“Collective ships are strange, even by the standards of humanity. Once modeled after Federation vessels, time has seen them warp into blocky, inhospitable ships. What use is there for corridors when software manages all? What need for engineers to reach the engines when nanobots can perform any type of repair?
That is not to say Collective ships are hostile. In fact, some captains consider crossing paths with them as good fortune, for they trade material goods in exchange for stories. Immortality, the Collective freely explains, is pointless without entertainment.
And even True AI has poor imagination.”
An introduction to the wider galaxy, chapter twenty four
“So anyway, that’s when I first noticed I liked men,” Jason continued. Mat was sorely tempted to reach through the bars and strangle him. “You’re not gay, are you?”
“No.”
Jason sighed. “A pity. Tall and brooding, that’s how I like them.”
Mat was not brooding, nor was he particularly tall. Though, considering he had a fair few inches over the man, he supposed that was a matter of perspective. He spoke when Jason seemed ready to continue his horror story disguised as idle conversation. “So what do you think the next fight is going to be?”
“Oh, a group fight for sure,” the man replied, nodding to himself. “The guards have been eyeing us all morning, and it’s boring to repeat events. They did duels, they did urban warfare, so now they’ll probably do a brawl.”
When the guards streamed into the holding area an hour later, opening each and every cell, Mat grudgingly allowed that Jason had good qualities to go along with the horrible. Like being observant, and good in a fight. Mostly those two.
Sury rolled her shoulders. “Finally. Can’t wait to get out of here. At least the domus has enough space so I’m not living on top of five others. Wow, never thought I’d consider the domus large. The sunlight is nice, though.”
Mat ignored her ramblings. They weren’t let into the armory, this time. Instead they went to a vast hallway, where it seemed every single last one of Obedias’ guards had gathered. And more, since Mat could see a number of well dressed, perfectly human looking men and women stalking around.
Those scared him much, much more than the guards did. No steel plating and menacing spikes meant to intimidate. It was the cold, genetically enhanced fuckers that screamed danger. The kind of people who would break his neck and never think about the act again.
…people like himself, if he was being honest. Even in his own mind, that wasn’t a compliment.
One of Obedias’ guards handed him a simple sword and pistol, neither special and both clearly intended to be non-lethal. At least they got a phase shield, not that getting stunned early was so bad.
Except that he was just one kill away from leveling up, and that thought disturbed him. In a big brawl like this, it would be easy. No one would be able to tell the difference between accident and intent, not even with the most advanced of drones. Even if they did, the clients were far from allergic to bloodshed.
Mat pulled his mind away, holding the armor. Stark yellow, which should have been garish but looked sleek instead. Dark blue versions were being handed out to others, and already the room was starting to divide in half. Tribalism reigned supreme even in the far future.
Still, this felt like a culmination. The finale, so to speak. Good. As Sury had said: the sun was nice, but everything else was pretty shit.
It didn’t take long before they were shepherded away, split between yellow and blue, and led towards grander doors. Wide, stone things, though he could spy metal hinges powered by modern technology. Or modern to him, anyway. The clients probably consider it just as ancient as the Colosseum itself.
The allure of Rome was hard to beat, as was only proper.
They entered in a blob, and Mat separated himself at once, watching a few others do the same. Jason wasn’t on his team, though Buck was, and he could spot Sury on the other side of the arena. He failed to find Cintra at all. Christ, so many names. If only a certain AI could keep track of them all.
“Don’t look at me,” Nova denied, his tone a lazy drawl. “I don’t care about these people. Besides, I need to keep my energy up to craft perks, don’t I?”
Well, Nova was feeling confident, at least. Mat wasn’t so sure, which was why he didn’t join any of the small groups that were forming. Most would have taken him, he knew. He was neither famous nor infamous, solidly in the middle of the unofficial rankings, and so there was no reason to deny him.
Instead, Mat edged as far away from the main group as he could, tracing his phase shield with one hand. It wouldn't last long under concentrated fire, as he had learned firsthand, and the center was about to become a bloodbath. Even with the guns set to stun rather than kill, he didn’t want to find out what happened when someone was stunned several dozen times in quick succession.
The answer was probably death.
“A monumental battle!” the herald began, his voice rolling over the entire stadium. Mat saw that each of the guests were paying attention, this time, and there seemed to be more of them than usual. He supposed that, outside of an actual war, it would be rare to see this kind of battle firsthand. “The dreaded yellow shadows attack the fortress of Asul’nok, whose defenders rally to turn the tide. History tells us Asul’nok prevailed, but here, history is unmade, recreated by your will.”
