Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Ziana's brow furrowed even further the first time the muffled sound had reached her ears, straining hard to make out its source.

"Seriously, what is that?"

Maria shrugged. "I told you, I don't know."

"Don't you care?"

"Sure. But if it's important, I assume we'll find out soon enough."

She was right about that.

"Everyone up and to the door!" a voice boomed inside the compartment as the transport shuddered to a rumbling halt, the interior becoming brightly illuminated to the point where they had to squint a little.

As it turned out, it was for a good reason. After so long in dim lighting, their eyes weren't used to full sunlight, and their captors didn't want them stumbling and tripping over one another when they stepped outside.

Outside.

The smell of fresh air—truly fresh air, not the crap pumped in through a ventilation system—flooded the compartment, blowing in through the bright light radiating through the open door. Something else came in at the same time. The sound. Everyone recognized it immediately now that it was not muffled by thick metal walls.

It was the sound of a cheering crowd.

"Come on. Out with you lot!" the gruff voice commanded, this time not over the internal speaker but from just outside the open door. "Step out, step down, and don't trip. Then line up and stay quiet. No funny business, clear? You don't want to find out what happens to those who disobey those orders."

After so long stuck inside the same four walls, it was doubtful anyone would even have had the briefest of thoughts of acting up. Just the mere thought of getting out into the fresh air was enough motivation for them to behave. Threats were a totally unneeded additional incentive.

The crowd roared as the passengers exited one by one, each adjusting their eyes to the bright sun despite their brief shift in interior lighting. Ziana looked at the ground, diverting her gaze to give it a moment. Surprisingly, this wasn't some super-nifty alien tarmac.

It's dirt , she noted, forcing herself to look up and see where the noise was coming from. Oh, shit .

This wasn't just some dirt field. This was an arena. A very high-tech, alien arena with bleachers around it in a U-shape, the open end leading out into a sprawling wilderness. Next to the impressive nature, however, was a city. A crazy one by any human standards.

This wasn't old or new, artistic or cold. It was a mix of a great many styles and feels, the alien architecture blending both technological marvels with what looked almost fairy tale in whimsical design. Taller structures resembled castles in their own way, while smaller buildings spread as far as she could see. Of course, with the bleachers blocking most of the way, there wasn't much to see. And those bleachers were full of a variety of alien races, not only cheering at the arrival of the newcomers as she'd initially believed, but also what seemed to be a small-scale footrace taking place around them.

"This way," the lead guard said, urging them to move toward a shady area situated in front of the five luxury boxes just above the arena floor.

They were plush and well-furnished, from what she could see. Clearly the special seating areas for some alien big wigs. Ziana and the others marched ahead in a single line, coming to a stop just below them. She could see better now that there were some people in each of the luxury boxes, though they were in no way filled to capacity. And then, just like that, a few from each seemed to disappear, only to reappear moments later at ground level from behind a wall at what would have roughly corresponded with the back of the luxury areas.

Must be an elevator of some sort , she mused.

The people were opulent in their attire. A bit gaudy, when you got right down to it. And the way they looked at the rather odd group now stood in front of them, it was clear to see they thought themselves superior, so much better than these lesser beings they were looking down their noses at. At least, those who had noses. One of them, a purple and gray-skinned man with broad shoulders but a very unimpressive build despite his bone structure, had an almost smooth downward-sloping button where a nose should be. The others, however, did have more traditional ones.

"What is this, some kind of slave auction?" Ziana quietly asked the nearest guard.

"You are not to speak."

"Yeah, I get that, but can you at least tell me what's going on?"

Incredibly, the man glanced to either side and, finding it clear, spoke quickly and quietly. "You are in the city of Arval for possible selection to fill unexpected gaps in the Husken Games."

"What are those?"

"Shh. Be silent," he said, then walked away to give the line of prisoners one final review before presenting them.

"Shit. These are the Husken Games?" a silver-skinned woman with gills and reptilian-looking skin grumbled. "Nobody said we might be stuck in the Husken Games."

"What does that even mean?" Ziana asked.

The woman shook her head, whispering out of the side of her mouth. "They take place every three years. A massive event comprised of tests of strength, speed, stamina, intelligence, agility, and resourcefulness. If that's where we are, then those are the heads of the five ruling families who fund and oversee the games. Their offspring teams will compete against commoners, as always. If a commoner should win, they will ascend to the ranks of the elites, winning fortune and status."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad?—"

"But despite the games being endorsed by the Dotharian Conglomerate itself, they can be quite violent, and the families will gladly do whatever it takes to win the valuable pigment the Conglomerate adds to the winner's pot, adding it to their already vast fortunes."

"They cheat?"

"Many believe so, though no one can prove it decisively. But given that no one has ever defeated the elites in longer than any can remember, I think that is a fair assumption. Commoners enter every time, just as they fail, though not for lack of trying."

"How can they cheat if it's an official Dotharian thing? I thought those guys were the big, bad top dogs of the law around here."

"They are. But they are also not able to be everywhere at once. And there have been some conflicts elsewhere in the system, so they're a bit spread thin."

Ziana shook her head, taking it all in as best she could, but it really was a lot to wrap her head around. "But what's this talk about filling gaps? If everyone is so gung-ho to play the games, what does that even mean?"

"Some entrants unexpectedly lose their partners."

"So, it's a team event?"

"Yes. And those already entered must have a partner. If one is not available on their own, a replacement will be selected for them by the overseeing group."

"You mean the elites."

"Precisely. Now you're catching on. See those men and women filtering in and lining up over there?"

