Chapter 10
TEN
Takkian
Takkian awoke before the lights came back on. He lay there for a moment, listening to Sevas’ soft breathing. Her warm body was pressed against his chest. Her golden hair spilled over the mattress in a bright gold wave. The memory of their kiss lingered, making a fire coil low in his belly. If he had his way, they’d stay like this all cycle, talking, touching, exploring each other. But today was likely a fighting day, and he had to prepare.
He slipped out from beneath the blanket without disturbing her and climbed down to the floor. Familiar anxiety snaked through him as he made his way to the corner of the cell, testing the muscles in his arms and wings to shake off sleep. The air felt different today. Charged. He could almost taste the adrenaline buzzing like an electric current in the back of his throat. The anticipation of the arena set his heart racing, but beneath that excitement lay a heavy layer of dread. He had to focus. Winning this fight wasn’t just about survival. It was about keeping Sevas, Bruil, and Ulo safe. Keeping hope alive for all of them. As he paced, the sound of metal rolling against the stone floor echoed outside the cell. He turned, instinctively moving into a defensive stance. The door swung open, revealing the sharp silhouette of a mech, its red eye glowing ominously in the dim light.
“Takkian, designation 752-X,” it announced in its unnerving monotone, “your match begins shortly. Prepare for immediate departure to the washroom and feed line.”
Takkian’s stomach churned at the words. The others would eat and use the washroom later. He, along with the early cycle batch of fighters, would do so now. He nodded curtly, pushing aside the clenching emotions that fought for attention. This was routine. He’d faced the arena many times, each match a test of skill, strategy, and a measure of luck.
He took a moment to glance back at the bunk where Sevas lay sleeping. That last kiss played through his mind again—a soft touch, a spark of warmth—reminding him why he had to keep winning. The mech waited impassively, oblivious to the riot of emotions pounding through him.
“Let’s go,” he replied, his voice gruff but steady as he stepped through the threshold of the cell. The mech turned. Its heavy frame moved with unsettling precision, leading him down the narrow hallways with their dull, gray walls. The flickering lights overhead cast distorted shadows that shifted and stretched in the corners of his vision. He ate only a portion of his allotted ration and washed quickly, eager to get the match over.
Eager to return to her .
Takkian remained alert to every sound and movement through the corridors. The faint clanging of weapons and the distant murmurs of anxious spectators mingled into an anxiety that wrapped around his chest like a metal band. He had learned to rely on this atmosphere. It kept him sharp. It kept him aware that his life always hung in a precarious balance here. But now, there was more at stake. So much more.
As they approached the arena entrance, the din grew louder. The mechanical doors slid open, unveiling the familiar circle of sand and high walls. The arena was packed with anticipation and a raucous crowd thrumming with energy. The seats teemed with alien species. Their colorful forms shimmered under bright lights as they stamped and shouted, eager for the thrill of battle.
“Fight number four,” an announcer said.
Takkian stepped into the arena, heart pounding with the rhythm of the crowd’s roar. He moved forward, scanning the space for what weapons they’d be given to use. This time, there were none. This fight would be a battle of fists and endurance. Maybe some kicks and body slams, if someone was unfortunate enough to fall. That meant he and his adversary were well matched, physically. Instinct pulled his gaze to the opposite side of the arena.
His opponent emerged from the shadows—a hulking brute of a being. His name was Chakix, if he remembered correctly. The creature stood nearly a head taller than Takkian and carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned fighter. Chakix was notorious for his raw strength. Takkian had faced this male before. And lost.
Takkian narrowed his eyes, sizing him up. Muscle rippled beneath Chakix’s hide, and the vicious glint of teeth peeked through a sharp grin. Already, the crowd roared. Their collective anticipation thickened the air. Takkian clenched his fists, feeling the familiar weight of the arena descend upon him.
As the announcer’s mechanical voice echoed through the stadium, Takkian took a deep breath. “Takkian, 752-X versus Chakix, 946-B,” it shouted, amplifying the frenzy of the crowd. “Begin!”
The signal was immediate. Chakix charged, swinging a massive fist through the air with brutal force. Takkian’s instincts kicked in and he sidestepped, feeling the rush of displaced air as the punch barely missed his face. He kept his wings tucked close and tight to his body so they’d take as little damage as possible. His wings healed very slowly from injuries. Bruil’s had been destroyed in this place.
Chakix stumbled past him, but he quickly regained his footing, turning with a furious snarl. Takkian could almost feel the hot breath of the crowd washing over him, mingled with malice and greed.
Fight smart , he reminded himself as he calculated his next move. He needed to keep his footing, to feel the ground beneath him. It was the only way to maintain control in the arena. And he had to maintain control.
Chakix lunged again, this time aiming a lower jab toward Takkian’s ribs. Anticipating the attack, Takkian dodged to the left and countered with a sharp kick to the creature’s knee. The impact landed harder than expected, and Chakix let out a pained grunt as he stumbled back, talons clawing the air for balance.