Mat readied himself, and very nearly lost his focus when another voice shouted across the arena. “Make them fight to the death!”
It was a young voice. Under twenty, but more than that, it felt young. Like a boy still figuring out what it was like to grow up. Utter silence greeted him, and for a heartstopping moment, Mat feared that the child—who he didn’t doubt was the progeny of someone very important—would get his wish.
“No,” the herald finally replied, sounding surprisingly firm. Relaying orders then, and not deciding. It would probably be too expensive, the cynical part of Mat’s mind whispered. Ah, no, that had been Nova. Right. The herald’s tone switched back to breathless excitement and wonder. “Let history be rewritten by your desire, honored Mauldove.”
Mauldove. Mat had heard that name before. They ran a company, but he honestly didn't really care. The herald had cut his speech short, too. Usually the man droned on for minutes. Being able to read the room would be a necessary skill for his profession, admittedly.
The fight didn’t start when the herald finished speaking. In fact, both sides hesitated, as if unsure. Neither Mat nor the other sixty three bladeslaves were soldiers, even if some had military experience.
Finally, after five tense seconds, someone opened fire. Mat didn’t see who, and he didn’t care. Instead he ducked away and used the best cover available to him. His fellow teammates.
A stream of energy raced from each side, every man and woman snapping out of their stupor at once. Screams rose, and in his limited field of view alone, half a dozen people went down, some like they were sleeping, others twitching and spasming. Mat continued to keep low, moving with the small cluster of people he was hiding behind.
While they had been given ranged weapons, bladeslaves were aptly named. It only took seconds before both sides charged one another, fear on most faces, rage on those who had lost friends in the initial volleys. Mat cursed, forced to follow or be left in the open.
He followed, taking a few glancing blows on his phase shield in the process. His enhanced stamina was a subtle thing, most of the time, but here it shined. A mad dash across the arena was tiring no matter how in shape you were, but he recovered more quickly than most.
Which meant that when one man put his sword through the neck of another, Mat was one of the few who saw it.
He stared at the corpse, and then at the man who had created it. The bladeslave grinned, seeming mildly deranged. That wasn’t cold anger, or even a flare of rage. Mania ran through his eyes, and then those same eyes locked onto Mat.
Well, one of them was bound to snap sooner or later. A big, chaotic melee was the perfect fuel for a meltdown. Yeah. That seemed logical. And now the madman was charging him. Great. Why was he feeling so calm, anyway?
Mat met the man’s wild sprint with a smooth step to the side, but a flash of movement interrupted his own attack. Mat jerked away from a trio of brawling bladeslaves, a sword missing him by inches. Then the maniac was on him, an unnaturally wide grin on his face.
He sliced, but the madman ran through his attack, and Mat’s dodge came a hair too slow. They went to the floor in a tangle of limbs, but far from the wrestling Mat was used to, the man bit him in the shoulder.
Pain flared, Mat shifted his hips, and the maniac literally squeaked when Mat put him in a chokehold, arms locking together. Someone stepped on them both, but other than that, the battle seemed willing to ignore them.
Now what?
Choking someone into unconsciousness wasn’t exactly easy even in perfect conditions, and the longer he laid here, the more danger he was in. Neither did he just want to kill the guy, because there was obviously something wrong with him.
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“I don’t know,” Nova said, sounding faintly distressed and far from the cool, relaxed self he had been not minutes ago. “But do something. I don’t like it here anymore.”
The choice was taken from him. Strength surged through his captive, and the hands that had been clawing at his own suddenly gained superhuman might. Mat screamed when the madman broke two of his fingers, jerking away out of instinct.
Mat’s other hand seized a pistol, half buried by sand, and blind with pain, he hit the stranger on the head, thinking of nothing but forcing the man to let go of his fingers.
The madman went limp, and for the second time in two days, he could faintly feel Nova’s attention pull away, siphoning energy from death.
“What the fuck, Mat?” Jason asked. He was yanked up, and Mat got his feet under him out of instinct. Another man, dressed in the same blue that Jason was, ran towards them, and Jason shot that man twice. No phase shield, some part of Mat noted. Jason grunted. “Move.”
He snapped out of it, following as Jason pulled them out of the fight. It seemed stupid, but Mat asked before he could stop himself. “We’re on different teams.”
“The fuck do I care about what uniform they’ve given me?” Jason retorted. Mat snorted, then yanked the man aside, causing an errant blade to miss his head by inches. Jason cursed, then shot him an adrenaline filled grin. “Thanks. I feel like ants are crawling under my skin. Is that normal? People keep looking at me weird when I ask that. See, yeah. Just like that.”
