Chapter 24 – Red Star Collapsing
The thing about your imminent death is that, once you've accepted it, you really stop giving a shit about a lot of other stuff. Partway through the tea, I decided I was done, so I just left. I wasn’t even at the same table as Araxis, so what was the point?
I certainly didn’t want to talk to some malat sponsor about the best time of year to tour the Gorelion Nebula or whether I thought Ofesa Siol would incorporate more synthcore into her next album.
I went up to my room and I took out all of the clothes that had been ordered for and fitted to me and I threw them on the floor as I sorted through them for something comfortable for the participant briefing.
I went to the kitchen and ate an entire container of froth, which was the closest thing to ice cream they made in space even if it tasted vaguely of damp.
That was brin palates for you. I went up to the rooftop and stood where my blood was still staining the sandstone, which was maybe morbid but it weirdly made me feel a bit better.
I'd almost died then, and since then I'd gotten to fuck Araxis again, so at least there was that. And I would really piss Seraphim off when I refused their offer and died before they could force me back to their garbage station. And I'd said some good last words for the camera.
I went to the briefing because I had to, and it was more or less what I'd expected.
After the meeting, we'd draw for our drop locations.
We could yield, but we were not obligated to accept someone's yield – a yield was not a guarantee of safety.
We could not interact with each other outside of the arena once the Tournament began: we'd be shown to and from our quarters by our handlers, and we wouldn't be able to view any results from the Tournament so far.
They would take our wristbands from us tomorrow morning when we geared up and we wouldn't get them back, period; they were conglomerate property.
For the duration of the Tournament, we would, in essence, be isolated in a locked room waiting for bouts of violence.
You'd know who you had killed, but not who was left standing.
Any battle could be the last, or just one in a string of remaining fights.
When only one participant was remaining, a song would blare from the arena speakers – they played us a sample, as if we hadn't all heard it in every compilation clip ever – and that was it, off to the victory ceremony with the taste of blood still in your mouth.
There would be cameras everywhere, but we were to ignore them completely.
We were not allowed to speak directly to the cameras; we were not allowed to address the audience or the viewers at home, and if we tried, they'd edit what we said out.
I guess they'd really cracked down after having to cancel the last Tournament due to political unrest and contentious ketaari land claims. It was too bad: I could have used my last moments to get in a few final jabs at Seraphim as I bled out.
Once the briefing had concluded, we filed into a different room to draw drop spots.
One by one, we walked up to a flat gray panel and pressed our palm down, and a number flashed up on a screen in front of us.
There was a swarm of silver cameras hovering near the ceiling, reporting the data back to bookies all across the galaxy who would then adjust the odds and take additional rounds of betting.
I wondered distantly how many credits Alet Trident was making off of this whole thing. How many were at my expense?
I went in the middle of the pack and was pleased when I ended up with 11.
Araxis went near the end, and was set to be at the other end of the arena.
Our eyes met, and I could feel a small flock of cameras whirring in closer to catch our reactions, so I just smiled at him.
We'd planned for each possible position, so we could make it work.
Of course, I didn't intend on surviving that long.
The participant who would be closest to me ended up being Andiri of Creche Ena, and from the creasing around her eyes when her number flashed up and the slow curl of a smile, I knew she was pleased.
I felt only a detached serenity.
"Alright, all draws have been determined," barked the marn who'd been running the draw.
His lower set of arms folded across his stomach as his upper set gestured broadly.
"Participants, once you leave this room, you will move into isolation.
The next time you see each other will be in the arena. Good fortune to all of you!"
A sudden cracking sensation spider-webbed through me, the veneer of calm fracturing. I'd thought we would still have tonight. I peered over my shoulder, looking for Silver Sea. She was frowning and moved toward the marn to speak in hushed tones; I saw Araxis's handler going over to do the same.
They'd probably both been counting on good metrics from our final night together.
"Well," I said, stepping off to the side of the room where Araxis was standing, black eyes staring up at the projected screen of the arena and its numbered spots. "I guess this is it."
I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to lament that we didn't have more time, and I wanted to warn him about what was coming – but this wasn't the place and there just wasn't time.
"You know what you must do tomorrow," he said, stare still fixed on the map, the skin around his eyes tight. I could hear the faintest whine from his subvocals, a sharp hum that he seemed to swallow back as he caught himself. He looked to me then, and said, "Be careful, Sashen. Please."
I smiled, a reflex. "It's all going to be fine," I said, and it would be – for him.
And in the grand scheme of things, it would be for me.
I gave in to impulse, then, and reached and touched his hand, grasping it for a moment.
"You're going to win this. You're going to change everything for the better.
You're going to reshape the whole Concord; you'll make concordance out of difference.
It's a beautiful thing to do, Araxis, and you will do it. "
He blinked then, rapidly, his hand tightening around my own.
"You found a translation of the interview," he murmured, eyes liquid and shining with the bright lights overhead.
The sound around us seemed to wash out, fading into the background, and as we looked into each other's eyes, it was like the whole universe stopped moving.
