The lift grinds to a halt. The humanoids in knightly armor march forward forcing Reynard to step as the door opens to a cheering mob. The Circus Maximus has thinned. Those who bet on Crackle and lost vacate the grandstands. They’ll see other pleasures with what’s left of their money.
They force him to stand before the spectators in an undesired victory ceremony. He won’t play to the crowd. He won’t fuel their bloodlust. Nothing about this satisfies his warrior code except he denied the mob blood even if they don’t know it.
The guards step back in unison, allowing Reynard to slide back onto the lift. It continues to rise to the box seat level.
This needs to be over. I have to find that bounty. If I had my magnum— The lift rises beyond the box seat level. Reynard calculates grabbing the left guard, using him as a shield in order to take his weapon. Depends on just how heavy the armor actually is. It’s one of those algebraic variables his high school math teacher said one day would save his life. Can he move the armored humanoid? No X to solve for.
The doors to the lift open. His crew, minus the tall brunette, awaits him.
JarBok bows to him. JC keeps her head low. She has the bag securing his clothes on her shoulder and his jacket draped over her arms. Scott and Joe both look ready to pounce on the nearest guards. They didn’t round up Amye or Doug. He must be on his way back to the Dragon with the holoemersion unit. Where could she be?
“You have spoiled your welcome here,” JarBok scolds. “If not for the necessity of victors to be seen wandering the casinos, we’d exile you now. You are not to return once you leave.” He snaps his fingers.
More guards drag in Crackle. Her face is cut and purpling from a beating. They fling her to the floor before JarBok and the crew. “This one, due to her previous win in the arena, has become known to many patrons.”
Two guards grab the woman and rough her in an execution pose despite her struggles.
JarBok draws what Reynard would consider a revolver with the cylinder-style device near the trigger. The click-chunk of the device moving the emptied shell to a fresh one overwhelms the rushing burn of plasma as it melts the durasteel slug steaming into Crackle’s brainpan. Reynard jumps as brain, bone and blood exit her head with the stream of super-heated molten metal.
“Bloody hell!”
“It was merciful. She could not be seen after you had ended her life in the arena.”
“You could have shipped her off-world!”
“She was a thief and had no transportation. Attendees here do not seek hirelings.”
JC squeezes Reynard’s bicep. “We should conclude our gaming and go.” She reaches out. Let it go.
Reynard shifts his weight and marches from the lift. He snags his jacket from JC’s arm as he storms past. The thump of disheveled leather draws his now narrow glance back at JarBok before he spots the second jacket on the carpet.
“Where’s Amye?” he demands.
JarBok shakes his head, “It was left in one of the booths. I graciously returned it to your crew because it contained your pennon.”
Reynard’s mouth tightens. His hand flexes. A shoulder jerk puts him in position to ponce. He doubts, even with Joe at his back, he could defeat all the armored guards. He’ll deal with this depravity dealer later.
JC grabs Amye’s jacket. She shifts her eyes to point Reynard toward the door.
Raising his arms so his jacket falls down around him, Reynard advances on the exit. “We better find her, and not in the arena.”
“Better men than you have made threats before and we are still here, Commander Reynard,” JarBok sours his name. “You should consider leaving.”
“Not without my entire crew.”
“A contingent of Tibbar have learned of your presence here due to your win. They don’t carry blasters and rarely gamble. Their preferred sport—the hunt.”
JarBok’s intended threat carries weight. Reynard must locate Amye and the bounty before those reptiliods do.
Reynard spins on his heels, jerking the bag from JC as they round the corner away from the viewing boxes of the arena. “Would Doug come back into the casino after getting the holoemersion unit on the Dragon?”
“Doubtful.” Scott adds, “He’s probably hooking it up.”
“Find Amye and Ki-Ton so we get out of here. You need a Mecat to take on a Tibbar, and we only have knives.”
“What about the bounty and Admiral Maxtin?” JC asks.
“I’m open to suggestions.” Reynard jumps, yanking his pants to his waist.
“We look for all three. We find Amye and Ki-Ton first, then we blast out,” Scott offers.
“Flight from a superior enemy shows wisdom; flight without gaining sought knowledge reveals inanity.”
Reynard secures his gun belt into place, instantly missing the weight of his weapon on his hip, “Even certain doom doesn’t stop the clear thinking of a Calthos warrior.”
“Osirians rush too fast. You must consider all.”
“Go with Scott. We search for an hour, then meet at the entrance.”
Joe bows to his sword brother before escorting the engineer from the arena section.
“You feel her?” Reynard whispers.
“Whatever Crackle’s companion did to the band, it freed me of the suppression med, but I’m unable to sense Amye’s thoughts over thousands of others.”
“We need the Dragon scanners.”
“Crackle’s friend may be hunting us as well as the Tibbar,” JC adds.
“She doesn’t have claws and teeth designed to tear the hide off of other dinosaurs.”
“You cannot ignore the danger she
