Kalon

Chapter One-Hundred-Seven: Jida

Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

Solar System: D-447

Planet: Ora

Location: Tarvashal, main hangers

Netherium courses through my veins now, it is… intoxicating. Across the hanger, I see the man who holds the brothers, the twins, and Fennec. His head and face are clean shaven, deep brown eyes, there is a scar that cuts across his eyebrow. He wears dark clothes that look suited for fighting.

He is not simple, I can feel it in the pressure around him. The air pays reverence to his command of Maka… I do not. He will feel my defiance first hand. My only regret, is that there is only this little amount of Netherium.

"Submit, or…"

"Submit?" I interrupt, rolling my neck, bouncing on the tips of my feet, "I don't know the meaning of such a word."

An explosion of movement rushes the air as I leap toward them, I will not submit. Not willingly. His eyes narrow as he flicks his wrist, the air pushes everyone to the sides of the wall.

"Then I shall teach you the definition," the man says with a grin. It is strange though, there is no malice in it. Not like I would expect. It is earnest. Unlike his task.

The stone ground beneath his foot cracks with the air, my pulse quickens. He is upon me. His first strike lands, I could barely see it. The wind knocked out from my chest. Pain erupts from my forearms as I block the second strike.

"Good instincts," he says, the air cracks again, this time his leg finding purchase in my side.

My eyes bulge and I feel my ribs break, the Netheric Maka swells in my body, mending the wounds. He waits for me to rise again. Not to taunt me, I don't get that feeling from him, more like it is out of respect for another fighter. Spitting blood onto the ground, my stance straightens with my bones.

"Jida," I say, his explosion of movement tells me he understood that it meant ready… but I was not ready for him.

A series of blows land next, each one as unrelenting as the last. Bones break, even with me past the fourth boundary… he is a monster. Each strike assures me that he is stronger than Kotina, he must be. Three more strikes leave me on my knees. Breath ragged, now wheezing as the last of the Netheric Maka pulls my body back into place. I cannot beat this man. Perhaps if I had more Netherium… but with the Etheric Maka in the air, I can't find enough to do anything. It's strangling my power.

"Who are you?" I ask, trying to rise to my feet again.

"The unworthy do not ask for the names of the strong."

He strikes me again, my face hitting the floor, blood coming from my lip. The pain is still nothing compared to what Krotha has done to me.

"Just as the strong do not remember the names of the weak," he says, now standing over me.

A lesson that my people teach too. Though I don't think he is Kuwathi. This fight reminds me of when I fought Henek, Barnak's grandson. All those months ago. Except now it is me on the receiving end of a one-sided fight. I have not been this soundly beaten since I was a child, first learning the forms. Even then, it did not take me long to learn them.

My eyes stare up defiantly at him. With this man though, it is not even skill that has decided the winner. His body is faster and stronger. I didn't even land a single blow on him. How do I overcome a gap so wide?

"Have you learned the meaning yet?" he asks, folding his arms behind his back.

"No."

He grins, a blur of movement, and then… darkness.

***

I awaken suddenly to ice-cold water being poured on my head. My eyes spring open to take in the room, people in heavy mercenary attire stand around me, we are no longer in the hanger bay. I am strapped to some kind of upright table. The air is hot and humid, there is a stench to it. A stench I have smelled before, the smell of death fills my nose. I look around, but I don't see familiar faces. Worry begins to rise in me.

"Right-o, gloweyes awake," one of them says.

All of them have their helmets removed, their faces are marred with deep scars. I see crude metallic implants running up some of their necks. I do not know the purpose of them. But from what I learned in my time in Tarvashal, it's likely a kind of body enhancement.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

"Just like him to be late though," one says, then groaning, "He was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago."

"Wouldn't let him hear that," another warns.

There is a creaking of a metal door opening. Footsteps echo from it.

"Let him hear what?" a voice asks.

A shiver runs down my spine as I hear it, there is a coldness in it. The kind of voice that has never known empathy, an emptiness in it. The type of voice that has a curiosity for the pain of others. I know this voice… it is Mallock.

"Nothing boss, sorry boss," the one who complained says, there is fear in his voice.

His footsteps build dread in me. I pull at the restraints, they are firm.

"You did not disappoint, you're indeed my favorite kind of dog," Mallock says, standing in front of me now, his blood caked clothes are gone. Face now clean of the torment his hands inflicted.

How long have I been out? My head feels groggy, I try to pull from the restraints again, but they are cold metal. My body unable to bend them. Turning my head, I see they have me hooked up to some kind of tube that runs into my arm.

"His resistance to sedatives is unbelievable boss," the first says.

"Yes, our new," Mallock pauses, a look of disgust, "Our new employer warned as much."

Mallock taps my forehead rhythmically.

"So, are you ready to obey yet?"

The bile in me rises. I will not give him what he seeks, I will not die a coward's death and live as his dog. My body thrashes against the restraints, trying to find any weakness I can, despair claws at me as I feel its firmness. Do not give up, fight, fight for your life. The others may still be in danger.

With a half grin he says, "Well the other option is I fillet you until you take option one."

