Chapter 6: A Little Bit of Salt. A Little Bit of Pepper

“I wish to talk to Girsha’lar,” Bransen requested.

The two armored Yutilian guards looked at each other. It was challenging to read their faces as the wrap armor blocked their facial features. They shifted their short rifles. Despite their shorter height, the Yutilian troopers were menacing-looking. It would have been an easy fight for them if they had ever turned on the man. However, their goal seemed well-centered. They weren’t going to budge.

It had been almost a half-hour. The medical ward of the arena was well-placed and proper in design. It consisted of numerous beds that could be enlarged to accommodate the different sizes of Itreans. Medical staff and doctors were similarly dressed as the two Shal’rein brought Girsha’lar to the ward. Separate enclosed rooms were all equipped with an onslaught of alien to common-looking equipment. Here, Girsha’lar and Nir’vina resided with a pair of guards at the entrance. The open area linking to these rooms was little more than a lobby with large couches. The large marble hall’s odd blue and green light was surprisingly cozy.

Bransen could see through the clear glass. Girsha’lar was sleeping on her side and looking away from the window. Her attention was focused on the doctor, an Aksren with greenish-red scales imprinted onto her body. Nir’vina was sitting in an oversized chair facing away from the entrance overlooking Girsha’lar. It was difficult to understand anything due to the low volume, but Bransen did his best to listen.

“No allow,” one of the guards said in her broken English. “Guests no see them.”

“I just want to talk to them,” Bransen assured them.

“Dangerous ... POWs.”

Bransen could fully confirm that the two Shal’rein were criminals, but it didn’t stop his attitude. If anything, he was more determined to speak with them. He understood that the guards were just following orders, but it was frustrating when he was so close to the two.

Nir’vina’s gaze did turn to the window. The Itreans must have had good hearing. Even low volume was something that they could easily pick up. Her fin-like ear was tuned to the window listening in on Bransen’s words.

“Look...,” Bransen said. “I know you are doing your jobs, but I just want to speak with them.”

“No guarantee safety,” the guard countered with a wave of her hand.

“I’m willing to...,” Bransen saw that the doctor finished speaking with Girsha’lar. In a few seconds, she left the room and was face-first with the human.

“What is it?” the doctor asked.

“I wanted to check up on Girsha’lar,” Bransen answered her.

“Girsha’lar will live,” the Aksren woman replied. The way she said it almost sounded nonchalant with no care in her alien accented voice. “You are the human fighter.”

“Bransen. What’s your name?”

“Tijn.”

“Tijn,” Bransen watched as the Aksren woman began to walk away from him. She was seemingly ignoring the man, but Bransen walked next to her. “I wanted to know what happened.”

“What?” She made several clicks in her voice. “You punch woman in ear. She fall down to ground.”

“That’s it? That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I am busy, human.”

“That still doesn’t explain how I practically paralyzed her.”

“You no paralyze,” she sighed, stopped, and pointed at a display screen in Girsha’lar’s room. “You hit motor cluster nerve at ear. Broke it. She fall down.”

It made sense to Bransen as he heard it. The Shal’rein had a weakness that he successfully made in one lucky hit. It was more than enough even to knock down a towering giant such as herself.

“So that’s what happened ... will she be alright?”

“I grow new nerve cluster. Give surgery, replace. Now, I go.”

She walked away without giving another glance to Bransen. The doctor certainly gave rude vibes to the man, and he gave a scornful look in return. With that, he left her be and looked at the room with Girsha’lar and Nir’vina. He returned back to the guards and confronted them again.

“No pass!” the guard replied.

“I want to talk to them,” Bransen told them.

“No pass.” The guards were adamant. One of them even raised her rifle and pointed it at Bransen. “These prisoners. Fight, no talk.”

“Hey!” he yelled at them. “I mean no harm to them, and I’m not exactly in the position to go bust them out of there, OK? I just want to see if Girsha’lar is alright.”

“Dangerous. No pass.”

“Let him pass,” Nir’vina said in her raspy voice. “I won’t hurt him.”

The guard lowered her rifle and began to speak to the other in the Itrean language. It appeared that they were arguing with one another about how far their mission was to proceed. The chirps and clicks could be heard through the wrap armor helmets. Eventually, a concession was made between them.

