Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (26 page)

But ten gold was about all the money he had, and agreeing would just let Moses know how valuable the cargo he carried really was. Guy ran his fingers through the coins in the bag, as though thinking hard.

“One gold. That’s all I can offer.”

“Five.”

Guy stared through the eye slots in Moses' helmet, and into the dark, squinty eyes beyond. Would he really risk being killed for the sake of a few shinies? He was too smart for that, surely?

“Come on Moses, I wasn't Condemned yesterday. One gold. I’m not going any higher for your little shakedown.”

Moses tapped the crate. “Ah, gold. As shiny as a boy's sweaty butt on a hot summer day, and as precious as his virgin asshole.” He stroked the wood. “But to never know who you might have in here... to wonder about it for the rest of my life...”

Guy tapped his revolver. “Go on, then. Open it.”

D
aniel spun in the centre of the arena as Brunhilde prowled around him. She sniffed the air, stretched her arms, and slid the claws from her paws. The sun glinted from the claws as she flicked them in the air in front of him. Then she smiled.

“Sorry, kid. The King said to kill you slow, and I’d get out of jail, and maybe a job. He has to make an example of you, so other assholes won’t get the same idea. It’s nothing personal.”

“Work with me. We can take him down together.”

Brunhilde glanced toward the King. Steam pumped from the back of his exoskeleton, and smoke billowed above him. “Nah, I think I prefer being free. And alive.”

The crowd bustled behind her, clambering up the outside of the wooden arena wall. Men jostled into position near the front, pushing the few women aside. They might get a better view, but it was also a better place to get hit in the fight.

Daniel was going to get hit either way, if he couldn’t talk her out of it. Maybe he should let her. Get it over with.

She flexed muscles in arms thicker than his legs. Damn, he should have spent more time playing sports at EdCamp, but they bored the heck out of him. Except watching the girls, whenever Erica was playing. Now he was going to die. He’d never see her again, and he’d never achieve anything with his life, other than entertaining the scumbags as she tore him apart.

A drone buzzed in, circling his head as though reading his thoughts. One glance at the
Meat Packers
graffiti smeared on the front was enough to tell him it wasn't Guy's.

He stared at the crowd around him. The scars, the rotting teeth, the dark eyes that had never cared about anyone but themselves. The matted scalps that dangled from their belts, the blood stains on their weapons and armour, that showed they had been killing not long ago. All the potential his life had ever had, all the dreams of his childhood, the scant years he had lived so far... all of it would come to nothing more than a few minutes of entertainment for these scum.

And perhaps a few reruns on the
Punishment
Channel.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the crowd chanted.

He should be embarrassed about being naked in front of them, but it just made him hate them more.

“Join with me,” he yelled. “Fight the King.”

Drones buzzed around the crowd as they laughed. Of course they would. They loved this world. They were its winners, its commissars, its capitalists, exploiting the losers the way they had exploited the victims of their crimes at home. They were just as responsible for this place as the King was.

He stared into Brunhilde’s eyes.

“Ready to die?” she said.

He yelled, louder than he had ever yelled before. Days of hatred for Hades, its people, and the commissars who sent them there, had filled him, until his body could no longer contain it. Hate burst from his throat, and splattered the very air around him, until he could almost see a black cloud of hate spreading across the crowd, and the land around them.

If anyone was out there, any being the human race had ever believed in, any that might watch over Hades... If it would help him survive, he would destroy this place, and everyone who made it. He would tear down the vile, dark prison the inmates had created, and build something new. Something better. Something where a decent person could live decently.

If there was another decent person on the planet. He hadn’t met one, yet. Even Guy was a reformed murderer.

The
PLACE BETS HERE
girl from the casino stood beside the arena. The hourglass hung between her bare breasts above the shinies bag, on a chain around her neck.

“Bets on the boy,” she shouted.

“Thirty seconds,” a man yelled, and tossed a shiny to the girl. It thumped off her chest, and slid into the bag.

“The bear said she’s going to kill him slow,” Liam said. “I’ll take five minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” a third said, and tossed his shiny.

“The King’ll be pissed if she takes that long.”

