Prologue
The lab was unusually quiet as a handful of white cloaked individuals worked on solitary tasks. So quiet, it was jarring when a soft alert began to sound by the bank of maturation tanks set up along the lab's back wall. Hooded heads came up to look expectantly at the banks even as a newcomer burst into the lab, clearly excited.
"Finally they are ready, Chhon," it exclaimed in a low, gravelly voice, coming to a halt in front of the three meter tall tanks, each shielded and shaded so their contents were only vaguely visible. "Have their neurological networks come online?"
A cloaked figure standing at a control panel close to the tanks, turned to peer at a number of monitors filled with dancing data.
"Their networks are coming online now, professor," the figure replied in a softer, yet still rough voice. "Synchronizing their engram patterns and initializing their personality data transfers," it went on to say as it turned back to the control panel to make a number of adjustments. "Transfer rates are well within your predicted parameters, sir."
"Ha! Outstanding, simply outstanding!" The newcomer declared, rubbing gloved hands together in eager anticipation. "Three decades of work coming to fruition, Chhon. Thirty years! My only regret is that it took so long."
"The Academy of Science will grant you their highest accolade for this, professor," the figure the newcomer named 'Chhon' said as it turned back to the tanks.
"You know I care little for such things, Chhon," the professor immediately retorted. "I only seek knowledge." It held out its hands towards the tanks. "Can you imagine what knowledge these creatures will bring to us? The pinnacle of evolution in each of their alternate time streams, coming to dominate not only our shared home world, but much of their local space as well." It slowly shook it's head in astonishment.
"To think their existence depended so much on a sequence of seemingly random events, each acting to remove our ancestors from the evolutionary canvas to paint a whole new history with a previously unknown palette of genetic and evolutionary colors."
"Your work with the Probability Engine was groundbreaking, professor," Chhon said, looking over at it. "Without your uncovering of the alternate time streams, we wouldn't have known they even existed."
The professor was about to respond when a loud klaxon sounded.
"What?" The professor, along with everyone else in the lab, looked around wildly. "Intruder alert?"
Then the door to the lab was bursting open to let several troopers in dark green armor come through, weapons held high.
"Professor Trahd," one said, a flash of silver on its chest marking it as an officer. "With the authority granted by General Order Five, I hereby arrest you and your co-conspirators for participating in scientific studies deemed harmful to the political and economic well-being of the Therapsid State."
"This is outrageous!" Trahd declared as a pair of troopers locked it's hands behind it with manacles, even as the others in the lab were rounded up. "I've never heard of General Order Five! My research is sanctioned by the Academy of Science."
"Which, as of twenty minutes ago, has been disbanded by the central government," the officer quickly pointed out as Chhon and the other white garbed lab workers were also manacled.
"The Academy has continuously existed for over 10,000 years!" Trahd cried as the troopers began pushing it towards the door. "The central government doesn't have the authority, ..."
"They do, and they have," the officer interrupted to say before looking at an underling. "Get them over to the south detention center for processing. And get the technocrons in here to gather up the research and equipment."
"At once, commander," the addressed figure in green replied before it began speaking into a communications device.
"I have living research subjects," Trahd shouted as the armored figures tried pushing it out the door. "You can't just throw them into a technocron stasis pod."
"Don't worry, professor," the commander said, motioning for the troopers to take it away before turning to look at the bank of maturation tanks. From it's position, it could see the shadowy shapes within the tanks begin to move on their own.
"The central government has plans for your research subjects!"
****
Chapter 1: Variant
"Hold still, Fletch," the medic snapped as the powerful young man twisted against the restraints holding him into the treatment chair. "I can't seal these claw tears with you moving around like that!" With gloved hands and sleeves already liberally painted in the young man's blood, she was desperately trying to close a series of long, raking gashes along his ribs.
"They ambushed us, Min," he snarled, trying to get back out of the chair. "Those damn cats ambushed us in the maze and cut us to pieces. I swear, I will make them pay!"
"Not leaking a centiliter of vital fluid per minute you won't," Min hissed, using all of her considerable strength to push Fletch back into the treatment chair. Then she was leaning in fast, cauterizer in hand, to burn the longest rip closed.
Feeling his flesh seal with a flare of heat, Fletch grit his teeth and forced his heart to slow and the adrenaline fueling his rage and need for revenge to subside. The dark haired medic was right: he needed to hold still or she wouldn't be able to seal the heavily bleeding gashes that had scored his ribs and nearly penetrated into his body cavity.
Then she was done. Leaning back, she used the back of a sleeve to brush her sweaty bangs out of her finely sculpted face.
"There," she announced. "That should hold long enough to get you into a proper resealer. Just don't go tangling with anyone until then or you'll pop a seam."
"Copy that," Fletch said with a nod. Hearing the implied promise in his voice, Min nodded in satisfaction before she reached out with a bloody hand and released the restraints.
Now significantly more subdued with his adrenaline levels back to normal, Fletch eased out of the chair and accepted a plain brown tunic from a medical quartermaster as they stepped by. Pulling it one, he turned back to Min, who was changing her gloves as two large male medics lifted an unconscious and badly beaten man next into the chair.
"Thank you," he said with not a little sincerity. She favored him with a quick smile in response before turning to join the other two in working on the newcomer.
Sucking in a quick cleansing breath, Fletch made his way out of the medical quarters, stepping past the impromptu morgue near the door as he did. There, lying under bloodied sheets, were the unmoving members of his team. They had all died out there in the maze, victims of the cats' ambush, leaving him as the sole survivor.
While that was aggravating, Fletch living through the viciousness of the ambush when they didn't was no accident. He was a variant with a high degree of survivability, a version of human called a 'psionic', capable of tapping the powers of his mind to do incredible things. As such, those abilities were something the fight masters had attempted to exploit time and time again.
"I will avenge you," he said quietly as he paused at the head of the first stretcher with its bloody and unmoving passenger to look grimly down at it. Then he was moving on.
The medical quarters for the human faction, the group Fletch belonged to, was situated at the edge of the massive gaming area that the young human had lived in for the majority of his life. It was equidistant from the quarters belonging to the other factions to avoid mingling during a battle cycle. The common area beyond, however, had no such physical restrictions.
It was into this cluttered and busy space that Fletch went next, warily picking a path through a crowd that included cats, wolves, gators, birds, and fish, along with their variants. Of course each faction weren't actually representative of the names they were given. The cats didn't go on all fours, nor did the birds fly and the fish didn't need water, etc.
No, they were all highly evolved humanoids walking on two legs and having a general appearance similar to that of humans. However, that was as close as they got to being human.
Each faction represented the dominant species that had rose to conquer the Earth in their alternate time streams. The cats evolved from big hunting cat ancestors, the wolves from lupine forebearers and so one, each the top of the food chain from where they came from.