“You pass, you accept danger ... yes?” the guard said.

“I can take care of myself,” Bransen replied.

“You may pass, but you try anything...”

“I get it. You’ll do your jobs as guards.”

Both of the armored Yutilian women stepped aside. With that, Bransen was able to step inside the room. Nir’vina had a bit of a coy smile on her face. Her tone seemed somewhat playful yet serious.

“You come here to finish the job?” Nir’vina asked.

“No,” Bransen replied. “I wanted to check up on Girsha’lar. I wanted to make sure she’s OK.”

Nir’vina smiled a little bit as she rested on the chair beside the bed. “My mate will recover.”

“Mate?” He realized why the two were together. “I didn’t know. I thought she was your partner in crime. Is Girsha’lar awake?”

“Ugh...,” Girsha’lar stirred. Her shark-like eyes remained closed.

“She’s on Fiop,” Nir’vina explained. “Does wonders as a pain medication. Temporarily makes you see things. Also works well with nitroglycerine.”

“Ummm ... OK,” Bransen said as he gave a somewhat confused look. “The name’s Bransen.” Did she mean that in a medical application or something else? He quickly wanted to change topics and offered his hand to her.

“Nir’vina,” she answered back. She actually shook the man’s hand before resting on the seat. “Why are you here?”

“I ... well...,” Bransen looked at Girsha’lar. “I was worried that I killed your mate.”

“You don’t kill. She only try to kill herself. I’m surprised she hasn’t blown herself up yet. It would be the best way to go in her situation.”

That is the second time he has heard a reference to explosions coming from her. Perhaps it was three. He could immediately pick up an inflection that seemed to indicate that she enjoyed anything that involved that event.

“What brings you two to this tournament?” He asked.

Her shark-like eyes narrowed a little bit. “Hmmm ... you first. Why are you here, human?”

“Here to win,” Bransen said as he folded up his arms. “I come from Mars.”

“You fight all your life?”

“No. First-year for me. Sounds like it’s the same with you two. They force prisoners to fight in their tournaments?”

“No ... we choose to fight. Girsha’lar is the better fighter.”

“I don’t get it,” Bransen remarked. “So why the guards?”

“The guards are here to make sure we don’t escape. We choose to fight to earn our freedom.”

“That sounds ... barbaric.”

“The other choice is to live our lives as prisoners. I choose to fight to get out.”

“You were originally from the Shal’rein clan?”

“Yes ... taken from a ship whose adjunct defected to you, humans.”

Nir’vina was honest in her words, which Bransen seemed to acknowledge. The very thought of taking prisoners of war and throwing them in the arena for the sake of entertainment was immoral, but she didn’t seem bothered by her choice. Why would she? Anything must have been better than prison. Bransen had only heard so much about the former Earth and its conditions. The media had brought up the controversy of using POWs to help clean the planet.

“I’m sorry I hurt her,” he said to Nir’vina.

There seemed to be a pause in Nir’vina’s response as she thought about it. “You are sorry? Girsha’lar practically threw herself into your punch. She refused to listen to me, and now she has an exploded ear. My mate is always a silent bomb that I have to defuse. Starts quietly, then...,” she used her fingers and made a clicking sound. “You barely hear that ticking explosive and without knowing it, ... booooommm ... Heh ... Why do you want me to accept an apology for an action she made?”

“Just because ... she...” He held back from saying anything else. Nir’vina’s eyes seemed to scan the man rather closely. The sly look on her face was obvious. However, Bransen’s view was glued to Girsha’lar and missed it. However, there was nothing more that could be said. The doctor returned and didn’t seem pleased to see Bransen standing there. In her hand was a piece of tissue held in a small, enclosed, clear container.

“Need to surgery,” Tijn said. “Please leave.”

“Alright,” Bransen replied. “I just wanted to make sure that...”

Nir’vina was quick. She got out of her chair and was on Bransen in a second. The doctor recoiled a little bit, and the guards were quick to turn and face the orange Shal’rein. One pointed her rifle at Nir’vina, but the other guard quickly shoved the barrel down, seeing that it was pointed in the same direction as Bransen. The man was caught entirely off guard. Nir’vina had her hand on the man’s right shoulder, preventing Bransen from fighting back. However, she only kept that sly smile. The guards were repeating orders to the Shal’rein woman.

