174. The Xenons
174
The Xenons
M aya
Wordlessly, I pull up the baby-blue coveralls and figure out the space-age zipper. I haven’t taken my eyes off the little tent-within-a-tent at the back of the structure where Lila went to take her own life. I can only pray it was painless.
When I finally tear my gaze away, I see the spikey female won her battle. She’s ripped the dead female’s shirt off and is meticulously wiping the pus-colored blood off her wrist spikes. I can’t control the disgusted shiver wracking my body. As saliva pools in my mouth, I take slow, deep breaths and swallow hard to stop the vomit that is burning the back of my throat.
For a moment, my thoughts flick to the small tent at the back of the space. That would be the easiest way out of this, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
The three of us wordlessly help each other roll up our sleeves and cuffs. I don’t know what’s coming next, but I can’t afford to trip over my own feet.
“I think we ought to stick together. We don’t know what’s coming next, but I think we’ll do better as a team,” I say without sparing either of them a glance. All of us have our backs to the plastic wall, keeping an eye on the threats that might come at us from the other contestants.
Contestants? What a mundane way to describe the insanity we’re watching as several females get into push-and-shove contests with each other. It’s as if they’re making themselves a spectacle, ensuring the others know they’re a force to be reckoned with so they leave them alone for easier pickings—like us.
Anna, the tiny blonde who is swallowed by her humongous overalls, says, “You’ve all watched enough movies about marines, right? No man left behind? Well, I like the idea of sticking together, but if this goes down the way I think it might, I think we ought to trash that idea.”
Not help each other? Is that what she’s suggesting?
“Just look at this.” She thrusts her little chin toward the carnage. “We’ll strategize, run together, work together, but if one of us is attacked and it’s a fool’s errand to help, the other two should run. We can’t single-handedly overpower any of these bitches, and we have no idea what other shit the organizers of this spectacle are going to throw at us. When it’s time to run, run.”
It strikes me like a ton of bricks that my life has been pretty easy up to this point. Of course, if someone had asked me yesterday, I might have whined a bit about having ADD or a dad who bailed when I was ten. But right now? I realize my life has been anything but hard.
Yesterday, I would have insisted I would never run from a fallen comrade. Today, I’ve discovered a new Maya. One who took a few steps after hearing Lila scream before I decided to help. The Maya who didn’t run after her on her way to the euthanasia tent to try to talk her out of it, knowing in my heart she’d never last half an hour in the coming melee.
I’ve got to agree with Anna that there might come a time when running into danger is a suicide mission.
“So, we stick together until…”
“Until we know we can’t save someone. Then we save ourselves,” Emily finishes my sentence for me, her mouth a grim line of determination.
My stomach cramps at the thought, but I know my two new friends are right.
I tie my long brown hair in a sturdy knot at my nape so it’s out of my way, and when a guard in black, hard-shelled armor like something out of Star Wars hands me a backpack, I take it.
I paw through it, finding exactly what the announcer promised: water, nutrition bars, and a sturdy computer pad.
The announcer tells us how to turn on our electronics and has us repeat our name and the following sentence into the computer’s microphone.
“Maya Decker. I am a participant in Galaxy Games Season Four, Down to Earth.”
Its language recognition software configures the screen to English, and I’m treated to scrolling statistics about every female in the room.
I’m listed here with a picture of me taken from my Facebook page. I don’t even want to wonder what their criteria were for choosing me. It’s clear, though, that it was this picture that gained my entry into The Game.
Four names at the bottom of the screen have X’s next to their names.
“Her name was Lila Williams,” I say in a lame attempt to give her respect. Sadness flows like a river through me, quickly replaced by anger at the situation we’ve been thrown into.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome.” A red humanoid female’s face bursts onto the screens. “I’m Jahzara Zedd, and welcome to The Game. It’s season four and I hope you’re ready for the best season ever!”
She’s beautiful, with long, straight black hair that shines in the remote studio lights. Her makeup is flawless, as is the symmetry of her face. She’s wearing a royal blue dress and a warm smile.
“I am so excited to explain what’s in store for you.” Her eyebrows rise as she takes a breath.
“I have gone to extreme lengths to find you something so amazing, so spectacular that this season will leave you on the edge of your seat and give you something to talk about for weeks to come.”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s not putting this show on for us, the females in the room. She’s broadcasting to the online spectators. People are paying to watch us die. I can’t even begin to process this revelation before she continues.