The crowd roared with excitement at the ebb and flow of the battle. Takkian didn’t let up. He pressed forward with all his strength, landing a swift jab that struck Chakix squarely across the jaw. The force sent the massive being reeling, but it only fueled his anger. With a roar, Chakix surged forward again, muscles coiled as he unleashed a flurry of strikes.
Takkian ducked and weaved, relying on his agility. He had learned long ago how to read the patterns of a fighter’s movements, and Chakix was no different. Each swing was predictable; the brute’s strength lay in its simplicity. Takkian knew he could outsmart him, but timing and precision were everything.
“Focus,” he muttered to himself as he sidestepped another punch that flew, barely missing. Using the momentum, he stepped in close and delivered a crushing blow to Chakix’s ribs, feeling a sickening crunch resonate against his knuckles. The creature staggered, letting out a hiss that cut across the arena.
The crowd erupted. Screams and cheers were so loud, Takkian could barely hear the announcer’s commentary. “Takkian, 752-X is taking control of the fight!”
But Takkian kept his focus, not letting the chaos seep into his mind. He saw an opening as Chakix swayed unsteadily, catching his breath for a moment. His leg muscles bunched, and he dashed forward, shoving the brute backward. In an instant, Takkian threw his shoulder into Chakix’s chest, leveraging his weight to topple the massive being.
The thud echoed through the arena like thunder. Chakix hit the ground hard, sending out a spray of sand and sprawling out with a grunt.
Takkian remembered Chakix being faster, having agility that matched his own. It was possible that his opponent had been told to throw the fight. That rarely happened, and Chakix was a popular fighter. Why would the handlers, who arranged the fights, want to see one of their stars taken down so easily?
“Get up!” a voice boomed from somewhere in the crowd. It was a reminder that he had to ensure his victory was absolute. He stepped back, surveying Chakix, who struggled to push himself up, panting heavily.
Takkian couldn’t give him a chance to recover. He prepared for the finishing blow when he noticed the edge of the arena, lit by the glaring floodlights. A mech, stationed just beyond the arena’s boundary. It was waiting for the imminent end to this fight, and seeing it there, in his space, sparked an idea.
With a glance at Chakix, Takkian charged forward and punched Chakix directly into the mech, slamming his opponent into the machine’s exterior. The clang was sharp and jarring, and the mech’s system sputtered.
The crowd gasped. A wave of uncertainty rippled through them for one hot moment, as the specter of the mechs losing control over the fighters loomed. A moment of stillness hung in the air. But it wasn’t Takkian’s intention to rebel now . He wanted to test the mech’s durability and cause a little damage, but not enough to disable it. That was perfect. Exactly what Takkian was going for. A beaten-up mech was easier to get past than a fully functional one.
Takkian turned back to Chakix, who lay groaning beside the mech. He wasn’t getting up. Takkian could see the fight was over, and it was definitely easier than it should have been. Despite Chakix’s breath coming in ragged gasps, his defeated opponent glanced over at him and grinned. Takkian’s gut tightened as his suspicions were confirmed. Chakix had thrown the match quickly. The mech knew the plan and was there even before it had happened.
“Takkian, 752-X has won the match,” the announcer cried.
The crowd booed and threw their rocks and food and filth at him, but Takkian barely noticed. Their jeers echoed wildly off the walls as Takkian stepped back, flexing his sore hand. The sound turned his stomach. So much cruelty, but it still wasn’t enough. It hadn’t gone on long enough. They were angry that there wasn’t more blood, more pain.
A second mech rolled in quickly. Takkian watched as both mechs locked onto Chakix’s body. The wounded fighter’s protests were drowned out by the crowd.
“Retrieving the incapacitated combatant.” The mech’s voice was devoid of emotion as it dragged Chakix toward the exit, leaving a trail of sand and blood in their wake.
Takkian couldn’t help but watch as Chakix was pulled away, limp and defeated. A sour taste formed in Takkian’s mouth, mixed with the stale air around him. This victory was more dangerous than a loss, and it only compounded the nagging sensation in his gut.
The third mech advanced closer. “Get moving, fighter,” it ordered flatly.
“Right,” he muttered. His body was still taut with energy. He pivoted and strode towards the exit, aware of the crowd’s roar behind him and relieved when their shouts faded as he left the arena floor. He was done with this. The fighting. The cheering crowds. All of it.
He stepped into the dark hallway. Each step led him further from the wild energy of the fight and closer to the grim reality of what he and the others were daring to attempt. The mech ahead of him reeled back before turning to face him. “Victory recorded. Takkian, 752-X will report upon request.”
That was strange, and he wasn’t even sure what it meant. A mech had never said that to him after a match before.
Takkian continued down the corridor behind the mech. There was no thrill of victory. Only an unsettling emptiness that confirmed the need to get out of this place, no matter the cost. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he approached the cell.
