Arthros

  Psyatic Output = 10,000 Bio-units

  Synaptik = Unbound

  “Open the doors,” Arthros motioo the service doors, rusted from years of disuse.

  The human trembled and pointed an unsteady fi his ow, “I– me? No, I couldn’t– I ’t. the Storm.”

  Arthros stared at him and from his viewpoint in the HWND the human seemed as small as a mouse. Crumbling uhe eyeless gaze, the little being scurried back to the offid returned with a set of keys.

  He fumbled with the keys at the service doors, cursing as he dropped them more than once. When the lock was disengaged, he began to tug on the k, throwing his body weight into the rusted lever. It was no use. The doors remained closed without a siremor to suggest they had moved.

  Arthros didn’t wait for him tain. He pced both hands at the seam of the closed doors and tried to pull them apart.

  He could feel the HWND strain as though it were his own muscles, and the strenuous aade the muscle-fibers in his back burn.

  The doors began to open. They fought back for only a sed, then loosened with an ear-grating screebsp;

  The dust storm whipped into the nding bay like the release of flood gates. Pellets of storuck the metal exterior of the mech, and his own skin stung. Zero deactivated the somatosensory system, and the pain vanished.

  There was a yelp as the Storm sent the human tumbling behind him aook a step over to shield the little alien with his bulk.

  He leapt through the opening, and whipped around to manually pull the doors back together. He caught himself w if the human was okay and cut the thought from his mind like the doors he had just closed.

  Zero was right—he was going soft.

  The gas storm was in full force, but it battered harmlessly off the Hokkonian steel. heless, his visibility was ent.

  “Zero?” he growled.

  “Storm height 6000 feet,” she calcuted.

  The HWND stood upright, and its golden pted shoulder pads folded up. Propulsion engiended with a series of soft meical clicks. They ignited with a bright fre, and the mech shot straight into the sky with the roar of the fme.

  Within seds, they broke through the clouds, leaving the howling storm te helplessly beh them. He made the subscious check for any Corpos ships in the air spabsp;

  The cloudless sky was empty, save for Arthros and his mebsp;

  “Another pit brawl?” Zero asked.

  They hovered for a moment as Arthros’ vision ged to a topographical map of the surface. “Obviously.”

  “It didn’t work st time.”

  Arthros thought of the st human they pulled from the Kleth’altho fighting pits. The young woman had seemed capable enough, and her psyatic output had been passable.

  He could still remember the vat look on her face as her brain dissolved uhe neurological pressure.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” he grumbled.

  The tumultuous storm clouds made it impossible to s the terrain. Arthros was forced to rely on Zero’s navigational calcutions.

  “Why don’t we try the moons? You have the pick of the litter from all of the sves there.”

  “This time is going to be different,” Arthros responded.

  “You said that the st ten times. How many brain-fried humans have you tossed into the ior?”

  Arthros was done hum the argument. “There’s a self-procimed Klethonian fighting soon. See if you find any information on him.”

  They maintaiheir altitude well above the torrent ragih them. In the distance, he could see the end of the Storm, and beyond that, the outline of mountains.

  “I found something i records for this region of Kleth’altho. A human fighter named Brandon, pit name: Brandon the Klethonian. He’s currently 14-2, suffering both defeats at the hands of other aliens. Somehow, he mao survive both.”

  “So, he’s fought more than just humans. That’s good,” Arthros replied.

  “Yes, and it almost killed him.”

  He could hear the pt in her voice but ig, “Probably survived because of his tenacity.”

  She gave him a dismissive nudge in his mind, and his mouth twitched with a smirk.

  “Is there an image?” he inquired.

  She cast an image of the fighter to his vision, transparent enough so he could still see where he was flying. It was hard to tell from the image just how big the man was, but Arthros had a feeling that he was signifitly bigger than most.

  Massive arms extended out of a barrel-shaped torso. Scars lined his bare arms and legs, and the hilt of a on could be seen protruding from behind his back. Most iing was his deep red hair, the color of dried blood. It hung in a long ponytail down his chest.

