Feeling a mix of discomfort and frustration, I bite my tongue and pack the kitas instructed, tossing in a few extra packets of hemostatic gauze.It probably won’t help him, but it’s better than nothing.
Before leaving, I risk one more question. “Do we really not have access to anything hecoulduse? Like regen-tape?” I’ve never seen the stuff before, but Roveen waxes poetically about it like it’s some long-lost lover. Supposedly, it’s very easy to use and helps wounds heal quickly. Sounds a lot better than sutures.
“No, Amara,” Solta says loudly, her voice tinged with annoyance. “Please, just do your job.”
I leave the room with a frown etched on my face and a useless bag of medical supplies under my arm. I shouldn’t be surprised by Solta’s lack of concern—she’s part of the problem—but it’s hard to reconcile all the different faces she wears. She can be kind and gentle, but at the same time, she’s complicit in the kidnapping and forced labor of hundreds of people.I swear, either her cognitive dissonance is robust enough to compete in the unhinged Olympics, or her soul is blacker than tar.
Yuxta escorts me through the maze of hallways in complete silence while I fume.
When we reach Cell 29, the shorter of the two guards posted there stalks towards me. It takes all of my willpower not to reel back. I’ve seen a lot of freaky aliens at this point, but this guy takes the cake. His face is a horror—scaly ridges covered with what looks like a thin layer of mucus—and he walks with a wide gate, approaching me like a massive salamander, dragging this tail on the ground behind him.
For some sick reason, my brain forces me to check for a slime-trail. There isn’t one.
I hold out the med-bag. “The medical equipment you requested, sir.”
The lizard grunts a confirmation and takes the bag.
I wait to be dismissed, but he just stands there, staring at me.
“Does the gladiator need help closing his wound?” I ask, hoping to end this interaction.
He answers with a short, angry, “No.”
Ok. Noted.I lower my head in a quick bow and return to Yuxta’s side. We get a few steps down the hall before I’m forced to a stop by a jarring thud in my chest. Air bursts from my lungs, and I bend over, bracing my hands on my knees as my heart takes off in a series of rapid, uneven beats.My ears roar. Sweat slicks my skin. And a surge of panic follows.Is this a heart attack?
“Amara!” Yuxta shouts, waving his hand emphatically.
I force myself to move.Maybe it’s just another panic attack. A really weird panic attack.The only issue with that theory is that the anxiety showed up after the heart palpitations.
An unhelpful voice in the back of my mind says, ‘It’s probably an alien heart condition.’
Great. Thanks, brain. Nothing like the warm reassurance of an untreatable new disease to calm my nerves.
As we near the first turn in the hallway, the uneven beats turn into a steady thrum. My heart’s beating too fast, but I’m not feeling any of the negative effects I’d expect from that.Fuck. If this is some weird heart condition, I’m completely screwed.I don’t have access to medication or human doctors, so any issue with my body is going to tank my life span… and the amount of time I have to act.
I collide with something solid, and an “Oumf” leaves me. It’s Yuxta’s outstretched arm. “What’s go?—”
He holds up a finger, his middle finger—which I guess might be considered his index finger since he only has three—and I wait. He tilts his head like a dog, oversized ears sticking straight out and twitching. Then I hear whatever he did: wet thumping sounds.Maybe punches? I’m not sure.
Then Ihear a scream. A loud scream. Followed by the distant sounds of chaos.
Normally, a scream like that would turn my nervous system into a shaking idiot, but I’m fine. My heart’s still beating faster than it should, but beyond that, everything seems normal. No adrenaline dump. No pounding headache. Nothing.
Ok. This is interesting.
Another scream reaches us. This one sounds closer.
Yuxta turns to me. “You must go to the Nurse’s Room alone. Can you do that?”
I nod and watch as he takes off around the corner.
It takes a moment before I realize I’malonein the hallway. Fuck. I really don’t want to get caught out here, but at least if I am, I won’t be the only person whose ass is on the line. Yuxta will be screwed too. Taking that small detail as a sign of his confidence that I’ll make it back undetected, I start walking, slowly.
A year ago, I would have killed for an opportunity like this—some time alone to do some recon, maybe find a way to escape—but there’s no point in that. The only thing waiting outside these walls is death.
A few days after I woke up in the Coliseum, I was assigned my first patient. A Sikut in Cell 7. The window in that cell is big and close enough to the ground outside for me to be willing to jump. So, instead of patching up the sedated Sikut, I jumped out the window and ran. I didn’t have a plan or supplies, but I was free, and I thought I’d figure things out as I went. Maybe I’d find a nice local willing to help, or I’d find a shipyard and sneak onto a merchant vessel, but all I found was endless desert.
By the time the sun was setting, I collapsed at the base of a dune and was found by a couple of guards, sunburnt, dehydrated, and exhausted. They dragged me back here, and the Magistrate had me locked in a cell without food or water for two more days. I thought I was going to die.