Ziana turned her head as subtly as she could. There were six people now standing just to the side of the group. Four men and two women. All of them looked quite fit, and none of them seemed happy. Both women were somewhat short, the blue-skinned one wearing a form-fitting jumpsuit of some kind of stretchy material, while the orange-skinned woman with brick-colored hair was in shorts and a tank top that showed off her insanely chiseled abs.

The men were equally ripped, two of them with the same pale green coloration and elongated arms that made them look like they'd somehow descended from weird alien apes. Then there was the one with skin so deep red it looked like he'd suffered radiation burns, though he showed no signs of any such injury.

Lastly, the gray-blue skinned man with dark hair, bulging muscles, and a very unhappy look on his surprisingly handsome face. That is, handsome once you got past the scar on this left cheek and the sneering look of disdain on his lips. He was not happy. Not in the slightest.

"They're the ones who lost partners?" Ziana asked.

"Yep."

"What happened? Did they get hurt in training?"

"Well, let's just say that if a team is really good, perhaps posing an actual threat to win, more often than not, one or both will suffer a training injury. That, or an unfortunate accident outside of the games. Whatever the case, they invariably find themselves unable to compete at their full potential. And that is why we're brought in. Warm bodies to fill the gaps and give a semblance of a fair game, though a lot of us know it's anything but."

"But you said some of them are really good."

"Yes. But they're supposed to make the games exciting. Not actually win them, though a few of the more stubborn ones seem to have missed that memo. Take that scowling one. Now that I know where we are, and judging by that scar, I'm sure that's Dorrin. He's been competing in these games since he came of age, and he loses every time. A fan favorite and local boy. His father competed before him in hopes of elevating his family."

"And now this Dorrin guy is following in his father's footsteps. And the others?"

"Similar stories with variations here and there. But none of that really matters. It's entirely up to the elites who is partnered with whom."

Ziana didn't like the sound of that. "Look, I don't want any part of this shit."

"You lack runes, and that's a grave violation of Dotharian law. I think the games are the least of your concerns. Just be glad there are no representatives of the Dotharian Conglomerate here at the moment. If there were, you'd be as good as dead."

Those words hit her like a slap across the face. She'd known her days might be numbered, but hearing it like this? It brought those thoughts she'd buried deep over the weeks and weeks of boredom right back to the surface. And more than scare her, it really, really pissed her off.

As if he sensed something in the air, Chancellor Vinchi, one of the elites with pale white skin and golden yellow hair, and wearing comically Romanesque robes, walked toward her, skipping over the others in line he'd been inspecting.

"What is this? Did I hear this one has no runes?" he said with an exaggerated gasp, grabbing Ziana's arm and holding it up with shock and disgust before dropping it unceremoniously. "And this other one as well? Two without runes?"

"They should be put to death, my lord Vinchi!" an aide called out.

The crowd cheered, bloodthirsty and loving the unexpected spectacle.

They're broadcasting this to the audience , Ziana realized. We're on TV .

"Pathetic," the elite continued, staring at the two Earth women with open contempt. "Clearly, these two are from a lesser world. No more than miscreants. Filth stuck to the bottom of the glorious boot of the Dotharian Conglomerate. A waste of flesh and blood."

He was getting on a roll, reveling in the laughter and cheers from the plebs in the audience. This was all just a show to him. One big joke. An opportunity to be the big man at someone else's expense. And that pissed her off even more.

"Hey! Fuck you, buddy," she shot back, and by no means in a quiet voice.

The man's face darkened, rage bubbling up along with an expression of absolute shock. "You dare speak to me this way? Who do you think?—"

"I'm Ziana, asshole. And on my planet, people don't get to talk to other people like that just because they think they're special because of their so-called elite status."

"What are you doing?" Maria hissed.

"Fuck it. If I'm going to die, at least I'm doing it on my terms and on my feet, not groveling on the ground."

The crowd roared, shocked and in awe of the novelty of this strange woman mouthing off to Chancellor Vinchi, the most powerful of the ruling elites. It was unheard of. And it was amazing .

The chancellor looked as if his head might pop right off. And he looked ready to order the two humans executed on the spot, but the sounds of the crowd's reaction penetrated his rage. Indeed, this was being broadcast, and everyone was watching. Not only him, but this troublesome woman. An idea formed instantly, the seed planted, watered, and grown to maturity in a flash. He turned to where he knew the nearest video capture device was innocuously hidden. He'd selected its location himself, after all.

"Oh, we have a feisty one, eh?" he said, hamming it up. "It seems to be true, neither of these two women possesses the Dotharian runes?—"

The crowd gasped in disbelief. The chancellor raised his hand to hush them.

"But I think we should give them a chance to prove themselves, don't you?"

The crowd roared yet again.

"And I will personally see to it they receive their runes at once, qualifying them to compete in the Husken Games!"

The crowd cheered, the die cast and the game afoot, and the chancellor's smile blossomed bright and wide at what was to come. He stepped close, positioning himself so his face was off camera, signaling for the sound to be cut. As soon as it was, he spoke quietly to Ziana alone.

"You will be entertainment for my people, but know this. You are nothing more than a novelty. Disposable. And you will find this may very well be worse than a quick death. And when it all is done, when you are broken and lost, then I will look forward to you toiling your remaining days beneath me as my loyal servant." He nodded for the sound to be turned back on. "This one has fire and drive. I think she will be a perfect match for Dorrin. What do you think?"

The crowd's enthusiastic response sealed the deal, though it was settled even without them.

Maria looked at her friend, a look of utter confusion in her eyes. "Ziana, what have you done?"