Bread and the Circus

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“Introductions aside,” I said, taking a step back from the group huddle to peer into my last gourd, before tossing it aside with a rueful shake of my head, letting it lie in the dust of the ruins around us (and doing my best not to feel shame at being a litterbug), “I think we’d better get back on the move.  We’re out of food, and the stat suit’s readout says that my wound from that trap’s healed up enough that I can get back to normal, and that’s about all I can think of that could keep us from just giving a hard push to the end.”

“You’re healed up?” Neph asked, blinking incredulously.  “But…that shouldn’t be possible.  I mean, I saw you get cut, and…”

“The stat suits are made to meld with and enhance the natural systems of your bodies,” Al interjected calmly.  “Many of the treasures you will find are meant to enhance what the stat suits can do to an even higher degree.  I am made of similar technology, which is the source of my adaptable structure, though I am not nearly as sturdy as the nanoweave of a military-grade stat suit like the ones you wear.  In fact,” she extended a hand, and I felt both my eyebrows rising right up into my hairline as it started to come unraveled right before my eyes, “I think I can integrate with the systems of your suits, if you allow it.”

“What would that do?” asked Neph, a slight smile on his face as he stepped forward, just shy of eager; I swear, I think that kid was starting to get a crush on this metal octopussycat.

“Assuming we let you do it, that is,” I added, a lot more guardedly; I had a strong gut feeling that I could trust all those high-sounding words Al had been throwing around earlier, but…I dunno, it’s just hard for me to completely trust something so alien without a little adjustment, I guess.

“I should be able to establish a communications link,” she explained (and already I was thinking of the robot as a “her,” which just shows how far gone I already was).  “Instant communication, in other words, within the broadcast ranges of the suits and myself.  Since these are rather extensive, and integrate with the myriads of recording devices that are a part of everything around us everywhere in the Arena, that means that we should be able to talk to each other regardless of distance, silently, for as long as I am functional.”

“Subvocalization, right?” I asked with a wry smirk.  “Yeah, I’ve heard of that.  Never done it, though.”  I glanced at Neph, who gave me a nod, his expression hopeful.  Faced with that puppydog look, I just sighed and shrugged and nodded right back: I’m a sucker, and I know it.  “All right, let’s try it out.”

“I will happily demonstrate how to subvocalize,” Al said as she touched my and Neph’s chests, right over the sternum, the wire threads that had once been her hands now visibly twining with the fibers of the stat suit.  “And everything else that your stat suits can do.”

Whoa.

I felt it when Al touched the operating system of my suit.  The sensation was kind of like touching a metal door handle after you’ve been out on a hot, dry day right before a summer storm, when the tension of unreleased energy crackles in the air all around you.  Then I was the system, a part of it, pulled into its essence, with images and light flashing before me faster than my conscious mind could follow.  My mouth went dry, and I felt myself starting to overload, my brain just hitting this point where I couldn’t process any more or I’d break.

That was when the feelings pulled back, and I was myself again.  Not some mix of flesh and machine; just me, MaKayla Carlscrown, the only girl among eight kids, and the one who was supposed to get my family out of our financial trap before we fell into Hell.  There was shame in remembering how badly I’d let everyone down, but hope as well, that maybe I’d be able to redeem myself out here, spending my life like currency.  Right on that thought, though, was even more guilt, knowing how much I’d hurt my parents doing this, going to the Arena, once they found out about it.  Especially Dad.  Would he ever understand?

“He loves you,” said Al, and I looked into those strange glowing cat’s eyes, and somehow I didn’t mind that she’d been able to read my thoughts.  “Of course he will forgive you.  But I think he will forgive you more readily if you come back alive.”

“Yeah,” I ‘said,’ but in the way Al had shown me, feeding the information straight into my brain in a flash that still tingled like the icy burn of a fresh scar.  Subvocalization, learned in a heartbeat.  “But, uh, Al?  Let’s not do anything like that again.  That made my brain hurt.”

“Weird,” agreed Neph, also subvocalizing, blinking several times as he fought to get himself together again.  “I agree with Mac, though: I feel like all my gray matter got blasted with hard radiation at the same time.  If it’s all the same to you, it was fun while it lasted, but I’d rather not do it again.”