  Arthros couldn’t help his excitement, “He is the spitting image of the Kleth’altho chieftains I’ve seen in my studies!”

  “Yes, maybe too simir.”

  He didn’t let her skepticism sway him; this was as good of a lead as he was going to get.

  “What’s so great about Klethonians anyway?” Zero pined. “They’re still just humans.”

  “Not just humans—the inal humans. Before we turned our eye ohey were powerful and defended Kleth’altho with ferocity. Their psyatic outputs could rival any other species iar system.”

  “Exactly my point. They were broken the moment the Hokkonians ehem,” Zero huffed.

  Arthros bared his teeth, irritated at her incessant arguing. “There’s a reason almost every sve in the Hokku system is human!”

  “Because they’re sheep,” Zero responded in a ft tone. “Blind with fear and their own inpetence.”

  “We’re not doing this again,” Arthros growled.

  Meek silence filled his head. He had little desire to berate her, though he wasn’t sure how else to make her stop. He couldn’t do it alone; he least one friend to back him up in this.

  He turned his attention to the terrain below. the Storm was dissipating, and pockets of the surface were visible. Through the haze he spotted several Corpos refihe direct cause for the gas that ned the nds.

  Arthros mused at the irony. Ohe Corpos learned of Kleth’altho’s eic potential, they quickly moved in and capitalized oural resource. The p-wide corporatiht wealth, autonomy, and disfigurement to the backwater p.

  Despite their newfound societal standing in the Dromedar star system, Kleth’altho had never been so isoted.

  “Pit located, 200m and closing,” Zero said.

  “I see it,” Arthros replied, watg the massive crater grer as he rapidly approached it. “Taking us down, I’m going bare.”

  He started to dive but hit the brakes before the mech could crash into the ground. He wasn’t worried about being overheard. No doubt the fighting pit was already r with the spectators’ cheers.

  “Do you wao hover?” Zero prompted.

  Arthros he HWND and immediately released the cockpit entrance, eager to get into the pit.

  “No,” Arthros replied, straightening out his white ed clothing. “Keep close by but hidden. We don’t o attray more attention.”

  He grabbed the Skarthkas from the partment in his mech’s thigh and strode off toward the path that led to the pit’s entranbsp;

  “Do you really hat?”

  Arthros paused, weighed the on in his hands, and then shrugged, “No, but I’m taking it with me anyway.”

  “You love that thing more than me.”

  He frow the HWND and chose to ignore her. She huffed and flew the mech away without a sed thought.

  The pit was nearly two kilometers wide. The sloping path he was walking on transitioned into a much steeper trail that spiraled dow’s walls. It led all the way to the bottom as it branched off into differeions of the stands, which were behat had been carved into stone.

  The fighting stage was almost aire kilometer down from the surface, making the individuals hard to see. He g the massive ss that were suspended in the air, and they showed a close-up image of the fight that had just ended.

  The winner swaggered around the perimeter of the arena, shaking a massive fist in victory. Crew members hurried out into the arena t away the lifeless body of the opposing fighter.

  The crowd erupted into more cheers as the victorious brawler flipped backward, nding on a third arm that protruded from its babsp;

  Arthrhe alien as a Grontar—a reptilian race with a reputation for being stupid and brutish. He saw one almost every time he visited the fighting pits. Mindless violence was the only thing the brutes excelled at.

  He was nearly halfway down the narrow path when an amplified voice silehe crowd. “And now for the mai! Are you gas suckers ready to see your Queen in a?”

  The crowd erupted into cheers, a deafening roar that shook the arena.

  “Enter, Your Majesty!” the voice shouted.

  A loud screech rang through the arena as a massive Sk’reah squeezed herself through a tu the base of the pit wall. Her rge, segmented body torted and twisted as she paraded herself around. She looked like a writhiipede, and Arthros’ lip curled at her grotesque dispy.

  Her segments flexed uhe extreme effort required to hold herself upright. The Queen had to be at least eight meters tall—rger than anything Arthros was expeg. The crowd reacted to the wriggling show with intensified cheers.

