48. A Part of History
48 – A Part of History
Hector breathed a sigh of relief as the locker room door shut with a resounding clang and the noise of the convention hall faded to a muted roar. The crowd had been enthusiasm incarnate, and though he’d been shielded by the barriers, people had surged against them, clamoring for photos, fist bumps, and handshakes. Hector had obliged at first—more than he’d wanted to—but in the end, he recognized the futility of trying to please everyone and pulled his track suit’s hood up, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and pushed his way into the locker room.
The space was quiet; none of the other fighters from earlier matches had lingered, which made Hector wonder if security had cleared them out. Whatever the case, he was glad for it. He went into one of the shower stalls, tossed his duffel on the bench and stripped down, ready to soak up some hot water and try to focus on the job ahead.
Despite his determination, as he stood under the steaming water streams, his mind kept drifting back to the fight, primarily focusing on his utter loss of control. He hadn’t fought like that—fully seeing red with no inkling of reason left in his mind—since he was a teenager. Years and years of hard work in the Imperial Guard to build discipline and then his time with the Invicti—all gone in the blink of an eye thanks to one ability. Berserk was powerful, but Hector didn’t like what it did to him.
Will that ability get better? Am I always going to lose control?
//I’m sorry, but that’s unknown to me. We’ll need to explore pathways, advance levels, train abilities, and—//
“Start looking for a merger or a more advanced archetype. I need to maintain control.” Hector spoke aloud, his face down, water drumming against his scalp.
//I will do so. You may need to take some levels in Berserker for—//
“Start the process.”
//This will cost 30 potentia. Please confirm.//
“Do it.”
//30 potentia applied. Corpus Vivum conditioning has begun. Approximately 12 hours to complete level advancement. Disorientation, weakness, and even fleeting incapacitation may occur. Extra caloric intake is recommended.//
Hector wasn’t sure he was being smart. If he considered how hard the aura system had hit him when he changed his archetype to Berserker, he knew it was possible he’d feel this level-up more than he had previous ones. Still, it made him feel better. It quieted the voice in his mind insisting he do something about his loss of control.
He shut the water off and left the shower. In the little dressing area inside the booth, he stood and listened, wondering if he was still alone in the locker room. Water was running somewhere off to his left, but he didn’t hear anyone. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked around, but he didn’t sense an imminent threat. He dried and dressed quickly, donning the security uniform Janus had sent him. That done, he slung his duffel over his shoulder and walked out to one of the mirrors above a sink, giving himself a once-over.
The swelling was gone from around his eyes, but they were still bruised; the nanite cream RMC had provided was average at best. Most of his cuts had been shallow and were nearly healed. The deeper ones were scabbed-over. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his uniform coveralls, then left the locker room, only to come face-to-face with Sass.
She was nervous, fidgeting as she smiled almost guiltily. “I saw you go in.”
Hector mustered a smile. “Sorry we got split up.”
“Don’t worry about it—crazy crowd. You feeling okay?”
He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, uh, you kinda blew your top and then when I tried to talk to you, it seemed like I was very close to having my teeth smashed out.”
Hector took a few steps, then slowed, glancing around, relieved to see most of the crowd had left the arena. “Where am I supposed to go?”
//Contestants and ticket-holding guests are invited to join the RMC staff for a banquet and entertainment at The Rim Resort – Carlisle and Gladson event halls.//
“Uh, people going to the party are walking up to the resort,” Sass said, unaware of Evie’s response.
Hector gestured toward one of the convention hall exits. “Let’s walk together.”
Sass smiled, nodding as she fell into step with him. Evie filled Hector’s map with a walking path, and he led the way out of the building, down through a covered rotunda of sorts, and onto a smoothly paved lane. When their long, quick strides pulled them ahead of other meandering guests and employees, Sass broke the silence.
“You meant what you said earlier?” She did her best to stay in Hector’s line of sight, walking backward as much as forward, as they made their way up the smooth, gentle incline. The lane was lined with mature trees, and little stylized lanterns lit up the walkway, made to look like something from medieval Earth, though their glow was the steady, bright illumination of LEDs.
“About?”
“Helping me out down in Helio!”
“Yeah.”
“Well, like, can I get your net address?”
“You connected?” Hector tapped his temple. Sass nodded, and he said, “Open a port; my AI will send you contact info.”