Daniel turned on the spot, staring at the men and women who watched from the crowd. His heart thumped as they joked and argued about how much life he may have left. He turned toward the grandstand, and his eyes met Princess’ for a second.

If he’d never tried to help her, he wouldn’t be there. He could have run into the woods, never met Guy, never joined the Revolution, never been caught and sentenced to death. She looked away. He turned to the King, who leaned his metal-clad chin on a metal-clad hand, and stared back at him.

Daniel raised his hand toward the King. Then he twisted it around, made a fist, and raised the middle finger.

“Fuck you all,” he yelled, with all the volume his lungs could muster. The words echoed back to him from the stone walls, slowly fading into silence.

The crowd hushed, and stared at him for a moment. Then the King began to laugh, and the crowd joined him. Daniel slapped his hands over his ears as the laughter bounced around the inside of his skull.

“The boy has spirit,” the King yelled, and the laughter died away. He glanced toward Brunhilde. “Now, let’s get this killing over, before I die of boredom.”

The betting girl turned over the glass, and the sand began to flow, marking time to the end of his life.

Thunder boomed behind Daniel. He turned. Brunhilde slapped her fist into her palm again, with a booming smack, and took another step toward him. A big grin spread across her face.

Oh, shit.

M
oses tapped his fingers on the crate. Guy clasped the revolver butt. Take the one with the bow, first. They’d need less time to reload. Then the crossbowmen. They were sweating, and it wasn’t from the heat. The crates would give him cover, just hope they don’t hit the Brain.

Moses slapped the crate. Guy ducked as a crossbow clicked. The bolt hissed through the air and passed a few centimetres above his head before it splashed into the water. His revolver was already out of the holster as he dove for the nearest crate.

“One gold shiny,” Moses yelled. “I guess that will be enough to satisfy my curiosity for today. Spank-Monkey, more wine. And, for fuck’s sake, Butt-Clench, try not to go off prematurely in future.”

Guy lay in the bottom of the boat for a second, gun tight in his hand. Dumb fucks. The guards lowered their weapons, and the bowman filled two glasses with wine. Guy gently clicked down the revolver’s hammer, and holstered it as he returned to his seat.

“Well, that was exciting,” Moses said. Then he took one of the glasses and sipped from it.

Guy reached into his pouch and pulled out a gold shiny. He tossed it across the boat. Moses caught it, held it up, and stared at the sunlight glittering from the metal.

“More excitement than I like in a morning,” Guy said. “I’d prefer to get to our destination alive, if I can.”

“Still, the monastery is hours away. One needs something to keep oneself entertained on a long trip.”

Spank-Monkey bent forward as he handed the other glass to Guy. Moses stroked the bowman’s leather-clad butt.

Guy leaned back. “Don’t let me spoil your fun.”

Anything that could keep Moses’ attention away from the crate would be welcome. The rest of the trip would be hard to take, if Guy had to keep distracting the shithead from poking into his affairs. At least the Brain had shut up for now.

Guy patted the seat between him and Moses.

“Spank-Monkey, why not join us?”

Moses stretched his arm out along the back of the boat. “Yes, why not? Grab yourself a glass of wine, my boy, and let’s have some fun. I’m sure you won’t mind a threesome.”

The bowman poured another glass, then slumped down in the back of the boat. Moses pulled the helmet from the young man’s head, and ran his fingers through the long hair beneath. He giggled. That might keep him distracted for a while.

“Ah,” Moses said. “Sailing the waters in the company of your friends, and a fine bottle of wine. Life doesn’t get much better than that.”

He held out his glass toward Guy, who raised his and tapped it against the other.

Then the crate jumped.

The Brain screamed. The crate jumped again, twisting on the deck until it smacked against the crate alongside. Then it jumped back.

Moses leaned forward. “What have you got in there?”

Oh, this was gonna be a shitty day. And it had started out looking so good. Guy knocked back the last of the wine as the crate twisted again. It slid across the deck, smacking into the side of the boat as the Brain screamed.

Then something thumped against the wood.

And again.

Then a foot smashed through the side of the crate.

Moses and the guards looked on silently as chunks of wood exploded out of the other side, followed by another foot. Then an arm smashed its way out of the top. The screaming grew louder as the arm and legs writhed.

