Page 76 of Caged

Haxrix narrows her eyes but says nothing, leading me out of the bare room and into another, large and open, with comfortable seating, a food prep area and a view over Tatatunga from the west. Groups of various species are talking quietly. I spot Jiaka, Oykig, more Cirmos, and a couple of Tref, along with Axel who is talking with a massive horned minotaur.

“Sit,” Haxrix says, pushing me into a squashy couch.

She walks away, striped tail twitching at the tip, punches Axel in the balls, and returns to the food prep area.

“Axel brought you in then?” An Oykig female, her chest scales darker and more iridescent than the male, slides in next to me. “I’m Gytha,” she adds.

“I’m Alex, and yes, Axel brought me here.”

“All fur, that one.” Gytha laughs as Axel doubles up, clutching his family jewels. “You need our help?”

“My mate, Sylas—he’s a Gryn gladiator in the dome—he needs your help. He needs anyone’s help, really,” I say. “I’ve got to get him out. They’re going to make him fight to the death.”

“I thought that’s what the gladiator dome was all about,” Gytha says.

“It isn’t. The Gryn can defeat just about anything, but they’re going to fix it this time so that he doesn’t. Because Medius doesn’t want him to remember.”

“Medius? General Medius?” Gytha asks. “Of the Zavaro?”

“He’s a Zavaro, yes,” I reply. “What do you know about him? About the Gryn? Tell me!” I demand, my voice rising and a hush falling over the room as everyone turns to watch us.

“We know General Medius of old.” The huge minotaur steps forward. “We’ve all fought him in the past, or our species have. The Zavaro seek to conquer, if not by force, by stealth, and we believe that has happened here on Trefa. The dome, the games—they’re all a distraction and a place to do away with those who the Zavaro considers to be their enemies.”

“Trefa is a lawless place, so how can you tell?” I snort, looking away from him. “It turns its back on those who are enslaved or poor. It cares nothing for the vulnerable. It’s a terrible place with or without the dome.”

“Trefa wasn’t always this way.” It’s a female Tref who speaks, tall and willowy, her long arms accentuated by the powder blue flowing tunic she wears. “It was once a planet of peace and tranquility. While we welcome the trade, we do not welcome those who wish to destroy what we have. It’s about time the council takes notice of what those who live here want, and not what those who just want to take insist upon.”

“And you want to destroy them in turn?”

“We want peace,” Gytha says. “It’s all anyone on Trefa wants. But we also want equality, not slavery, and for the council to no longer pretend this is not a problem for our planet. To stand up to the Zavaro and make it so the Galactic Council knows what is really happening here on Trefa, as they’re the only ones who can fully influence Tatatunga.”

“Well, good luck with that.” I say, getting up. “Given how many credits the dome generates for Tatatunga, the games will never cease. In the meantime, I have a mate to save, from himself mostly, but I am going to save him. I think your aims are honorable, but they are not going to help us.”

“Ah, little Alex, that’s where you’re wrong. The dome is at the center of everything. If we can get in there, if the gladiators can assist, then we can take this all apart from within, including dealing with the Zavaro.”

SYLAS

Klynn pronouncing me a leader is the least of my worries. Despite my exhortations not to go poking around in his memory, it’s clear Maxym is going to ignore me.

As for the others, I still can’t be entirely sure they are part of my past, but like always within the dome, they’re up for anything if it involves slicing through flesh.

Were we always like this? Did every Gryn’s heart beat faster at the idea of chaos and mayhem? The sound of an explosion, the use of weaponry of any kind? Or has this been infused within us like the other attributes Medius claims to have added while we were under his control?

I stare at the bars. My fellow gladiators have melted back into the shadows, having determined Klynn and Rych will obtain intelligence, Blayn will find the necessary weapons, and Maxym, the only one of us currently with access to Tatatunga privileges, will see if he can find out about getting the memory blocks removed.

The main door to the cell block scrapes open, and two Habosu enter, followed by the captain.

“Come to release me?” I call out, flicking a claw against the bars, making them spark and sizzle.

“You’re wanted in the dome, gladiator,” the captain says.

“I’d have thought better of you.” I eye the guards carefully. “After all the time we’ve spent together.”

“This is not my choice, Sylas,” he says. “You’ll need to use those on him.” He nods at the two Habosu who have neck restraints in their hands.

“You won’t. I’m not here to fight you,” I reply, stepping back from the bars. “You know what is right and wrong.”

The captain flinches as if I’ve physically assaulted the grizzled old bull.

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