Page 6 of Caged

His elite guard of bot soldiers are ranged behind him. Deep in my soul, something snarls at the sight of them.

“I came to see how my gladiators were training this morning, and instead,” the tall, pale green-skinned Lyarian says, “I witness this.”

Beneath me, the captain squirms, and as I lose focus, I’m pulled off him.

“No one touches my warriors,” I rasp, looking directly at the procurator.

“I say who touchesmygladiators, not you, Sylas. You gave up your rights to a choice when you destroyed your former home and led the failed rebellion. When the council decreed your sentence was to end here.”

His bots buzz and hum as if irritated. The sound wave hits me, and if my reaction to Klynn or the captain was visceral, the noise of the bots sends me spiraling as I become something else entirely.

As I go for the procurator, I hear the shouts of my fellow Gryn, but they are lost in my intense desire to destroy everything around me. The bots move into battle formation, and without weapons, I know I have already lost. The procurator stares cooly at me from behind his protective shield.

“When will you learn, gladiator? You are here because you failed. And you can contemplate exactly how you want to spend the remainder of your time alive in the hole.”

ALEX

Sewers.

It’s always sewers.

It’s as if fate felt I didn’t spend enough time in the dark and stench of a good sewer before I was abducted (and I can confirm at thirty-four years old, I had never seen the inside of a sewer on Earth), so apparently my time down in the stinky depths has come.

The 3-D map spins as I do my best to breathe through my mouth rather than my nose. A light ball flashes, showing the exit I need to take. I absolutely do not hesitate. I am going to smell like shit for the rest of the day whatever happens, but it doesn’t stop me shoving the filthy door open as quickly as I can and gulping down the fresher air on the other side.

I say fresher because I’ve replaced sewer for an area which smells like a mix between a men’s locker room and animal stalls. It’s well-lit, and at the far end of the room, I can see items which look suspiciously like they might be used for training…gladiators.

I freeze and squish myself against the wall, looking around for anywhere I might be able to hide. There isn’t anywhere, and according to the map, the only exit is past the training area.

“Not good…not good at all,” I mutter, sliding my way down the rough-hewn rock walls, noting I can’t even see the ceiling above me. Instead there is blackness, meaning I have to be a long, long way beneath the dome.

I make it to the exit without incident, noting the scuffing on the floor and the various dummies, presumably used for training, are covered in what look like claw marks. Unable to help myself, a closer inspection also reveals…gnaw marks?

I’ve seen a little of the preview of the games. There are huge video screens in the more salubrious parts of Tatatunga, ones I occasionally pass through, where lurid footage of things being sliced to pieces spin, interspersed with close-up images of helmeted aliens, flashing weapons, and on one horrible occasion what could only be described as a tapeworm but about five hundred feet long.

I’ve never been able to stand still long enough to see much of the actual gladiators. From what I have seen, they’re massive winged creatures. Occasionally one flashes up on the screen, stats scrolling alongside a montage of swift images showcasing the extreme violence they cause. What species they are, I don’t know, and other than Ginka, I’ve not had anyone else to ask.

I wish I’d asked now.

Behind me, there’s a crash like a bucket being kicked and it hurries me up. I need to find the back box office and steal the pass before I’m detected, as I don’t want to end up like one of those dummies…or worse.

The entire place seems unreasonably quiet as I make my way through various conduits and passages, climbing ever higher within the structure. It’s as if the giant is sleeping, and I don’t want to be around when it wakes up.

The map finally flashes my destination, and it’s with some considerable relief I spot another living creature. A harassed looking Oykig, a reptilian species, mostly resembling a snake butconsiderably larger. It’s hissing up a storm at something as I peer in through the open doorway.

As I watch, it slams its tail against a colored neon square, which springs open. The Oykig reaches inside and pulls out three round discs—passes for the dome, reminiscent of CD’s—and shoves them, one by one into what looks like a scanner specifically made to take them.

I half expect music to start as the thing spins around, and I’m a little disappointed I don’t get a blast of Spice Girls when there is a loud ringing sound that startles the Oykig. It hisses and huffs, glaring at the machine until it finally slides over to the wall and presses a button.

“What is it?” it snaps. “I’m in the middle of formatting passes, and you know how complicated it is.”

This is probably my only chance. I dart through the open door, and staying low, I get to the machine just as it finishes its cycle. I snatch up the discs, shove them inside my shirt, down the front of my underwear and then run as fast as I can, while the Oykig continues to complain bitterly into the wall about its working conditions.

Once I get a good distance away, chest heaving with the sudden movement and adrenaline coursing through me, I stop and duck behind a large metal strut, one which is presumably part of the dome structure. Over the sound of my hammering heart, I check the map, instructing it to find me a way out.

It isn’t the same as the way in, and I sigh with relief. Maybe I won’t smell like sewers all day after all. I attempt to look nonchalant as I stroll the passageways as quickly as I can. One or two of the creatures I pass give me a second glance, but I make sure I’m out of sight before they can double back.

Yet again, I’m descending into the bowels of the dome, and my hope of missing out on another sewer visit is disappearing. Finally, I’m faced with a large metal door, crudely (for an alienplanet packed with tech humans can only dream about) locked with a single sliding bolt.

---