Humans, which the others called 'monkeys', or 'apes' if they were feeling generous, had successfully dominated Earth in a number of time streams. Not possessing the shear power or physical weapons the other factions had access to even at their most evolved state, along with the other factions' awareness of that multi-stream dominance, had turned the humans into targets as the others sought to prove that they were the superior species. It made for a rough and bloody go in the games the fight masters created.
Being targeted also meant humans had a tendency to stay away from the other factions and spend their off time in humans-only zones. It was to one of these zones that Fletch now made his way, hopefully for a little food and rest far from the dangers of the gaming area.
A pair of cro-mag variants, humans designed for size and strength, looked up from where they had taken position on either side of the gateway into the Absinth Zone, Fletch's favorite humans-only enclave. While not allowed to carry weapons as per fight master rules, the powerful variants, each nearly seven feet tall and easily five hundred pounds of muscle and strength, were a decent deterrent against any other faction members from pushing through and entering the zone. Fletch nodded in greeting to them, a nod they returned, then stepped through into the familiar confines of the Absinth.
Ignoring the shops a number of standard humans had set up in a semblance of the society their implanted memories told them about, Fletch headed straight for the automated resealer to make the repair work on his ribs a bit more permanent. Once that was done, he made his way to the zone's primary cantina for some food and drink.
"Did you win your match, Fletch?" the standard behind the counter, a fellow by the name of Merrick, asked as he handed him a tray of basic rations and a tumbler of cold distilled water. Grimly the young man shook his head.
"Three standards and two simian variants, all killed in an ambush," he added.
"Damn gators!" Merrick growled.
"Not gators. Cats," Fletch looked up from his food long enough to correct.
"Cats?" Merrick looked confused. "I thought you were scheduled to go against gators this time."
"Last minute change," Fletch said around a mouthful of carb loaf.
"Standards are useless against cats," Merrick thoughtfully noted, earning a confirming nod from Fletch.
"They were the first to die," the young man indicated, reaching for his beverage. "Not even my prescience could save them."
"At least the simian variants can match cats for agility."
"Yeah, but not for power." Fletch put his tumbler down after a long quaff. "They avoided the first two attacks but went down on the third when the cats were able to finally put their claws in."
"You took damage too, eh?" Merrick made a gesture towards Fletch's side. "I saw you coming out of the resealer. Claws?"
Fletch grimly nodded as he forked protein sticks into his mouth. All the repair work to his body had taken a toll on his resources, leaving him with a snarling hunger. A hunger he was trying to appease before it ate its way out of his belly and started chewing on his spine. Hence the eating while Merrick was talking; he couldn't afford to slow down for the niceties of conversation.
The conversation, the food, and even his healed wound was all forgotten, however, when a shout of alarm rose from the zone's entry point. He was as quick as anybody else in the cantina to push it aside and join the general rush outside to see what was going on. He found his eyes quickly drawn to the melee seething just inside the entry point.
"You, ... aren't allowed here," one of the cro-mags gurgled around the muscular tiger variant arm looped around his neck. The other arm was joined by two others as a pair of tiger variants struggled to restrain the massively powerful human variant. His partner was pinned up against the wall by no less than five female lion variants, the lithe and muscular lionesses viciously fast and strong.
Then the driving force behind the cats' assault on the zone's front door stepped into view.
"I must see the psy variant you call 'Fletch'," the powerful male lion variant rumbled, peering first at the cro-mag pinned against the wall, then the one being held by the tigers. "Do you know where he is?"
Fletch felt his expression tighten dangerously as he stared at the big cat. For good reason: the lion was a pridelord, a champion of his kind. And the bastard was looking for him!
As expected, both cro-mags spit derisively at the pridelord in response to his question, even restrained as they were. Suspecting that would earn both a bit of physical abuse until they were more forthcoming, Fletch stepped forward even as he sent a surge of energy through his neural network to prime it.
'You want me, cat?' he silently snarled as he focused on the pridelord. 'Here I am, ambush for an ambush!' Then he went on the offensive, unleashing the full fury of his abilities, their power further enhanced by the still lingering rage garnered in his recent encounter with cats in the game masters' maze.
Usually operating in the trials under some sort of restraint to keep him from having too much of an advantage against non-psy variants, there was no such limitation here. First to go were the tiger variants, twin battering rams of telekinetic force sending them flying back through the air. Released from the hold, their prisoner dropped to knee as he dragged oxygen back into his starved lungs.
Next were the lionesses; as bio-electrical energy danced over his body, Fletch turned towards the five holding the second cro-mag prisoner. Then he was lashing out with neuroshock tendrils, a combination of telepathy and telekinesis that overwhelmed the target's neural network, knocking them out.
Three lionesses dropped limply to the ground with the first shock volley, the other two swiftly following with a second volley. Then the pridelord himself was being dragged forward with a telekinetic lasso around his neck, pulled to where Fletch stood rigidly as bio-electricity danced over his powerful body. A heartbeat later he was being hoisted into the air by that same force as if he were a straw-stuffed dummy.
"Here I am, cat," the psy variant snarled as he stared up into the pridelord's purpling face. "Any last words before I pull your head off?"
"Wait," the pridelord gurgled, frantically pulling at the lasso with both hands as he dangled nearly half a meter off the ground.
"'Wait'?? That's all you're going to say for last words?" Fletch turned to spit. "Pathetic!"
The pridelord was silent for a moment as he fought to speak past the constriction closing his throat. Then:
"Freedom," he managed to say. The powerful psy variant frowned at that. Freedom? Did this cat seriously think he was going to let him go now, after he rolled in here with his pride and attacked one of their enclaves?
"He doesn't want to fight you," one of the first lionesses that he knocked out with his initial shock volley, said in a low, pain-filled voice. A glance in her direction revealed she hadn't moved from where she had fallen. "We came here so he could talk to you about freedom."
Fletch let the lasso ease just enough for the pridelord to suck in a lungful of air before looking back at him.
"Is this true, cat? You're not here for a fight?" he asked, staring up in the big lion's face.
"It's, ... true," the cat hoarsely replied. "We are all children of Earth, Fletch of the humans, lords and masters in the universes that gave us birth. Yet, here in this place, we are mere slaves, fighting each other for the amusement of the game masters." He paused slightly to swallow, wincing at the pain in his throat. "They pit us against each other to see who is most powerful, the most clever, and the most adaptable survivor. But, in truth, our various kinds evolved fighting for a different cause. We fought for the freedom to be."
The pridelord made an encompassing gesture.
"It doesn't matter which of us are put in a cage. Wolf, cat, fish, monkey; we all want out of it, and will fight to make it so."
"Even if that's true, this whole planet is our cage, cat," Fletch pointed out. "We can't just open a door and walk out."
"No, we cannot," the cat agreed. "But that doesn't mean we cannot fight for our freedom."
Fletch's frown deepened. But before he could ask the cat what he was proposing, a low siren began to sound in the streets beyond the enclave.
"Peacekeepers!" one of the cro-mags that had been initially attacked, spat out. "We need to pull back into the enclave, or they'll arrest us all for unauthorized fighting."
