The octagon box set, p.29
The Octagon Box Set, page 29
part #1 of The Octagon Series
De Soto saw that two of the animal’s hind legs were bloody and mangled and were being dragged along by the second set of hind legs. It had been injured by the blast, but despite only having four and not six legs to run on, it moved with astonishing speed as it cut a line directly at the woman from the side.
De Soto’s eyes cut back to the woman, and she could see her flex her fingers slightly around the grip of the weapon before tightening them again.
De Soto’s threat assessment was finished.
She saw the weapon kick slightly in the woman’s hands.
Decision made.
De Soto threw herself to the ground, on top of Kobe, smothering him with her body, and prayed.
7
“The man is useless. He did nothing remarkable or worthy for us to consider keeping him.”
Kalus looked up from the report in front of him and considered the blunt comments from his colleague. It was certainly true. The man hadn’t done anything remarkable. How he managed to stay alive was the only remarkable thing he had going for him. Around the table, Kalus saw seven somber faces nod in agreement and share the same views as the man who sat across from him.
“He showed promise,” Kalus offered. “Maybe he has potential.”
“Potential!” scoffed the same man. His dark, beady eyes narrowed on Kalus and he offered a lipless smile. “He should have died in the first few hours. How he didn’t is anyone’s guess.”
“But that’s the exact reason why we shouldn’t act so hastily. He did survive whilst nearly everyone else didn’t.” Kalus scrolled down the report again. Yes, the death toll was almost total. Only a three-percent survival rate at the conclusion. Of the eighty-three competitors who had entered the domain, only three, including the man, had survived. The child didn’t count. She was a contaminant.
Kalus tuned out as the idle banter went back and forth across the table, all supporting the notion of not keeping the man, their voices blurring into the background as Kalus ran his eyes down the screen on his lap, reading the dissection of the final tally.
Eighty-three competitors had started. Three adults had survived and one woman had won. In the process, five Elites were killed. One bio-pred was severely injured. Three drones were destroyed, one by a competitor, and the other two had collided in mid-air during one of the melees. Of the eighty competitors who had died, twelve committed suicide, nine encountered the bio-preds, six were killed by Elites, one was killed by intervention, and the rest either killed each other or fell victim to the purge at the conclusion.
“Kalus!” one man exclaimed in a loud voice.
Kalus looked up from the report, oblivious to the conversation that was happening around him.
“Hmm?”
The man with the beady eyes looked at him questioningly. “Do you concur with us or not?” There was no us. Only you. Since becoming a member less than twelve months ago, Kalus had never warmed to the man. There was just something about him that Kalus did not trust. His rise to the Board was certainly meteoric. A long-serving member had suddenly died, and this man had stepped into his shoes shortly after. He may have had the unanimous vote of the other members in being elected, but Kalus knew he himself was the sole member who had cast the opposing vote during the secret ballot.
“Where is he now?” Kalus replied.
“He’s in a containment cell awaiting execution,” came the response from a fellow Board member. “He will stay there until we decide on his fate.”
Kalus pondered this. The man, or now, the condemned, had displayed some promise, and Kalus had taken counsel from someone who was actually there to support his normally flawless intuition.
“No one wants him,” the beady-eyed man said, his manner tinged with impatience. “The best thing to do is to terminate him. He was a poor choice.”
“As I remember, he was your choice, your investment,” Kalus threw back at the man. Now the whole Board was silent. Their heads switched back and forth between the two Directors and the verbal skirmish that was developing between them. “It seems like such a waste, doesn’t it?” Kalus continued, holding the man’s cold stare.
When one sees a wound, then reach for the salt, Kalus thought as he added, “How much did he cost you to insert into the trial?” Kalus smiled as he continued to rub. “After all, given his background and occupation, the woman’s as well, you really must have wanted them both in the competition. You must have called in a few favors.”
The man opposite Kalus seemed to turn to stone at this, his face hard and chilling. “He was my investment. My loss,” he replied with a thin smile, revealing a row of sharp little teeth.
“Then allow me to soothe some of that loss. I will buy him,” Kalus said.
The trap was sprung and the man realized that it was too late.
“After all, you said he was worthless, didn’t you?” Kalus finished, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Around the table, the other Board members shifted uneasily and words were muttered under their breaths. No one had ever purchased a condemned person before. The simple truth was that no one wanted them, and that was why they stood condemned in the first place.
The beady-eyed man looked around at his fellow Directors. To now retract his comments about the worthlessness of the condemned man would be to lose face and respect in front of his peers. The man smiled again, this time uncomfortably at Kalus. He had been played by the more seasoned Director.
“I mean, you were the benefactor of the woman who won, a shrewd and well-orchestrated investment on your behalf,” Kalus continued, switching to compliments now. It was true. The man had invested heavily in the victor, had championed her inclusion and, like the condemned man, had greased the necessary palms to get her included in the trial. Now she belonged to him.
The other woman who had lived had been heavily backed by the audience. Offers flowed in for her once the trial concluded, and a bidding war had ensued. At this very moment, she was being transported to the ludus of the winning bidder, the home of her new benefactor, who sat on Kalus’s left.