She blinked her eyes and nearly stumbled before regaining her balance. “Okay, open—” She coughed out a startled laugh. “Sisters! That was fast!”
Hector grinned.
“So, I guess you’re going to be busy up there, huh?” Sass jerked her chin up the trail toward the distant glowing lights of the resort.
“Yeah, probably. Not by choice.”
“You gonna take a job with the mine?”
Her question threw Hector for a minute, but then he realized she was referring to the uniform he was wearing. “Nah. Well, I told the security boss I’d think about it.”
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She nodded, like it made perfect sense. “I’ve got some other friends around, so don’t feel bad.”
“About?”
“About ditching me when we get up there. Like, I know you gotta go to the exec’s suite for a minute.”
Hector’s mind drifted back to the CEO’s invitation. Could he safely ignore it? He supposed it might draw more attention; for all he knew, the man would send his personal staffers looking for him—something Hector couldn’t afford to happen when he slipped away for his other business.
“Hector?”
He looked at Sass, at the way her skull tattoo floated, almost like a hologram, above her skin in the dim lighting. “Cool tat.”
She looked down, but her lips curled into a smile. “Your brain is all over the place, isn’t it?”
“Too many punches to the head.”
“So, maybe I’ll see you around up there, though, right?”
He favored her with a half smile. “Maybe.”
When they reached the resort, signs directed them to the lobby, but they weren’t necessary; Hector could have followed the sound of music or the trail of partygoers. Stepping through the massive doors, propped wide to allow the cool night air in, Hector looked around.
The resort had a high-class industrial feel; angular segments of metal, polished wood, and glass, all designed so a person’s eyes were drawn toward the key feature of the locale: the view of the pit. Hector had to hand it to RMC—they’d done a hell of a job controlling the messaging about their mine and its impact on the Martian landscape. Rather than an environmental disaster, it was a “wonder to behold.”
A young woman in a slim-fitting executive suit approached him as soon as he and Sass paused to look around. She had pale blonde hair smoothed back into a neat bun, and her face, devoid of makeup, looked young—child-like. “Excuse me, sir. Are you Hector Valerius?”
“He is,” Sass replied, folding her arms, her skull-face frowning.
“I’m to guide you to Mr. Sparling’s parlor. He’d like a word with you.”
Hector sighed, holding out a fist in front of Sass. “See you.”
She punched his knuckles, her skull’s frown reversing into a smile. “Thanks for letting me hang with you today.”
He locked eyes with her for a moment, nodded minutely, then he turned to the girl in the suit. “Okay.”
She turned and walked toward an art installation—copper and silver made to look like an abstract excavation machine. On the other side of it, Hector saw their destination: a bank of elevators. The girl touched her thumb to a bio-reader and stepped inside as the doors silently opened. Hector followed her in, and the elevator began to rise.
“Any idea what he wants with me?”
“Just a short meeting, I think. He’s scheduled to board his fluttercraft soon.”
“You an intern?”
“Executive assistant.” She narrowed her pale eyes at him, an unsettlingly severe expression on such a youthful face. “Surprised?”
Hector gave her the smallest of shrugs.
“What about you, Mr. Valerius? That’s quite a name, isn’t it? Fitting for a fighter. Is there more to you than meets the eye?”
Hector felt his breathing slow, his attention focusing. This girl was no one to be dismissed; she was dangerous. “I’d have to know what meets the eye.”
“A young man from Earth—a security contractor, unnaturally skilled in combat for someone his age. More than that, he has an aura system—a red aura with a cleaner signature than we’ve scanned in the thirteen years RMC has been putting on these fights. Were you just born lucky? A rare talent that we don’t often see out here in the Martian wilderness?”
Hector tilted his head, peering deep into her eyes. They were a close match for his own in their pale-blue hue, but he got the feeling hers were high-end implants. He wondered what sorts of scans she was running. Probably tell if I’m lying. “I’m lucky, sure, but that’s only a small part of the story.”
She stared for another few seconds, but as the elevator came to a stop, she nodded, her thin lips curling into a smile. “You’re certainly interesting. I’ll give you that.” She led the way off the elevator, directly across the hall to a pair of luxurious, tall wooden doors. “You’ll find Mr. Sparling in this parlor. Please don’t encourage his penchant for story-telling. As I told you, he has a flight scheduled shortly.”