My Kuwathi eyes begin to glow in defiance of his will. He will not break me. Krotha tried and failed. This man will not succeed.

"I'm really going to enjoy this," Mallock says. Pulling something now from his jacket pocket, something I recognize. He holds a laser cutter, and I recognize the markings on the side, it is the same kind my people use.

He steps forward and moves it towards my left arm. I struggle as much as I can.

"Oh wait, I almost forgot," Mallock says, going back into his jacket and pulling from it a syringe with an injector, "This helps make the pain more… enjoyable."

He shoves it into my shoulder, my body writhes in agony as every nerve begins to fire, overloading my mind.

"Can't forget this one," he says stabbing me with another syringe, "Keeps you awake."

The men with him begin to turn their gaze away. A sick look on some of their faces, causing the dread to rise higher in me. My senses are so heightened that the small breeze from the air ducts feel like gale force winds upon my skin. Mallock's face ripples with a pleasured smile as he moves the laser cutter toward the tip of my left pinky finger. He pauses for a moment then snaps his fingers, one of the men brings him a stool to sit on. The table raises up a little to match his new height. A mirror unfolds from the ceiling so I can watch him as he moves the cutter toward my left leg now instead.

"Had a doggie run off once, better to start with the legs," Mallock says as he turns the dial on the cutter to the lowest setting, then elbows me in the groin, the pain blinding "Plus we can take care of that attitude problem when we get up there. My daddy always said fix a dog that bares its teeth."

The pain is unspeakable as I feel the laser sear and char the flesh, every single nerve screaming and vibrating inside of me. Time dilates back and forth, slow then fast. The pain on the slow, the respite in-between too fast. Every time I feel like it will end, and I will pass out, I feel a wave of the drugs surging me awake.

"Woof for me little doggie," Mallock says giggling with glee as he cuts the tips of my toes off, a plop as they land on the ground below. Next he makes burns across my legs and chest. He does not try to kill me, he wants me to live long enough for him to enjoy my suffering.

The chiming of his wrist device stops his advance. Giving me a reprieve, the sounds of the room echo in my head as I feel a buzzing behind my eyes. My heart pounds so fast I fear it might seize. But there is clarity coming, the drugs, I think my body is processing them, just like Kotina's poison. Deep breaths restore the calm. I do not break for Gods… I cannot break before just a man.

"Father," Mallock says, opening a holo from his wrist, a muted expression on his face.

"Have you secured the specimen?" the man asks him.

"I have," Mallock says, his knuckles are clenched, but his face wears a small smile.

"Then why is it not at the facility?" the man asks, then leaning forward in the holo, "Let me see it."

"Now?" Mallock asks, his eyes shoot me a glance then go back to the man in the holo.

My ears are ringing from all the noise. The sound of the air-recirculating machine buzzes so loudly. Even as Mallock speaks quietly, it feels like he is yelling. Still though, it is getting better.

"Father, now's not really a great time, I'm in the middle of something," Mallock says to the man.

"I'm not in the mood for games," the man says, his voice is somehow more cold than Mallock's.

Mallock's jaw flexes as he lets out a sigh and spins his wrist towards me. The man in the holo looks at me, then down at all the char marks across my flesh.

"Mallock!" he yells, causing my ears to feel like they will rupture "What the hells are you doing?"

"He killed Betran, father," Mallock says, not spinning the device back as he rolls his eyes.

"Betran was a waste," the man says, looking me over again, his teeth grind as the veins bulge "Do you have any idea how much he is worth? Do you have any idea what our employer will do if you damage him?"

Mallock lets out a long sigh, twirling a blade on his fingertips.

"Father, you know I don't care about money."

"Mallock, if you so much as harm another hair on his head, I will strangle you with your own innards."

"Sounds pleasant," Mallock chuckles, then moves his hand to the wrist device, "Sorry seems my holopad is malfunctioning father. I'll call you later."

"Mallock!" the man yells before he is disconnected.

Vek.

"Where was I?" Mallock asks rhetorically. Raising the laser cutter now as a sinister smile fills his face.

"Boss," one of his men says.

"What!" Mallock yells, his hair going askew as he turns to the man.

"Er, your father said he'd kill us all if we didn't stop you."

"And?" Mallock asks, standing from the chair, and flinging it against the wall.

"We don't really want to die, boss."

"No—you've ruined it—father has ruined it—my mood is now soured!"

"Sorry, boss," the man says, flinching.

Mallock throws the laser cutter on the floor, flipping the empty table next. Picking up his knife and slamming it into the table over and over again. He howls in pain after a few seconds, he cut his own hand again.

"All your fault!" Mallock roars, pointing his finger at me now, then letting out another scream this time at the men, "Prep him for transport!"

"On it boss," one says. Moving to me quickly, he looks at my wounds, an uneasiness about him as he tries to wrap them with unskilled hands.

"Frag, frag, frag," Mallock swears, wrapping his hand with a bloody rag, "I'll be needing a new dog."

"Understood, boss," another man says.

The man who tends to me holds some kind of injector cartridge in his hand. The beat of my heart slows as the lights become less bright and the sounds less abrasive. Soon, darkness is all I see again.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.