Page 32 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

32

Not Bad, as Shitholes Go

T itan

It’s easy to know where we’re going. We’ve been able to see the tall buildings of Corinthus up ahead for hours. It’s perfect timing. The suns are setting, but we’re not near our enforced bedtime yet.

Blaze said she used to go to something called toga parties when she was in high school. Luckily, I smashed the blue bedspread into my makeshift pack before I left this morning. Blaze had me cut the bedspread in half and practiced until she had an outfit that wrapped around her head and hung to her feet. She figured out how to drape it across her face, exposing only her eyes. She’ll be able to walk through the city with no one being the wiser.

Due to my size, I’m a bit harder to disguise, but I recall a male I bunked with, Abraxx from Numa. The other males used to tease him about his brill . They were thick, ropey pieces of flesh that hung from his head instead of hair. In an effort to avoid their notice, he wore what he called a sha’rill.

We shared a cell for a year. I watched him put it on hundreds of times. I did a good job of recreating the effect. It covers everything but my eyes and hangs to my knees. It’s all the fabric I have.

“Quite the pair,” Blaze says when we’re both covered in blue. “We’ll definitely draw some attention, but no one will know who we are.”

“I hope you’re right. To hear Hahn talk about it last night, it sounds like everyone on the planet knows us.”

“Yeah,” Blaze says with a smile, “but the good news is they were all much more interested in my boobs and your ass than in our faces. As long as we keep our clothes on, I think we’ll be fine.”

Mighty bold talk for a female who was paralyzed by fear a few hours ago, but I like her attitude now. It’s as if she could take on the entire galaxy if she needed to. She has a big fight in front of her. But not alone. I’m going to be by her side until she wins the game.

Red takes turns riding each of our shoulders. We share our meager ration of water with him, letting him lap out of the cap after each of us has taken a swig.

We take our time the last few miles, waiting for the second sun to fall behind the horizon before we enter the city.

Our drones fan out. I recall Zedd jabbering about the drones being prohibited from following us closely within the city limits. It would remove stealth from the equation, which would make The Game less interesting to the paying customers.

There are lots of drones flying around the city. Many of them are labeled “Peacekeepers” with white letters on a black background. The drones assigned to us are keeping far enough away that they fit right in.

“What a shithole,” Blaze announces quietly as we walk through the outskirts.

“Not much more welcoming than the bombed-out ruins we skirted two days ago,” I say as we almost trip over a drunkard sprawled on the sidewalk.

“I wonder if these people were refugees from that bombing back there. I’d bet there’s not much for work around here. You can smell the poverty.” To prove her point, she sniffs.

She’s right. It reeks.

“What is that smell?” I wonder.

“Unwashed bodies, dirty laundry, poor hygiene, possibly lack of running water, the effluvia of a third world city,” Blaze announces with confidence. I can’t argue, that’s what it smells like to me too.

On many street corners, there are metal cylinders with fires blazing inside.

“I’ve seen this on Earth. To keep the homeless warm,” she explains.

I had a comfortable life as a youngling until I was stolen from my family. Then I lived in gladiator barracks. This level of poverty surprises me. I had a hard life, but warming your body on a sidewalk doesn’t look much easier.

To break my mood, I look at Red, lounging on Blaze’s shoulder, and tease, “Red’s a lazy little thing”.

“How many times do I have to tell you his name is Crimson?” she scolds, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. It’s one of the many things I love about her. We’re fighting for our lives, but she’d rather argue with me.

“I’m thinking we should look for a place to bed down here in the skeezy part of town,” she says. “We fit right in with the homeless. There.” She points down an alley. “Maybe we could huddle at the bottom of those steps, get a decent night’s sleep, and wake up in the morning for…”

For what? Our final moments?