Chapter 15 – All That Glitters #3
I went to say thanks, but another cloud of glitter puffed off one of the ketaari's brushes, so I sneezed instead.
The blue ketaari yelped, then glared at me before getting back to work.
Next to me, the voltaari stood and grabbed at my swords.
"Come on," I hissed, eyes watery. "What am I going to hide in my swords? They're solid."
The voltaari snorted, and Silver Sea shook her head, charms jangling.
"In the 3.176 Tournament, a contestant hid capsules inside the hilts.
She poisoned two of the other participants before we realized what had happened.
" The thick and hard skin around her mouth made it hard to smile, but she flashed her teeth – close enough.
"She is now working at one of our prison camps, along with her family.
It does not pay to risk disqualification. "
Cool. Yes, just what I wanted to hear. Loved that.
I smiled blithely as the blue ketaari began plucking at the seams of my clothes so that they sat in a different way.
He didn't have a nose, just slits in his face for nostrils, but I still got the feeling that he was wrinkling his…
not-nose in displeasure. "Sufficient?" he asked over his shoulder.
Silver Sea nodded. "Yes."
The voltaari handed me back my blades, and tossed my pack to Silver Sea before climbing back in the hopper and hurtled it off of the landing platform and into the jungle below, the little vehicle rattling the whole way.
I thought I caught a glimpse of it weaving beneath the pillars of the promenade before it winked out in the deep shadows of the canopy and the towering complex overhead.
Maybe they docked shuttles or smaller vehicles beneath the platform on which the whole complex rested.
I certainly didn't see any elsewhere, and I couldn't imagine that the audience was parking at the utilitarian airfield we'd left.
They had me wait at the end of the promenade while they positioned the cameras all along the length, with two running in a mad orbit around my head, and then I had to walk the whole length while looking serious, but also natural.
And then I had to make the walk again.
And again.
It took six times before Silver Sea and the korzoi resigned themselves to using whatever they had.
Silver Sea insisted that the korzoi would be able to make at least some of it look good, but she looked irritated and pinched the whole time.
After my final approach, the korzoi grumbled at some length, which more or less sounded like they were chewing rocks, and Silver Sea sighed.
"Quite right. We'll make the corrections for tomorrow. This was good practice."
I was bustled inside, Silver Sea returning my pack to me as she led me through the complex.
Most of it, she told me, was off-limits: the participants remained in their village until it was time to travel to the arena, except for interviews with the media or with conglomerate representatives.
If I was needed elsewhere, Silver Sea would find me.
If I needed anything, I would send her a message on my new wristband, which she picked up for me as we stopped by a golden spire-like building that was apparently their command central.
The view I got of even the first floor was bright and shimmering with a thousand screens.
I caught a glimpse of myself on one of them, sneezing as glitter hung in the air in front of my face.
A ketaari sat in front of that screen, rolling the clip back and playing it again, and again.
Also loved that. No doubt that would make my intro footage, and then it would be memorialized in some video compilation. There it was, my own type of immortality. The korzoi stayed behind, lumbering toward a big door at the back of the space where presumably they'd start their editing process.
Silver Sea was, she told me firmly, my only point of contact with the outside world.
Sometimes, spectators would try to speak with contestants before the Tournament began.
I must remember my contract and refrain from any contact that could result in disqualification.
She mentioned the prison camp three more times, and also told me that they had a detention centre in an underwater mine that would be particularly unpleasant for humans.
I didn't know why she seemed certain I was going to contravene the rules.
I mean, I was, but she couldn't know that. But I suppose I was, as a human, still a massive unknown, and I got the feeling that my behaviour might reflect on her in some way. I guess she'd drawn the short straw.
Finally, Silver Sea showed me to the housing for the participants.
She called it a village, but it was more like an apartment complex: the rectangular building climbed upwards so that the top floors were bathed in sunlight.
Inside were several floors of training rooms – some for sparring, others with exercise equipment, even a level with a pool – as well as dining facilities, a medical suite, a whole slew of common areas and event spaces where we'd meet the other participants and important sponsors, and then private apartments for each of the contestants.
The apartments were shunted off to one side of the building with a separate staircase, almost like a tower hidden within the so-called village.
I felt like I'd been on a tour of a very strange set for a very strange dating show for eons – I could see why they'd tried the switch when things had gone badly last time, but honestly, you can't just invite people for a bloodbath and then ask them to make out instead – when finally Silver Sea paused in front of a polymer door set into a white wall; it was dyed green.
"Your quarters," she said, tapping away on her wristband for a moment before straightening.
"Now that we have concluded your official orientation, I am obliged to review relevant broadcast disclaimers with you. "
I wanted to sit down very badly. This morning, I'd woken up curled against Araxis.
I'd kissed him and we'd laughed as we ate breakfast. I'd held a sad child against me and made them less sad.
And now I was standing in an empty white hallway with an irritated ketaari who already thought I was useless.
"Disclaim away," I said. It was harder by the minute to keep my smile in place.
She cleared her throat. "As a reminder, all participant interactions are subject to use by the conglomerate for broadcast purposes.
All participant actions in all designated areas are subject to use for broadcast purposes – designated areas means the entirety of the village, excepting hygiene rooms unless we have reason to suspect contract violation in which case surveillance might be instated.
All information accessed by or stored on any devices, including wristbands and medical devices, may be shared at the conglomerate's discretion.
Participants may speak to and train with other participants, but may not speak with outside parties who have not been approved by their designated point of contact – in your case, me.
Participants may not interfere with or sabotage other participants in any way, as such actions will render them subject to disqualification.
