, she saw the heavier expression behind his eyes when he turned back to face her.
“...Your first Retribution,” he explained. “You should be clear for it. Well enough to understand what you are seeing.” He still studied her eyes when he added, “Also, you are forgetting...again...that we’ve never been good at ‘just one sting.’ If you distract me, we won’t be using this booth for its intended purpose. And while these screens can be darkened,” he added, glancing back at the wall of glass. “...I don’t think you’d thank me later.”
Snorting a little, Jet rolled her eyes.
Even so, her chest tightened.
She’d heard the added meaning in his words. So Laksri knew they were being watched. She wondered if he was alluding specifically to Trazen or Richter having surveillance on them, then realized it didn’t matter. Leaning deeper into his side, she folded her arms, fighting to control her heart rate, in case anyone had a scanner on them in here, too.
Still, it was strangely comforting, that he’d noticed the same thing she had.
Laksri stroked her arm and shoulder, as if thinking the same thing.
Even so, when the monitor flickered to life in front of them, blocking her view of the arena below, Jet jumped. She jumped even more violently when the announcer began to speak, his voice echoing through the small, bubble-windowed room. He spoke in Nargili, of course, but Jet found she understood it well enough, even through the unfamiliar accent.
“...The Retribution is now officially in session...” the voice droned, loud in the small room. “Participants, please take your places and await instructions...”
Jet swallowed, glancing at the clock.
Had that much time really passed?
Even as she thought it, the image on the monitor shifted up off the window. In a heart beat, its crystal-clear images stabilized on a segment of the wall above. In so doing, it both mirrored and opened up Jet’s view of the wider stadium.
In the same instant, she saw him.
Anaze looked more aware than he had the last time Jet had seen him.
More aware than he had on the docking bay of that Nirreth ship, anyway.
That wasn’t saying much, of course...but it was something.
Four guards surrounded him, leading him out of a darkened corridor that reminded Jet of the entrance ramp that led to the main Rings arena on Earth. They had Anaze dressed in a black sense-suit, too. His hair had been cut short, leaving only a dark shadow, maybe half a centimeter of black hair to color his scalp. His face still looked bruised, but his shorn head seemed to darken his whole complexion somehow, not lighten it, even as it made his features stand out more, especially his leaf-green eyes.
Jet couldn’t see his face or eyes through the window itself, of course, since he was too far away, but the close-up monitor showed every detail, down to a new cut over one eyebrow that dripped blood onto one cheek. She could even see from his eyes that he was reasonably coherent, not stoned out of his head on venom.
She honestly couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.
She swallowed harder when she saw that he already walked with a limp.
Anaze wasn’t some groomed pet of the Nirreth, though, she reminded herself. Laksri had said it over and over again: Anaze was a fighter.
She’d known that even when she hadn’t known his true identity, back at the skag pits; she just hadn’t realized the extent of it. He’d grown up around rebels, around Richter, around the cullers and the bandits who took on both the Nirreth and other humans. He’d held his own with the ex-soldiers making up Richter’s unit. He’d survived Richter himself, as a child. He held his own in the pits when she’d known him there, too, even against the most dangerous adults and the worst of the underground gangs.
Laksri was right. He might not be Nirreth, but Anaze wasn’t the typical human, either.
Still, she couldn’t pretend to be indifferent to his condition, like Richter.
Whatever else he was, Anaze had been her best friend once.
Leaning forward, she stared down at him through the glass, watching him limp towards a high, half-moon bench loaded with Nirreth, most of them muscular enough to have been fighters themselves.
Jet read about this part of the ritual during the trip to Astet. Those twelve or so Nirreth formed the equivalent of a court. Really, they comprised the original body that the Rings Board itself had once been, before it morphed into a modified judge’s panel for the entertainment version of the Rings on Earth. This group of Nirreth prison guards and ex-military fighters even fulfilled a similar function, if one with significantly more dire implications.
In short, they judged the person against whom the Retribution would be enacted.
They also had final say on when it ended.
Because, Jet reminded herself, no one came out of Retribution alive.
Even the betting consisted of stats on how long the run would last, not on how well the contestant performed...well, apart from pure survival time.
The big Nirreth in the center of the bench, where Metzet would have sat in the Earth version, filled most of the main monitor. The silence of the Nirreth judges somehow made Jet aware of the near-silence that had fallen over most of her and Laksri’s observation booth, even in the paneled areas behind where they sat.
Of course, a complete silence didn’t reign there, either.
The blond and her Nirreth boyfriend still
giggled quietly from a handful of rows up, irritating her almost to the point of violence when she couldn’t manage to block the sound out. She could even hear the sound of the young Nirreth’s mouth as he kissed some part of her bare skin. Jet forgot the blond and her Nirreth boyfriend entirely, however, when the muscular center judge that filled the monitor began to speak.
His voice came through the speakers in a low growl, so heavily accented Jet could barely understand his Nargili. Luckily, they translated his speech at the bottom of the television screen into English, just like they did on Earth.
It struck her in the same set of minutes that, according to Richter, there had never been a human Retribution before. Usually human crimes weren’t seen as big enough, or personal enough, to warrant something so extreme as Retribution. Human rebels usually didn’t even warrant the title of “terrorist” other than as hyperbole, and their crimes against the Nirreth tended to be posited more like the actions of unruly animals, livestock that had gotten out of control. Ringleaders were sometimes shot as examples, but usually on the spot and without trial.
More commonly, they were made to run in the Earth version of the Rings.
Stung until compliant, they generally weren’t viewed as enough of a threat to bother shooting once they’d been acquired as pets.
Of course, Jet learned all of that after reaching the Green Zone.
Before that, she believed all the same stuff the other skags believed.
Alien Apocalypse: The Complete Series (Parts I-IV) Page 61