Nodding, Fletch let the cat drop to the ground before he began to step backwards towards the enclave entrance.
"Think about it, human," the pridelord said in a hoarse voice as the lionesses swarmed him to help him back to his feet. "We don't need to fight each other. We need to fight for freedom for us all!" And then he was lost in the swirling crowds that were filling the courtyard ahead of the game masters' peacekeepers.
****
Chapter 2: Death Match
Everybody around Fletch began to back towards the enclave entrance with no little haste as the klaxon continued to chirp. Game master peacekeepers were brutally efficient in their duties. If they had been dispatched to investigate the pridelord's incursion, they would sweep in with force and first beat into submission, then arrest anybody that they came across.
Of course, being 'arrested' was a relative term. More like marked for death; as soon as peacekeeper manacles went on the wrists, it would only be a matter of hours before the captured person appeared in a game arena in a death match where the competitors fought until one was left. That survivor was then summarily executed.
None of this touched Fletch's mind, however, as he stared at the spot where the pridelord was pulled out of sight by his followers. Instead the big cat's last words resonated there. 'We are all children of Earth,' the lion had said. 'We need to stop fighting each other and instead fight for our freedom.'
Freedom. What did that even mean? They had been created in this place, raised to adulthood in its maturation tanks, and knew no other life other than competing against each other in bloody contests of attrition and survival. To speak of freedom was like discussing an obscure point of philosophy.
Yet, he could feel something stir inside him when the cat spoke of evolving in a world where they had the freedom to be. He couldn't help but wonder how that felt, to just be.
"C'mon, Fletch," one of the cro-mags he had helped at the entrance, rumbled as he grabbed the psy variant by the arm with a massive paw. "Peacekeepers will nab ya if you keep standing there, staring off into space."
"Right," the young human acknowledged, stirring himself out of his reverie to follow the powerful variant back through the entrance.
Just in time; with humming servos, a squad of peacekeepers pushed their way into the square in full battle mechs, weapons panning over the crowd.
"Attention, variants," a synthesized voice boomed from one of the mechs in the language they all spoke. "We are responding to a report of unauthorized interfactional combat in this area. Hold your position and prepare to be processed."
'I don't think so,' Fletch thought as he let the double doors leading into the enclave close behind him. Not that the doors would prevent the peacekeepers from coming in if they wanted to, but it created the illusion that the people inside had nothing to do with what transpired out in the courtyard.
The doors had barely closed when he heard somebody stepping up behind him.
"My, my, hasn't this been an interesting day!" a quiet voice declared. A voice that Fletch thankfully recognized.
"If you can call getting my entire team wiped out by cats in the maze, then having a pridelord assault the front gates of our enclave shortly afterwards, interesting, I guess today qualifies," he wryly declared before looking over his shoulder. "But I imagine that's not what you're referring to, is it, Galen."
The addressed man, a slender fellow in nondescript clothes and sporting a white goatee and a shaved bald head, smiled.
"You know me well, Fletch," he replied in that same quiet voice before reaching up to tap his temple. "Or are you just reading my mind?"
Fletch grimaced.
"You know I have rules against that, Galen," he said flatly.
"Peace, Fletch, peace," Galen said with a chuckle. "I jest."
Fletch turned to face the man directly. As humans go, Galen wasn't anybody he would normally fear, if he were to go by appearance. The man wasn't powerfully built like a cro-mag, or dangerously lean and graceful like a blood ghost. In fact, Galen didn't look like any type of threat at all. But, as was so often the case, appearances were deceiving. Despite all appearances, the slender human was one of the most dangerous men Fletch had ever known.
That was because Galen was the last surviving member of an entire variant bloodline, the only one to live through the game masters' purge of his people. Not because the masters felt Galen's people, variants that were called 'cerebrates' for their powers of logic, deductive reasoning, and tactical brilliance, were a non-viable variant. But because they feared what the cerebrates could do, a fear fostered by a string of consecutive intra-factional victories against powerhouse variants like the cro-mags and the elusive blood ghosts.
Anticipating the purge, a number of cerebrates went underground, mingling with normals and attempting to stay hidden. They managed to survive nearly a decade undetected until an elite Peacekeeper Raptor unit began to systematically hunt them down. Galen was the very last of his kind, the only one to outwit the Raptors for nearly two full decades after the purge began. To the game masters, there was nobody more dangerous than he.
"You risk yourself being this close to Peacekeepers, Galen," Fletch quietly noted. "What just transpired must've interested you very much, if it drew you out of hiding."
Galen stepped past the frowning psy variant to stare at the door for a moment. Then, abruptly, he was turning back towards Fletch.
"So the pridelord wants us to unite to fight for freedom, does he?" he said, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Those were his words," Fletch confirmed, his frown becoming considering. "One can only guess as to his intent."
"Logic points to the affirmative, Fletch," Galen said. "Else why would he risk a black mark?" His thoughtful expression deepened. "I admit, a fight against the game masters for our freedom appeals to me, and not only because I seek vengeance for them wiping out my kind. But also because the pridelord is right." He paused to gesture at the enclave's worn and dusty courtyard. "No matter what version of the universe we're from, we were meant for something far greater than this!"
Fletch was about to point out that, in the various universes, variants like celebrates and psionics didn't actually exist, when he felt a hot pulse at his wrist. Glancing down at it, he saw a code appearing on the embedded crystal there.
Spotting the code as well, Galen frowned.
"Another summons to the arena?" He looked up into Fletch's bemused face. "But you were just in-game less than an hour ago! That's breaking their own rules!"
"They may have discovered that I was somehow involved in the fracas outside the gate and now seek to punish me," Fletch swallowed his surprise and irritation to say. "That, or everybody in the square the Peacemakers scanned upon arrival got an automatic black mark."
"Also against their rules," Galen pointed out. Fletch shrugged.
"Either way, it's back to the arena for me."
It didn't take the grim human long to make his way through the uneasy crowds of normals and variants of several species to the staging area the summons code directed him to. There he received a combat package, with clothing and a basic first aide kit. After a quick change into his gear, he stepped down a sloped corridor and into the contest arena itself.
Used to being placed in large gaming areas like the maze, or one of the spacious biospheres that simulated various environments, Fletch was somewhat surprised to find himself in what was known as a pit. Barely above a fairly large circular hole in the ground with a raised boundary to keep the contestants inside, the pit was one of the first contest arenas the game masters had created to test the strength and adaptability of their creations.
So Fletch couldn't help but feel the irony of being one of the masters' newest human variants being forced to fight in one of their oldest arenas. It wasn't an irony that he'd get to savor long.
With a wild howl of rage and bloodlust, a wolf variant announced his arrival in the pit. A look in his direction yielded a giant creature with powerful limbs and slavering jaws, a variant known as a dire wolf. Like the other species locked in the game masters' unending cycle of violence, the wolf walked upright like a human, and possessed the basic form of a man. But going on their toes digitigrade style, like the cats, gave them speed and agility, their thick, body-covering fur a measure of protection, and their claws and fangs were natural weapons that were difficult to match.
