Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid (65 page)

A smirk came to Jarred’s face at the brief reminder of Orna that thought brought to mind. Was he on his path now? The
right
path? The one she had spoken of? The one, according to her, he needed to be on? He supposed it didn’t matter at the moment. Right or not, he was on it, and there was no turning back now. He needed to believe in the choice he had made and follow through with it. In fact, he needed to take it a step further.

Turning, Jarred allowed himself a slow, panning view of the arena’s climbing spectator stands, the occupants of which were all looking back at him. He had their attention. He also had the undivided attention of those who watched from the viewing tower high above him. The Rai Chi. Now it was time to use that focus and turn it to his advantage.

“Is that all?” he cried out, his voice carrying upwards with the aid of the enclosed arena walls and the near dead silence of the crowd. He wasn’t sure where the words had come from. He hadn’t really considered what he might do or say before they had just involuntarily erupted from his mouth, but he continued anyway. “Is that the best you have for me? These
things
? These . . .
animals
?”

He was taunting them. Goading them. Into doing what, he wasn’t quite sure yet, but he knew they wouldn’t just take it. Shu’ma would strike back. It was his pride that drove him. He would react to Jarred’s words, just as he had before in their first meeting. And as long as he kept the warrior reacting to
his
actions, Jarred would be the one in control, as ludicrous as that seemed, considering they were up there and he was down here. Even so, he knew it was true. He could use Shu’ma’s weakness against him to lead him in the direction he wanted, or to at least put him off balance. He could only hope that doing so would cause the warrior to make a mistake. One critical enough to give Jarred the opportunity he needed to save himself.

To his surprise, Jarred began to hear a few scattered cheers from the tiers of stands. The sparse cries were repeated and echoed around the arena, spreading like a wild fire across the stands, and quickly grew into full applause. The crowd was actually beginning to root for him. He supposed they had been left with few other choices, but the change had still caught him completely off guard. The applause continued to grow to a full roar as Jarred looked around the arena in awe. He had counted on his words soliciting a reaction from the Rai Chi, but the crowd’s blaring approval would no doubt amplify the effect.

Jarred looked back up at the viewing tower, defiantly, waiting for the warrior’s inevitable response.

Your move.

*     *     *

“These things?” the interpreter device repeated in the Rai Chi tongue. “These . . . animals?” It’s tone did not communicate the full measure of defiance in the human’s voice, which was plainly obvious to Rho’uk, as he shouted up at them from the arena floor. The machination had a habit of doing so, most likely as an act of self-preservation. Knowing that, beneath Shu’ma’s nearly blank, emotionless gaze, he would be a blade’s width from erupting into a murderous rage at hearing the human’s bold challenge, it was obvious why the device felt the need to do so.

It was Traug who spoke first, though a bit too quickly, betraying the fear he was no doubt feeling. “A lucky throw. That is all. The human appears to want to put on a show before dying. He is only delaying the inevitable, I assure you.” He began to key into the comm unit on his armrest. “I’m sure the administrator has
something
waiting in the wings, up to the task.”

Shu’ma silenced the Trill’s ramblings with the slamming of his fist on the balcony ledge. “Enough! I have heard and seen enough!” He tore his gaze from the arena scene below and his blazing eyes came to rest on Traug. “It is clear to me that you are incapable of dealing with this
human
on your own.”

“My apologies, Shu’ma Chi-Kem,” Traug stuttered, appearing to shrink to an even smaller stature beneath the warrior’s harsh gaze. “But I assure you that is not the case. We have many more gladiators at our disposal. I’m positive that . . .”

“Save your assurances for one foolish enough to hold any merit in them,” Shu’ma interrupted. “Your pathetic
gladiators
are hardly worth the air they breath. This
human
, is unlike others of his species. He is a warrior. And one warrior deserves another.”

At this, Rho’uk rose from his seat. He had been waiting for this moment since his first encounter with the human in Trycon. A chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his fellow warriors and before the Gods. But it was also a chance for him to face the intriguing human once more. To test himself against a worthy opponent. It would be an ultimately trying challenge, to defeat him without ending his life, as he still intended to follow his mandate and return him to Gaia. But any challenge worth facing would not be won easily. Whether he stood victorious in the end or ultimately fell before the human’s blade, their battle would be a glorious one. And there was no greater honor for any warrior.

Before he could leave the private balcony, Shu’ma spoke, stopping him mid-stride. “Stay your blade, Rho’uk. You will not be needing it.”

Rho’uk was taken aback by the command and remained standing, waiting for his comrade and superior to face him, who stood himself before doing so.

“You have already failed once at the hands of this
human
. You needn’t humiliate yourself or your clan a second time,
old friend
.” Shu’ma’s words were like daggers in Rho’uk’s back, each one meant to shame and injure him. To that end, they were successful. He had no intention of sparing Rho’uk anything. Quite the contrary. “This time, I will handle him myself.”

Rho’uk held Shu’ma’s steely gaze, keeping, as best he could, the rage and sense of betrayal he felt from showing on his face. He refused to grant him that satisfaction. Shu’ma had always been cruel. A trait he had no doubt learned from his father. Both were self serving and hungry for personal power, but they also seemed to take pleasure in the suffering they caused. Something that had always disturbed Rho’uk.

As warrior servants to the God’s their mandate required them to kill. This was the warrior way. He had devoted his life to becoming extremely efficient at dealing death to those the God’s wished it upon. Yet he did so dispassionately. He took pride in his victories and his service to the Gods, but unlike Shu’ma, he did not relish the pain he inflicted to achieve them. It was simply a necessity. A means to an end, as his father had taught him. He honored the dead, as it was through sending them to the
next place
that his connection to the God’s was strengthened. His gratification came
from
that connection, not the acts required to make it.

