Chapter Text
Year 3 Apartment one:
“Olly gave you the most expensive mod he could. You'd just saved his life and my honor.”
Seth held up his hand, looking at it like he was afraid of it. “Do you remember the name of the packet?”
“No.”
Seth looked very concerned. “Uh... I better find out what Olly injected me with.” He began opening draws looking for a gladiator tunic.
“Bathe first Seth.” Isar said and left the room with a smile. The apartment had a shower stall hidden in the corner.
“We'll see you down at the clinic.” Gern said and left with the other trainers.
Lutvig was relieved Isar left before Seth started stripping. Some of the Gladiators enjoyed visits from Malar women. Though that was mostly Warriors. He was sure if any linesman had the attention of at least one woman; it was Forty-four... Or Seth, odd name, he wondered if it meant anything.
They followed Isar out of the Gladiator quarters and on to the promenade.
Iskar looked around. “I read an article that the promenade had become live with music. I don't hear a thing.”
“That was something Seth's group started. They bought cheap instruments and played in the busy walkways. Even Seth walked around with a guitar.”
“What happened?” Iskar looked around.
“Malar street musicians moved in to make a profit and chased the gladiators out. Then the former administrator wanted a share. Everybody left, Malar didn't want to give up any share. And there was nothing keeping the administrator from taking all the gladiator's earnings, so they never played again. It's really too bad, I really miss it.”
Lutvig shrugged. “Does Seth still have the guitar? Or was it stolen?”
Isar looked angry for a second. “Your predecessor Ballar wanted Seth to pay a fee for having the instrument.”
Year 2. Arena Promenade:
Seth was taking a break from working in the clinic. Olly had shown him the different lines of treatment. With over fifty different genetics companies with different goals. Seth had immediately recognized the compatibility problem.
He'd asked Olly for help with his Wilson's disease; because their clinic was very respectable, family run and didn’t experiment with gladiator mods. He’d figured out how to package the mods so the compatibility conflicts were reduced to almost nothing. By sorting them into genotypes or races. He and Olly were stacking mods into packages.
He was strumming his guitar, leaning against a pillar across from the clinic. He was wondering if the Malar would divide into races over time or they would be split into classes of racial differences.
When he arrived on the planet, he'd been rather bad at playing. But having little else to do for leisure time, he’d gotten better.
He noticed Head trainer Ballar walking up. He gritted his teeth, when the trainer walked with intent somebody was about to get screwed.
“Gladiator. I'm going to need a fee for having that guitar.”
Seth froze pretending like he had trouble understanding. He pretended to be confused, while he did the calculation. It was a forty credit guitar, the absolutely cheapest they could buy in the arena. A beginner instrument. The trick was to not show any emotion. “What guitar?” He looked down. “Oh excuse me Trainer, I was just disposing of this trash.”
Ballar looked on in confusion and then dismay, as the Gladiator put the instrument against the floor at 45 degree angle, put his foot on the neck and broke the entire thing in half. The wood cracked and the strings pinged as the musical instrument was destroyed.
Seth picked up the remains and carried them to the trashcan next to the pillar. He wrapped his arms around the sound-box and squeezed until it collapsed. For a second he felt dirty, like he’d just crushed a living thing. The instrument folded up like a cardboard box and fitted neatly into the trashcan. He came back and stood to attention in front of the trainer. “Was there anything else trainer?”
Ballar couldn’t believe what just happened. “But... the guitar.”
“Trash my lord. I was cleaning up the arena propper. I do hope the noise wasn’t bothering you.”
“What?”
“Nice and quiet now sir.”
Ballar looked around. It was dead quiet. Shop keepers had stopped in the middle of work and stepped out to see what had made that noise. He was catching quite a few hostile glares. He swallowed realizing he’d just stopped the last musician in the arena.
“Will you excuse me, Trainer? I should get back to training.”
Ballar didn't reply; he just walked off.
Seth did much the same in the opposite direction. He actually wanted to train and burn away his anger. He'd played that instrument to distract himself from his horrible situation. He needed another outlet. Hopefully Josh was still up for Terran fencing.
Year 3. Arena Promenade:
Leaving the gladiator quarters, Seth ran past the music shop, on his way to the clinic. He waved at Morar, the store owner.
Morar waved back. An entire Malar minute passed before he realized; he'd just waved at a dead gladiator.