  “Zero, s?”

  Her response came a few seds ter, “Her somatic score is high. Her body trol is surprisingly impressive, however her psymetra score is severely g. Her psyatic output is 497 units. She’s a synaptik 2.”

  Arthros nodded, he wasn’t surprised. It was rare to find an individual with a high enough psymetra score. Sure, there were fighters who had incredible trol of their bodies, but a high somatic score wasn’t enough. It was the mind that bottlehe body.

  Still, 497 units was an impressive output for a Sk’reah.

  “And now for your challenger! You know him as the local hero, a true son of Kleth’altho— Brandon the Klethonian!” The announcer dragged the vowels to emphasize his name.

  The crowd’s response was equally thunderous. Did they love the human, or were they eager to see him ripped apart?

  The cheering stopped when a young human male ran out of the tunnel. He jogged with a fident trot and waved to the audience. He was smaller than most humans and his clothes hung off his thin frame in dirty rags: a pair of shorts and a worn fighter's leather vest.

  His arms were bare, showing lean defined muscle. His head was pletely shaved, though there was a tinge of red.

  He certainly was not the barrel-chested Klethonian everyone was expeg.

  A lone heckle came from somewhere in the crowd, and within seds, a tidal wave of curses flooded the arena. The young man stood unfazed; his only reply was a challenging grin.

  “Ladies alemen, we humbly apologize for the mix-up. Brandon has fallen ill, and it has been the decision of the pit lord to withdraw him from the fight.” Even the announcer sounded disappointed.

  The jeers only grew louder in volume. The ust have felt like they were being cheated. Arthros couldn’t help but agree—this little human was smaller thaendant at the nding bay.

  “In his pce, a new challenger has approached. One we promise will deliver an equally exg show!”

  “I doubt it!” a voice shouted, followed by a ripple of ughter.

  “Please wele, Jericho Hound!” the announcer anded.

  Arthros’ eyes wide the was the same colloquial pronunciation that was used for the mechs.

  Who would dare? Arthros couldn’t let this human tio cim the name. If the Sk’reah didn’t kill him, he would have to step iightened his grip on his Skarthkas. How many lives would he take on principle alone? Did no one uand the value of respeymore?

  He watched as the human uhed twe swords from his hips; short steel bdes lined with psma cartridges. The bdes were in rough shape but there was no mistaking the stunted length and ribbed steel. They had been built to replicate the much rger armor-pierg swords wielded by the HWNDs.

  To a Hokkonian, they were little more than daggers, but in the hands of the human they looked as big as swords. For the first time in a long time, Arthros was shocked.

  “Zero, find me everything you on this petitor, Jericho Hound,” the name sounded odd on his tongue.

  “Yes, Arthros.”

  Arthros watched the human on the rge ss, and he couldn’t help his ptuous she human spun the bdes in his hands with ease, keeping his gaze focused on the ioid. He crouched down in a fighter's stance, raising his arms so his bdes crossed. The Sk’reah screeched in defiahe anticipation was enough to drown out even the loudest hecklers.

  “Arthros, his scores…” Zero sourange.

  “Well?”

  “His psyatic output is terrible, an even 150 units. He doesn’t even qualify for a synaptik.”

  “That’s unsurprising, look at him,” Arthros grunted.

  The fighters squared each other up, and in a moment the bout would begin. Arthros couldn’t imagine a reality where the fight didn’t end in catastrophic defeat for the human. He was too sy—the daggers looked heavy in his hands.

  “It’s his psymetra scores– Arthros, it isn’t logical, but I’ve sed him four times.”

  “All I care about is his synaptik,” he growled.

  The human began to pad never oook his eyes off the tipede-like alien. The Sk’reah didn’t move, her muscur segments were bunched in preparation for the strike. How quickly would the Sk’reah crush the human? Arthros wagered it wouldn’t take lohan a few seds.

  “It has to be wrong.”

  “Zero!” he snapped.

  “Arthros, his psymetra is unreadable. He’s unbound, like you.”