“Sorry,” Al apologized, and she sounded like she really meant it, even as I watched her hands coil back up; the process was pretty interesting, actually. As soothing as watching yarn get rolled up from a skein into a ball.  “I am used to just plugging into data networks.  I forgot that a human’s systems are not designed for such direct forms of information transfer.”

“Lucky for us you used the suit instead of trying to stick those things in us directly,” laughed Neph, breaking back into normal speech.  “Still, this is something really useful.  This means we can probably find each other again even if we’re separated, and that’s a pretty major plus in my book.”

“That’s just the start of what we might be able to do,” I added, then looked back at Al.  “But we just don’t have the time to figure out everything you can do right now; I’m already starting to get hungry again, and I’m pretty sure the speed at which I healed up that slice across my belly has something to do with it; probably speeds up my metabolism or something to match the enhanced healing factor.  So that means we’re on a time limit here, and I wanna face the rest of this dungeon as fast as we can go.  Without committing suicide, that is.”

“I also have a bioconverter,” Al helpfully volunteered.  “It was meant as a backup power source, but I can also use it to change organic matter into edible substances, or purify and concentrate sources of water.”

“Could you turn this dust into food, then?” asked Neph, gesturing to the tomb dust lying all around us, out footprints making deep marks in some places.  “There’s more of this stuff than in the tombs of the legendary Pharaohs of Earth.”

“Most certainly, and draw moisture from the air, given enough time to collect it all and pack it into an edible or potable format,” Al assured us.  Then she looked down, and I was almost certain that I saw those metal cheeks blush, even if I knew that was physically impossible.  “However…I would be more comfortable if you did not watch while I did so: the process is slightly embarrassing.  ‘Fleshy’ behaviors are not something with which I am quite comfortable yet,” she explained, answering the questions we must have had on our faces before they could leave out mouths.

“Fair enough,” I said, drawing one of my spears and stepping to the fore.  “You both feel up to this?  ‘cause if you do, it’s my turn to take point until the next trap, then Neph, then Al.  Even if it wasn’t, I’ve forgotten the order anyway, and I’d rather just get it over with first.  You both with me?”

“Foes behind, and danger ahead,” Neph answered, shifting back into that poetic form of his.  “And only valor to unbar the way.  Lead on, Mac…Duff.”

That was a misquote, of course, but I didn’t feel like calling Neph on messing up his Shakespeare right then; it sounded better in our situation, and that was good enough for me.  Instead I glanced at Al, but she was already stepping into position behind Neph, all of us lined up and ready to go, though I wasn’t sure what sort of heat she’d be packing when we got into the next fight.  She might be made of metal, but it was the squishy sort, all thread and wool, and unless she could whip out some knitting needles…

“Here,” I suddenly said, yanking my other spear off my back and tossing it to Al, who plucked it out of the air with mechanical precision, then stared at it with about the closest approximation of a bemused expression I’ve ever seen on a robot.  “You’ll need this, considering what we’ve already gone up against.  Unless you have some crazy robo-weapons to pull out in a pinch.”

“Sadly, no,” Al admitted a little sheepishly.  “I was not even designed for much strength, only durability and adaptability.  After all, I was meant to serve in zero gravity in a civilian occupation; raw physical power and weaponry were of lesser importance.”

“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” I concluded, before turning back to face the fore, looking down the shadowy corridor leading deeper into the dungeon, lit dimly by more of those funny runes and pictograms that really brought out the “ancient tomb” décor of this place.  “Me, my spear’s mostly for making sure I don’t hit any traps without poking ‘em first.  We get into a fight, I’m throwing it and pulling my clubs.  You two use your spears from behind me while I hold the line, and maybe try to knock over…whatever it is we run into next, making it easier for me to smash it to bits.  Or just punch holes in it if the pushing strategy doesn’t work so good.”