“There you are!” Olly yelled. He picked up Seth in a bear hug. “You're terrible at hiding Seth.” He put the gladiator down. “Me and Gerin have spotted you half a dozen times.”
Seth was kind of embarrassed. “I was kind of relying on the fact you weren't looking for me and it's hard to tell people of a different ethnicity apart.”
“Doesn't work if you've worked together for weeks. And you were right about Gerin; he's great at recognizing patterns.”
Seth spotted and waved Gerin Varin. He introduced the Varin family to Olly and Isar. “Youmg master Gerin. How do you like your new employer?”
“Very well Gladiator.” The young man actually got up and gave Seth a respectful bow. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
“It was nothing. You proved yourself; when you set up the payment plan for your grandmother's treatment. It was in Terran terms: like filling a square peg into a square hole. How is Mary by the way?”
“I am just fine Seth.” A young woman wrapped her arms around Olly and looked over his shoulder.
Seth blinked, last time he'd seen Mary Varin she'd looked extremely decrepit. He needed time to recognize key features. “Holy shit Mary. You look great.”
“Thank you Seth. And I'm happy to see you really are alive.”
Seth had a little cognitive dissonance seeing Mary embracing Olly. They were clearly an item. Their apparent age disparity a year ago; made him think of Mary as old enough to be Olly's grandmother. But right there they looked the same age. Seth knew Olly, having a rejuvenation mod, might even be the older of the two. “I see you've gotten friendly with the Komlar family.”
“Indeed.” Mary said. “Even Jerri is in here every day.”
“What, does he work here too?”
“No.” Olly said, caressing Mary's arm. “He’s our sparring partner. You did tell me to keep practicing.”
“Great choice.” Seth said. “You're practicing against Isar with the long blade and Jerri with the short blade.”
Olly grinned. “You did say; to switch it up.”
Seth smiled back. “Sounds awesome. In a couple of years you'll be unbeatable.”
Olly grimaced. “We still need a two handed partner in our group.” He looked at Gern. “I was hoping my cousin would join our group.”
Gern looked surprised. “Of course, cousin. I'll be happy to complete your education.”
Seth caught Lutvig's eyes. “I'm sure, the new head trainer would love to join too.” He’d noticed the head trainer's eyes kept resting on Isar.
“Of course.” Lutvig said.
“Olly, I've just been told you didn't give me the mod package I'd been planning to buy.”
“Yes. I gave you the new package you'd made. I told you.”
“Olly, I barely recall that day. Gether hit me in the head rather hard.” He recalled he made specialty packages: Offplanet, High gravity, toxic environment and zero gravity packages.
“Oh right. You recall the package you finished the day before. Bodyguard 2.”
Seth froze. “You didn't.”
“Sure, why not? You were really proud of that packet, you showed me with great enthusiasm."
“But it's not a Bodyguard packet. When you make a weapon or strategy, you make a counter or the opposite. I named it bodyguard 2, because, at the time, I didn't know the Malar word for assassin.”
The smile froze on Olly's face. “Assassin. Don't you mean mercenary?”
Seth shook his head. “No. Contract killer specifically for getting around the bodyguard and committing paid murder.”
“Oh.” Olly didn't get it. “Are you planning to kill anybody?”
“No. But I feel you're legally obligated to inform Commander Utar. Because it's based on the mods we made for the Imperial guard and to counter it.”
“Commander Utar?” Mary asked.
“Commander of the Imperial guard.” Olly looked worried. “Do you think that's necessary?”
“No. But we should tell him anyway. If anything happens to the empress, no suspicion should fall on us, because we've disclosed everything. Also the guard should know such a mod exists. If need be I can demonstrate what it's capable of.”
“Guess you're right.” Olly sighed. “I'll send word for the Commander. In the meantime, how about we get you something to eat. You look terrible.”
Year 3. The casino Propper:
They chose to eat in the casino proper. Minax was a family run restaurant who always welcomed gladiators. Jax, the head waiter recognized Seth immediately.
“Wow gladiator you look like you could eat.” Jax said.
Seth frowned. “People keep saying that.” He turned and looked in a full length mirror next to the entrance. “Ok. I can see why. I look like an inmate of an extermination camp.”
They were seated at a table. The Malar restaurant chair differed only from terran, by not having a back. Seth and the few Terran who survived there long enough to eat there, had caught themselves almost falling off the chair when leaning back.
“I guess the Komlar family is paying for the meal. Since Forty... Seth is responsible for the family's windfall.” Gern said he was the senior family member in their party.
