Part III
I groaned and turned my head, but that seemed to be the only thing that obeyed me. My eyes wouldn’t even open, I felt so weighed down. There was laughter, and I tried to recall any memory that would ground me. Vaguely I remembered fear, confusion, pain…
Then again, maybe it was best to leave my memories alone.
But there was laughter, somewhere near, and a voice I recognized. In spite of myself I tried to remember where I had heard that voice. If he was laughing, perhaps I could ask him to help me.
Ah, yes, I remembered that voice. I had heard it from the other end of an earpiece.
Then the memory of someone shooting me just had to hit me then.
So I was killed. Oh dear.
So, I’m in heaven, I thought to myself. That’s interesting
If I was in heaven, then why did my arm and leg hurt, and why did I have such a devil of a headache?
So did the pain mean I was in…
I panicked for a while until another laugh rang out—surely there wasn’t any laughter in…there?—again in the earpiece-voice I had recognized said something to the others.
Dario. The name hit me like a bullet, and I moaned. Dario’s here, too.
Then I was in hell. Brilliant.
Finally I opened my eyes, and found myself staring at an IV bag. I wiggled my right fingers experimentally, remembering I had been shot there, and was surprised to find that they obeyed. Not that I wasn’t grateful, I just didn’t expect that arm to work.
I lay there for a moment, letting the fatigue bleed out of me and the horrific memories of the arena take its place.
I had killed Tyke.
Moaning at the memory, I turned away, as if trying to get rid of the memory, but it was still there, pounding a tattoo into the inside of my skull.
Hearing my moan, Dario ran over, smiling. “Recovering well, I see,” he said, setting aside a cup of whatever-aliens-like-him-drink and sitting down. “You okay?”
“Go away,” I muttered, though I was still dizzy.
Dario half-smiled, though there was some pain behind it. “What are you going to do about it?” he chuckled. “Knock your IV back over and clobber me with the pole?”
“I’ll…I’ll ignore you,” I said, as if it were the deadliest threat that was ever invented. As I said, my mind still wasn’t in the best shape.
He chuckled and said, “I guess we’ll just sit here staring at each other, then.”
Dario sat back in his chair, took one serious drag from his cup, then set it down, never moving his shoulders. His shoulders were rounded, and he preferred wrist and elbow movement to back and shoulder. Three thick, red scars, nearly two or three inches, crisscrossed his back, toughening the skin and limiting movement. Back at Kaulan, he was a convict, and they were still looking for him. The scars had come from some wicked execution method.
Something that I thought about quite a bit. Jel, Kaulanese like Dario, had enthusiastically told me many different methods of execution. There was one that required…
Oh, dear. My mind was going everywhere. I closed my eyes shut and tried concentrating on one thought at a time, but it would always would get whisked away somewhere else.
Then my attention was drawn by some rustling on the bed next to me, and I looked over in simple curiosity.
To my surprise (and delight), it was Tyke, recovering only a few yards away.
“Tyke!” I shouted, pulling aside the covers and struggling to get on my feet.
Laughing softly, Dario gently took my arms and pushed me back down on the bed. It wasn’t hard; I was in no shape to fight back.
“I know you recover fast, Kearin, but you really need rest,” he said. “What Madam Takieara had put in those helmets wasn’t exactly regulation. Humans can get the bends if you get too worked up.”
I was really tired, so I was back on the bed—on my own will, I must add to preserve my dignity—panting. Dario looked worried and called over a medic, who swung by briefly to give me a quick shot and move on somewhere else.
Tyke was recovering very fast. When he was found, the doctors declared him artificial life. As in he had been made. It couldn’t have been possible, when the most advanced known creatures could only primitive life with almost no intelligence. And those specimens lasted only for a couple years. No one knew how long Tyke has lived, but definitely more than a couple of years.
Well, whoever the genius was who made him made him for battle, it seemed. He was quick, lightning reactions, blended into shadows easily, took pain easily, lost very little blood, quick learner, even quicker recoverer, and could see in the dark. He was a born warrior.
Already he was sitting up, and I glanced over to give him a friendly hello.