Then a primal yell was pulling Fletch's attention in the other direction. He quickly found himself grimacing in dismay when he found himself looking at a big male cro-mag. And not just any cro-mag; he was one of the guards he had rescued from the tiger variants.
Meeting Fletch's eyes, the cro-mag frowned. Judging by the look on his broad face, Fletch could see that the powerful variant hadn't been expecting him here either. For good reason: intrafactional combat had been eliminated by the game masters for nearly a decade. Humans hadn't competed against other humans ever since the game masters decided it was more entertaining to pit factions against each other instead.
Seeing the cro-mag from the enclave only confirmed what Fletch had suspected when he was summoned back to the arena: this was punishment for their involvement in the pridelord's incursion. Then any further consideration was interrupted by another howl from the dire wolf variant, the sound jerking both humans' attention to him. Just in time to see the wolf charge forward, legs churning.
Pushing the cro-mag out of his mind for the moment, Fletch turned towards the charging dire variant, priming his neural network as he did. Then he was darting forward to meet him.
Seeing the smaller of the two humans target him, the dire wolf adjusted his forward path to intersect with Fletch, taking the obvious route of dealing with the supposedly lesser threat first. With the dire variant moving at top speed, it didn't long for him to close with the sprinting human. In a handful of seconds the big wolf was right on top of him, fangs bared in a snarl as he pulled a clawed hand back to make a slash at Fletch's face.
Only his reflexes, honed to lightning quick by the network priming, threw Fletch under the swinging hand in time to avoid getting flayed open. The wolf skidded to a halt and twisted to face him.
"That was luck, you filthy ape," the big variant barked in a rough growl.
"Then try to hit me again, mongrel," Fletch fired back, bio-electricity dancing over his upper body.
Baring his fangs, the dire variant started forward. Only to find himself held in place by an invisible force.
"What is this?" he snarled, looking wildly around. "Some kind of monkey trick?"
Fletch bared his own teeth in a feral smile.
"Only the best kind, whelp," he hissed, already uncoiling his next attack.
The first pyrokinetic whiplash opened up a long furrow diagonally across the dire variant's chest, making him howl in pain. The second made the big wolf stagger back, his fur smouldering.
Intent on continuing the ranged attack, Fletch grimaced as he was denied a third by a game masters' dampening field. 'So, you want me to play like that, do you? Fine by me!' Then he was charging in, telekinetic fields shimmering into being around his clenched fists.
Already staggered by the pyrokinetic onslaught, the dire variant didn't move to avoid Fletch's charge. That allowed the determined human to put a TK-assisted battering ram dead center into the wolf's solar plexus. Air whooshed out of the dire variant's lungs in a rush and the big wolf dropped to one knee. Which left him at the perfect height for Fletch to plant a haymaker on the side of his heavy jaw.
Bone crunching under the impact, the wolf nearly went over at the blow. Only instinct and muscle memory kept him up but just barely, the big variant out on his feet and swaying back and forth.
Suspecting this contest was to the death, Fletch moved in smartly, fists up. Two more shots to the face shattered the wolf's snout and closed both eyes with swelling. Spinning tightly, the psy variant then dropped in a shot from up high, sending a killing neuroshock pulse through the wolf's brain case at impact.
His brain instantly fried by the pulse, the wolf went rag doll limp and flopped onto the ground where he oozed blood from his shattered face and ears.
"Bad dog!" Fletch murmured, feeling the wolf's life force seeping out with his spilled blood. The dire variant was done for. Now, where was that cro-mag?
****
Chapter 3: Allies
As much as Fletch was loath to face a fellow human, he knew that in this type of contest he had no choice. If he truly had been black marked, it was a fight to the death, the combatants going until only one was left. The survivor then ran the very real risk of getting executed anyway, punishment for running afoul of the game masters and their complex rules.
So, as soon as the wolf was down, he was looking for his final opponent. Before he could do anything more than lift his head, however, he felt powerful arms looping under his to cinch in a full Nelson hold. A surge of pain avalanched through him as the cro-mag used his power to both put pressure on Fletch's neck and to hoist him into the air.
"Sorry, Fletch," the powerful human variant said into his ear as Fletch desperately tried to wiggle out of the deadly hold. "But you know how these play."
Fighting to stay conscious, the psy variant didn't reply. He didn't have to. He did indeed know how these types of contests play out. That didn't mean he was about to roll over and give up, though.
Unfortunately the cro-mag had overwhelming strength on him. And, with the pressure on his neck and spine preventing him from repriming his neutral network, there wasn't much he could do to fight back.
"Just relax, little buddy, and I'll make it quick," the cro-mag promised, sounding like crushing out Fletch's life was taking almost no effort at all.
For some reason that sent a surge of anger stabbing through him. Just roll over and give up? Never!
Strangely the anger was enough to send a rush through his network, adrenaline and rage allowing him to somehow push past the pressure that was constricting the pathways. As soon as he felt his energies gather, he was using telekinesis to reinforce his neck and upper spine, bio-electricity dancing over his upper body.
Immediately the cro-mag grunted as the resistance to his pressure multiplied several fold. Then he was throwing everything he had into bending Fletch in half.
It was Fletch's turn to grunt as his vision blurred and began to go red with the dramatic increase in pressure despite everything he was doing to hold the cro-mag's power at bay. As he poured the fading embers of his energy into his telekinetic reinforcements, Fletch began to desperately cast about with his mind for a way out. If he could somehow twist out of the hold and get behind his opponent, he could use a telekinetic garrote to choke the cro-mag out.
But he had to twist out first. With hands big enough to engulf his entire head, the cro-mag had locked the hold in tight. It was impossible to squirm enough to free himself. However, if he didn't try, he was going to die, painfully.
Twist, turn, pull, push; no matter what he did, Fletch couldn't get free. In fact, the hold only got tighter, and tighter. He had to get free, no matter what! He, ... had, ... to, ... get free, ...
Fletch wasn't quite sure what happened next. Only that the overwhelming urge to get free filled him completely with a burning fire he had never felt before. Then, with a strange, stomach-churning twist, he was on the cro-mag's back, exactly how he envisioned just seconds ago. There, before he could do much more than marvel at his abrupt change in location, there was a flare of telekinetic energy and he was pulling a telekinetic garrote through the cro-mag's neck.
In one instant, he was being crushed to death. In the next, he was watching in astonishment as the cro-mag's head, now separated from his body, slowly fell from its perch to tumble to the ground. Then he was throwing himself free of the cro-mag's headless body as it followed its former top to the ground, the truncated neck fitfully spurting blood from the severed carotids.
For a long moment Fletch stood there and stared at the cro-mag's cooling corpse, his thoughts churning. The fact that he was the first human to kill another in over 20 years was foremost, followed by wondering how he had managed to free himself from the cro-mag's hold. Surprisingly next in line to be considered was what the pridelord had said about freedom.
