Page 218 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

218

Marching Orders

J ahzara Zedd

After arranging my green gown to show a bit more of my cleavage, I tap the screen with my emerald nail. I take a moment to contemplate my situation as my staff runs a reel of the best kills of previous seasons. Since gambling numbers are stalled, I’m trying to upsell current packages to include never-before-seen footage they’ll want to buy.

It’s the oldest trick in the book. Pull together some outtakes from previous seasons that weren’t interesting enough to view when they were fresh, and tell the ignorant viewing public how much they’re going to love it. Even at the rate we’re selling these, it won’t offset our cratering income.

The Down To Earth numbers started high, higher than any of our previous seasons. Now they’re falling off. You can see the chart plunge every hour. What? What isn’t resonating with our viewers?

Now that I take a moment to reflect, it seems obvious. We concentrated on the Havoc Package, on the kills, on the novelty of watching females killing females. All males like seeing two females go at it, right?

Ah, but that’s the problem. To keep our number-one ratings, we need viewers of both genders. And what have the females tuned in to for the last three seasons? The sex.

No, I have to be honest. Although it was hard to admit, when poll after poll, study after study all came back with the same result, I had to accept it as fact. The females tuned in to watch the little human females fall in love with huge, fearsome males.

Season after season, the human females paired with males of another species, the two—or three as happened in the last season—developed relationships, the males became protective, and ratings soared.

We’ve left out the sex portion of the show and I’d better do something to fix it—quick.

Let me think. I’ve got 25 males and 22 females, but how am I to get them to have sex with each other now that I’ve pitted them against each other? I scroll through my vid feed from the past few hours.

All three humans are still alive and are now paired with one of those ugly Xenon fuckers. Maybe I can think of some way to give them enough safety for a moment so they couple, then record it to give the viewing public what they want.

My comm rings. It’s my new boss, Gorjan Kaygen. Speaking of ugly fuckers…

By rights, his position should be mine . I’ve been working my way up the ladder at The Galaxy Network, and he just slides in, hired from another network not nearly as prestigious as this.

He must see how well-liked I am, how competent, how I’ve shepherded this piece of shit Game show to the most-watched series in galaxy history. His jealousy has to be the reason he has been relentlessly micromanaging me since he came on board. He’s the one who ordered me to announce from Earth rather than the safety of our studio.

My comm buzzes again. I take a deep breath, roll my eyes to get the urge out of my system, and then answer with a welcoming smile on my face.

“Gorjan. What a pleasure,” I breathe, glad I pulled my bodice down, hoping to give him an excellent view of my cleavage.

“No pleasure!” the little shit says. He’s so fucking ugly I can barely stand to look at the comm screen. He appears to be the consistency of the jellied slime that surrounds the tinned meat I feed my cat. It’s jiggly and gelatinous and brown. Just like Gorjan. Disgusting. And don’t get me started on the fact he can’t speak in complete sentences.

“Seen your numbers?” he sneers. “Down. Down bad.”

I allow him to see my concern about my numbers by showing him my furrowed brow even as I realize my two-year-old nephew has a better command of language than him.

“Fix it or I fire you. Now!”

His disgusting face, if you can call it a face, it’s hard to discern it from the rest of the quivering shit-colored mass of jelly, flicks off.

“Fucker!” I yell to the blank screen.

I’d better think of something to hold the audience’s attention. I scroll through the vid feed, considering how to put my plan into action.

Why wasn’t I born rich? I wouldn’t be on this godforsaken planet feeling desperate to infuse more life and higher ratings into this show.

Scrolling, all I see are the same boring skirmishes, the bloodlust, and the singletons hiding in stairwells and closets waiting for their death.

I stop scrolling for a moment. Watching the males who were recently released from the brig is interesting viewing. Too bad there aren’t more of them, but they’re so bloodthirsty their numbers are dwindling fast.

All of the tiny drones I planted throughout the ship have been programmed to record sex and violence. They’re no larger than a tiny insect and aren’t noticed by most humanoids. Too bad they were all too busy with the initial melee to follow the Earthers to wherever they were hiding.

A drone is showing one of the despicable Earthers pulling a Xenon into bed with her. You would think the little thing would be disgusted, but it certainly doesn’t look like she’s resisting. She looks eager.

I’ve seen this look before, on seasons one, two, and three. No wonder Earthers are so well sought after for bedslaves. They seem to enjoy it.

I toggle the feed to show me everything in closeup, then turn on the sound.