Unexpected Destiny

by Trevor Gregg

Shadow boxing, Punchy followed, throwing in the occasional spinning kick for flair, as Kyren had programmed.

  They shared a sidelong glance as workers hauled away a mangled mass of metal that once was a bot. Across the arena, fifteen yards away was their opponent, a balding, overweight middle-aged man. Unlike Kyren’s archaic touchscreen device, the man had a fancy holotablet strapped to his wrist and was rapidly keying in commands on the holographic panel hovering in the air before him.

  As the announcer called out it’s name “Infeeeeerrrrno,” the opposing bot’s triangular tracks clacked and screeched as it ground across the metal deckplates. It was nearly four feet tall, giving it a good foot of height on Punchy. It’s cylindrical body appeared well armored. Then panels opened on the sides and arms extended from the body. A vicious saw blade at the end of one arm spun to life with a whine. A nozzle on the other arm spat a huge gout of flame, eliciting a cheer from the crowd.

  Even from many yards away, the burst still warmed Kyren’s skin. He faltered for a moment. Maybe he wouldn’t have to throw the match after all. Athar nudged him and he quickly activated commands as the announcer cried out “Punnnnnchyyyy.” The bot ran through a martial arts form, ending with a back flip. The crowd let out another raucous cheer.

  They set up in the control booth just outside the arena as the announcer counted down “…three …two …one… bot fight!”

  Kyren scrambled to write new routines to deal with the threat of the flamethrower, but had a hard time coming up with a defense. The heat wouldn’t damage Punchy’s armor, but it would heat the internals, resulting in stress fractures and overloaded components. Too much heat, and the bot would just cease to function.

  Inferno let out a gout of fire and Punchy dodged backward. He darted fast to the side and made for the taller bot, but it whirled too quickly, unleashing a blast of fire right into Punchy’s chest. Obeying his programming though, he continued on, all the while bathed in flame.

  Kyren watched the sensors beginning to go red, alarms flashing on his tablet screen. But Punchy pressed on and quickly was within striking distance, unleashing a flurry of blows on the cylindrical torso. Scything down, the saw blade bit into Punchy’s forearm as he blocked, easily shearing off a large chunk of armor plating.

  “Shit! What is that blade made of?” Athar cried.

  Kyren quickly ordered the bot to retreat, staying just out of reach of the flamethrower while attempting to cool.

  “It’s time to reveal Punchy’s secret,” he said while activating more bits of code. Athar simply grinned and nodded.

  Kyren’s fingers flew across the surface of his tablet as he launched the script. A panel opened on Punchy’s forearm, and a large chainsaw blade extended along the back of his hand. The crowd cheered as the secret weapon was revealed. Kyren worked up a defense for the fire, and hoped for success.

  Punchy charged, but this time anticipated the fire, leaping into a forward roll and avoiding most of the burning fuel. He came up close to the other bot’s torso and unleashed a flurry of slashes with the chainsaw blade, cutting deep furrows into Inferno’s armor and sending up a shower of sparks.

  But none of the blows did significant damage. As the saw blade scythed down once more it took a chunk out of Punchy’s shoulder. He darted away again, out of range of the flamethrower. Racked with guilt, he lamely initiated the same attack again. Inferno, anticipating the maneuver, bathed Punchy in flame. Alarms flashed and gauges went into the red as systems began to shut down.

  “What’re you doing?” Athar cried in surprise. Kyren didn’t respond, furiously working at his tablet.

  He re-routed processing and pushed the bot onward, coming in at Inferno swinging. Only this time, he went for the saw arm, but missed the strike intentionally, remorse flooding his conscience. Inferno brought down his blade, taking Punchy’s left arm and severing it at the elbow. As it clattered to the floor, Inferno spun and dodged backward, bathing Punchy in flame once again.

  Servos failing from the heat, Punchy tried to scramble backward out of the flame, but couldn’t move quick enough, as Inferno pushed his advantage and rolled forward. Kyren chanced a glance at Athar, and was crushed by the crestfallen look on his face.