He had just begun to ponder the cat's words when the door he had used to enter the arena, opened once again. Turning to look at the open exit, Fletch frowned in confusion. If this truly was a black mark match, then he should've been executed at it's conclusion.
Yet, here was the door he had used to enter the pit, opened once more to apparently let him leave instead, as if he had been in a normal match instead. Fletch looked down at the fallen cro-mag once more. 'Rest easy, brother,' he silently directed. 'Your watch is now ended.' Then he was quickly striding towards the open door, expecting a Peacekeeper shot in the back with each step he took.
It was with a strange mixture of elation and disappointment that Fletch felt as he stepped through the door and into the sloped corridor beyond. Was that a black mark match or not? If not, why had he faced the cro-mag from the enclave?
"Judging by your expression, I'd say you're confused by what just happened," a quiet voice said from the shadows.
Looking in that direction, Fletch found a slender, cloaked figure standing there. As his eyes fell onto it, the figure lifted it's hands up to pull back its voluminous hood. The variant's eyes immediately narrowed at what was revealed. With her oversized eyes, large braincase, small snout, and delicate build, she didn't look like a creature he would've expected to find outside of an armored power suit.
"Game master," he named the graceful reptilian creature in a hard, flat voice. "Come to execute me by your own hand?"
Turning their large, green-pupiled eyes to him, the creature cocked it's head to the side.
"Strange that you call me 'game master' yet neither fear nor respect me," the reptilian said in a soft, feminine voice.
"I just survived a black mark deathmatch, game master," Fletch retorted. "Since disrespecting a game master earns me a black mark, and you cannot be marked twice, there are no consequences inherent to my attitude. And since the game masters foster fear by threatening death and I've assumed that I'm already dead from being in that match, I have no fear."
The female reptilian's eyes widened as Fletch spoke until she was staring at him with open astonishment.
"Well, that was unexpectedly bold," she admitted before pushing the surprise off her fine boned features. "However I cannot fault your logic." She folded her long-fingered hands primly in front of her. "As much as I don't blame you for expecting me to perform some game master function, not all therapsids are game masters."
Fletch frowned in confusion. Not all therapsids are game masters? What did that even mean?? Of course they were!
"But I'm getting ahead of myself," the stranger said. "Perhaps an introduction is in order. My name is Chhon. I was once the research assistance for a famed therapsid scientist named Trahd."
Fletch's expression immediately darkened. Chhon he had never heard of. Trahd, however, was a different story. Every variant had heard of the crazed scientist that had discovered the multiverse and the original DNA stock from which the variants were derived. If this Chhon was in any way involved in their unwilling servitude to the game masters, she deserved to die, ... horribly.
Chhon must've been watching for his reaction to her introduction because, as soon as his expression began to tighten, she began to explain.
"Ah, I see by the look on your face, you've heard of my former mentor. However, I can assure you that the infamous 'professor of doom' has benefitted little from the game masters' efforts to turn his greatest accomplishment into a horrifying blood sport. In fact, he has told me from his prison cell, that his single most pressing regret was discovering the multiverse and the dominant Earth-born races in each."
Fletch's eyes narrowed in confusion. A prison cell? No, every story had him living in the lap of luxury, his reward for creating mass entertainment for the therapsid government.
"If Trahd truly languishes in a cell, what was his crime?" the human wanted to know. "He failed to pay his taxes on time?"
"Endangering the federation," Chhon answered, angering coloring her words. It was the first real emotion Fletch had seen from any game master. "His arrest was a travesty, a mockery of a tradition of scientific achievement spanning 10,000 years. It only happened because of certain militant elements that took control over the central government. Once those elements controlled the halls of power, they promptly declared all projects, scientific or otherwise that questioned the nature of therapsid dominance over our universe a threat to our very existence." Her face hardened even further.
"A threat they felt needed to be immediately neutralized. So they arrested and imprisoned Trahd, and thousands like him."
"How could discovering the multiverse threaten the federation?" Fletch asked, his confusion growing.
"I think Professor Trahd said it best," Chhon said thoughtfully, her anger fading somewhat. "The discovery of the multiverse demonstrated that therapsid dominance extended to only our version of Reality. In every other universe, our kind failed to rise to dominance due to a combination of extinction events and competition from early protosaurians." She made a gesture with a hand. "The government felt that, if left unchecked, the species that Trahd brought from the other universes would out-compete us at every level, leading to our extinction."
"That's ridiculous," Fletch said with a snort. "Even if the populations of the faction species suddenly exploded, we'd never posses the numbers or the capability of displacing the therapsids as the dominant species in their own universe."
"I agree. The central government's stand on the issue is illogical at best, moronically paranoid at worst. Until Trahd found the multiverse, nobody questioned our evolutionary dominance of our reality. A handful of apex species from other realities shouldn't have challenged that. After all, bringing you all here didn't somehow change us."
A sound from further down the tunnel interrupted any further discussion.
"As you surmised, you have indeed been black marked for your involvement in the fracas at your enclave," the therapsid revealed even as she took a bemused Fletch by the arm and directed him across the arena floor towards the door the cro-mag had used to enter the arena.
"As per their practice, you were scheduled to be terminated at the end of the match." She paused to touch something on her wrist and the door in front of them swung open. "However, Trahd thinks you are the key to freeing the faction species from the game masters' enslavement. So I was directed to leave a corpse that was modified to look and scan like you."
"Why?" Fletch asked as he followed Chhon through the door.
"To buy us time enough to prepare you," she said, going down the sloped corridor without slowing.
"For what?"
"Why, to lead a Rebellion against the game masters and their Peacekeepers, of course!"
****
Chapter 4: The Plan
Fletch's mind churned as he followed Chhon the rest of the way down the corridor. Lead a rebellion? Against the game masters and the Peacekeepers?? It was madness! How was he supposed to do that? He had no weapons, no plan, or even an objective. Not to mention, he seemed to be the only one involved in this crazy scheme. While it was true that he didn't love their masters or their heavy handed thugs, they were too much to defeat even with access to all of his unlocked abilities. Not by himself. So why would Chhon recruit him?
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Unless he wasn't alone.
"You sent the pridelord to contact me, didn't you," he accused in a quiet voice as they stepped through the far door and into the staging area.
"I was only instructed to recruit him," Chhon quickly replied, again touching the device at her wrist to get them through the heavy door standing between the staging area and the commons beyond. Leading the way out, she turned enough to let Fletch go past her. As he did, she went on.
"I told him you were the key to obtaining his, and all of the factions' freedom." Her eyes narrowed. "His impatience to see a plan put in place urged him into action."
"So he came looking for me," Fletch noted grimly as they stepped into the surging crowd filling the commons.
"Yes. And, in doing so, nearly destroyed a plan Trahd, myself, and a handful of trusted scientists and academics had worked on for nearly 10 years," she hissed, her frustration bubbling into her words, making it the second emotion Fletch had ever seen from a therapsid. "That fool!"
