5. The First Battle
5
The First Battle
B laze
Even though Titan is bossy and condescending as hell, I order myself to control my urge to call my new partner an ass. He’s hopefully my ticket to live through the next hour. Any port in a storm, isn’t that the old expression?
I start running with the crowd, hoping to beat at least a few of the others out the door. His meaty hand isn’t subtle as he grabs my upper arm and pulls me toward him.
“Are you crazy? Do you want to be the last one out?” I ask, wondering if he’s so buzzed he can’t think straight.
“Exactly.”
Shit. Really? He’s either stupid, a slacker, or too stoned to think clearly. I give him the benefit of the doubt and ask, “Why?”
“The first ones out will start a bloodbath out there. Let them thin the herd.”
“Did it occur to you that there are probably fifty of them waiting right outside the door? Clubs in hand?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m counting on it. We wait until most of them kill each other or move toward the flag. Meanwhile, we arm ourselves.”
While I’m rolling my eyes at the idiot—I mean really, does he think the fuckers who created this game left anything usable in this oversized gym—he runs to a set of antique bleachers. Taking the rickety steps two at a time, he leaps from the top seat and grabs hold of one of the steel bars in the rigging of the exposed rafters.
Within a minute, he jimmies loose a piece of metal and tosses it with a clang to the floor. When I walk to it, he barks, “NO!”
It doesn’t take him long before he throws down two more bars. Each one is about the length of a baseball bat. Better than nothing.
“Nice job,” I say, barely loud enough for him to hear me as I move toward the cache.
“Stay away!”
He makes his way down and picks what I assume are the best two for himself, then hands me one.
“What was that about?” I ask when I have the makeshift weapon in hand.
“Down to One, Slayer. I will not be the game’s first casualty. Especially to my own partner.”
“I… I wouldn’t,” I sputter. But it’s a lie. If I’d thought of it, I might have tried to hit a home run across his head.
Throughout Titan’s expedition to the rafters, the sounds of people clashing right outside the door drifted in to us. It’s a jungle out there.
“You’re right, Slayer. There will definitely be a contingent waiting for us out there. We’re going to burst through those doors on the count of three. I’ll take right and center. You take everything that comes at us from the left. Keep swinging until nothing is moving. Understand?”
I nod.
“Say it. I don’t want any communication problems.”
“It’s kill or be killed,” I say, more for my benefit than for him. “Keep swinging until nothing moves.”
“Then either help me if I need it or stab them all in the chest. Got it?”
“Yes. Got it.” I take a deep breath and choke up on my metal bat.
I was a sniper for our government. They trained me well, and then they trained me some more. I learned how to stalk without moving a leaf or a branch. I provided surveillance and could stay concealed for hours, sometimes longer. And yeah, I learned to shoot with pinpoint accuracy. Until I completed my first mission, I was the perfect trainee.
I hadn’t realized how killing that enemy sniper murdered my soul until they ordered me into mandated therapy.
I tried to convince myself I was doing it for God and country. But looking through a high-powered scope and seeing someone’s brains splatter, knowing you’re the one responsible? I couldn’t handle it.
I was awaiting reassignment to a different MOS, Military Occupational Specialty. My new training program on advanced computer programming was scheduled to start the next day when the boar-faced aliens beamed me up and took me to space.
Luckily, although I believe my abductors targeted me specifically for my sniping skills, I think my paperwork got messed up. For my first three years in space, I was a simple housemaid. It was only a few months ago that someone discovered my special skill-set and repurposed me.
The idea that I need to escape death for the next however many days to save my own ass? That’s going to suck. The idea that when we barge through those doors I’m going to have to kill people at close range? That’s going to suck big time.
Suck or not, I’m going to do what it takes. It’s one thing to kill because of an order from someone who’s probably never stepped foot onto a battlefield. It’s quite another to kill someone to save your own skin.
It’s quiet out there, but I don’t for a moment think our enemies have left.
“One, two, three,” Titan says, and we breach the door together.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears. Shutting everything out except the task at hand, I remain laser-focused as I see there are two males to my left. Titan said he’d handle to the right and center, and I’m going to hold him to it. This doesn’t look like his first time at the rodeo.
My foe are two reptilians. Their slitted pupils and snaky faces give me the skeeves. Good. It will make my job easier.
I start swinging before they do. I was in the girls’ softball championship in eleventh grade before I had to switch foster homes. I know how to swing a bat.
I bash one of them hard on the side of his head where his earhole is, then draw back and hit the other one in the exact same place on his skull after the first guy ducks, clutching his head.
Without pausing to check how Titan is doing, I bash them each again and again. After the third strike, their blood spurts everywhere, gushing out of ears and nostrils. Once they’re on the ground, I keep hitting until they don’t move anymore.
I’m about to check their carotids, although I have no idea if reptilians even have carotids, when Titan says, “Enough,” in a firm tone.
Looking up from the carnage, I scan the area, not trusting that these guys were the only ones gunning for us. Bright lights over the door illuminate the carnage—there are bodies all around us. Beyond the piles of bloody corpses is total darkness.
Finally, I ask, “How many did we just… kill?”
“Five.”
Titan
A few minutes ago, I wouldn’t have bet even money that Slayer would still be alive after our first skirmish. For a little thing, a human no less, she packed quite a punch and knew where to hit.
“Come,” I say as I lead to the left.
“The map indicated northeast,” she protests, pointing toward our right.
“Correct. We go west.”
I strike off with my longest strides. It will take her two steps for every one of mine. I figure she’ll either keep up with me or she won’t. I’m not slowing down. I’ll say one thing, that skirmish cleared my head. My thoughts are sharp.
“Physics is the same here as on Earth. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line,” she gripes.
“The shortest distance between two points is death, Earther. I’m a gladiator. I’ve competed in melees and lived to talk about it. Let the losers kill each other, narrow the field. We skirt the clashes by moving west, then we’ll head north. There was a drone taking footage of our fight with those reptilians. You probably earned a lot of credits. We’ll collect weapons as soon as we’re allowed.”
She shuts up and scurries behind me.
Master’s ludus and gladiatorial barracks were only a few hours from here, but this stretch of geography is so different it might as well be on another planet. Forest and lush farmland surrounded Master’s property. Not that I saw much of it. My life consisted of training eight hours a day when I wasn’t engaged in a match.
We’re picking our way through a wasteland. The soil is scorched and rocky, and we’re walking through rubble.
“Looks like a… natural disaster,” I suggest.
“Nothing natural about this,” she says, her steps short and swift as she tries to keep up with me. “This is the result of war. I saw something like this on Earth during one of my tours. The government razed their own country to gain control of the people. It’s pitch black out here. Can we slow down?”
“Go at your own pace. I’ll go at mine.” I warned her I wouldn’t help her. She’s on her own.
“Shit!” the Earther cries. When I turn to see if we’re being attacked, she’s kneeling, her hands cupping her ankle.
“Watch where you’re going,” I hiss. “You’ve got to keep up. I won’t coddle you.”
She pops up and limps toward me, asking for nothing. “How are you seeing in the dark? There’s barely a sliver of either moon.”
My species has excellent night vision. I forget it’s rare. It’s never been an asset in a fight before. Gladiators battle in the blazing sun.
“Night vision,” I answer.
“Must be nice.”
She’s favoring her right leg.
Shit. Although I promised myself I wouldn’t let her gender affect me, I can’t believe what I’m about to do. I stop, unwrapping my loincloth as she limps toward me.
She was hurrying, focused on the ground, and only now looks at me. I’m nude, having removed the cloth that covers my cock.
“What the fuck, asshole. This was never part of the deal!”