1
UNRECOGNIZABLE
AMARA
THE OTHER TWO nurses go statue-still, faces turned towards their shoes like the lack of eye contact might save them from a little work and discomfort. Selfish pricks. It’s times like these I wish I were a shittier person.
Hand raised, I step forward and say, “I’ve got it.”
Solta waves in confirmation and returns to her datapad with complete disinterest. If no one had volunteered, she would’ve randomly assigned someone and never checked whether they’d done the job. She doesn’t care if the gladiator lives or dies, as long as she doesn’t have to deal with him. Fucking infuriating.
Gripping my med-bag, I follow my escort away from the Nurse’s Room and down the darkened passageway. Light from the outside world bursts beneath the cell doors in glowing strips that cast strange shadows over the jagged surface of the stone floor. The shadows are fitting, but the warm glow is not. It just adds another layer of incongruity to an already unsettling environment. Like a haunted house with children’s songs playing in the background. There’s nothing warm here. Nothing comforting. Just stone, death, and the promise of a lifetime spent in perpetual hell.
The walk is short, maybe 30 feet or so, but with each step,my will to continue shrinks. The fetid stench leaking out of Cell 3 is already so thick in the air my eyes are watering, and damn if it doesn’t make me want to regret my decision. But I ignore it and keep moving.
Embrace the suck, Amara.
Yuxta, my pain-in-the-ass escort, pushes one of his three-fingered hands into my back, ushering me right up to the door. His face is placid and unmoving, and I can’t help but wonder if he even has a sense of smell. Probably not. There’s no way his poker face is that good.
I wait for him to sort through the keys while I try to think about anything other than the smell. It’s not easy. The species on the other side of that door is a level of rank I didn’t know was possible, and that’s why I’m here. Fighting for every breath. Because if I don’t keep this fucker alive, no one else will, and I don’t feel like giving the Magistrate another dead slave.
A clunk reverberates off the orange-hued walls as Yuxta turns the lock.
“When was his last dose given?” I ask.
He shakes his shoulders in what I’ve determined is a shrug before saying, “Wait inside when you are done.”
I bite back a sarcastic remark as I realize the guy who can’t remember when he sedated the giant space-spider thinks that I’m the one with memory issues.
Clenching my jaw, I drop my gaze to the ground. Sure, Yuxta seems nice, but I’m not dumb enough to assume he’s on my side. A single snarky comment could be the end of my road, and I’m saving my final ‘fuck-you’ for someone a little higher up the food chain.
The door swings open and I step over the threshold, holding my breath.
“I will return rapidly,” Yuxta says.
I nod at the awkward translation and wait for him topartially close the door behind me. When he’s gone, I dart past the sedated alien, drop my med-bag on the table, and stick my face out of the hole in the wall that serves as a window.
The rush of fresh air and sunlight is like a drug, and I take my time soaking it in. From here, the view of the sprawling Calidus desert is stunning. Endless, undulating dunes stretch out as far as the eye can see. Distant rocky outcroppings cast long shadows through the morning haze. Sand dances in the breeze, bursting upwards into the pale sky with enviable freedom.
What a beautiful prison.
With a final breath of untainted air, I leave the window and face my task.
My patient, the spider-like Thoratlium, is on the bed with his many legs sticking upwards in the exact way you'd expect. If I were to go off smell and appearance alone, I’d say the guy is dead. But he’s not. The creepy bastard is chittering in his sleep.
Taking shallow breaths through my mouth, I slip on a pair of gloves, turn on the adjustable lamp, and inspect his injuries. Deep gouges run along his carapace, and one of his legs is cocked at an unnatural angle. Definitely broken. Or dislocated? I don’t know. Alien physiology isn’t my forte, and in the year I’ve been here, no one has offered me any real training.
“Looks like you got quite the ass-kicking,” I mumble as I fill a syringe with a fresh dose of sedative. Since Yuxta couldn’t tell me when the spider got his last dose, I’m giving him a ‘safety-dose’. Dying at the hands—claws?—of a giant space-spider is not at the top of my to-do list, and neither is being deemed a ‘criminal’ and mysteriously vanishing.
No one will outright say what happens to the nurses who break the law and vanish, but we all know. The Magistrate loves his overcomplicated rules and thinly veiled threats.God, I hatethat fucker.I can’t wait to give him a thinly veiled threat of my own.
The spider’s leg twitches as I stick the needle in the joint near his carapace, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Holy shit,” I gasp as my heart tries to pound out of my chest.
Ok. Calm down. He isn’t waking up, he’s just twitching.
I’d love to say I’m not scared of the gladiators, but that would be a lie. They’re all scary. Even the ones that don’t look threatening are here for one reason and one reason only: they’re really good at killing. This little guy might be smaller than me, but he’s heavier than shit and he’s still alive. Since only one gladiator can leave the arena with a pulse, it’s clear this eight-legged freak is capable of some serious damage.