“My congratulations to Director Sonos, who placed the winning bid on her.” Kalus turned and gave a nod to the man on his left, a plumpish, bald man with a fleshy face and flowing robes. Sonos may have been the wealthiest of the Board members, but his ludus never seemed to prosper, no matter how much money he sunk into it.
Sonos returned the nod, his many chins folding as he smiled.
There was no one else left. The victor of the trial went to her benefactor, and those who lived and were deemed worthy of living, of which there was only one, the woman, had been bought. No one wanted the man, except Kalus.
“I will give you 10,000 credits for him, more than what you paid to enter him into the trial,” Kalus said. To Kalus, he should have used the term bribed, not paid, where the man was concerned, but that didn’t matter. What was done was done, and he enjoyed spurning the man who sat across from him.
All eyes turned to the man expectantly. He could hardly refuse the offer without suffering public ridicule in front of the Board. No. He would bide his time. Choose his battles carefully. Cultivate his alliances wisely. Grow his power-base until his sphere of influence amongst the Board and other key benefactors reached as far as some of the others who shared the eight positions around the table.
“Agreed,” he replied with a wave of his hand nonchalantly, but deep inside he was rancid.
“Good,” Kalus replied, enjoying the political arm-wrestle. Kalus turned to his aide, who was standing behind him. “Make sure he is on my transport within the hour. But first, I want to see him.” The aide nodded then scuttled off.
Kalus rose to leave, the agenda concluded. As the other Directors began to leave, the beady-eyed man rounded the table and approached Kalus before he could reach the door.
“I hope, Director Kalus, that the man proves to be a better investment for you than he was for me,” he said.
“As I said, he showed some promise. Something below the surface just needs to be harnessed and nurtured.” Kalus replied. He could warm to most people and Kalus was an excellent judge of character not to mention skilled in the ways and politics of the Board. Yet this man who stood in front of him was an enigma. He revealed nothing but Kalus knew something evil lurked beneath his calculating, sometimes aloof exterior.
“I hope then he is a success for you and that your investment and faith in him rewards you handsomely. It would be good to see your ludus return to form.”
Kalus could detect a hint of contempt in the man’s voice, even when he smiled that thin, lipless smile he did so often, like he was apologizing for twisting a knife into your gut whilst he continued to turn the blade.
“Thank you for your concern. I’m sure I will be able to turn him into something useful,” Kalus replied, wanting to escape from the man’s presence even more.
“Until we meet again, Director Kalus,” the man said, giving a slight bow.
Kalus nodded. “Until then, Director Krell.”
8
Their worlds were split in two, at opposite ends of the Universe but within touching distance of each other. So far apart yet only separated by two inches of armorglass. One stood in the stark reality of certain death, manacled under harsh lights, in an empty room that held nothing but him. Everything was laid bare for all to see, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
The other stood on the opposite side of the glass, partially revealed yet partially hidden in shadow, in a world filled with machinations, where power was wielded not like a weapon in the hand, but more dangerous than any sword or spear, if used correctly.
The condemned man approached the armorglass until his face was just a few inches from it and stared at the tall, dignified man standing on the other side. He was possibly in his fifties, with cropped amber hair that matched his intelligent eyes and a line of stubble that crossed his jaw and chin. His shoulders were broad, his physique lean like that of a man half his age. He wore a high-collar tunic of steel-blue, dimpled like ostrich skin, not elaborate but rather displaying understated wealth. Attached to the tunic was a corsage of twisted gold that glinted under the subdued lighting on his side, but the detail was unclear.
“What about the child? What will happen to her?” the condemned man said. He had just spent the last few minutes listening to the man on the other side of the armorglass explain how he owned him, where he was and the limited choices he had.
“She is safe.” Kalus nodded. Once again, placing others first. We will have to rectify that trait, he thought. “No harm will come to her, I can assure you.” That’s because she had become his ward. Kalus had purchased her as well for a minimal sum. The child was young and resourceful. She had endured where others hadn’t. After all, both her parents were dead. The father was one of the suicide statistics in the report Kalus had just read. The mother, mortally wounded in combat. The child may prove a wise investment, Kalus believed.
“And the two women, what happened to them? Did they survive?” the man pleaded. No one had said anything to him since he regained consciousness.
Kalus deliberately ignored the question. The man in front of him looked younger in the flesh than on the live feeds he had constantly watched, like the other Board members had done, during that twenty-four-hour period nearly two weeks ago. But the ordeal had aged the young man’s face. There was no doubt. The facial bruising and scarring were all but gone, but certain traces from the ordeal remained and were now permanent. Damage that could never be reversed. There was a certain hardness to the eyes now. A hardness from witnessing so much carnage and death. It was the defiant way he tilted his jaw, the furrows across his brow and the fine lines that creased the corners of his eyes when he narrowed his stare. The young man hated the world, and everyone in it was now his enemy.