“Hey...,” Bransen remarked. He felt a slight hint of fear towards the woman, but Nir’vina was holding her pose. The guards were repeating a set of words almost as a warning. However, there was a look of appreciation on her face and towering frame.

“Do you like explosives?” she asked him in an almost playful tone.

“Ummm ... I guess?” he replied.

“Good. Come to ... ergh...,” She fell back on her knees and released Bransen as she reacted in pain. One of the guards pressed a button on her armored suit. A shock was being administered to Nir’vina, causing her to react in pain. “ ... Hotel Room Te ... Yu 3... 34. Tomorr...” She was unable to finish her last words as she tumbled to the ground unconscious.

Bransen was left in a confused state. He looked at the guard and then the doctor. “Umm ... is Nir’vina alright?”

“Sleep,” the doctor tried to explain. “Spine shock device ... for prisoners. Please leave.”

“All right,” Bransen wasn’t going to get anything else out of the conversation. Nir’vina was an odd character at most, but the last few sentences stuck in his mind as he left. He did his best to retain it as he began leaving the room so the doctor could get to work.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bransen told the guards. “If she were going to kill me, she would have done it.”

The guards seemed to ignore what he said and waved him to leave. There was nothing else for Bransen to do but adhere to their wishes. However, as he got further and further away from the room, a lingering faint desire to stay there remained. He wanted Girsha’lar to be awake. There was no explanation. It was just a feeling...

“Wow...,” Saburo said as he patted his stomach. “That was superb!”

It had been late in the afternoon. Bransen was busy cleaning up the small number of dishes in the kitchen. For the former chef, he had been long used to receiving his fair share of positive comments. The coach had just sat back down on the hotel room chair, reminiscing about dinner.

“What?” Saburo said as he looked back at Bransen. “Not even a ‘You’re welcome?’”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“Won two fights, and you cook up a meal today. You’re on fire today.”

“Hmph...,” Bransen remarked with a smile. Saburo nodded as he smiled at him.

“Typical cook. You get so good at your job that even a compliment is mundane.”

“I didn’t win two fights. One win, one loss, and one draw.”

“You won two fights,” Saburo told him as he pointed his finger at him. “Two wins.”

His coach could see that the man was silent. Bransen wasn’t depressed or sad, but he was tired. He wanted to get him to start talking to unwind.

“You know...,” Saburo said as he looked at the display screen. “The media has turned in your favor from today. Even shut up that one group that was calling for your head.”

“They’ll be back to skin me alive.”

Saburo shook his head. “You spared someone in a fight. That was a good act on your part.”

“Yeah...,”

“You don’t see it now, but what you did has changed much of the public. Every human being in that crowd are all there cheering your name in an alien tournament that practices the most brutal actions that any civilization can ever achieve.”

Bransen pulled his hands out of the water of the alien oval sink as he seemed to buckle under Saburo’s attempts at compliments. “I fought a prisoner of war today,” Bransen told his coach. “Nir’vina tells me that she was the enemy, captured by our allies. Preferred to be in the arena so she could get out of prison. They can’t find better ways to treat their POWs than toss them into a battlefield of entertainment?”

Saburo nodded. “Maybe they are trying to offer other ways for them to reclaim a new life. It’s not easy telling a people that knew nothing but genocide to suddenly start sparing prisoners and thinking that things will be better.”

“Nir’vina thinks that Girsha’lar intentionally hurt herself against me. It makes me start to think about every fight that I go in that an Itrean has some problem. Like they have some troubled past.”

“Like you?”

“What do you think?”

Saburo nodded and pointed his hand at him. “You don’t have a troubled past, my friend. This is just a diversion in the road and a good one at that. You might not see it now, but you are a pure representation of humanity of this time period. I don’t see evil. I see purity. Win or lose from this tournament, and you come back to the UWA a better man, more than most men would ever dream of. If the UWA still rejected you, then you know what? You can come back with me to New Olympia. I know plenty of women, hell, a granddaughter, that would easily take your hand in marriage. You would have my blessing all over it.”