  Right then, Kyren knew he couldn’t go through with it, he couldn’t let his brother down. The consequences be damned, he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. Offloading processing tasks to components that were still functional, he used the remaining computational power to recalibrate the servos to work under high temperatures.

  This bought Punchy enough of an increase in mobility to allow him to finally avoid Inferno’s blaze. Kyren came up with a plan and quickly programmed in the attack. Moments later, Punchy’s components had cooled just enough to allow him to execute the new routine.

  The small black bot darted forward into a sprint, covering the ground in several bounding strides. Fire bathed him as he charged on, but Punchy was not to be stopped. At the last second, he went into a slide feet-first. As he passed by, he reached out with his chainsaw blade and took out one of Inferno’s tracks, sending a shower of sparks flying.

  Flipping to his feet, the crowd cheered. Inferno tried to spin to face Punchy but he kept darting behind the crippled bot. He leapt and landed on its back, straddling its neck. He brought his chainsaw down and split Inferno’s chrome head in half. The crowd roared with furious elation.

  Leaping off the falling bot, Punchy landed in a crouch. Athar cheered and grabbed Kyren’s shoulder excitedly. “Nice work little brother!”

  Kyren keyed up one last routine, and the bot stood and bowed to the crowd, generating another roar of approval.

  3

  Nosco

  The elation of the win soon gave way to fear. Beginning to feel anxious, Kyren hastily stuffed his tablet and tools into his red backpack and donned it, while Athar returned Punchy to the cart. They were both distracted and didn’t see the saurian’s approach.

  “Hey boys, that was quite a victory,” the burly blue-skinned saurian said. He was wearing an expensive suit and the stubby horns lining his bald head like a crown were polished smooth and pearly white.

  Shit! It’s Nosco, Kyren thought, quickly looking for a way out. The only way was past him. “Y’know you cost me a whole heap of credits. Your little stunt was very ill-advised,” Nosco sneered.

  “What’s he talking about, Kyren?” Athar interjected.

  “Oh, he doesn’t know? That’s grand!” Nosco exclaimed, “Your little brother here was supposed to lose the fight, see.”

  “Is that true, Kyren?” Athar questioned. He only had to look at Kyren’s face to know it was true.

  “We were finally going to make it to space,” he offered lamely, ashamedly looking away.

  “Listen, it’s over and done with, let’s just move on,” Athar soothed.

  “Move on?” Nosco snorted. “You don’t just get to move on,” he derided, reaching into his waistband.

  Kyren felt time slow down, moving like molasses. He watched, unable to react, as Nosco drew a small snub nosed pistol. Athar, on the other hand, was somehow already moving, charging toward the saurian. He barreled into him, grappling for the gun. They struggled, but Nosco seemed to be overpowering Athar with his race’s superior strength.

  Then a shot rang out. Nobody seemed to notice, with all the other noise in the arena. Kyren watched as Athar fell in slow motion, Nosco going in the opposite direction, the gun flying away. Then time returned to normal as the horror of what happened took hold.

  Kyren rushed to Athar, holding him up as he coughed blood, a dark stain spreading across his chest. He looked over and saw Nosco scrambling for the dropped gun.

  Then Athar spoke his last words, “Kyren run.”

  So Kyren ran, bolting past Nosco and into the crowded arena. He heard Nosco curse behind him as he forded his way through the crowd. Reaching the exit he didn’t even bother to look back, he just took off down the sidewalk. Running on pure adrenaline he sprinted down the street, dodgin
g through the sparse evening foot traffic.

  He heard footfalls behind him and he spared a glance over his shoulder. Damn it, they had pursued him. Nosco and a swarthy looking man were running down the sidewalk after him. He dodged around the next corner and spied a small terraced courtyard ahead. As he sprinted across the courtyard, he noticed a large drainage pipe with a loose grate.

  It looked to be big enough to fit inside, so he heaved the grate out of the way and wriggled in. Just as he was dragging it back into place he heard the footfalls of Nosco and his goon. Through the bars he watched them bolt past the plaza and continue down the street.

