The Hunter on Arena (14 page)

The man barked out another command and the two hard ones, acting in unison, rolled silently forward. Batta Flor looked around,
but there was no way to go except through the doors. He could not even attack the hated metallic men without letting go of
Keri and this he refused to do. Teeth bared in a hideous grimace, rumbling growls emanating from his slavering lips, Batta
Flor backed through the swinging doors.

As the doors swung shut behind them, they found themselves dazzled by a light far brighter than any they had ever known before,
set in the ceiling like a captive sun. Even Batta Flor was stunned by the ceaseless glare. His arms dropped to his sides and
Keri huddled against him, burying her face in his thick fur, closing her eyes against the painful light.

In that instant of helpless passivity, they were seized in a firm, unyielding grip, so strong that not even Batta Flor’s incredible
strength could break it. Tears streamed down their cheeks, blinding them, hiding the identity of their captors, which only
served to increase Keri’s terror. She flung herself hard against the implacable grip and screamed with fear and frustration.
A tiny, sharp prick touched her arm, barely noticeable against the larger terrors, but immediately afterward, a strange lassitude
filled her limbs, weighing her down, then carrying her away on a cloud of buoyant light.

When she awakened, it was to a headache even more blinding than the light had been. She put her hand to her head and touched
the hated, metal plate fitted flush with her skin. It tingled with a life it had not had before. She rolled to one side and
retched. When the bitter taste of bile filled her mouth, she spat and swung upright, gasping for air, wanting to know what
had happened but too fearful to touch her head again.

“It appears to be some sort of receiving unit,” said Batta Flor.

Keri raised her eyes and saw that Batta Flor was seated a short distance away atop a shiny, metal table. Implanted in his
skull above his ear was the bright, silver disc which from the clipped fur around it had obviously been tended to. He seemed
very calm and undisturbed by the fact that their flesh had been mutilated.

“But why?” cried Keri. “Why are they doing this to us? What do they want from us?” Before Batta Flor could reply, a voice
spoke out inside her head.

“Welcome to our world. You are the newest combatants from those gathered from the farthest reaches of the star system. You
will find honor and purpose in the arena and with each victory you will be rewarded.”

Keri was too stunned to speak, all but overwhelmed by the voice that spoke from inside her skull. She clutched her head with
both hands and screamed. Batta Flor slipped from the table and came to her instantly,
supporting her and glaring around, searching for the source of the voice which had fallen silent.

“Why should we fight for you?” demanded Batta Flor, his voice harsh with anger.

“Because it is your destiny,” the voice replied.

“My destiny?” queried Batta Flor. “According to who?”

“You are a creature of our making—we made you and your destiny is ours to command.”

“And what about her?” asked Batta Flor. “Did you make her, too?”

“We have acquired her and she is ours. If you wish to be free, you have the right to fight for that privilege.”

“You’ll really free us if we win?”

“We honor our promises,” the voice replied. “But know that no quarter is given. There can only be one victor.”

“You mean if we lose we die?” Keri said in disbelief. “You’d actually kill us for losing?”

“The price is high,” admitted the voice, “but so are the stakes—you are wagering your lives.”

“What about Keri?” Batta Flor asked after a moment’s pause. “I can take care of myself, but if I agree to fight, you have
to leave her out of this.”

“No, Batta Flor, if you fight, so will I,” said Keri, placing her hand on his arm. “I learned a lot from Braldt, I know how
to handle a sword and a knife and two of us stand a better chance than one alone. I am with you.”

The dungeon was dark. The reptilian water carrier
had long since trundled past, muttering to herself and doling out their meager allotment of water. Braldt had never been
able to understand what she was saying, even with the aid of the translator. It seemed to be some grievous litany of woe,
repeated over and over until it took on the cadence of a religious chant. The scaly creature was so wrapped up in the contemplation
and recitation of her miseries that she barely seemed aware of them and at times would pass up one cell or another until their
angry cries and the banging of metal cups against the bars broke into her musings and returned her to the present.

Braldt had come to feel a strange sense of sympathy for the odd creature and normally he tried to make out some of her words,
but tonight all of his attention was focused on Septua and the tale he told.

“They came from old earth in the beginning,” said the dwarf, looking round the circle at his rapt audience and taking the
opportunity to slip his hand up the side of Randi’s thigh. Randi’s eyes flickered and a muscle tensed in her jaw but she allowed
the dwarf’s hand to remain.

“It was a long, long time ago, further back than any one alive can remember. They was a seafaring people, rode out on the
waters in long, wooden boats and took what they wanted. No one could stand up against ’em. They were that fierce—big an’ tall
an’ strong with eyes blue as the skies an’ ’air as white as the sun. Some say they were the children of the sun god an’ the
sea.

“When earth began to die, they was among the very first to leave, sailing their ships to the stars. They called their new
world Valhalla, the ’ome of the gods. Lots of people left earth then. The seas was dying an’ so were the people, poisoned
by their own greed and stupidity. Most of ’em went to the moon an’ Mars an’ other places that was close by an’ spent most
of their time figuring out how to ’elp those still left on earth.

“The Scandis though, they figured that earth was dead and they left it for good. They found Valhalla and settled it alone
an’ they wouldn’t let no one who wasn’t one of them set foot on the place.

“It be beautiful,” said Septua, his voice heavy with emotion, “Valhalla is. It’s easy to believe that the gods made it for
their own selves. It ’as mountains so tall an’ beautiful it breaks your heart to look at ’em. The sky is blue, too, not black
or red like other places I’ve seen since. And it has water everywhere, lots an’ lots of water, clear an’ clean an’ pure, too.
But that was about all it ’ad. There was no life. No animals, no fish, no birds, no nothin’. An’ then they found that the
planet itself was made out of solid granite an’ didn’t have no minerals or nothin’ that they needed to make things work. It
was an empty world.