That was a compliment that sat in Bransen’s mind for a little while. He could see that Saburo meant it with every fiber of his being. After that, however, the very concept of moving to another UWA world just felt tedious and unnecessary.

“But...,” Saburo continued as he waved his finger in the air. “I don’t think it will be necessary. New Olympia ... has a way of swallowing up men. Once they have them, they never want to leave.”

“It was like that with a friend’s friend of mine. Went to New Olympia, and I got one message that he had married two women. Never heard from him since.”

“And I wouldn’t necessarily think it is the best route for you unless no other routes were available. The only problem with New Olympia are the New Olympians. Too much of a good thing that we lose sight of what’s around us.”

Bransen seemed to think about it for a moment. There had to be something monumental about a dead world that the New Olympians celebrated so much about it. However, he never pressured Saburo to talk too much about his home planet, as his coach had a tendency to come up with some sort of witty remark about it.

“Instead,” Saburo said. “I’m here for you. Just the same as you’re trying to clean dishes when we have an entire hotel filled with staff, caterers, and maids that can do that for you. You need to relax, my friend.”

“Nah ... cooking helps me stay focused,” Bransen replied. “Cleaning is just a part of the process.”

“Hmmm ... or a distraction. So tell me about Nir’vina or Girsha’lar, the prisoners you so valiantly defeated. Is Nir’vina hot?”

“You tell me.”

“She comes from a warm planet. So yes, she would be hot.”

Bransen’s eyes narrowed a bit. “How would you know?”

“I’m your coach. I’m supposed to know these things so you can exploit them in a fight. Plus, it can help you out later,” he winked at him. “Nir’vina’s orange color is most likely that of a Shal’rein born on Givern, a neighboring planet to Shal’tar.”

“And Girsha’lar?”

“Also a Nak’Ko’Ken, most likely a native born on Shal’tar due to her features. Of course, I could be easily wrong, but it’s ammunition for your cause.”

Saburo could see that Branen’s thoughts were diverted away when he heard all of it. The coach smiled as he could read the former cook like some ancient scribe.

“So...,” Saburo asked him. “Is she going to make a full recovery?”

“Yes, she is,” Bransen replied.

“Quite a fiery woman. I imagine she would be hard for that augmented arm to contain.”

“I still never got a chance to talk to her. How would I know? Besides, she’s married to Nir’vina.” Bransen sighed as his eyes looked down. There was an argument in his head as if he was trying to make sense.

“You know ... that hasn’t stopped some of the humans from getting in on that.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Saburo shrugged his arms. “Let’s just say that I’m seeing some of the humans around here that are holding hands with more than one Itrean. Heck, I’ve already seen one that was holding hands, trying to hold hands with three just the other day. It’s nothing new on New Olympia, I tell you. Nah ... you’re holding something back from me. I can see it.”

Bransen sighed. “Girsha’lar was doped up on meds when I saw her. Mostly had a conversation with Nir’vina, if you call it a conversation.”

“And?”

“She’s ... interesting. Odd, but interesting.”

Saburo’s bottom lip curled a little bit as he heard it. “Hmmm ... discouraged?”

“I ... made progress with her. Learned about her history some, but she practically threw herself onto me. Told me to come to a hotel room.”

“Really? See? She might be interested in more than you think.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if she would have me for lunch or just to chat. Told me to come tomorrow. The only problem is she wasn’t able to finish her sentence before the guards zapped her.”

“Did she say where exactly?” Saburo asked.

“That’s the problem. She said something along the lines of Te Yu 3... 34, I think. Doesn’t matter. So many hotels around here that she could have meant any of them. I’m not ready to start bouncing around from hotel to hotel just to be blocked by the guards that are watching over them.”

“Did you say, Te Yu?”

“Yeah,” Bransen replied.

“That’s here.”

“What? Isn’t our hotel named Golk’Lo Click something?”

“It is, but the Itreans operate a little differently. Hotels are separated into districts of rooms based on altitude. It was confusing enough as it was. Why else did I ask one of the staff to escort us to our rooms?”

“Good point.”

“Te Yu 334 is the name and district number belonging to the third hotel of the Te Yu district. In other words, it’s a floor down from us, room 34.”

The very thought seemed to excite, Bransen. He did his best to conceal it and remain stalwart, but it was obvious that Saburo wasn’t going to back down.