He pushed through the heavy door, scanning the dim room immediately. Sevas sat on the edge of their bunk—yes, it was theirs , as she would be sleeping with him from now on—her feet dangling over the side. The moment the door slid open, her dark red eyes were on him, wide with concern that quickly morphed into relief.
“Takkian.” She eased off the edge to her feet with more mobility than she had the cycle before, cutting through his remaining unease. “You’re back.”
“Of course I am,” he replied, forcing a casual tone. He stepped inside, his body still thrummed with the adrenaline of the fight. Her gaze moved from his face to the rest of him as she looked him over for signs of injury. He felt the heat of her concern wash over him, and he couldn’t shake the rush of pride to see her worry for him.
Sevas moved toward him. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “Don’t lie.”
He shook his head as she brushed over a fresh mark on his arm, caused by one of the flying rocks. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s see.” Her brow furrowed as stepped back to get a better look at him. “You’ve got…” She noticed the scratches and the faint line of blood mixed with dirt and sweat along his arms. “You’re right. You don’t look badly injured,” she replied. “Unless you’re hiding something.”
Takkian smiled and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m not hiding anything. I’ve faced that opponent before. I knew how to handle him this time.”
“What happened last time you faced him?” she asked.
“I lost,” he replied tightly, unwilling to voice his concern that the fight was thrown to turn the crowd against him. “That happens. We learn from our mistakes.”
She nodded. “I talked to Ulo about our plans.”
The young Dokkol nodded. “I’ll do anything to leave,” he said. “I want to find my family. We scattered in escape pods when our ship came under attack, but I think I was the only one captured. Whatever you need of me, I’ll do it.”
Sevas smiled at Ulo before turning back to Takkian. “Did you learn anything when you were out there?”
“I did,” he replied. “There was a mech in the arena at the end, just before I won the match. I managed to damage it.”
Sevas raised an eyebrow. “You did?”
“How did you manage that?” Bruil asked, sitting up straighter. “And it was inside the pit?”
“Yes.” Takkian saw the confusion on Bruil’s face and couldn’t help but agree—it wasn’t typical. Mechs waited until the match was over to enter the pit and remove the loser. “I hit Chakix directly into the mech. Didn’t disable it, of course, but it was dented and took a moment to recover.”
From the expression on his face, Takkian could tell Bruil didn’t like this at all. “You damaged a mech inside the pit.” He shook his head. “Expect consequences for that, boy.”
“ I didn’t damage it. Chakix did. He should have crashed somewhere else.” Takkian shrugged. “I needed to see how much force was required to damage one of them. It takes a lot.”
Bruil said nothing, but stared at Takkian with a grim mouth. “You’re getting reckless.”
“And you’ve been in here too long,” he snapped back, frustration bubbling over. “It doesn’t matter if I win my next hundred matches. I’m going to die eventually, and I’m going to die here —in this pit while a crowd cheers and warlords collect money from bets. And what will happen to you, my friend, without me using the favors I earn from my wins to keep you safe? They’ll put you in the pit against some sadistic creature who will kill you slow and hard, and the crowd will love it. So if we’re going to die, it’s going to be on our terms. Not theirs.” He hadn’t intended to make such a speech, but it was the truth. “If you want to stay here, you may.”
Bruil shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t.”
“Neither do I.” He looked at Sevas and Ulo, both of whom stared at him, surprised at his outburst. “If we can break down or evade the defenses leading out of here, we can access the hangar bay where we can board a ship and, ah, persuade an operator to take us out of here. Escape could be within our reach.”
“How do we do that?” Sevas asked. She stepped closer, eyes keen.
“We need Ulo. He has strength on his side, and if he uses it wisely, he can help us create a distraction. The mechs focus on immediate threats. If they see one of their own malfunctioning, they’ll become disorganized. It may give us an opportunity while the guards focus on repairing the damage.”
Sevas nodded. “The timing will be key. And the one place this could all go wrong.”
“Exactly,” Takkian replied, internal gears clicking into place. “We need to time our move carefully. And we need to stay together.”
“What do you think, Ulo?” Sevas asked. “Do you think you can smash some mechs ? ”
Ulo nodded. “It would be easier than smashing some poor life form who also doesn’t want to be here.”
“Good.” Takkian met Bruil’s quiet gaze. “Do you think you have some fight left in you, old one?”
Bruil raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got some in reserve, if I need to use it.”
“You’ll use it,” Takkian said, feeling the fire burn in his throat as he spoke. “If we can draw their attention away, we can get out before they can organize a lockdown. And with Ulo’s strength, we have an advantage.”
“Count me in,” Ulo said, squaring his wide shoulders.
Bruil unfolded from his bunk. “Just…everyone be on your guard. Something about this gives me an uneasy feeling.”
Takkian tapped his arm. Obviously, things could go wrong, and if they did, he’d meet his fate a little soon than he’d like. It was a fate all four of them shared, if they didn’t get out of there soon. But he couldn’t argue with Bruil, either. There was no ignoring the niggle of worry that crawled over his scales, telling him that his last fight was too easy. Too different.