Mat hadn’t really been paying attention, honestly. With broken fingers his combat readiness tanked, and it was his good hand too. He could fight without it, Yon’s training demanded nothing less, but not nearly as well.
He drew his pistol, and together they barged out of the center of the melee. Jason took a blow on his back, but Mat kept him upright. Then Mat nearly broke his ankle when he tripped over a corpse, but Jason yanked him onwards.
At the edge of the battle, things were calmer. Without quite so many fights it was easy to avoid those who were fighting, and though his adrenaline was settling, it kept the pain away. Mat took a few shots where he could, picking off those without functional phase shields, but his aim was poor at best. Jason did better.
It would have made them a target, but frankly, there were no targets. Despite the grand words of the herald, this was no invasion or siege. It wasn’t even really a battle. It was a brawl, and brawls were chaotic, messy things, without focus or organization.
Considering that he could already spot four corpses, the bloodthirsty child might have very well gotten part of his wish.
Irony was to blame for what happened next, Mat was sure. More and more people fell, surrendered, or were outright dragged away by the drones. From sixty four to half that to half again. Then only two groups were left, from which he only recognized Stef, who appeared to be leading her group. Her team and the other one tore into each other, somehow achieving a perfect tie.
It was surreal to watch, really. Stef took out four people before the last managed to hit her in the head, then promptly fell over himself. It was almost… cartoonish. Or it would have been, if it wasn’t for the smell of blood and the screams of the wounded.
Regardless, it left him and Jason as the only two people left standing.
Mat’s phase shield had long since run out of charge, and his fingers were still broken. But he had recovered more energy than Jason had, thanks to his perk, and the man was bleeding lightly from a shoulder wound.
Jason raised his pistol, shrugging. Mat was fine with that. The man wouldn't kill him, and so what did Mat care about losing? Except that a pair of drones flew in between them, and Jason slowly lowered his weapon, shooting him an apologetic smile. No easy way out, then. Shame.
The herald spoke again when they were shepherded into the arena proper, only to be cut off before he could even really begin. An older man rose instead, seemingly in charge by how quickly the herald shut up.
“You are friends, are you not?” the man said. His voice echoed through the arena, though Mat could see no microphone. “You fought together against those of your own team. Forged a bond in combat. I can respect that, so I shall give you a choice. Fight. Fight to kill, and whoever stands victorious, I shall purchase and subsequently free.”
Jason froze, and Mat felt a yawning, cold pit open in his stomach. Jason took a step aside, which Mat didn’t blame him for. All the same, he remained still. The old man seemed willing to wait for an answer, and Jason didn’t seem likely to give it.
Mat inhaled, smelling the blood and death and more. A pair of bladeslaves were in front of him, both dead, both with glassy eyes and slack expressions. Seeing a corpse was always strange. Some looked just like they were sleeping, but something was almost wrong. The lack of movement, of breathing, even of warmth.
How many people had he killed? Mat swore he could remember before the fight started, but now he didn’t know. Only the one? A dozen? Did it even matter anymore?
Then, finally, someone spoke. Mat was surprised to find it was himself. “No.”
“Don’t be stupid,” the old man said, leaning forward. He seemed to be in a fine mood. “I could have the both of you executed with a word, and it won’t even cost me as much as this here bottle of wine. You are bladeslaves, and you have fought for much shallower reasons than your freedom.”
Mat considered that, looking up. Nova was shouting something, but Mat couldn't hear him. “If you want my life, come down here and take it yourself.”
Silence reigned for what seemed like an eternity. Mat wasn’t entirely sure why he was so calm. Mania, maybe, like that of the madman he had killed. It didn’t really matter. Jason was looking at him now, eyes wide, but Mat stared at the old man. A man whose name he didn’t know, and didn’t care to know.
Finally, that old man laughed. “Had I been twenty years younger, I would have taken you up on that. Very well, then. Go, and enjoy the life of a slave. I’ll let Obedias know not to have you killed for the disrespect.”
Mat turned, moving back towards the gate. That had been stupid. Supercilious. Downright suicidal. But Jason followed, and Mat felt a small, almost joyous grin crawl onto his face.
“We could have been free!” Nova ranted. Mat flexed his hand, enjoying the full use of his fingers. The transport took off, whisking them back to the Challenger. Sixty four had come down, fifty two rose back up. “Free, do you hear me? Janus was tired, wounded, a fucking baser. Right now, we could be—”
His name is Jason, Nova. And if it is you I have to kill to save my life, when Landtech comes to repossess you and offers me the choice, should I do it then too? Should I freely throw my friends on the bonfire of my own survival?