I stopped dead.
His eyes were hollow black holes.
Good glory, that was worse than seeing them fade. I almost puked again, but I forced myself to relax and look away.
“Yeah, he’ll be blind for a little while,” Dario said, seeing my reaction. “But he recovers fast. His eyes will be a healthy yellow in no time.”
Tyke was an unnerving sight by himself; without his eyes, he was a nightmare. His skin, a deep black tinted blue, was stretched taut over his skull, and he had thick black…uh…fur over his head. I can’t really call it hair; it came down in between his eyes like a major widow’s peak and ran all the way down the back of his neck, where it followed down the length of his back like a skunk’s stripe.
But I was relieved to see that there was some glow returning to his eyes.
I could never understand the actual physics of his eyes. Dario had told me that his eyes didn’t emit their own glow; they soaked up light, like iron soaks up heat. How they do it without catching his retinas on fire, I never could understand.
“So, Master Dario,” I said, spitting his name. “Fill me in. Why aren’t Tyke and I dead?”
He pretended to ignore the venom in my voice. “The arena was built for realistic, battle-like training. We had to get it as real as possible. The patches are designed to give you actual physical pain, as a real shot would.”
I glanced at the arm Jel had shot. There was a red, puffy mark on my skin where the needles had penetrated.
“So That’s what the micro needles were for,” I murmured to myself, running my fingers over the inflated skin.
Dario suddenly looked alert. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He gave a quizzical look. “How did you know about those?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh,” I shrugged cryptically. “I was just examining my equipment and discovered them. really, they weren’t that well hidden.”
My mentor cocked his head, looking at me with something like respect. “I haven’t heard of a student who discovered those by themselves,” he said. “Congratulations, sneak.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, that’s why it hurt when Jel shot me,” I mused, examining my wrist. “But there aren’t any puffy places on my chest. Why?”
“Because, once you got a fatal hit, It would be pointless to inflict pain,” Dario explained patiently. “All we had to do was give you a big breath of some potent gas through your helmet and you’d be out. It had to be powerful stuff, though; we could wait ten seconds for you to die. So sorry for the slow recovery.”
I had never met a more patient man than my mentor, and explaining things were his specialty. Everything was clear when Dario said it.
I took a deep breath in and laid down, trying to relax. I had felt some tingling in my joints, and the bends was not fun to have.
“Alright,” I challenged. “Why couldn’t I find a pulse on Tyke?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “The spot on his neck patch that was right over where his pulse was beat exactly offbeat to his heart. To anyone feeling that, there wouldn’t be anything.”
I rolled my eyes. I should’ve known that. “Why even bother?” I asked.
“Because of the few humans and other emotional creatures that would be entering the Arena,” Dario answered. “They’d shoot their friend, watch him fall, and then make sure he’s alright.” He grinned. “I feel sorry for dear old Kylo; his student nearly went insane when she shot her best friend.”
I smiled at both the statement. Kylo’s student was Plysian; way more emotionally tuned than humans. We had very few Plysian soldiers, and we all had agreed to try our best to keep them apart. The drama that boiled between them was worse than high school girls. It was almost fascinating, in a very frightening way.
“Kylo?’ I repeated. “His name is Kyle.”
Dario shrugged and fluttered his fingers. Human names were hard for him to pronounce. In fact, my own name had once been Karen before the Kaulanese and the other thick-tongued races screwed it up. Like Kyle, I had reluctantly changed my name to something a little easier.
I chuckled at the gesture, then remembered I was supposed to be hating him and turned away.
And saw Tyke, looking around with his luminous eyes. He glanced at the IV tube, then took the thick needle between two fingers and pulled it out with a disturbing pop! and threw aside the covers, standing up.
“Hi, Tyke!” I said with a weak smile.
He glanced at me, smiled wickedly, then said accusingly, “You shot me!”
I cringed with the memory, but raised my chin haughtily (which doesn’t really work if you’re laying down) and replied, “Why, yes, yes I did.”
He smiled that famous reckless smile that only his alien face could do, then turned to make his own bed. The nurse walking by at the moment stopped and started to scold him, trying to get him back to bed.