It was just the two of us, and he was the supernova that had drawn me close and given shape to the rest of the galaxy.
Everything that mattered to me was anchored in him.
"I did." I stroked the back of his hand. "And I'm proud of you. I know it doesn't mean anything coming from someone like me, but –"
"Of course it does," said Araxis, insistent. "It means everything, coming from you."
I wanted to say the words that were burning bright inside of me, as I felt his skin under my thumb, as I stared into his eyes, as I leaned in – inexorably drawn to him.
I wanted to press my mouth against his and murmur that I loved him and thank him for what we had shared these past few weeks.
I wanted to tell him I was at peace with what was coming, and it was because of him.
I might not have been enough for him, but he was a galaxy of possibility for me, and I was suffused with light just from being near him.
He must have seen something pass across my features, because his grip tightened and he leaned in a little closer. "Sashen," Araxis said, tone growing urgent, "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," I lied. "I had just hoped – It would have been nice to be with you tonight. I like sleeping next to you. I sleep best by your side, because you make everything else quiet. I'd have liked a bit of quiet before tomorrow."
He pulled me in. The camera drones whirred around us even as I let my eyes flutter shut.
I leaned into him, into the rumble deep in his chest, which felt like contentment, warmth, care.
He curled one hand around the back of my neck, thumb ghosting over the mark he'd left on me, and I inhaled the scent of him deep into my lungs, as deep as I could, so that when I finally let go of my last breath, he would still be there. He would be a part of me.
"Apologies, Sashen Solar, I did try," Silver Sea said behind me. "The decision was last minute."
I reluctantly shifted away from Araxis, tilting my head to look at her.
"It's okay," I said. She, of course, understood what I lost by not having tonight.
She knew what I would never have. I turned back to Araxis and looked deep into his eyes again – dark as the depths of space, but so warm and full of life – and I touched his cheek gently.
"Sleep well," I said. "Win. Take care of your creche. Make everything better."
"I will see you tomorrow, Sashen," he said, eyes pinched with worry.
I pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, then turned and left, following Silver Sea from the room as we traipsed back to my quarters.
"I will need to lock you in," she said, voice buzzing with irritation.
"And I am running low on favours. But you have your wristband for the night – you could write to him. "
I didn't say anything as I stepped into the dark space of my room, kicking discarded clothes out of the way.
It was like walking into a crypt. I looked over my shoulder at the doorway; Silver Sea was a silhouette against the bright lights of the hall.
"Tomorrow will go ahead as planned," she said after a long moment.
"The executives will not cave to Seraphim at this juncture.
" The implication that they might as time went on was clear.
It was fine. I didn't plan on surviving past that first hour anyway.
"Thanks for everything. I really mean it." I tapped on a low light, more like a red glow, and let myself sink down to the sofa.
Silver Sea still stood watching from the door, her face unreadable in the shadow. "I have done nothing at all."
I shrugged. "I don't know. I've liked talking to you. You've made me feel like I'm worth something. Like maybe I'm a real person."
For a long time, she said nothing, and then she sighed.
"I am glad, then. I have enjoyed working with you, Sashen Solar.
You even occasionally followed your schedule.
And you have certainly encouraged me to engage in a great deal of lateral thinking.
Remember: you have your wristband. I will see you in the morning.
" And then the door slid shut, a mechanical whirring indicating that the lock had engaged and I was left alone in my room, which glowed with a grim red light.
I resolved that I wouldn't sleep, because when you could count the hours left between your current moment and when you were going to die, you suddenly realized how stupid sleep was.
My body was entirely too small for all of my thoughts and energy, straining at the energetic edges.
I paced the room for awhile, then I laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
I cradled my swords to my chest and imagined that Adelaithe would find herself transported into the arena and that Araxis and I would kill her in an explosion of blood and flying extremities.
I chose, eventually, to sit on my bed and finish the story I'd started for the children, writing until my hand cramped and I was running perilously short on paper.
It was then, in the small hours of the morning, that I realized I was making a massive mistake. Not because I wanted to accept Seraphim and go back to their space cult and attend service and be squeezed back into a shape that would end up killing me, day by day.
But here I was, trying furiously not to think about Araxis, when all I wanted was to hold him and let everything I felt for him spill out. I'd made that stupid video with my last words, and I hadn't even said the ones that mattered.
I went into the hygiene room, the only place in this fucking apartment where I could have any privacy, and I pulled out his hidden note, squeezing it in my grip. Then I wedged myself against the wall, sitting hard on the cool floor as I pulled my wristband up.
If I send you a video on this channel, I wrote to Silver Sea, will you get it to Araxis tomorrow morning before we're in the arena? I promise it's not nefarious. Just… a confession of profound feelings?
Her response flared to life on my wristband right away, glowing orange. Of course. I will accept broadcast rights in payment.
I snorted, and for some reason tears prickled in my eyes at her incessant ambition. You've got them.
And then I called up the video interface, and I started recording.