“You know...,” Saburo said as he looked away. “Knowing the rules of the two. Nir’vina will probably be fighting tomorrow. Girsha’lar will probably be in that room if you catch my drift.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t, but that’s assuming that she’s healing and has been pulling a lot of the fights between the two. She might be alone tomorrow to recover. Why not go and check it out for yourself.”

Bransen thought about it more and more. It was as if somebody had opened a door for him to walk into, but why was it getting him excited? Girsha’lar didn’t hesitate to try to kill him in the prior fight. Regardless, a part of him was thrilled to hear that the two weren’t that far from them.

“Maybe, but...”

Saburo waved his finger. “I’ll tell you what? Why not take a break tomorrow? You’re doing pretty well with the fights and made good progress so far. Once you’re done spending time with whoever is there, then come back so I can get you ready for the next few fights. Besides, it will give me a chance to study up more on the future fights to come.”

“Hmmm...,” Bransen looked at the door. “Why not?”

The following day felt odd for Bransen. He had already been used to marching into the arena every day since he arrived. But, this time, it would be different. After finishing breakfast and cleaning himself up, he knew he would use the day off to his full advantage.

Upon leaving his hotel room, he checked over to make sure that he was good to go. Admittedly, he wasn’t the most well-dressed, still being in his blue and red sweat shorts, but his black, gold, and white shirt, towel, and slippers were still viable enough to impress the wayward vacationer.

The hallway was quiet, typical even for the UWA hotels back at home. It was generally not busy at certain times of the day. However, Bransen still took notice of the few Itrean maids and staff that remained on standby. They stood like statues, prim and proper, ready to assist whoever needed it. If it was one thing that Bransen could always pride about the Itreans was their attention to discipline. This was not supposed to be some high-class hotel, but their service was incredible. However, something made him feel uneasy about the alien people at the same time.

When the man passed by the Yutilian, the woman’s head feathers retracted to her head. She made a polite bow with her head before the man reached a set of stairs. Bransen began his slow trek before arriving at the third-floor hallway.

“Huh...,” Bransen remarked. “Different...”

He looked in the hallway. Unlike the carpeted floor above, this floor was made of marble. The smell was more of vapor and humidity. Even the staff consisted of Shal’rein. It was unmistakable. The floors were divided up for the subspecies of Itreans. Immediately, Bransen could spot the room he needed to go towards. It was three rooms to his right. A familiar set of Yutilian guards stood by the door. They wore the same wrap armor and carried their signature rifles with them.

The helmeted heads of the guards spotted the lone human. It was difficult for Bransen to tell their reaction, but he could easily imagine what it must have been like. The man paid no attention to the staff member as he walked past her, but the guards shifted in their position. Unfortunately, the numbers on the door were impossible to read. The Itrean language’s complexity made it difficult to read the characters. Each number consisted of dots and squiggly lines done in a downward motion. In many ways, the Itrean numerical system was almost similar to the Roman Numeral system. However, it was just too difficult to determine what it meant.

Bransen didn’t bother. The guards were all that was needed to let him know that he had made it. He approached them, and they were the first to speak.

“Stop,” one of the guards said. “Again?” Both of the guards didn’t bother to point their rifles at Bransen this time. The way she spoke wasn’t necessarily annoyance this time but that of obvious familiarity.

“Hello,” He spoke to them. “I wanted to talk to Girsha’lar or Nir’vina.”

“Human...”

“Call me Bransen.”

“Bransen. We assign ... guard prisoner.”

She didn’t use plural when she referred to the prisoners. It was possible that she just forgot the “s” when she said it, but Bransen took note of that. So it was very well possible that Saburo was correct and that only one of the two Shal’rein was away.

“I know,” Bransen replied. “I wanted to talk with her.”

“You spoke yesterday. Nir’vina attack you.”

“It wasn’t an attack. She was just ... just telling me to come here.”

“No guarantee safety, Bransen!”

“I’ll manage.”

“Ergh...” the two Itrean guards stood and argued with each other once again. Bransen knew that this was a coin toss. Nir’vina helped in guiding him here, but the cost was enormous. Her attack put distrust in the man’s safety.

“Is Girsha’lar inside,” he asked.