10 years? Was it coincidence that the purge of the cerebrates had ended in that time frame?
"Okay, two questions," he began as Chhon steered them towards the Ultraviolet Zone, a human enclave inhabited almost exclusively by blood ghost variants.
As their name suggested, the ghosts were stealth and speed specialists, their abilities triggered by drinking the blood of a victim. Stealth got them close enough to bite, and blood-fueled speed got them out of danger. They were effective against wolves, gators and cats, less so against birds, and useless against the echo-location the fish used with all of their variants.
The ghosts were also creepy as hell. Any creature that needed a blood meal to be effective triggered all sorts of self-preservation instincts, especially in their own species. Fletch remembered Galen saying he hid out with ghosts a couple years back and the experience haunted him to this day. And here they were, heading straight for their enclave.
He pushed aside the sensation of foreboding and refocused on his first question.
"If the central government initially saw us a threat capable of wiping out their species, why did they bother keeping us around?"
Guiding them around a resealing station, Chhon answered over her shoulder.
"In a word, Darmak," she said.
"Is that some sort of weapon they were going to use against us?" the human asked.
"Yes, and no," Chhon answered somewhat evasively. Then she was explaining: "Darmak was a rogue researcher that became the central government's most powerful science advisor. It was she that had the Academy of Science disbanded and Trahd arrested. She also convinced the government to initiate the Apex Project."
"The Apex Project?" Fletch asked. "But I thought, ..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Chhon was pulling him with unexpected strength into the shadows clustered around the back of a storage shed. Just in time; as the human began rounding on the slender reptilian to demand a reason for the quick detour, he caught sight of a Peacekeeper patrol moving into the commons. They were going slow, the sensor pods on the shoulders of their power-assisted combat armor carefully scanning back and forth. They were obviously looking for something.
When he finally looked at Chhon, the human found the former therapsid scientist staring hard at the massive, armored forms.
"Do you think they've discovered your deception?" he asked in a low voice.
"Is that your second question?" she quickly returned in a voice as low as his.
"No."
"Then stay silent while we wait for the patrol to pass!"
Fletch barely bit back the angry retort that nearly made its way past his clenched teeth. Only the presence of the nearby patrol kept him silent. However, it didn't stop him from staring daggers at his erstwhile rescuer.
Then, as suddenly as she had pulled him into cover, Chhon was pulling Fletch out.
"Initially it was threat assessment," she said, following the patrol with her gaze as the armored forms moved out of sight. Realizing that the slender therapsid was answering his question about the Apex Project, Fletch stifled his anger and irritation to listen.
"Darmak fed into the government's paranoia by suggesting they test the samples of the faction species that Trahd had assembled for violent tendencies. When they didn't get the results they wanted, Darmak proposed that they pit the samples against each other to see which was strongest and fastest. Which was the most dangerous."
Chhon paused to look at the psy variant.
"In that moment, the blood sport that the factions currently engage in, was born," she revealed. "It has been escalating out of control ever since." She looked back towards the entrance to the ghost enclave, perhaps a good fifty meters across a crowded commons from their hiding place. "The Apex Project no longer possesses even the vestiges of a scientific investigation. With 'game masters' setting up encounters between factions in convoluted scenarios with nigh incomprehensible rules, and 'peacekeepers' as their strong right arm to enforce those rules, the project is now violent entertainment for the bloodthirsty masses. Much like ancient gladiators were in one of the most powerful of your early human empires."
Then she was darting back into the swirling currents of the commons, forcing Fletch to follow or risk being left behind.
Propelled by Chhon's determInation, the two of them crossed the intervening distance quickly. Only to pull up short when they reached the enclave's gate where no less than a half dozen ghosts.
As human variants went, they didn't appear all that impressive. They didn't possess the size and strength of a cro-mag, or the lean agility of a simian. The ghosts looked like standards, even more so than Fletch or Galen. Yet there was a deadly grace to them, an unspoken menace that hung around the six variants, four males and two females, that made Fletch want to prime his neural network.
"I am Chhon," the therapsid introduced herself as they stepped into an empty space in front of the enclave. Lounging in various postures of studied indifference, the six ghosts nevertheless looked as if they could leap into action at the slightest provocation as they stared at the two with dark eyes.
"I made arrangements with, ..." she began to continue only to be interrupted by a dark haired female ghost with hard features.
"We know," she indicated curtly in a voice that matched her face. She gestured at the other female ghost. "Drin will escort you to the safe house."
Slipping past the remaining five guards, Fletch and Chhon followed the grim Drin, a shaved bald female, into the enclave's shadowy interior. It took considerable effort gor the psy variant to stay in neutral as they wove their way through the labyrinthine layout.
"Here," Drin announced, coming to an abrupt halt in front of a low-slung habitat. "Your agreement with Kahl gives you this habitat as your safe house." Then she was stepping past them to go back the way they had come.
"Charming," Chhon said in a low voice. Looking back at her human companion, she motioned towards the dwelling. "Let us go inside, Fletch. We have much planning to do!"
Coincidentally that had been Fletch's next question: what was the plan? As the psy variant closed the door behind him, Chhon stepped to a table in the center of the building's first, and largest room. There she touched something inset into the table's surface and a blue light wire holographic schematic appeared in the air above the table's heart.
"This is Trahd's Probability Engine," the therapsid said, pointing at a complex device off to one side of the image. "He discovered the multiverse's existence with it and obtained DNA for all the faction species through it. With the proper modifications, we can turn it into a portal to send you back to your home universes and far from the oppression of the game masters."
"So I'm to break into wherever it's being stored and bring it out?" Fletch looked over at a thoughtful Chhon. "How am I supposed to do that and not get caught? I'm guessing that it's heavily guarded."
"Not as heavily as you would think," the therapsid replied before pointing to the other devices visible in the schematic. "Pieces of confiscated technology from across the therapsid federation, gathered and stored by technocrons, a specialized arm of our law enforcement that deals with contraband tech. They have a number of centralized storage facilities located on this planet, which was originally earmarked as a utility world before Darmak had it repurposed as her primary game world. She moved the Engine here in case she needed further samples to bolster her breeding stock. It went into a stasis pod then into storage. Where the game masters promptly forgot about it." Her expression tightened slightly.
"We, however, never lost track of it." Chhon looked at a frowning Fletch. "It will be the key to your freedom!"
Slowly Fletch nodded as the therapsid excitedly outlined the details of her plan. To be transported to their home dimension and freedom; it was an interesting idea. Sadly the variant had no experience with either concept. He had been created to fight in the game masters' contests. Like he told Galen, he knew no other life. And while the original pattern for human DNA came from a variety of alternate universes, his DNA had been recombined and assembled in a game master lab, again on this world. As horrible as it was, this place was his home.
Still, to have the chance to experience a life where each day wasn't a struggle to survive, that was something worth fighting for. Even worth dying for.
