Chapter 23 – Dead-End
I tried to pretend that I couldn't see my schedule on Day Eleven, because if I looked at it, it would become clear that I had barely more than one day left to live in our little village, and then the Tournament would begin.
The village was definitely not the ship, which felt like a fever dream when I thought about it too much, like a hallucination I used to torture myself. Even so, the village was better that what was going to be waiting for us on the sands.
When I did make myself glance at my schedule after we’d both had our requisite sit-downs with Sky Pebble, it was clear that we at least had some time to ourselves – Training, Silver Sea had helpfully earmarked, with an addendum that read (or rest, or confessions of profound feelings) – and then tomorrow was set to be busy.
Final interviews with media, another event with some sponsors, a group session to review expectations, requirements, and regulations, final fittings for our outfits, and something labelled ominously as Final Draw.
I sat on the floor at the edge of the hot training room, a large cup of juice next to me with beads of condensation dripping from the edge, half-watching Araxis as he moved through his sequences, and then switched into another set I was unfamiliar with given my completely lacklustre training.
I tapped out a quick message to Silver Sea.
What's 'Final Draw'? I followed that with a squiggled drawing of me, looking confused, and added, You'll note that I am reviewing my schedule!
Her message flashed back almost immediately. Congratulations: you are meeting the base requirements for a competent participant.
I snorted. I'd take competent any day, and admittedly that was probably a stretch.
Another message popped up a moment later.
Participant starting locations are determined by lottery this year.
This is good for you: in other years, contestants were placed in proximity to each other in a way most likely to create conflict and entertaining viewing.
You would not have received an ideal starting point if your aim is survival.
Any chance you can send me a map of the arena?
ONLY if it's allowed, I wrote back. I tried to remember what I'd seen from compilation videos.
We hadn't spoken much about it with Vivith, except in agreeing that my objective in the arena would be to reach Araxis as quickly as possible. This wouldn't change anything.
A file pinged on my wrist display, and I flicked it up so that the map of the arena hovered before me. There were twelve numbered spots throughout the arena, but not at even intervals. I squinted, trying to see a pattern.
Do the drop locations make the conglomerate's logo? I asked. Because that's kind of tacky. Also, there aren't twelve of us.
Twelve is a number that attracts wealth, Silver Sea wrote back. And yes, you are correct. Ideally, you will be at Location 11 and Araxis will be at Location 12.
I could see why she said that: 11 was far away from all other drop points except 12, which curved a little closer to 3 and 4.
It was something else I could worry about, but what was the point?
I didn't get to choose where I was shoved onto the sands, and I didn't get to choose where anyone else was.
My objective was the same: get to Araxis, yield, and survive that first day.
Thankfully, each 'day' was only an hour of actual competition, compiled from seemingly endless cameras to make a robust stream of entertainment with commentary before, during, and after.
I sucked thoughtlessly on my straw, chewing the end as I stared at the map.
Make it to Araxis. Yield. Watch him win. Then…
Can we have a meeting after the Tournament is over?
I'd like to talk about options. I typed it out quickly before I could regret it.
Maybe having an actual path mapped out beyond 'feel sad' would help me.
Across the room, Araxis had queued up a holo opponent that had rushed him as soon as it had materialized.
Araxis launched into a series of lighting-fast blows, knocking the imaginary voltaari back with ease.
Silver Sea's response chimed. It is good you are still hopeful that you will survive. Yes, we can arrange this. Are you not planning to go to Xitera?
I huffed. Well, I definitely haven't been invited. Personally, I think I'd make a great concubine.
She sent back a little cartoon of herself, laughing, her golden eyes crinkled. I will reserve a flexible space in my schedule to meet with you. I am certain I could arrange a number of commercial contracts that leverage your audience engagement metrics for profit. Leave it with me.
When I looked back up, the holo had been obliterated, and Araxis was putting the practice swords away. Every movement was precise and careful, each gesture part of an elaborate dance only he knew the steps to.
I chewed on the end of my straw, watching him.
When he finally glanced my way, a smile curved my mouth, unbidden, and I pushed myself off the floor, wandering over to join him.
"How about I make you some tea," I offered, jostling his shoulder as we headed out of the training rooms and back toward the other common areas.
"And then we can look over the arena map and make a plan for what might happen if we're dropped far apart. "
"Yes, that is a wise course of action." Then, a beat later, his nose crinkling in amusement, he added, "Are you quite certain you're well? I have been reading about your physiology. Has your core temperature spiked?"
I rolled my eyes. "I don't have a fever.
And I'm allowed to want to get you alone so we can look at a map and talk strategy for hours.
I'm a complex person. And if I like the being alone part best and what might come after strategizing, well.
" I shrugged, and the private, pleased smile he sent me sent a thrill down my spine.
I could play to the audience and make him happy, at least for the final moments we had together.
So that's what we did – we strategized and planned, exploring best and worst case scenarios.
He outlined opponents' weaknesses with incisive commentary, assuring I could recite best approaches back no matter who I might end up stuck near.
He stressed at great length that I should be wary of Andiri, suggesting that my best course of action would be evasion; barring that, he suggested that I run.
He'd been tracking her speed and was confident I could outrun her, at a sprint anyway.
Personally, I thought that if I was trying to out-sprint someone keen on bashing my head in, my days were probably numbered, but I didn't want to upset Araxis so I dutifully repeated back the strategy he outlined and was pleased when he looked pleased.
We stopped only long enough to gather food to take back to his rooms, and then once my head was buzzing with a thousand permutations of what was going to be an awful, bloody day no matter how we sliced it, I fell into bed next to him – and while there was a part of me hoping that we might try some of the other ideas I’d come up with for hooking up here without being too surveilled, I don’t know.
It felt good to just be there with him and to refuse to give the conglomerate any more titillating footage to air.
Instead, Araxis pulled me close, holding me against his chest as his nose nuzzled the back of my neck.
He pressed a soft kiss to the mark he'd left earlier, and I willed myself to just be there with him.
To make that moment stretch into eternity.
To allow it to become my past, my present, my future; I luxuriated in it, knowing that things would change tomorrow.
And while I did fall asleep eventually – the feeling of being held, the warmth of his body, and the gentle rumble of his chest lulling me to sleep – I drifted for a long time in the space between sleeping and waking, suffused with contentment.
It should have been impossible, but let myself drift into some perfect micro-dimension of the universe, and there with him, I finally knew what it felt like to be happy, deep down in the marrow of my bones and in every cell of my body.
I wish it could have lasted forever. But nothing can, and fantasies built on foundations of sand are bound to come crashing down eventually.
It's just a question of who gets crushed beneath them when they do.
We all know how this goes, don't we? Of course it was me, left bloodied and broken and ruined.
I just hadn't realized that it would be Araxis who would raze what we were building to the ground.
There's a saying about plans and how they never survive contact with the enemy.
I don't know if that's a uniquely human idea, but it was certainly true in my case, because all the hours we'd spent planning – before arriving on Thenat-6 and as we drew nearer and nearer to stepping foot in the arena – amounted to nothing when I made contact with Seraphim.
Or I guess when they made contact with me.
We slogged through a morning of individual media interviews and a subsequent panel with all of the contestants, which largely amounted to everyone being asked about their strategy, saying some variation of either they planned to survive or they were keeping their plans under wraps, and then they'd say thanks to the people who cared about them.
Morbidly, after the panel, we all had to step into a booth and film a goodbye message for the viewing audience to be played if (when?) we were killed.