Then the side of the crate exploded, scattering wood and splinters all across the boat.

The Brain pushed his head out through a jagged hole, his mouth open wide. He shrieked, and his arms flailed around him. Then he rolled out, ending up face-down on the deck with two red lumps oozing blood from the flesh of his left arm.

Big eyes in a furry face peered out of the gap in the wood, and two long, black legs tapped against the crate. Then Simon scuttled forward, along a broken plank.

The Brain rolled on the deck, in the shards and splinters of smashed wood. Simon spun around, his eight hairy legs tapping against the wooden hull. Spank-Monkey grabbed for his bow. Simon raised his front legs, wriggled them in the air, and hissed.

“No,” the Brain yelled, and leaned forward, putting his body between the bow and the spider. He looked plaintively into Spank-Monkey's eyes as Simon continued to hiss and wriggle his front legs, twisting from side to side on the other six.

Moses’ glass fell from his hand as he stared at the Brain’s face, his long beard, then at the curved lines of the brain tattoo on his bald head. The glass smashed on the hull, scattering shards of glass across the boat. Moses’ eyes almost bulged out of his skull at the sight, and his jaw fell open.

“Holy fuck.”

W
here was Guy? Daniel panted as he jogged around the arena, trying to avoid Brunhilde's attacks. He kept her on the side with his good eye, so he could see her moving. Besides, she had blood-matted fur on her arm on that side, and perhaps it wouldn’t hit as hard as the other. His ribs sent a sharp pain through his chest every time he moved, but there'd be a lot more pain if he stopped.

He glanced up at the sky. A cloud of drones floated above the Brawl, among dozens hovering and twisting in the castle courtyard. More buzzed down low, and recorded the crowds watching the action. Another flew close to his face, recording the look of slowly worsening terror that covered it.

None of them were Guy's.

Unless someone saved him in the next few minutes, this was it. The last few seconds of his life, before he was torn to pieces in front of a crowd of vile assholes, then the footage shipped to a bigger crowd of vile assholes who would watch it back home. The same vile assholes who'd sent him there to die.

Thuds echoed from the wooden wall around the arena as Brunhilde ran toward him again. Her dark eyes stared into his as she accelerated. Left or right? One way, he'd live, the other...

He could smell her rotten meat breath as she approached. One more stomp, and she'd be on him.

He dodged left. Brunhilde swung her arm. Daniel twisted aside, and the sharp claws passed harmlessly by. She grunted as her paws scrabbled for grip on the ground as she slowed. The wall shook as she smacked into it.

No, hang on. Pain spread through his chest. He glanced down. The claws had raked long gashes through his skin, and a thin stream of blood oozed out of them. The shock had just dulled the pain for a second.

“Brunhilde! Brunhilde! Brunhilde!” Princess chanted.

Skull-face peered in over the wall. “Kill the little bastard.”

Fuck Guy. Guy had abandoned him. Or was already dead, fighting the King's Guards. If Daniel waited to be rescued, the only thing left to rescue would be a few scraps of bloody guts, with a mob of evil men fighting over them.

Brunhilde smacked her paw against the wall as she turned. One of the spectators tried to grab her, but she swung toward him and snarled. He leaned back, eyes wide and arms swinging, until he toppled, and fell into the crowd behind the wall.

Brunhilde stared at Daniel again.

“Aren't you tired of this yet, boy?”

“I'm not tired of being alive,” he said, between gasping breaths. “In fact, I kind of like it.”

She scowled at him. “I'm tired of you being alive. Stand still, now, and I'll make it quick. Fuck with me, and you’ll regret it.”

She was big, and strong, and could rip his head off if she caught him. But, once she got moving, that very weight, and the momentum it created, kept her going. She couldn’t turn fast, or stop. If he could keep his distance from her, he could keep dodging until his own strength wore out.

But then what?

What was the point of delaying his death a few minutes longer, if she’d kill him eventually?

He had to find a way out. The wall was solid, and the crowd would just throw him back in, even if he managed to climb it. A drone buzzed close to his head. He tried to grab it, but it dodged aside. It wouldn't help much, anyway. It wasn't like the motors were powerful enough to fly him away.