Page 154 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

154

Death Match

V alor

“Females and males, was that not the most exciting thing you’ve seen all day?” Zedd says, fanning herself dramatically as if she’s about to swoon.

She just watched that Cerulean male get impaled on a five-foot-tall stake on galaxy-wide vid. I imagine she let the commercials go on longer than usual because she was watching her minions murder his teammates off camera. Here she is, happy and perky, breathlessly announcing how exciting that was to watch.

Braveheart is standing, his arm around Willow in the same spot I stood with her while we watched his ordeal. When that beast, Willow called it a dragon, grabbed him in its talons, I was certain not only Braveheart, but all three of us were going to die.

“This will be a test of strength. As you know, we at The Galaxy Network strive to be scrupulously honest and fair. That is why you see these scales standing in front of us. We will weigh each of these nine males, then match them with a commensurate competitor.”

I don’t need the scale to know I outweigh each of my competitors. I was always the largest male of my geneslave cohort and I’m certainly bigger than any male here.

A few minutes later, that fact has been verified.

“I’ve been waiting breathlessly to unveil this for you, viewers. There were some at higher levels in the company who lobbied to make this a pay-per-view event because we believe it will be so exciting, so spectacular, it will be worth the extra credits. But I fought against that. I wanted everyone to see the next feat of strength, endurance, and courage.”

I translate that to mean she considered charging extra for it but was shot down by her upper management.

“We have traveled all over the sector to bring these magnificent beasts to you. Our zoologists have been busy since the field was narrowed to ten. They’ve matched these animals to our contestants so each is a fair match.”

The camera pans in to the animals, which are being kept in metal containers at the edge of the compound. The containers suddenly become transparent as strong lights illuminate their contents. There are mammals and reptiles. I wouldn’t want to fight any to the death, but I could easily win against them all, except for the largest reptilian.

Since I’m the largest contestant, I’m certain they’ll pair me with the largest foe. His muscular body is covered in dark green scales. He stands on two legs, placing his clawed front legs on the clear wall. His jaw drops, revealing rows of sharp teeth as he roars a challenge. Then he sinks onto all fours and paces the small area, his long, muscular tail lashing the walls with enough strength to rock his enclosure.

“For my tenderhearted viewers, let me assure you, none of these specimens are endangered species.”

The irony doesn’t escape me that she’s more worried about her viewers’ sensibilities regarding the animals than the humanoids.

“Let’s start from smallest to largest, shall we?” Zedd asks.

The first match is between a male with a slim but wiry build. His foe is maybe an eighth the size of the one I’m slated to fight. It’s a shaggy mammal with flat teeth and a tail that appears to be meant to swish flies rather than kill predators. The animal is easily dispatched by the slim but muscular contestant.

The next seven matches are arranged to give better odds to the contestants. Zedd, always worried about ratings and income, must have realized tomorrow’s competition won’t be very interesting if all the teams are dead before the race begins.

“Now for the last contest. Take a look at that specimen. And no, females, I’m not talking about the geneslave. This deadly cerataur can kill with a swipe of its massive tail, or by mauling with its long, sharp claws. And just think what it might feel like if this ugly creature took a bite out of you with that impressive mouthful of teeth.

“The reptile’s opponent is the geneslave known as 1239.”

Braveheart sends a blast of psychic encouragement. You’ve done the impossible before, he says, with his new ability to sense my emotions.

You can do this , Willow says. She’s trying to encourage me, but her voice is laced with terror.

I don’t have the heart to ask her not to talk to me anymore, so I shut off our psychic connection. The last thing I need to hear is her waning optimism and rising fear.

The fighting enclosure is a metal cage with thatched bars so close together my fist would barely fit through their openings. They must have brought in extra drones for this, there have to be thirty of them, buzzing like giant flies as they settle into position to capture this match on vid from every angle.

We’re down to nine teams. They don’t need me to compete tomorrow. This match will be thrilling and will do well for years in syndication. I imagine Zedd’s accountants have already done the math to determine they’ll make more money if I die in this contest than if they keep me alive to compete tomorrow.

I stop all movement, including blinking. I pour all my effort into controlling my thoughts. I’ve not only been imagining my death, but I’ve pictured a hundred ways the network can put to death the two people I care about more than my own life.

I force myself to stop that line of thought. I can win this. I just need to allow my bestial DNA to move of its own accord. My lineage, whatever it might be, has to contain the ability to kill this fucker.

I vow to make that happen.