Chapter 2 – Goodbye Gorelion #2
My lips twitched into something that might have been a smile if I was trying, but it was just me in my bunk so I didn't bother.
Either I'd win the damn thing, or I'd have an excellent few weeks of life.
And since I was a blip, just dust tumbling through the universe on borrowed time, that sounded okay, maybe.
I'd grown up being told I was special, that we were all special, that we were chosen for our mission. Our souls had been plucked from the ether and put into our mortal forms so that we might serve our Earth god and do right by His sacred mandate. We all had a role to play.
In truth, being no one, being nothing… there was a lot of comfort in that.
There wasn't any pressure; it wasn't like I had loved ones to worry about or anyone who'd miss me beyond a wistful thought or two now and again.
So either I'd make it or I wouldn't. Sure, I'd love to win – the desire was a sharp ache beneath my breastbone – but if I didn't…
then the conglomerate could have my corpse delivered to Seraphim and none of it would have mattered anyway.
It was a thin comfort, but I was used to that: threadbare and familiar.
I tapped the lights of my bunk out and rolled over, pulling the soft blanket up to my chin and letting my eyes flutter shut.
Tomorrow, I'd pack up and start looking for a way to the arena.
Because who was I kidding? Alet might be lending me the entry fee – that was about as kind as she got, giving me a loan she knew I'd never repay; it was more than I would have expected, which was depressing in its own right – but she sure as hell wasn't going to book my way there.
It was up to me to make my way. I'd figure it all out. I always did.
I dreamt of blood that night. I mean, of course I did.
That was my just reward for watching too many compilations like Most Surprising Contestant Conclusions at Galactic Tournament (NO BEHEADINGS) before bed; there hadn't been beheadings, but I saw some rib cages explode and that was, all things considered, maybe worse.
Even with my head throbbing from lack of sleep, and nausea churning away in my stomach, I got out of bed and ready for the day with what others might call a spring in my step.
As I poked my head into the den and grabbed a carb square to go, my bag and my swords slung over my shoulder, I took a moment to survey the space that had been my home for a decade.
This early in the morning, there weren't any guests and the overhead lights were on, casting watery light over the usually dark and moody den.
The large circular space looked… worn. A bit grimy.
The raised platform where I danced was scuffed, its paint in desperate need of a refresh.
The bar was still sticky with last night's drinks.
The branching rooms where guests placed bets or had private visits from the employees looked dingy, fabric torn at the edges of sofas where claws had dug in a little too vigorously.
I nibbled at the edge of my lip, something like an ache pulsing in of my chest: it was like the moment as a child when you realize that what you've believed so far has been wrong, that you've been tucked safely inside of a fantasy that you've now passed beyond, and there isn't ever any turning back.
It might have been nostalgia or maybe wistfulness, while also feeling like I was standing in clothes two sizes too small.
Honestly, as a human living on an alien space station, the secondhand clothes I could afford were never two sizes too small. I always had to have them tailored to be even close to the right size, and the right size for a dancer in Trident's den was always just one singular size too small.
It was embarrassing how little time it had taken me that morning to pack.
My whole life was on my back – a handful of clothes, a few hygiene products, a tatty journal, and my identity documents, the ones I'd gotten back when I first arrived on station.
They'd put me a whole year in debt to Alet, because Seraphim didn't equip its young scions with actual identity papers and so we were, to Primus anyway, complete non-entities.
I didn't know what kind of strings Trident had to pull in order to get documents for a gangly human teenager, but they sure had been fucking expensive.
Still, she could have never gotten me documents at all, and I'd have been even more fucked that I was now.
From Alet Trident, small mercies were basically grand gestures, and I was still grateful to have papers.
Aside from my backpack, which was humiliatingly light, I had my wristband, loaded with every scrap of information I could cram onto it that might be helpful, and my swords.
That was it: the material sum total of my little life.
I took in one deep breath and then set out down the hall to Trident's office.
