I landed hard, rolling to disperse the impact. I lay there, chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Then, slowly, I rose to my feet, all four flags clutched in my hand.

The challenge was complete. I stood victorious, battered but unbroken. Around me, I heard the murmurs of approval from the observing fighters.

Renak lounged in his corner, his scaled form a study in nonchalance. But I knew better. I’d seen the glint of interest in his eyes during my performance.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “Are you ready to talk now?”

Renak’s eyes narrowed, his forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. “Maybe,” he rumbled. “You’ve certainly proven you’re not just Zhen’la’s lapdog.”

I snorted. “I’m much more than that. And I think you know it.”

A slow smile spread across Renak’s reptilian features, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. “Alright, Vinduthi. You’ve got my attention. But the question is...” He paused, his gaze boring into mine. “What are you going to do with it?”

SAMIRA

Ihunched over the lab bench, my fingers dancing across the holographic interface as I input the latest data from my experiments. The small, converted lab hummed with the quiet buzz of equipment, the air thick with the acrid scent of chemicals and the earthy musk of the Ocakian fungus.

Dr. Zhen’la’s insectoid form loomed in my mind, his mandibles clicking with excitement as he’d explained his theory. “The Ocakian enzymes will be the key, Samira. They’ll allow the compound to slip past neural defenses like a thief in the night.”

I’d nodded, not daring to question his enthusiasm. But now, as I stared at the results flickering before me, my heart sank. The fungal enzymes weren’t bypassing neural defenses - they were devouring the mind-control drug itself.

I zoomed in on the molecular structure, watching in dismay as the key components broke down in real-time. The resulting substance was a viscous, almost acidic gel that bubbled ominously in its containment field.

“Shit,” I muttered. This failure would infuriate Zhen’la, but there was no way to hide it. The thought of deceiving him terrified me. Would he take his anger out on me, or on Arkon?

With a deep breath, I began preparing a detailed report, explaining the chemical breakdown and its implications. As an afterthought, I filled a small vial with the Ocakian gel. It might prove useful, somehow. Stranger things have come out of failed lab experiments.

Report in hand, I walked towards Zhen’la’s office. The converted building was a maze of sterile corridors, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. As I approached his door, voices drifted out, making me pause.

“...haven’t been able to reach Mednax in weeks,” Zhen’la was saying, his tone uncharacteristically anxious. “Have you heard from him, Kreshnar?”

A deep, rumbling voice responded - one I didn’t recognize. “Mednax is dead, Zhen’la. Assassinated in the recent power struggles.”

I pressed myself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

Zhen’la made a strangled sound. “Dead? But... who’s overseeing the project now?”

“I am,” Kreshnar said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “And I must say, I’m less than impressed with your progress. The failure on Kervant-9 was... unfortunate.”

“We had setbacks, yes, but-”

“Setbacks?” Kreshnar interrupted. “Your entire mind-control program is flawed, Zhen’la. The Consortium is reconsidering its position on such... heavy-handed methods. I just need you to make one mistake, and it’s over.”

A whirlwind of thoughts tore through my mind, impossible to control. A power shift in the Consortium? This could change everything - for me, for Arkon, for our chances of escape.

I heard movement inside the office and quickly retreated, my heart pounding. Back in the lab, I set down the report and gripped the edge of the bench, processing what I’d overheard.

If Kreshnar opposed the mind-control program, could he help us? Or was he just another predator, waiting to strike? I thought of Arkon, forced to fight in the arena while I worked in this sterile prison. We needed a way out, and fast.

I busied myself with tidying the lab, mind whirling with possibilities. Hours later, as I headed back to my quarters, a stocky figure rounded the corner. Kreshnar.

As we collided, I stumbled, “accidentally” falling against him.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, steadying myself. His large, pointed ears swiveled towards me, catching every sound.

As he helped me up, I leaned in close, my lips barely moving. “I can help you.”

Kreshnar’s ear flicked, almost imperceptibly. A twitch ran through his tail. Without a word, he strode past me, leaving me alone in the corridor.