The opposite seemed true for Shu’ma. From a young age he had held himself above others, his actions and motives being directed inwards, on his own personal escalation and position within the warrior hierarchy, yet he had always honored the Gods first. A lesson Rho’uk’s father had embedded in all of his student. The foundation of every Rai Chi warrior. It seemed it was a lesson Shu’ma had forgotten, or one he had just never bothered to fully learn and embrace. He was crossing a line now that he would not be able to come back from. He was disobeying a direct mandate from his father and Overseer, as well as putting his own lust for vengeance and self gratification before the will of the Gods, for there was no doubt in Rho’uk’s mind that he was entering the arena with one intention. To end the human’s life.

If he succeeded in that endeavor, they would both suffer the same fate. Shame before their people and the Gods, followed swiftly by their own deaths. And then their true, eternal suffering would begin at the hands of the Gods. Forever punished for their disobedience and denied entry to the next place. To never be reunited with all warriors that had come before. Or to stand with his father once more. It was a thought Rho’uk could not bare to consider. Somehow, he had to end this. The question was how he could do so without turning on Shu’ma, his comrade and direct superior. To do so, even in order to prevent him from breaking their mandate, would be no different from breaking it himself.

Apart from convincing Shu’ma to reconsider his stance and return to their Overseer with the human,
alive
, which was clearly not going to happen, his only remaining option was to challenge his position. To fight and kill him and to take his place. It was the only way to usurp his authority and end this madness. And it was a step Rho’uk was not yet prepared to take. As far as Shu’ma had strayed from the path the Gods had set them upon, he was still a warrior brother and Rho’uk believed he could return from the destructive brink he was dangerously close to tipping over. The question was, would he do so in time to save them both?

“You would deny me the chance to redeem my failure?” he asked, finally, altering his approach to a more personal one, which his comrade would more than likely sympathize with, considering his current self interest. “To reclaim my honor?”

Shu’ma took a step closer to Rho’uk so that they were nearly face to face, the sharp edge leaving his voice as he spoke. “You’re prediction as to the human’s whereabouts has already redeemed you, brother. You’re honor is restored.” He placed a hand on Rho’uk’s shoulder and then looked back towards the arena. “It is
mine
that must be reclaimed now. With blood.”

As Shu’ma turned to move towards the balcony exit, Rho’uk thought to call out to him. To remind him of their mandate. Of his duty to the Sect, and more yet, to the Gods,
before
himself. He thought to at least warn him of the human’s ability. But he remained quiet. None of it would have convinced Shu’ma to reconsider. To swallow his pride and return to Gaia with the human,
intact
. His mind was set.

Instead, Rho’uk watched his comrade exit the balcony, their remaining compliment of warriors following him. He remained where he was, his mind finally made up. He would not interfere. The Gods had brought them to this point, which meant they had done so for a reason. It was time that he started to put his faith in that. Whatever came would be There will. When the time came for him to act, he would feel Them calling him to. Leading him down the correct path. He was sure of it. He
had
to be. Everything depended on it.

RYZA

“Everyone keep moving!” Ethan shouted in the general direction of the mass of, what were soon to be,
ex
-slaves, slowly filing towards the dock silo bay housing the freighter that would fly them all out of this place. At least that was the plan.

Once they had opened all of the doors to the containment cells and disengaged the restraint bands of all the slave workers within them, Ethan guessed it would take some prodding to get them to make a run for it. Living under the strict and constant regiment of their mechanized overseers, the instinctive urge all being’s felt inherently within themselves to flee and fight their way free from torment and enslavement had been systematically beaten from them. Though there had been little physical abuse, the monotonous drone of each day’s work schedule, along with the constant surety that any lagging or slight deviation from the daily regimented schedule, let alone an attempt at escaping, would be met with certain vaporization, had effectively broken the spirits of most of the beings held here.

With that in mind, it had expectedly taken some to convince them to get out of the cells and moving. Luckily, most beings were also fairly quick to recall those same survival instincts, and once the first few had freed themselves, without deadly repercussions, the others had quickly followed. From there, it hadn’t been fast going and they had made fairly good time moving the entire group from the cell quarters to the docking bay, though Ethan knew they were running out of time. Soon enough, the security mechs would free themselves from the trap he had sprung, and when that happened they would have a fight on their hands, with hundreds of unarmed ex-slaves caught in the cross hairs.

Pushing his way to the front of the group, he passed through the open bay door and stepped out into the silo where Elora and Mac were waiting, the latter with a rather sour look on his face.

“How many more are there?” Mac asked, impatiently

“They’re almost all out,” Ethan answered. “Tarik is sending up the last groups of them now.” He nodded towards the freighter. “Did you get the engines fired up?”

“They’re warming,” Mac answered with a nod. “We’ll be ready to dust off in a few minutes.”

Ethan gave the man a wary look. “So, you’ll be able to fly it?”

“It’s a little bigger than what I’m used to,” Mac replied, his eyes thoroughly surveying the mass of the vessel before them with a growing look of uncertainty, “but a ship is a ship, basically. Repulsers. Thrusters. They all work pretty much the same. I’ll get us off the ground.”

“What about landing?” Ethan pressed.

Mac’s confidence didn’t appear to improve. “Why don’t we worry about that once we’re in a position to land. First things first, kid.”