Then I remembered the pain in Tyke’s eyes just before he was “put out.”
I turned to Dario. “You told me there wasn’t any point to hurt someone if they got a fatal hit,” I accused. “Do you just enjoy putting Tyke in pain?”
Dario looked hurt. “He has a very slow breathing rate,” he explained, spreading his hands helplessly. “Gas, no matter how potent, would’ve taken a long time to get through his bloodstream. So we loaded those micro needles with some sedatives.” Then he smiled. “Tyke has some really thick skin, though, especially over his heart. Whatever pain he was in came from the needles trying to puncture his skin.” He laughed. “You should see them! They got through, but they’re all bent and broken!”
I bit back a chuckle. At the moment, Dario was my declared enemy.
He noticed my grim look and pursed his lips.
We were still for a moment, caught up in our silence.
“I really wish Madam Takieara would assign students to a mentor of the same race,” he began evasively. “But no, we have to be diverse.” He shook his head in disgust.
I gazed at him incredulously. If he said that on Earth, he’d be shunned in society!
My mentor caught that look and instantly recognized his mistake. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for diversity,” he corrected hastily. “But there’s always too much of everything. “
Alright, scratch my previous comment; Dario can be as clear as mud.
He saw my confusion and sighed, running his fingers through his red hair. “Emotions,” he said finally. “The Plysians are so emotional that they usually aren’t the best warriors, while the Kaulanese are so dulled, we don’t tend to make very many companions…” He took a deep breath to steady himself and to say the right things. “We’re from a harsh planet; evolution made us so that we could survive, and emotions only made life more difficult. Any feeling we once had was lost thousands of years ago.”
I shook my head slowly, not quite understanding.
Dario took a deep breath and said suddenly, “I had a companion who was executed next to me. A human would’ve stopped right there and be overtaken by grief; Plysians would keel over then and there. But, being Kaulanese and not wanting to share the same fate, I had to keep fighting…” he looked down at me. “A lot of people had the same feeling in the Arena. Your reaction to Tyke’s death surprised me just as much as mine horrified you.” He chuckled bitterly. “I wish you had a human mentor for that one.”
Well, then, scratch that other previous comment. Dario was pretty clear.
My mentor noted my change in expression and smiled. “So? Am I forgiven or what?” he asked wryly.
I sucked on my bottom lip, pretending to consider. “I’ll think about it,” I answered vaguely.
He chuckled. “Well, anyway, both you and Tyke survived over the time limit and got enough hits and kills to move you up,” he said cheerfully.
“ And Jel…?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
Dario grinned and said, “…lost some point from the way she was taken down.”
“Oh?” I asked with a grin. “How was that?”
“When running for a new campout spot, she slipped in your…ah…upchuck and was caught in a trap you barely missed. Easy target for the person chasing her.”
I laughed and pumped a fist in the air. “Aftertouch takedown! Woo-hoo!”
He smiled at my exclamation. “yes, you should be proud,” he said sarcastically.
I laughed at that.
I sighed and looked up at the white ceiling. “So, I’m what, level seven now?” I teased, trying to look stuck-up.
My mentor snorted. “Level five,” he berated teasingly. “Level five, and don’t you forget it! I’m the one writing your report, remember!”
“Ah, but you forget who writes a report on her mentor each year,” I replied. “Don’t you forget that!”
Dario laughed weakly. He did not find those types of jokes funny. “You should probably get some sugar in you,” he said. “Being sedated so heavily for so long can do that to a human.” He raised his eyebrows knowingly. “And only a human!”
“Oh, shut up, you thick-shelled, heavy-tongued, miserable little…” I slapped at him, though my bed wasn’t all that close and I missed by a long shot.
Dario only laughed at my feeble attempts, casually drained his drink, and stood up to get something human for me to eat.
I smiled and rolled my gaze back to the hospital ceiling. Level four was crazy, it’s true, but if that’s what I had to do to graduate from level four, I really feared level five…
I shrugged that thought away as soon as it entered. I would handle that when I came to it.
End Part III and story: “Eighteen Hundred Seconds.”
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