I felt their assent tingle along our new communication network, and decided that I’d just talk through that in future.  The feeling was a little weird, and placed some strain on my throat, so I didn’t like it much, but I could see getting used to it with practice.  Keeping quiet in a place like this – in just about anywhere on the whole planet! – was probably one of the best ways for us to keep that little edge of surprise.

There weren’t any traps in the corridor, or enemies either, even though it was kind of long, and even had an “L” bend that I thought would be perfect for ambushes.  Actually, nothing had pounced at us in any of the corridors between rooms: they were trap-happy only.  Maybe this was another matter of Arena programming, keeping stuff organized in an artificial way to give us contestants a fighting chance, so we’d know what to expect.  Then again, maybe it was just a way to lull us into a false sense of security, thinking that we’d only face traps in corridors and enemies in the big rooms.

Just as I was starting to subvocalize this conversation with Neph and Al, and they’d just started to work it over with me, the corridor opened up with startling suddenness (was it the lighting that made the place keep doing that?).  So sudden, in fact, that I nearly walked right into the first downsweep of a zombie’s claw!

Yeah, you read that right: zombies.  Shambling, groaning, moaning, clawing, feast-on-the-living, rotting flesh zombies!  They were…well, the four rotting horrors had probably looked something like those lizard-things we’d fought outside, but a little taller than either me or Neph.  Every one of them was unique in their state of decay, too, which made me have to admire the level of detail their designers had put into producing these shambling horrors.  But how did they…?

“Cloned flesh overlaid on a ceramic ‘bone’ framework,” Al immediately supplied through our network, right at the moment I shoved my spear into the first monster’s chest before it could get another shot at tagging me with those rakelike fingers, using the force to shove it back before I released my grip and yanked out my shillelaghs.  And she didn’t have to vocalize at all to do it, either, the lucky skunk: she was a robot, after all, and could make sounds from the vibrations of electrons alone…or positrons, or whatever it was that made these suits tick.  “The flesh, muscle and organs are taken from genetic ‘blanks,’ and act as armor for their more vulnerable systems beneath.”

“Thanks for the update, Al,” I called out, not bothering with stealth anymore as I brought one of my clubs down on the arm of the next zombie in line, hearing the loud c***k of bone (or bonelike ceramic, anyway) as I made it go completely limp, the metal spikes of the hand’s “rake” sticking out clearly through the fingerflesh.  “That cloned meat might make ‘em more armored, but it makes ‘em slow, too!  Perfect for the pushing strategy!”

“I’ll bet their makers let them rot a bit before they deployed them,” Neph said as he moved up closer behind me while I pressed into the room, my stance guarded, my clubs ready to take the swings of the next zombie lizard to come at me.  “That would explain why they all look unique: natural decay would complete the image without requiring additional effort; just some time and the right conditions.”

“A brilliant observation,” Al agreed, moving with mechanical precision as she swept out the legs from under one of the shambling ‘bots, catching its foot right at the moment before its falling step had quite touched the ground, and was therefore at its most vulnerable, since all the weight had to be transferred to the front leg; sweeping legs had always been tough for me, but Al made it look easy with her robotic senses, and I had to suppress a twinge of jealousy as the robot went crashing onto its back with a meaty, gooey ‘thud.’  “An answer smoothly melding the needs of both aesthetics and practicality.  Do you think that they might have made use of actual sinew for some of the connective tissue…?”

“Focus, people!” I yelled, gritting my teeth as I caught the front zombie’s one-handed swing on the raised X of my shillelaghs.  “I can’t deal with…oh…thanks, Neph.”

Neph had used the delay my block had created to jab his spear right into the head of the zombie, which also had the side benefit of making it take a vital step backward.  While the headshot didn’t appear to put a stop to the zombie, it opened it up wide for me to bring down another smashing blow, this one right on top of its already holey head, pulping it in ways that made me do my best not to pay too much attention, while Neph’s face took on a greenish tinge, as I noticed out of the corner of my eye.  Lucky for me, adrenaline made it easier for me to ignore that sort of stuff than poor Neph; the kid never seemed able to just turn off his brain, even when it would have made his life a lot easier.