“They ’ad to figure out a way to make it work. They couldn’t go back to earth—there was nothing there for them an’ they ’ad
already made folks mad ’cause they wouldn’t ’elp out, send a tithe back to earth, like all the others. That’s when they ’it
on the plan. They would become as they ’ad been in the old days of glory. They would sail their ships among the stars an’
take what they needed from those that ’ad. There was lots of folks travelin’ the skies, even way back then.

“It worked good for a time, a long time, but then the different worlds came together an’ formed the World Council. It was
supposed to police the skies an’ make sure no wrongs was done by nobody. The Scandis ignored ’em for as long as they could
but eventually the Council caught up with ’em an’ told ’em they ’ad to stop it or else they’d blast ’em outta the skies. They
’ad the force behind ’em, too, so us Scandis had to listen, even if we didn’t like it.

“Times got grim then, an’ we mighta’ died out, but the Council, they relented and gived us a mining license, said we could
learn to survive like everyone else, by workin’ for our right to live. An’ that’s what they been doin’ ever since, claimin’
empty planets an’ minin’ ’em an’ the meteors an’ asteroids in the skies for the metals an’ minerals.”

“Seems to me like they decided to harvest a few more things, like other people’s ships and people themselves,” Randi said
dryly.

“Salvage,” Septua said defensively as he slid his hand a little higher. “We only take what’s legally ours to
claim. Laws of the Council, ain’t none who could argue otherwise.”

“I could!” Randi said bitterly.

“And I,” added Allo. “We were attacked, plain and simple. We were no helpless, drifting hulk, no victim waiting to be salvaged.”

“And I,” said Braldt, curious as to how he and his world figured into this scheme. “I was taken from my world by force. How
do you explain that? And who are these hard ones? What is their role?”

Septua was obviously uneasy with the hostile confrontation of his companions. Defense of their captors was clearly an unwise
course. Avoiding their pointed comments, he seized gratefully on the tail end of Braldt’s question.

“The ’ard ones? You mean the ’bots? They just be mindless workers, no minds of their own. They takes their orders from us.
Do what they’re told to do. It be easier than tryin’ to deal with real folks what can argue an’ fight back. They does the
mindless drudge work where a real person might get bored. An’ you don’t have to feed ’em or give ’em clothes or even a place
to sleep. You just turns ’em off when you’re done. They’re real good ’cause they can work places that got poison air, or no
air a’tall, places that would kill a real person. I had two of ’em once myself. Come in real ’andy.”

“So if you’re one of them,” Allo said slowly, “how come you’re sitting here in this cell with us? And how come you don’t look
like them?”

Septua wriggled uncomfortably and stared down at the floor, the flaccid folds of his mobile face drooping
sadly. He even removed his hand from Randi’s thigh before replying in a low whisper that no one could hear.

“What?” asked Randi. “What did you say?”

“Caught me,” he said in a slightly louder voice, but still he did not raise his eyes.

“Caught you? Caught you doing what?” asked Braldt, wondering what the little man could have done that would have been so bad
as to be so cruelly punished by his own people.

“I ain’t really a Scandi, guess you can tell. But me folks lived among ’em for generations until we almost become one of ’em.
Called us lantsmen, let us come with ’em when they left earth. My dad and me mum, they were normal-sized and they ’ad ’air,
too. But I always been small,” Septua said in a soft voice. “I were even born small. All ’cept my head. My mum said it were
big so it could hold all my brains. She always said I were smarter than anyone gived me credit for. It were ’er suggested
to the Thanes that they could use me to salvage stuff in places that were too small for others to go. Places that even the
’bots couldn’t go ’cause they don’t bend too good an’ of course, they can’t think for themselves, don’t always recognize somethin’
of value when they see it.

“I worked for the Thanes ’til I was growed. Then my mum took sick, needed a new ’eart. But the Thanes, they decided she weren’t
important enough an’ we didn’t ’ave enough money to pay for it ourselves. She lasted for a time an’ then she died. After she
went, I quit salvagin’ for the Thanes, just sat an’ thought about things. An’ then I got mad. It din’t seem right, ya know?
I’d
worked for them since I were real little. Riskin’ my life lots o’ times, doin’ dangerous stuff, goin’ after somethin’ they
wanted. An’ then when we needed somethin’, well, we wasn’t good enough for ’em and so they let her die. I decided it weren’t
goin’ to be like that no more. If they would let my mum die, well, chances were they would chuck me out just as fast if I
weren’t no more use to ’em. I said to myself, Septua, it’s just you now an’ there’s no one to look after you, so you gots
to take care of yourself. Set somethin’ aside for the ’ard times. An’ so that’s what I done.”

Fascinated by the dwarf’s story, Randi urged him to continue. “How did you do that, my friend, and what did you do to get
yourself thrown in here with us?”

Septua smiled, a gap-toothed grin full of satisfaction. “I went back to the Thanes. Told ’em I were ready to work again an’
they was willin’ to believe me. Had no reason not to, never crossed their minds that someone might dare to oppose them. After
that, every time I did a job for them, I kept something back for myself, a bit of precious metal, some coins, a gem, something
small that wouldn’t be missed. It were easy an’ they never suspected a thing. After a while, it came to be a goodly collection.
I were rich, but I still lived like the poorest of the poor.

“One day I were out in the square an’ I smiled at this woman, red hair, green eyes, an’ legs that stretched until tomorrow.
You know, the kind that would bring the gods back to life. Well, you’d thought that I had insulted her an’ she starts screamin’
at me, makin’ fun of me an’ callin’ me all sorts of names. Said how dare I look at her,
me being so puny an’ all without the means to so much as dust the path before her.