Nova was silent for a moment, then grunted, tone annoyed. “I can read your damned mind, and still you make no sense to me. Just remember that it’s not just your life you’re gambling with. You’re a slave to Obedias, but if you ignore me, I’m just as much a slave to you.”
That… that was a fair point, though that didn’t mean Mat felt bad about not turning on someone who had saved his life. A friend. He would have done much the same for Reg or Tobi or Darion. Hell, probably even for Yon.
“I shall be the bigger person and change the subject,” Nova said. “That madman you killed was enough to push you to level three, so I have another bunch of perks for you. And you’ve managed to drain all the fun out of this by refusing to even let me dress this up as a character screen, so I hope you’re happy.”
Just show me the perk, you screen junkie.
Nova scoffed, then complied, and words ran across his vision. Words he could read without moving his eyes, at that, which was still strange.
Focus. You’re a tough bastard, and that has nothing to do with your body. This perk directly enhances your willpower, aiding any pursuit, desire or commitment you would wish to make, no messy surgery needed. To be blunt, this is not mind control. It is mind support. Like a second, smaller mind aiding your own endeavors. No, that’s a terrible analogy. Whatever. It’s not mind control, Mat.
Braided protein fiber. Sorry, I couldn't get rid of this one. Better than it was on level one, this perk restructures your muscles to allow for greater strength. Which would set off every instrument Obedias no doubt monitors you with, so it’s pretty much a wash.
Energized Joints. A combination perk! Something that I totally knew existed before now and most certainly didn’t stumble upon by accident. Ahum. Essentially, it will do a similar thing as your Untiring perk, but synergize with Cat’s grace. You should, in theory, be able to bend yourself in half backwards, if you want. Not sure why you would, but you could. To state the obvious, this will make you very, very graceful.
Local Omniscience. Alright, I might have embellished the name a tad, but it’s technically accurate. For roughly one european meter around you, you know everything. Roughly. Alright, not everything, but a lot. Movement, objects, people, things, other things, objects, more things, and even movement. It probably won’t explode your brain!
Hello Kitty. I like that song. Do you like that song? You should have listened to it more, the memory is pretty eroded. Regardless, hello kitty will make you good at knowing and understanding other people, like a new sense not to put your foot in your mouth. How is that related to Hello Kitty? That’s a good question.
Mat blinked, starting at nothing. Three good perks? Three? What the Hell, Nova?
“Hey, don’t blame the master for producing art,” the AI replied, sounding pleased. “I’m pretty sure I already know which one you’re going to pick anyway, especially after today, but you could make any of this work. Well, all of this except for Braided Protein Fiber. That one’s on me.”
He forcefully set aside the urge to ask questions about Hello Kitty, but even with a name like that, it was a good perk. Mat wasn’t the worst at socialising, but being better never hurt. Humanity conquered the earth not through strength or even intelligence, but cooperation. More than the earth now, he supposed.
The Focus perk would be excellent, Energized Joints was somewhat redundant but very far from bad, and Local Omniscience sounded downright broken, only limited by its range. Even then, he fought with a sword, where even a fraction of a second of extra warning, warning that didn’t rely on his eyes or ears, was invaluable, not to mention the non-comat applications.
Yeah, I’m picking Local Omniscience. Any chance you could save Hello Kitty and Focus for the next level?
“Nope,” Nova replied, popping the P cheerfully. His bad mood seemed wiped away under the tide of happiness leveling brought, and Mat was starting to see why. “Doesn’t work like that. But you might get something similar in the future, who knows. Well, I suppose you could say I should know, but that also doesn’t work like that. Anyway, ready to learn way more than you ever wished to know about everyone that’s hugging you? Not that people do that, really. Man, that’s kind of sad. Oh, uuhm, right, I forgot to mention. Local Omniscience doesn’t work on your own body. It starts at the skin, so to speak. Your brain would definitely melt. Not too much detail on other people too, though you will get some. Let’s just find out, shall we?”
Before the word vomit could be untangled, his mind expanded. There were no real words to describe it. It wasn’t sight, because it didn’t involve eyes. It wasn’t memory, because he didn’t remember anything. It was just information, beamed directly into his brain. The edge of the other bladeslaves around him. The hard plastic under his feet, and the wiring under that. Closer, his own clothes covered him, and he knew every crease and fold, though thankfully not every last speck of dirt.
If this had a range of even twenty meters—weird fucking europeans measurements—then Obedias was fucked. As it was, it was merely very good rather than complete bullshit.
Mat stared at his feet, hoping the insuppressible smile on his face wasn’t too suspicious.
Afterword
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