I hadn't said goodbye to anyone else – no one was up this early anyway, and I didn't think I could handle seeing pity in their eyes when I shared my (probably stupid, definitely foolhardy, maybe suicidal) plan – but I had pings scheduled that would show up in their inboxes once I was off-station.
Trident was up and already seated in her nest of whirling screens and flashing lights.
Time never seemed to move in her office, or rather it was always moving; she was in a vortex of information and data, one that never slowed and so she could never slow.
Her eyestalks didn't even pivot to me as I entered, but I could see myself on a camera feed slowly rotating near chest height.
"It's done," she said, and one of her hands flicked in my direction.
My wrist buzzed as the file arrived, and I pulled it up.
CONGRATULATIONS CONTESTANT SASHEN SOLAR, the note screamed in violent colours and undulating letters.
As it flashed to life, a tinny trumpet sounded from my wrist. I slapped the mute button, grimacing.
PLEASE REPORT TO THENAT-6 FOR ON-BOARDING NO LATER THAN STARDATE 3.
191.8.19 (MAR STANDARD CALENDAR). THIS IS A BINDING LEGAL CONTRACT.
And there was in fact a massive legal document attached, which I'd get around to reading eventually.
"Great," I said, quickly calculating how long I had to get to Thenat-6 before I was in violation of my shiny new contract.
Fifteen days, give or take, and it would take most of that time to get there unless we burned through the Maelstrom, and there was no way I could afford that.
All at once, a wave of anxiety surged upwards, and I found myself trying not to squirm before Trident as I made my…
last impression? I wanted her to think of me as slightly less pathetic than I'd been the night before.
"Listen, I really am grateful that you didn't send me right back when you found me on your shuttle.
Other people would have, and I've had ten good years here with you. "
She snorted, a thin sound that whistled from her slit-like nostrils. "It sounds like you are determined not to win. That is rather unlike the child who thought he had outwitted my security systems. That boy was cocksure. His arrogance got him far."
I stared at her, blinking. "Wait, does that mean you knew –"
Of course she had. In what world did I imagine Alet Trident, who had her finger on the pulse of everything all of the time, didn't clue in that a scrawny teenager had snuck onto her shuttle and hidden himself in a storage closet?
My mouth moved of its own accord, a grin tugging at my lips. "See, you do love me!"
"I do not love you."
"I think you might," I sighed. "You don't have any spawn of your own, but you have me. And you know I'm going to go off and win this stupid Tournament, and then I'll give you a palace."
One eyestalk tilted in my direction. Her mouth thinned. "I do not want a palace," she said, voice reedy. "Be gone. I will place many bets against you."
"But more of them on me," I insisted, turning and heading back for the door.
Behind me, I heard Trident's thin voice fluting out one final time. "I would take the asteroid. Or perhaps the battle cruiser…"
With a laugh, I headed out from my little den and to the station beyond. I just needed to find my way to Thenat-6 and then, well, whatever came next would come next. For now, I was free.
My best bet at finding a ride was to head to the leisure courts near the launch bay.
I hadn't been in ages and had to stop several times to consult a station map on my wrist. For someone who had left Seraphim to see the whole universe, I'd seen very little of it beyond Trident's den and my roster of clients.
I suppose I'd also seen a lot of aliens naked. All the universe in some surprising genitalia, and all that.
The leisure courts were buzzing with activity, which wasn't much of a surprise.
Yellow Fin Station was a major trading centre for the eastern wing of Primus space, and sometimes we even had visitors from outside of the alliance.
The station was also the launching point for cruises to the Gorelion Nebula, which was always popular when there were solar flares, and popular off-season when it was cheaper.
With all of the people coming and going, there had to be someone headed toward Thenat-6.
If I could get to any part of the cluster, I could absolutely find a hopper to take me to the orbit-locked moon where the Tournament would take place.
With the Tournament only a few weeks away, there could even be personal cruisers headed there to set up for the duration, anchored within easy shuttle distance.
My research had found that tickets sold out years in advance.