“Your hand seems to be healing well.” Kalus nodded at the encased band of cold steel that clamped both wrists in front of him.
The condemned man glanced down and rotated one wrist, flexing the joint where the laser fusion had happened. He was told that his hand would be better than new, stronger than before.
He had been in medical for weeks, recovering. Bones were reset, skin was grafted, wounds were patched up and the healing had begun. But some wounds would never heal.
The eyes narrowed again, and Kalus could feel the heat and anger almost through the armorglass.
“I’m offering you a chance to live,” Kalus continued, returning to the initial conversation. “No one wants you.” Kalus waved his hand. “You didn’t win, but we kept you because you accrued enough credits during the trial by the audience to warrant consideration.”
“But I killed an Elite, you know I did,” the man argued.
“I know you did, but people saw it as rather a hollow kill, not much skill in it. You just drew a gun and shot them. Not really worthy,” Kalus replied, starting to regret his investment. Maybe there was nothing in the young man worth pursuing. “You have only two choices. Accept the fact that I own you and everything that goes with it.”
“Or what?” the man hissed, pulling at the manacles around his wrists.
“In an hour, you are either on a transport out of here, or you will be executed, your body turned to liquid and going down that drain at your feet.” Kalus indicated down to the man’s feet.
The man took a step back and looked down. Indeed he had been standing on a square drain-grate that was recessed into the floor. Looking up above, he saw that the entire ceiling was covered with rows of tiny holes. He had noticed them before but thought they were for ventilation. Now the gruesome truth had surfaced. Not only was the small transparent cube his cell, it was also his execution chamber.
Kalus cocked his head to one side, waiting for the realization to sink in. “But this time no one will be watching,” he added. “You will die alone and no one will care. You will be a dead man and a stupid one at that.”
“Then what do you want from me? Why do you want to save me?”
Finally he was starting to see some sense.
“You will belong in my ludus. You will be trained into the man that you are not, into the fighter that you could be,” Kalus replied.
“But I’m not a killer. I don’t want to be like any of you!” the man shouted.
Kalus seemed to ponder this. How could he make this young man understand? He had seen so little in his short life. He hadn’t seen the real world, the world Kalus lived in. The world that he and others had carved out for themselves. If only he could see that, then he would believe. If I could just harness and sharpen that anger.
“We are all killers in one form or another,” Kalus replied, his eyes cold and emotionless. “We kill people every day with our words. We kill people with our selfish plans. We kill people with our perversions and depravity. Sure, they still walk around and breathe, but on the inside they are dead.”
The man seemed to contemplate what Kalus had just said.
He was close, very close now. Kalus could sense it. As sure as his skull was peeled back allowing him to look inside the man’s mind, he could see him thinking, mulling over, calculating. He was almost there. But a man driven by his own desires and hatred was easier to control than a man forced by the desires and hatred of others. Kalus knew if he pushed him too much, then he would resist. He needed to take that step himself and commit; otherwise it would be a constant battle. So Kalus chose his next words carefully, threw the final dice and watched to see which side came up.
“Someone paid a lot for the both of you to compete in the trial,” Kalus offered, the words left hanging in the air. After allowing the revelation to sink in, he went on. “I mean, someone really wanted you dead, but they wanted to draw the process out and enjoy your suffering.”
The man jerked his head up. His glaring eyes again bore through the glass at Kalus.
Both? He knew she was alive. She had saved him when he couldn’t save her.
“Where is she? Is she here?” the man demanded.
“Live and find out, my friend,” Kalus replied.
The expression on the man’s face was priceless. The dice were thrown and Kalus had won.
“I know those words. Some else said them,” the man said vaguely, trying to recall who had uttered them before. He watched as Kalus stepped fully into the light and directly in front of him. The man’s eyes dropped to the corsage of twisted gold pinned to Kalus’s tunic: a wreath of antlers encircling the letter V.
“I know you want justice for what has happened to you both. You can be the instrument of that justice,” Kalus said. “There is a way. There is always a way.”
Once again, more words heard before. Toros.
“Can you make me strong like him? Can you make me fight like him?” the man replied, his face now eager and intense.
This was certainly worth the price I paid, Kalus thought.
“I took Toros into my ludus, Ludus Virtus, when he was no older than you. He was a quick study and a fast learner. He had a thirst for training and a drive for bettering himself. He was fully committed. For Toros was seeking justice too,” Kalus spoke, his voice filled with pride and passion. Kalus cocked his head at the man on the opposite side of the glass who stood alone in a world of certain death.
“Will you be that committed? Are you willing to find a way to become like him?” Kalus said, his eyes like shards of ice boring back through the glass at the condemned man.
“Yes!” The reply was immediate. No hesitation. “Can you make me like him?” The same unanswered question.
Kalus deliberately let the man’s question hang, letting him wait for his response, choosing his next words only after careful thought. He held his new purchase right in his palm and was about to close his fingers around him. After several moments, Kalus stepped right up to the glass, his face like granite, devoid of any emotion. “Oh, no. I can’t make you like him. I can make you much, much better.”