“Here we are on planet Earth. It’s so far at the end of the galaxy, they have no spaceflight and aren’t aware there are species other than themselves.” She scoffs and shakes her head.
“It has taken brilliant planning and forethought, but we found the most amazing venue to play our game.”
She leans forward and hushes her voice as if she’s letting the viewers in on a secret. “The Earthers may not know about other species, but other species know about Earth. We have found something that’s been hidden for centuries far beneath the ice on what they call the South Pole. It’s a two-millennia-old, crashed spacecraft. Some onboard died, but most have been in stasis all this time.”
She lifts her shoulders and smiles coyly. “Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce you to the females here in our holding facility.”
The picture on the screen cuts to an exterior shot of the temporary building we’re housed in. It’s a humongous white tent with a rounded top. The camera pans quickly, making it clear the producer wants to get back to the beautiful red female announcer. It then cuts to the interior, showing the females of many species, most now wearing various-colored overalls.
After a perfunctory pan of the contestants, the cameras zoom in on a close-up of two of the three dead females lying just as they were killed. Thankfully, we aren’t forced to see Lila’s body.
Though this picture makes my throat convulse and sets my hands trembling, I keep my attention focused on the screen. There may be important information I’ll need to know to save my own life.
“As you can see, females and males,” Jahzara Zedd continues, “these contestants are bloodthirsty. They couldn’t even wait until the cameras began rolling to start the carnage. Let me remind you.” She holds up a perfectly manicured nail that matches her royal blue dress. “We have the special Havoc Package available for a small up-charge. It will contain every skirmish and kill. We’ll even backdate it for you so you can see the action you’ve missed as well as watch and re-watch in real-time and slow-motion for years to come.”
For a moment, her pretty smile slips, and she allows us to see the real person behind the lovely facade. Is it the Havoc Package that excites her? Or is it what she’s about to announce next?
“There’s nothing special about this polar ice cap. It’s not the ice that brought us to the primitive end of the galaxy. No. It’s what’s inside the ship that’s lain dormant for all these years.
“Through scrupulous research, we’ve discovered this is a Xenon ship. Almost two thousand years ago, their planet was fighting a plague that killed off almost all of their females. This ship was sent to find a race whose genes were compatible so they could produce viable offspring.”
Her green eyes are shining with excitement as she continues, “Due to ice melt, this ship was hidden in plain sight under a shelf of ice that barely kept it out of the sight of Earth’s satellites. We opened doors that hadn’t been accessed in almost two thousand years and sent in a horde of scouting drones. They found a ship loaded with cryo pods. Although some have malfunctioned over the millennia, a surprising amount are filled with living beings. In fact, there are close to two thousand of them.”
The screens show what is evidently a cryo pod with a cracked clear cover. A close-up reveals a humanoid so old and desiccated there is no skin left on its bones. Shades of the cryptkeeper on that old show. I shudder.
“We considered releasing only Xenons into the competition, but imagine our excitement when our drones breached the entry to the cell block. We thought, since most of these females were taken from prisons across the galaxy, why not pair them with the males who found their way into the Xenon ship’s holding cells?”
She taps her lip, giving the dramatic performance of her life as she pretends to be deep in thought.
“We did scrupulous research, running computerized scenarios to find out what would be the most thrilling thing for you, our audience, to watch. For your viewing pleasure, you will be able to enjoy these female miscreants as they use any means necessary to reduce their numbers to forty. At that point, we will activate the forty pods in the cellblock. If any of them fail to revive, we will release some Xenons from their pods to make the numbers even. Then the fun will truly begin.”
She looks straight into the camera as if each and every viewer is a friend she’s about to let in on a secret.
“Let’s take a look at the inhabitants of the pods in the cellblock, shall we?”
The drone cameras lovingly pan in on some faces that already look familiar: a spiky gray guy, a shaggy blue, one that seems the same species as Zedd, and many others, including one so enormous he appears stuffed into his pod. Many are scarred and all of them look like they belong behind bars—thick ones.
“Unfamiliar with the Xenon species? Just for fun, let’s take a look.”
The screen fills with pictures of these creatures from every angle—headshots and full bodies.
“Dear God,” I say, covering my mouth with one hand and gripping Emily’s with the other.
Anna moans, and in a terrified whisper, says, “They look just like the monsters from Alien Carnivores.”