As Hector wrapped his head around her warning, she pulled the door wide, revealing a parlor that looked to have been transported straight from Old Earth. He stepped inside, looking left and right, taking it all in. It wasn’t a massive room—maybe only twenty meters deep—but it was richly appointed. Lush, gleaming wooden floors, tall bookcases built into the walls on the left and right, luxurious couches and armchairs, and a diamond-glass window that, of course, gave an expansive view of the pit and the night sky above it.
“Hector!”
Hector usually noticed people first when he walked into a room, so he was irritated with himself when he looked to his right to see Sparling and two other men huddled together in a group of chairs. The CEO stood and walked over, muttering an excuse to his two companions. He held out his hand as he approached. “What a fight!”
Hector shook his hand for the second time, once again impressed by the executive’s firm, calloused grip. He wondered what he did to keep those callouses. He supposed they could be from the gym.
“Did you claim your winnings?”
“Not yet.”
“They’ll have them for you down at the party. Just speak to one of the hosts.”
“Will do.”
“What do you think?” Sparling waved an arm toward one of the sets of bookcases, every shelf of which was lined with what looked like authentic hard-cover books. Many of them were bound in what appeared to be leather or cloth with gilded lettering.
“Impressive.”
“No replicas, these were all printed on Old Earth on genuine printing presses. Cost me a fortune to gather them here on Mars.”
Hector looked over the shelves, trying to display the proper appreciation. He supposed if a rich CEO was going to spend his money on something frivolous, books were probably better than some of the other things the elite enjoyed collecting.
“Come on.” Sparling motioned for Hector to follow him further into the room, past several more seating arrangements, to stand before the window. “I’m glad you came by.”
“It’s not what I expected.” Hector wasn’t lying; he’d expected a ballroom full of things like caviar, maybe a string quartet, and rich folk vying for each other’s attention and envy.
“I’m not a fan of crowds.” Sparling chuckled, reaching up to stroke his mustache. “Nor is my security detail. They’d be furious to know you’re this close to me without two of them present.”
Hector cocked his head. It really was a risk.
Sparling cleared his throat. “Don’t let me put ideas into your head.”
Forcing a smile, Hector said, “No, not at all.” He glanced back toward the door and the other two suits still sitting on their couch, talking in low voices.
“Was Iris too much trouble? Of all my daughters, she’s got the sharpest tongue.”
Hector’s mind flashed to the blonde young woman who’d guided him up to the parlor. “Your daughter?”
“That’s right.” When Hector only nodded, and didn’t let any of his thoughts bleed through into his expression, the older man gestured to the parlor again. “You’re wondering what I wanted with you, if not to show you off to my guests.”
Hector nodded.
“Well, it’s a proposal.” When Hector narrowed his eyes, the man continued, “You’re of a different breed than the fighters we normally get around here—not unique by any means. We’ve had some genuine talents come through, and I’ve made the same proposal to them that I’m about to make to you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I spoke to Janus—he said you’re trying out for a security role here at the mine. Is that right?”
Hector nodded; it was his cover, after all.
“Well, I think that would be a waste of your time and talent. The RMC Fight Night events are a big draw around here, and they also garner quite an audience online, but they’re relatively small-time affairs.” He chuckled. “As much as we’ve tried to compete with the Games, we just don’t have the caliber of fighters it takes.”
“Games?”
He grinned and punched Hector’s shoulder enthusiastically. “I was hoping you’d say that! You’re from off-world, after all. The Tharsis Games—five contests in the five largest cities in the trench, culminating in a championship tournament at the end of the season. It’s not easy to get in, but I have a stable and three placement slots in the opening contest.”
A stable. Of course he wants me to be his animal. All Hector said was, “Interesting.”
“So? What do you say? Will you fight for me? Your prize money from this RMC tournament will seem like child’s wages in comparison.”
Hector wished he could proudly say he wasn’t interested, but he was on a mission, wasn’t he? He needed funding and connections if he ever planned to claim vengeance for the Contis—for himself. So, he played the diplomat and said, “I can’t say it wouldn’t be something I’d think about.”
Sparling grinned, clapping Hector on the shoulder. “That’s all I needed to hear. We’ve got a couple of months before the first set of games. I’ve already gotten your contact information from Janus. I’ll be in touch. Do some research, Hector; I’m certain that once you’ve read about the Games, you’re going to want to be a part of them—a part of history.”