“Don’t mention it,” Neph replied, even as he turned, his back pressing against mine when we saw the walls pop open, releasing four more of the shamblers, which immediately started their slow tread in our direction.  “I think we’re about to get swamped if we don’t hurry this up, though.”

“Their sensory apparatus are in their heads,” Al informed us both, still using the link even while me and Neph were talking out loud, and we both glanced at the zombie we’d bashed, which was shambling in a completely random direction now, still flailing with its one remaining functional arm.  “My sensors are telling me that their central cores are located in their main body cavities.  Hmm, they lack functional brains, though,” she continued, using the butt of her spear to prod the one I’d knocked down, all while making sure to keep me and Neph between herself and the steadily-approaching horde.  “All they have is a power source and a data uplink to the central computers on the Circus.  Since both are located rather closely together, though, most hard blows that manage to penetrate the flesh of their trunk regions should be enough to bring them down.”

“Good to know,” I growled as I performed a fancy double-swing I’d have never dared to try on something faster, the first club battering the claws of the last zombie of the first foursome aside, before the second smacked its head clean off.  “They didn’t make this ceramic bone to last, though: knocking off heads and limbs is pretty easy!”

“Maybe it’s just cosmetic damage,” Neph posited, following up my headstrike with a thrust through the monster’s chest.  “Maybe they can just shove body parts back into place during downtime, after they’ve dealt with whatever contestants stumble into their lair.”

“Makes some sense,” I agreed, kicking the zombie free of Neph’s spear, and shoving it into the mass of the next four, making them stumble even more than they had before, giving us a perfect opening, which I motioned to Neph and Al to take while I charged forward, shillelaghs swinging.  One  shillelagh mashed another zombie’s head, while I delivered a crushing blow to the chest of the one to its side with the other.  I gritted my teeth with the exhalation of force I channeled into shattering whatever solid bits lay beneath all that cloned dead meat on top, making it reel back then drop to the ground, face up.  “Using a semi-organic system with a mild charge would let them take this fantastic battle damage, great for the cameras, and then they could be shoved back together, either by their fellows or offscreen by some technicians, and that would…aah!”

The zombie Al had knocked down had bided its time, crawling along the floor with flesh-hungry avarice, and I very nearly screamed when it sank its teeth right into my calf!  Desperate, I brought down both my clubs, red tingeing my vision with single-minded killing frenzy as I smashed into the nasty snapping beast again and again and again.  Al and Neph were a blur somewhere in the background, Al actually screaming my name rather than using the link, while they both stabbed and stabbed and stabbed at the encroaching corpsebots, keeping them off me, stopping them from finishing what this evil biting bastard started!

I only stopped when it was a pulpy mess on the floor.  Then I dropped slowly to knees, and then to all-fours, crying out again at the pain that lanced like a lava eruption from my torn calf.  That hurts!  Then the fear starts to set in, at least for a moment, as I wonder if I’ve been hamstrung, if I’ve been crippled for life, if I’ll have to use the panic button or die in this stinking hole, and leave Neph and Al to somehow make their way out of here without me.

Looking around, I see Neph running to me, leaving his spear carelessly behind, stuck deep in the guts of the last twitching zombie.  Behind him, Al just stood there, the little blue dots of her pupils tiny pinpricks in an expression of blind panic.

“There’s…there’s so much of it,” she murmured, once again out loud, but that’s just about the only thing she does, her whole body wobbling like a tower made of tightly-compressed springs.  “So much blood…”

“Al!” Neph yells at her, plunging both his hands into the red mess of my calf and pressing down as hard as he can.  I just grit my teeth at the pain this causes, even if I still can’t quite stop the grunt of pain that escapes me, try as I might.  “Al, we need to slow down the bleeding until the stat suit can seal up again!  Get over here and help me put pressure on this wound!”

There was a long beat, and I looked back to see Neph turn his head at last, blinking in surprise at the expression on Al’s face.

“Al?” he asked, his own voice making it clear that he was starting along that short road to panic; the same one Al had already taken at a sprint.

Huh, I thought to myself, blinking a bit as I felt myself getting light-headed, spots already starting to pulse around the edges of my vision.  So this is what it feels like to bleed to death.