"So, your other recruits will stage a diversion that will let me get inside the storage facility," the human said after the therapsid stopped talking. He pointed at the Engine's complex shape. "How am I supposed to get that out by myself once I reach it? It looks too big to carry, even for a handful of cro-mags."
Chhon looked at him.
"You won't be carrying it out at all, Fletch," she said. "You'll use the power of your mind to jump it out!"
"The power of my mind?" he repeated, confused. "But how, ...?"
It was then that he remembered his strange relocation during the fight with the cro-mag. How he instantly went from one spot to another without physically moving.
"Psionic abilities have long been under investigation by our Academy of Science," Chhon said, seeing the look of comprehension appearing on the human's face. "What you did in the pit to defeat the cro-mag variant was what we call 'teleportation': the instantaneous transport from one location to another by the power of the mind."
She looked back at the image of the Probability Engine.
"To the uneducated, abilities like yours appear paranormal, even mystical. But the Academy demonstrated that the mind, the bio-psychic interface between your physical self and the bio-electrical field generated by your neural network, can access other electromagnetic fields it comes in contact with. Even fields that phase between layers of space. Teleportation utilizes one of those fields to slip instantly from the layer of space we currently occupy, to a layer of subspace that is in contact with all points in space simultaneously, and back to a location the mind selects."
Chhon stepped around the holographic image to look through it at Fletch.
"At the designated time, the pridelord will lead a handful of recruits from all factions against the peacekeepers and technocrons protecting the storage facility. This is a diversion. You will use it to slip inside, locate the Engine and jump it to a location that I will show to you. There a number of scientists from Trahd's former team will assist me in making the modifications to turn the Engine into a portal. Once that is done, we will begin transporting as many of you to their home universes as possible."
Chhon paused there to study a thoughtful Fletch for a moment.
"That is our plan, Fletch," she said after that moment's worth of study. "Any questions?" When Fletch shook his head, Chhon nodded in satisfaction.
"Then let us begin!"
****
Chapter 5: Insurrection
Things moved quickly from that point. After a quick meal from rations that were stored in the safe house, Chhon used the device on her wrist to confirm that the peacekeepers were unaware of the body switch with Fletch's duplicate. Once that was done, she pulled up a moving map of the entire gaming site with the blood ghost enclave highlighted.
"The yellow dots mark Peacekeeper patrols," she explained when the psy variant stepped closer to look at it over her shoulder. She then highlighted another structure on the far north of the image with a gesture.
"The storage facility that holds the Engine," she said.
Fletch slowly nodded in understanding. Going by the small numbers of yellow dots in the vicinity, he saw that the therapsid's earlier assertion was correct. The storage facility was lightly protected, and what patrols that were in the area only periodically swung close to take a look at what was should've been the most heavily guarded secret in the federation.
Instead it stood virtually forgotten by those that should be keeping it safe. It was mute testimony of how little the game masters feared their slaves, and how much they had dismissed as being worthy of attention.
The human's features tightened with resolve. It was time those arrogant fools were shown the error of their ways.
Chhon was tapping other groups of colored dots when Fletch returned his attention to the diminutive therapsid. In quick sequence she moved all over the map, touching single dots and clusters both, in every factional enclave. After she touched the fifteenth cluster, Fletch spoke up.
"I thought you recruited only a small group," he said. Chhon answered without looking at him, continuing to touch dot clusters seemingly at random.
"Relative to the entire factional population, it is small," she said. She quickly tagged another half dozen before a wave through the display made it disappear. She then looked at the bemused human.
"Our diversion force has now been summoned," she reported with no little satisfaction. "Let us move you into position!"
As they stepped out of the safe house, the two were quickly surrounded by a cloud of ghosts. Instead of attacking them, as Fletch half expected, they took up escort positions and looked to Chhon. At her nod, they began to quickly make their way back out of the labyrinthine enclave.
"Are these ghosts part of the diversionary force?" Fletch leaned in close to ask. Chhon quickly shook her head, a curiously human gesture by one that was clearly not human.
"They will provide a measure of protection from peacekeepers being called to the storage facility once the diversion begins," the therapsid explained.
Fletch's expression tightened.
"I don't need their protection," he began to hotly protest before a curt gesture cut him off.
"The success of this plan rests on the game masters being unaware that you are still in play," Chhon said, fixing the angry human with a hard look of her own. "Psy variants are few and far between. If you reveal yourself by using your abilities prematurely, our original deception fails and the game masters will realize therapsids are involved in the insurrection." She looked away and stared into the darkness for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was filled with anger and frustration of her own.
"Darmak will execute Trahd and the remaining Academy scientists along with their families in retaliation," she hissed. "Only after they are all dead will she begin to hunt for those of us that weren't originally arrested twenty years ago. Then all of our patience and planning will amount to nothing!"
Hearing the passion and emotion in addition to her logic made Fletch hold up a forestalling hand.
"Very well," he conceded in a tight voice. "I'll stay hidden." Then he was leaning in close to growl: "But only to see the others free. I care nothing for you and yours. As soon as we're in the storage facility, I'm unleashing hell."
Chhon looked at him for a long moment before jerking an agreeing nod.
"Now that we've settled that, let us get out of here." He took a quick look around at the narrow passageway and uncertain light. "This place gives me the creeps!"
Thankfully the escort weren't distracted by Chhon and Fletch's fierce discussion. Keeping the two inside their loose circle, they had continued on, moving unhesitantly through the enclave's twists and turns. Until, within a couple minutes of sorting things out between them, the two found themselves standing at the entrance to the enclave.
Fletch silently scanned the entrance, now being guarded by no less than twenty ghosts, some hidden, and others out in the open. It didn't take a great deal of thought to see they were preparing to defend the enclave. Nor was it a mystery who they'd be fighting against.
"That way," Chhon indicated after quickly consulting a miniature map of the peacekeeper patrol routes, pointing to the north.
With the ghosts staying close, the small company pushed hard through the crowded commons, driving steadily northward. Despite that, they had a considerable distance to travel. So it was nearly an hour later that, despite the brutal pace, finally found them closing in on their goal in the north part of the vast compound the various factions called home.
Fletch looked around at the large storage buildings that now made up the bulk of the structures around them, carefully checking for good ambush locations and choke points. If participating in the constant struggle to survive that the game masters put them through had taught him anything, it was to always be on the lookout for an attack.
The landscape had become increasingly industrial the further north they had gone. And with that evolution in their surroundings had come an increase in problem areas that, if he were in an arena situation, he would actively avoid them.
So concerned was the psy variant in their changing surroundings, he was about to turn to Chhon to ask if any peacekeeper patrols were nearby when the sound of energy weapons discharging in the distance reached his ears.
Instantly the therapsid held up a clenched fist to signal their escort to halt while she checked her map one last time.
"They've attacked early," she hissed, frustration tinted her words.
"Can we still get into the storage facility?" Fletch asked. As far as he was concerned, they had come too far to let this opportunity slip out of their hands.
Chhon was silent for a moment while she studied her map, which now showed all the yellow dots in the area converging just in front of them.