  He waited for a few minutes, then crawled back out and made for the nearest alley. He was sure Nosco could easily find out where he lived, so he couldn’t go home. He was in the Marketplace District and had no idea where to go, so he wandered the streets until he found a bench in a secluded park. As he sat down the enormity of what happened hit him like a ton of bricks.

  Breaking down into quiet sobs, Kyren mourned the loss of his brother. He cursed himself for his own stupidity. He had known Nosco was bad news. But the promise of wealth had been too alluring. It had cost him in blood.

  4

  New Employment

  After a cold sleepless night in the secluded park, Kyren knew one fact remained the same. He still needed to get into space. It was the only way to escape Nosco. He worked for a crime boss named de Kamp, who had significant sway in Dust Quarter. He needed to escape Magar City, get off the surface of Junoval, or his life was forfeit. He needed money, and quickly.

  Kyren pulled out his tablet and dialed up one of his sketchier acquaintances, the screen flashing as he waited for a connection. A moment later a weasel-faced young man flickered into view. “Hey, Kyren, what’s up?”

  “I need to make fifteen-k, and I need it now. No questions Ray, please,” Kyren said quickly.

  “Okay, I won’t pry,” he cajoled. “If you need to make that kind of money, I only know one employer that fits the bill. But you’ll need some fortitude, the employer’s influence is… unique.” Ray conveyed the details and Kyren signed off.

  A brisk walk brought him to the alleyway entrance of the pub “Mauli’s,” an ancient neon sign hanging above the heavy wooden door instead of the more common holopanel. It simply read GROG.

  Kyren pushed the door open and entered the establishment, striding up to the massive oak bar that took up half the room, polished to a mirror shine. Dim lighting, wood paneling, and a grimy floor gave the place a run-down feel.

  As he looked around, he noted several patrons scattered about. A large furry bear-like doss sat in the corner, drinking from a pitcher sized mug. Several humans sat at the bar, and the bartender appeared to be a rohvar, green skinned, insectoid face, complete with mandibles and large multi-faceted eyes.

  Damn, I don’t understand rohvar, Kyren said under his breath as the creature turned to face him and chittered something in its screeching, clacking language.

  He was wholly unprepared for what happened next, despite Ray’s emphatic warning. The creature spoke in his mind, an oily, slithering, inky blackness.

  “Welcome, Kyren. There is no need to speak rohvar to my bartender, you and I can understand each other quite fine. I’m glad you’ve come. I have need of your services, and can pay your price,” the creature’s voice echoed in his head.

  He had been warned that the being in the back room of this unassuming bar was near omnipotent. It could read minds and it was near impervious to weapons.

  “Yes, I know this must be strange for you. Why don’t you come through that door back there behind the bar…” as Kyren looked, it continued. “Yes, that door, come in.”

  As he entered the small room he was hit by the heady, cloying scent of the rare and potent alien herbs in which the evgalian dealt. He could just make out the jars lining the back wall through the creature’s tenuous body. It was hanging in the air, wispy tendrils draping across an ancient wooden desk, slowly pulsating like some great jellyfish.

  Before the door even snicked shut behind him, Kyren was hit with a wall of information. The route to the pickup point played out like a vid in his mind. The identity of the contact and the code phrase flashed through as well. Within seconds the barrage had passed, but he was left with memories of what the creature had conveyed.

  Memories that felt alien inside Kyren’s head. Like a fly floating in a glass of milk. He reached behind to steady himself against the door, but it swung open, nearly toppling him to the floor. The rohvar bartender grabbed Kyren’s arm with it’s insectoid hand and steadied him, firmly leading him from the room.

  Sitting Kyren down at the bar, he poured a drink and chittered something, handing it to him and motioning to take the shot. Kyren downed the syrupy brown liquid and felt it burn on its way down. The bartender turned away and began to wipe down the bar with a rag clenched in its insectoid hand.

  The liquor hit Kyren’s system almost instantly, the warming, calming effect helping to alleviate the mental intrusion that had just occurred. Gathering himself, he strode from the archaic pub and into the wan morning light, destined for the border crossing into Yellow Zone.