Lutvig was cut short he would have offered to pay but his brother's position as new arena administrator was not guaranteed.
“Gladiator Forty-seven.” The head waiter said. “You do know Duke Timous is looking for you?”
“Yes, thank you Jax. I don't believe it's urgent. But you're welcome to inform him I'm here.”
“Thank you gladiator. I'll make sure you get an extra large plate.”
“Thanks Jax. Oh, I'm going by Forty-four these days.”
“Forty-seven!!!”
“Duke Timous.” Seth got up along with everybody else at the table and bowed to the Duke.
The Duke had a broad smile. “I was beginning to believe you really had gotten yourself killed.” He grabbed Seth by the wrist in a Malar handshake. A remnant from his days as a commoner
“Not yet, my lord. Though my previous masters did have a go at me.”
Timous laughed. “Yeah I heard they got dead. And I see you're getting along with the new trainers.”
“Yes sir. Have you met everybody? The new head trainer Lutvig Tarson, Trainer Gern Kolmar, you've met his cousins Isar and Olly. Mary Varin is Olly's girlfriend and this is her grandson Gerin.”
Timous interrupted, “And the new Assistant Trainer Iskar Hatis. Looks like you're adapting well to your new job.”
“Yes uncle, thank you.”
“Forty-seven you are welcome in the casino. Your ban was a mistake by a new floor manager; he had misunderstood his orders and has been fired. You can use your account again and your box is secured.” The Duke got an odd embarrassed look. “When I heard you were dead; I took the liberty of inspecting the content. Just in case it held something perishable.”
“That of quite alright my Duke, As I recall; it only held casino credits.”
“Indeed Gladiator. I was wondering why you still held that large a reserve, isn't it more than enough to buy your own freedom?”
Seth blinked. “I don't know.” He looked to Lutvig, "What does a senior gladiator cost?”
“About 300.000. But your promotion isn't official yet so let's say 250.000.”
“Well I have that.” He got a wicked grin. “Mind if I pay you with Arena credits?”
Lutvig laughed. “The Arena Administrator is the one you'll have to deal with. It's probably going to be my brother, Duke Yuran. I'll put in a good word for you. You're worth way more alive and free; than a captive in constant danger.”
“Thank you.” Seth said. “Without a citizenship, I’ll have to work in the arena?”
“For the Arena.” Lutvig said. “You don’t have to fight.”
“But, I can still fight, if I want to?”
Duke Timous took a seat. “Why would you want to? Isn’t it incredibly dangerous?”
“Not really. After two years most gladiators tend to live longer.” Seth had run the numbers in the clinic with Isar. “I feel obligated to protect the new group of terrans. That reminds me. One of the new candidates was born female. Olly, what would it cost to genetically change a female to male.”
“I’ll do it for free. But wouldn’t she rather stay female and get off the fighting floor?”
“He’d rather get the sex change, is there anyway he can get both?”
Lutvig shook his head, “We’re really low on gladiators. Even with the batch you’ve just trained. We only have thirty Linesmen, and as you know; they take time to train.”
“Can she... or can he be bought free.” Timous asked.
Lutvig winced. “Yes. But I really need gladiators. Ultrik really depleted our stock.”
“Guess I can’t buy their freedom,” Seth said. “What does a fresh candidate straight off the boat cost?”
“About fifty thousand. But I really can’t spare a lot.”
Seth bit his lip. “Can I buy one or two?”
“Why.” Iskar asked. “Want to set up your own love nest with Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six?” Seth was confused. “No, I’m not homosexual. I’m more concerned about his age.”
“Homosexual, Didn’t you just say Twenty-six was female?”
Seth got it. “No, Thirteen is the transgender male.”
“Thirteen?!!!” The trainers said in unison.
“But but but...” Iskar was losing it. “He has a beard. He’s...”
“He has taken male hormones for ten years... About six or seven Malar years.”
“Are you sure?” Iskar said. “Twenty-six doesn't look like a man.”
Seth thought about it. “I’m glad we agree. Twenty-six’s is not a man; he’s a boy. I put him at about ten Malar years old, fifteen terran.”
Isar took a deep breath. “Ten? Isn’t he too small to be a gladiator?”
“No.” Seth said. “He’s not fully grown. If he survives, by this time next year, he won't fit into a linesman armor. But to me he’s a child. I’m morally obligated to protect him.”