"Perhaps," she finally replied after a long considering moment. "The early attack has tripled the number of peacekeepers we had hoped we'd be dealing with. We will now be much more reliant on the diversionary force's ability to survive the additional pressure to make this work." She looked over at the human. "Our margin of error has become zero."
"That's the margin I work with everyday," Fletch grimly replied. "Put us in position and I'll do the rest."
Nodding, Chhon sent their escort ahead with a gesture. Then she was leading Fletch around to the side of the large building in front of them. With the sounds of fighting growing louder with each step forward, they worked around the edge of the massive grey rectangle looming to their left. Then they were stepping around the corner to find themselves gazing into a fiery maelstrom.
Everywhere their eyes fell, there were clusters of peacekeepers in battle armor, their weapons firing almost non-stop at the swarm of attackers that assailed them on all sides. Waves of cats, wolves, fish, and gators, which looked like more powerful and deadly versions of the reptilian therapsids, surged through the courtyard in front of the storage building. They attacked the clusters of armored game masters in groups, pulling the battle suits down with sheer numbers. Already nearly a dozen were smouldering and broken on the ground, mute testament to the method's success.
But broken battle suits weren't the only thing on the ground. Heaps of dead fighters were everywhere, their bodies ravaged by the peacekeepers' deadly weapons fire, which stitched the air with bright tracers of blue, red, and green light. Undeterred by that weapons fire, and the fact that they were unarmed, the diversionary force continued to attack with a vengeance. Even as Fletch did an impromptu scan of the battlefield, a big lion variant threw himself onto the top of a peacekeeper and, using brute force, yanked open the access hatch.
The cat reached in to take hold of the suit's pilot and yank it out. Taking the wildly struggling therapsid in his powerful hands, he easily snapped it's neck then tossed the limp body aside. That done, he threw back his head to emit a primal roar before shouting: "Fight, children of Earth!" he cried. "Fight for your freedom!"
Fletch found a thin smile touching his lips at that. If it wasn't his old friend from the Absinthe encounter. Then Chhon was recapturing his attention with a light hand on his arm.
"I need you to focus, Fletch," she said. At the human's acknowledging nod, she held up two full color holographic images.
"Fix these images in your mind," she directed. "The one on your left is the Engine. You will use it to transport yourself inside. The one on the right is where you will jump the Engine and yourself afterwards, where our conversion team is waiting. Do you have them fixed?"
Possessing perfect recall, Fletch nodded once more.
"Good. Now remember how you enabled teleportation before, in the death match. What drove you to make the jump."
Fletch's eyes narrowed as he considered that. His jump, as Chhon was calling it, had been sheer instinct, an attempt to survive a crushing attack.
His gaze flicked back to the two images. This situation was completely different. For one thing, there wasn't pending death involved. That being said, there was one thing that was the same: he was doing this to survive. Perhaps, if he focused on that, it'd be enough to trigger his teleportation.
To survive, he needed to take himself to the Engine. Only if he took himself to it, would he survive. Only if, ... he took himself, ... to it, ...
The fire swept through him with an abruptness that left him gasping. Then his stomach was wrapping itself around his spine before, in a shift of time and space, he was elsewhere.
Disoriented for a moment, Fletch took a quick look around. And found his instincts were making him duck just in time to avoid a spray of deadly energy weapons fire just over his head. Continuing to let his instincts take control, the psy variant reached out with his telekinesis to take hold of the peacekeeper battle suit that now loomed over him, twisting its weapons towards a dimly sensed second suit several paces behind him.
The second suit went down as errant energy blasts splashed over its forward section, overwhelming its protective shielding and destroying servos and mechanisms. Not wanting to wait for the first suit to try and shoot him again, Fletch then filled its pilot's compartment with deadly pyrokinetic fire, charring the peacekeeper inside instantly to death.
Letting the smoking suit topple away from him, he twisted around until he spotted the Engine up against a wall. 'There you are,' he thought before darting across the intervening space.
Touching it let the human feel the energy coursing through the massive machine. Energy that he could sense stretching out of this reality and into thousands of others. 'By this machine we were enslaved,' he thought, looking up at the Engine's asymmetrical shape as it towered over him. "And by it, we will escape to freedom!'
The second location leapt unbidden into his mind's eye even as fire rippled across his neural network once more. Then, with a twist that left him staggering into the abruptly empty space in front of him, the Engine was gone.
Regaining his balance, Fletch prepared to jump himself out even as he heard more peacekeepers arrive. He needed to go, and go now, or he was never going to, ... Only to find himself falling into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness as a hard blow struck him from behind.
The crowd stirred uneasily as a squad of peacekeepers dragged the limp form of an unconscious human to the post they had set up in the middle of the open air stage. There they quickly attached him via chains as an old female therapsid in white stalked out onto the stage.
"Behold!" she cried, turning to point at the limply hanging human. "The author of your insurrection!" She turned to swing her hand out over the crowd. "You will now bear witness to what happens to any of you when you challenge my authority." She then turned and nodded to the peacekeepers standing close to the human.
At the signal, one of them stepped forward, a long blade in its hands. Then, with a single, smooth swing, it cut the human's head off. As the head hit the stage with a 'thump', blood spurting fitfully from the truncated neck, the old female turned back towards the crowd.
"With his death, your pitiful rebellion is over!"
With that, she turned to stride arrogantly back off stage, letting the peacekeepers clean up the body. In doing so, she missed the stirring in the front rows nearest the stage.
It was a lean, yet muscular young human male, his face handsome yet his expression was already hardened by years of surviving the games. He stared at the body, a muscle dancing in his jaw.
The muscle twitched not because he was upset at seeing the execution of a fellow human. No, it danced with the effort of trying to absorb the telepathic surge of information that had just dumped itself into his brain as soon as the man's head was removed from his body.
Memories, experience, skill sets; it all flooded into his mind in an overwhelming avalanche of sensation. So much so, he couldn't hold it back. With a silent cry, his mind was overwhelmed, melting before the onslaught. In it's place rose another more seasoned mind, one seething with rage and hardened with resolve.
In an eyeblink the young man was gone, his mind absorbed by the more powerful one that had slipped into his brain. Then Fletch shook himself and glanced down at the body he now found himself occupying. 'First learning how to teleport, and now jumping into a nearly empty mind to survive,' he thought in astonishment. If he hadn't just done it, he would've thought it impossible.
Then the dead body on the stage recaptured his attention, a body that once belonged to him. As he stared at it through another man's eyes, he pulled up the memory of what she had just said. 'With his death, your pitiful rebellion is over!' she had confidently declared.
She had to be this Darmak that Chhon had talked about. Only the creator of the game masters and their arenas would talk about having her authority challenged by a rebellion. Now that he knew what she looked like, it'd be that much easier to find and kill her.
'The rebellion over?' he thought, clenching his fists as bio-electricity began dancing over them.
'No, you therapsid bitch, it's just begun!'