“ ... Yes...,” one of them replied.

“It’s just her?”

They seemed to hesitate to provide any further information. So he continued to watch them debate about it.

“No...,” the guards said.

“It’s just her,” he replied. “I heard you say it earlier. Nir’vina is at the fight. Look, I wanted to talk with Girsha’lar since she got hurt. I want to make sure that she’s ok.”

“She is ok ... go away, or we call others.”

“Why are you worried about my safety when I beat her in the fight yesterday? She can’t hurt me. No offense, but I don’t think she’s going anywhere. You have those things strapped into them to prevent them from escaping. I know the risks.”

The guards looked at each other. Then, finally, one of them waved her hand.

“Scan him,” one of the guards ordered. “Bransen, stay.”

Bransen did as he was ordered. One of them slapped the rifle to her chest, causing it to magnetize to her armor. She then held her palm out and tapped a button on her wrist. A blue light emitted that started from the top of the man and worked its way down. Bransen remained still if there was any hope of getting past them.

The tunneling scan illuminated much of his body. The guard was looking for anything that might have been unusual. He did understand that Itreans must have had a long history of crime and espionage. Their efforts in countering such methods must have been equally as impressive. However, great care was still needed to ensure that Bransen wasn’t some spy or thug hiding something he shouldn’t have. The scan eventually made its way to the augmented arm, where there were several pings being delivered from the armor.

“You already know my arm and what I can do with it,” Bransen said. “It’s a Modified Tenix SR-X1 Model Augmented Arm. Should appear on the shared databases.”

The guards continued to verify the information. The scanning equipment did peak in every crevice. The skeleton frame even glowed for a short moment in an attempt to find any possible hidden explosive or chemical agent that could be used. Finally, the scanner continued to analyze anything else. Once it passed Bransen’s legs and feet, the scan was complete. The guards spoke a little bit more before they focused on him.

“Yes,” the guard told him. “You may see Girsha’lar.”

“Human,” the other guard said with several clicks in her voice. “No tricks.”

“I won’t,” he replied.

One of the guards tapped her wrist device. A beeping sound echoed as she waited for a short moment. It appeared that she was attempting to contact someone.

“What!?” an angry voice echoed from the wrist component. The voice had a hint of familiarity. The guard spoke in the Itrean language, explaining what was coming. Interestingly, the woman talking back spoke in English rather than replying in Itrean.

“He what?” Girsha’lar said. “He ... wants to see me?”

“Yes,” the guard replied.

There was clearly hostility in the voice, but something else was present. It had to be Girsha’lar, but there was distortion. It was masked in anger. Then, finally, she paused for some time.

“Nir’vina...,” an angry sigh could be heard. Bransen seemed surprised for her to realize who had to be responsible for his presence. “Fucking send him in! Itrea’s Damn Embrace!”

The comm line ended. The guards stepped aside as one of them tapped a series of key codes into the panel. Finally, the guard pressed her hand onto the panel, causing it to glow. The key sequence and verification were made when the door slid open.

“Go...,” the guard said. “You have one hour. Last time.”

An hour was all he needed. Bransen stepped inside the room as the door slid closed behind him. A slight apprehension filled his mind as he looked at the interior. It was vastly different when compared to his original room. The area consisted of a moderate-sized kitchen, an adjacent room, and a dining area. The floors were still lined with the marble-like substance. On the walls were vein-like protrusions. Fish, or something similar, were swimming in these tubular objects. The smell of clean chemicals and water filled the air. The sounds of distant splashing water could be heard. There was also something else. An odd combination of rock music combined with Itrean shanty-like tones could be heard, but it was low volume.

“Hello?” Bransen said.

The man had one thing to do, and that was to follow the sound. He continued to hear the near shifting of water. The music would vary with clicks, whirls, and chirps accompanied by a traditional flute. By now, Bransen had listened to his share of Itrean music, but he reached the door frame that led to the adjacent room.

Inside this room was something that took Bransen by surprise. It consisted of a large pool that took up most of the room. Around the rim were two displays with only one of them on. Dryers, vents, and vein protrusions lined the side walls. However, a pile of metal cans lined the strip closest to where he came from. Before he had a chance to see anything else, something came flying in his direction.