11. Down to Zero
11
Down to Zero
B laze
We keep heading north. The ghost town of bombed-out buildings is now far behind us. Because of the different trajectories of the two suns, I have no idea if we’re even headed in the right direction, but Titan’s path never wavers, so I keep trudging through the shifting sands, following him.
I’m starving, but it’s my thirst that’s even more urgent. It’s got to be past noon, but we still haven’t been able to use our credits to buy food, water, or weapons.
Finally, Jahzara Zedd’s smarmy voice drifts over from the two drones still filming our every step from in front of us. Her too-beautiful face comes on the screen. It’s only now I realize she’s Halckon, just like the aliens Titan and I killed a few hours ago. I doubt we’re her favorite people right now.
“Welcome viewers, if you’re just tuning in. Don’t forget, you can contribute to your favorite contestant to buy them food, water, and weapons. Of course,” she pauses and gives a conspiratorial smile to the camera, “we wouldn’t want to give enough to either of these two to buy a blanket, would we? The action we watched last night was very… entertaining and wouldn’t have been half as fun under the covers, would it?”
We’re gifted with a laugh track, more fake and exaggerated than what I used to hear back on Earth.
“Before you can spend your credits, we want to find out more about you two. Remember, the network has thick dossiers on you, so no lying.” Her face contorts into a fake smile, but somehow, I don’t believe she’s joking.
“If you look under my face on your screen, you’ll see your current credit totals. Let’s start with you, Titan.”
The broadcast falters for a moment and goes black.
A shaggy blue middle-aged Whelpie comes on screen, his face filled with an angry sneer. “The network is going to have broadcast difficulties for a few minutes while we talk privately,” he says through clenched teeth.
He’s in the same studio as Jahzara Zedd, and he’s leaning over her. I haven’t been around a lot of Whelpies in my travels, but I don’t need to be an expert on the species to read his expression. This guy is pissed as hell.
“Here’s your story, Titan. I’ve made it easy for you to remember, wouldn’t want to strain that tiny brain of yours. Everything about your life is exactly as you want to tell until twenty-four hours ago—”
“You mean when I was fucking your mate upon her orders?” Titan says, his body bowed in anger as he glares straight into the camera.
“This is what happens when you deal with gladiators,” the Whelpie says to Zedd, his face vibrating with anger. “They’ve had so many concussions they forget what happened a day ago. No, Titan, 24 hours ago, you began talking to your fellow gladiators, fomenting a rebellion.
“I quickly quashed it, beat you within an inch of your life, and decided to let the viewers watch you receive the punishment you so richly deserve. Got it?”
“That’s a death sentence, Hahn,” Titan says, his voice level.
He knows this furious blue network dude by name?
“I’m still your master. You will address me by my proper title.”
“In the next two days, I’ll either be dead or win my papers of manumission. Either way, you are no longer my master.” Titan’s voice is deep, rich, and full of steel. This was his master? It must feel great to stand up to him like that.
“This whole fucking thing is your fault, gladiator. If you hadn’t…” I can’t recall ever seeing anyone this angry before—his face is contorted, eyes bulging. Then I glance at Titan. Every muscle in his body is pulled taut as a bowstring, and his lips are quivering in rage. If the network guy were nearby, he’d already be dead. Titan could easily kill him with his bare hands.
“I can’t tell the lie you want. No one will donate another credit to help me if they think I wanted to spearhead an insurrection. You’ll also be sentencing my partner to death since she relies on me.”
“This isn’t up for negotiation,” Hahn’s tone is harsh. The look on his face is murderous. He wouldn’t be so forceful if these two were in the same room. He’d be begging for his life.
“I started no uprising. My owner’s mate demanded I service her. I was following her orders. We all know the beating I received should rightfully have gone to her.”
Oh shit. So did this guy walk in on Titan servicing his mate?
The Whelpie looks straight into the camera, his features vibrating with anger.
“You care about the human whore at your side? Want her to eat again? Get a sip of water? You’ll use the script.”
The asshole’s face disappears and the camera focuses on Jahzara Zedd. I don’t think we’re being broadcast yet, because the shock on her face wouldn’t look good for the cameras.
“Welcome back.” Her face immediately morphs into that calm, vacant look she wears so well. “I hope you enjoyed that message from our sponsors. Titan, tell us about your career.”
She tosses him softball questions, and I learn a little about his background. Abducted at age fifteen, he was bounced around to different ludi , and worked himself up the ranks to become a well-known gladiator.
When the drone eases closer for a tight shot, Titan looks straight into the camera and says, “Slavery should be outlawed. Although it’s legal in most places in the galaxy, every being with a conscience knows no person should own another, should have the power of life and death—”
They cut to an unscheduled commercial break. As soon as the red light goes out, indicating the drone is no longer filming, Titan receives a shock so powerful his knees crumple, and his breath soughs through his teeth.
“We’re not playing,” Zedd seethes. “The next misstep will result in punishment to the female. Got it?” She looks off-camera and says, “These gladiators don’t have the brains the gods gave a rock.”
The red light comes back on as soon as Titan finds the strength to stand tall. Although he’s still recovering, his face contorted with the aftereffects of the pain, Zedd wastes no time getting to the million-dollar question. “For a male who was at the top of his career in the arena, what caused you to be entered into The Game ? Might it have something to do with those marks on your back?”
The screen shows a closeup of his back as he walked into that holding area yesterday—cut to ribbons.
“I was beaten due to unproven allegations I was organizing an uprising.”
The red light goes out as a shock comes through my collar. I’ve never endured a shock this high. The pain is excruciating and brings me to my knees, then I tighten into the fetal position on the sandy ground. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Titan. He’s crouched, his fists curled around his collar, as are mine.
Your higher mind may know that you have zero chance of ripping the collar off your neck, but your autonomic nervous system still tries to pry the excruciating piece of tech off your body.
I must have passed out from the pain, because when my eyes flicker open, Titan is on his knees, peering over me.
His blue face is close enough to mine I can feel hot gusts of his breath breeze across my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Should have known better.” His callused palm skates along my cheek as his gaze inspects me. “You okay?”
“Need a minute.”
There are only two thoughts in my mind right now, my thirst and the sizzling aftershocks of the punishment.
I don’t blame him. For a moment, I thought it was just his arrogance that caused him to tell the truth, but that wasn’t it. If he’d admitted to causing a rebellion, we would have earned our last credit.
“I guess they’ve postponed my interview?” I ask while he pulls me to a sitting position. As I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, I see the tote board on the drone’s screen.
The number of credits next to my picture says zero.