Participants must stay in their designated areas, unless travel elsewhere is approved by their designated point of contact.
I have sent a duplicate of your contract to your wristband.
" On cue, it chimed softly at my wrist. Silver Sea blinked once at me, then asked, "Do you have any questions? "
"I don't think so." I tapped at the wristband – it was a nice one, way nicer than the one I'd left on Creche Thiel's ship – and pulled up Silver Sea's message. She had attached the contract and my schedule for the eleven days leading up to the Tournament. "Everyone else is arriving tomorrow?"
"Yes. They will each receive a similar orientation.
All participants will convene in Common Space C tomorrow evening for a social mixer.
We have dancers attending, and some corporate sponsors.
You will have a fitting mid-day. You will also have your first participant interview.
Please review your schedule regularly, and send me a message if you are confused.
" I opened the schedule and did a quick skim.
It was colour-coded and sorted down to the minute, with designated breaks for Hygiene (**Human Standard Schedule**).
"Thanks for this." I took a half-step toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
Her yellow eyes narrowed for a second, nostrils flattening in irritation. "It is in your schedule." Silver Sea opened the door into my room and, as I stepped inside the cool dark space, she shut the door firmly, finally leaving me on my own.
Except… I wasn't on my own. I was being filmed.
I knew the conglomerate didn't keep a broadcast running at all times; they sliced and diced footage to make a compelling few hours of daily broadcast viewing once the lead-up began tomorrow, and then the footage would be scraped to play alongside the daily broadcast from inside of the arena, adding interest and context.
The odds for each of us would vary dramatically over the next eleven days as bookies across the galaxy determined our likelihood of success.
Editors would give us narrative arcs and stories, playing up rivalries or, in my case, burgeoning romances in order to increase audience engagement.
But there had to be a lot of boring footage that never made it to broadcast, so I figured if I was very boring that first night, I could almost pretend I wasn't being observed.
Lights hummed on as I stepped into the dark space, casting a gentle orange glow over the apartment.
It was simple: a large open room with a massive bed, a seating area with couches and chairs that seemed to be actually intended for human bodies, and a massive media display that blinked on and hummed an enticing pink colour.
There were two walls of windows, with blinds firmly drawn all the way down.
I dropped my bag on one of the couches and kicked off my boots, padding across the carpeted floor and exploring some of the adjoining rooms. There was a room with a steam shower, another with a sink and toilet, and a closet that was larger than my room had been on the ship.
Inside were dozens of outfits, all of them looking like they were approximately the right size and all of them made for someone with my configuration of limbs.
That was particularly great – I hated trying to close tail holes.
I poked around a bit, taking in the jumpsuits, the training gear, and what appeared to be some very skimpy dance-wear.
Well, they knew I was a dancer. It seemed like they'd prepared accordingly. My body had been what earned me my living; no doubt it would also be a way for the conglomerate to garner some viewership.
I wandered back into the main room again, looking at some of the wall panels.
A brief investigation revealed that there was a hidden pole in one corner that could be brought out by pressing a button.
I guess they did want me to gyrate to make some good footage.
I snorted, twirling around it once, lazily, before sending it away.
Maybe I'd wear my lumpy sweaters and watch media the whole time, just for fun.
I wasn't going to be getting the residuals, so it wasn't like I needed to make sure I'd have more time on air.
Besides, once Araxis arrived, we'd have plenty of time on broadcast. Why give them more content when they weren't even paying me for it?
I dropped onto the bed, soft and massive, and held my swords to my chest, staring up blankly at the ceiling. My fingers traced the ridges of the sheath, lingering on the seam where I'd hidden Araxis's quill.
It felt like I hadn't seen him in years, but it hadn't even been a day.
Eventually, my stomach got the best of me and I left my quarters to go to the dining room and kitchen.
It was surprisingly cozy, with a broad kitchen and a massive low dining table, with higher tables tucked in corners in the room.
The cupboards and fridges were full of ingredients and ready-to-eat food, so I found a familiar dish – fish in a red vegetable sauce – and heated it up, scarfing it down before tipping the dishes into the designated cleaner.
I explored a bit more, then made myself some tea. I lingered over the choices, thinking about the abayan teas I saw there – but that might be too obvious. I stuck to a bitter marn tea instead that I'd come to like on Yellow Fin, and headed back to my room with a cup and a plan.
It was creepy, being in the empty village on my own, but I just had to remember that I wasn't on my own.
I was being watched in that command centre.
And soon, I'd be watched by millions of people across the galaxy.
It was like I was on stage, all of the time.
And if I had to be on stage, I might as well make a show of it, although I wasn't planning on putting on the kind of show that the conglomerate had clearly intended.
Instead, I found a soft pair of lounge pants and a loose sleeveless shirt in the closet, and slipped into those, carefully hanging my other clothes on the provided hangers. Then I settled into bed with a cup of tea and started rifling through the curated media selection.
If we were going to make everyone believe that Araxis and I were falling for each other, it made sense to me that I wanted to look like a sap.
Dancers were known to be a bit icy and hard to reach.
We were great companions, and dancer characters in media always had hearts of gold, but you didn't get into that career if you were a hopeless romantic who'd fall in love in two weeks.
Unless, I thought quite smugly, I did a little work on my image.
It wasn't hard to find a romance serial with a premise that sounded truly over-the-top – time travelling star-crossed lovers, fated to find and then lose each other in their quest across space and time – and to settle in for the evening, well on my way to positioning myself as a sweet, simple dancer who yearned for love to find him in this hopeless place.