  5

  Yellow Zone

  Entering the checkpoint crossing, Kyren sized up the inbound side in preparation for his return trip. He spied several long lines snaking their way back into Theta Block, each leading from a narrow lane with a scanner and a low table. Every inbound lane was manned by a border agent, the crisp uniform and shiny sidearm demonstrating readiness and vigilance. A bull pen built into one wall contained several more agents in reserve.

  It was dangerous enough that he was venturing into Yellow Zone, not to mention so deep. Just like Dust Quarter, there were no police. But he was human. There were no humans in Yellow Zone. Only a myriad of strange alien races. And not all of them friendly.

  But it was even more dangerous to be caught smuggling. Theta Block law was incredibly harsh, crime within its borders was not tolerated. He swallowed hard at the thought that he’d be facing years of hard labor if he got caught. Steeling himself, he wished he had another shot of the liquor he’d downed back at the bar. Approaching the scanner he slowly stepped through. No alarms sounded, but to his dismay the agent at the station, a massive furry brown doss, motioned him over anyway, his bear-like face focused intently on Kyren.

  The agent rose from the stool he had been perched on, standing to his full height and towering over Kyren by more than a foot. “Son, I’ve got no legal right to stop you, but I’m gonna try to change your mind. There’s nothing in Yellow Zone for humans, you should turn back,” he rumbled.

  “It’s okay, I’m going to see someone,” he said, technically telling the truth. Having an idea, he fumbled in his pack for his tablet.

  “Again, I emphatically recommend you return,” the agent punctuated.

  Pulling out the tablet he held it so the agent couldn’t see and programmed a quick search. An array of images occupied the screen, Kyren selected one and turned the tablet to the border agent.

  “I see, I guess I won’t be able to deter you,” he replied, eying the picture of a smiling rillian girl in a lacy dress, the cat-like ears topping her head just barely poking out of a mop of chartreuse hair.

  Everyone knew they were biologically compatible with humans. And apparently the agent bought it, because he motioned Kyren along.

  “Just keep in mind you’re traveling at your own risk, and yes you are at risk,” he finished, turning away.

  Leaving the border checkpoint, Kyren strode purposefully down the sidewalk into the busy sector. He paused for a moment to get his bearings and looked around. Missing from the horizon were towering ten-story tall tenements like in Dust Quarter, or the monumental skyscrapers of the Marketplace.

  Similar to Dust Quarter, though, the low tenement buildings, with their shops on the ground floor and residences in the floors above, were all in varying stages of disrepair and decay. Cracks spread through the concre
te facades, the surface pockmarked where chunks had fallen away. Absent were the colorful holopanels that adorned the front of most of the shops in the other districts. Instead, hand painted signs advertised each establishment’s specialty.

  He envisioned the route in his head and struck off, doing his best to stifle the unease he felt touching the evgalian’s implanted memories. The sidewalks were crowded with all manner of aliens. He was passed by tentacular things, multi-colored humanoids of all shades and myriad facial features, insect like beings, and a couple of dog-faced creatures riding scooters, their tongues lolling out the side of their mouths. He even saw an inwan mer-man, clad in scaled green robes, complete with water helmet and neuro-trident.

  Focusing again, he drew on the tainted memory of his route and made off down a side street. He was looking for the vindels’ district, and within would be a small shop, kept by an old gray furred vindel.

  Pressing through the crowded sidewalks, Kyren was body-checked by a hideous creature, three armed and three legged, with a mouth that wrapped almost entirely around its head. It said something in an alien tongue while gesturing rudely and then continued on.

  A second alien being, scaly, hairless, and green skinned, delivered another blow from behind. Kyren was forced to dodge through the unforgiving crush of alien bodies, feeling the hard stares as much as he saw them.

  He reached the entrance to the vindels’ district, framed by a large arch, some fifty feet tall. Just beyond the arch was a maze of junk. Pieces of Millennium-war wreckage were stacked nearly ten feet high. Debris that had been gathered from orbit around Junoval, it would seem.

  The planet had been the site of a titanic battle hundreds of years ago, during the Millennium Wars that raged for a thousand years between the Consortium and the vicious Crevak Tribe. All the cities except Magar City were completely destroyed from orbit. But it did not escape entirely unscathed.