Part 17 (1/2)

”Best submit, boy,” someone called through the bars of the cage. ”You might be faster than old Taurex but he's stronger and a h.e.l.l of a lot more persistent. Give in now and he might not tear you up too bad.”

Taurex lunged for him again and Kor danced nimbly out of the way. His younger self was just beginning to develop the muscles that would turn him into a fearsome warrior later in life. But he was nowhere near big enough to fight off the older male's huge bulk.

With a feint to the right, Taurex suddenly cornered him against the thick wooden table. He grabbed Kor by the shoulders and spun him around, pus.h.i.+ng him down so that his face was smashed against the scarred wood. Rough hands fumbled for the waistband of his breeches and ripped them down. Something hard and hot thrust into him, penetrating him, tearing him open...

”No!” The cry came from deep inside him and Kor felt the rage overtake him again. His eyes were hot and his vision was suddenly blood red. Reaching down, he grabbed one of the table's legs and wrenched it as hard as he could.

There was a deep crrrackkk! and the table lurched to one side. Kor looked down and saw that he was holding a thick piece of wood. A club with one jagged, splintered end.

The motion of the table had caused Taurex to lose his hold. He staggered and Kor managed to get away, though the sudden separation felt as though he was ripping his insides out. Ignoring the pain he turned on the older male, holding the makes.h.i.+ft club in his hand.

”You, boy!” Taurex roared, lunging for him again. ”Come here! Wasn't finished with you yet.”

”You never will be.” With all his might, Kor jabbed the jagged wooden shard deep into the other male's eye. It popped with a wet, viscous sound and suddenly whitish red jelly was running down Taurex's scarred cheek. He bellowed and staggered backwards and Kor felt a ferocious surge of joy. With a hoa.r.s.e shout, he surged forward, driving the stake deeper into the other male's brain, not stopping until he felt the sharp wooden end sc.r.a.pe the back of Taurex's skull.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d will never bother me again, he thought, looking at the dazed faces of the other slaves who had crowded around the locked cell to watch the show. None of them will. None of them will ever...

”...see you again? Never?”

”I'm afraid not, my darling.” The soft voice belonged to Niomie-the female slave who had raised Kor for as long as he could remember. Her big eyes were wet with tears and there were restraints around her wrists. She was being sold.

”But Mother-”

”I told you, sweetheart,” she said gently. ”I'm not your mother. Not really.”

No, but she had been the only mother Kor had ever known. The one who had raised him from a baby. Who had cared for him and dressed the little sc.r.a.pes and wounds he got playing Blood Circuit champion with the other slave children. The one he ran to when he was hurt or upset. The one who cuddled him and sang to him after the lights went out and it was dark in the slave quarters.

She was the only mother he had and she was leaving him. Going away with her new master forever.

”I have to go.” Niomie stroked his hair gently with her bound hands. ”I'm sorry, darling boy. You know I don't want to leave.”

”Then don't!” Kor's eyes were getting hot for some reason. He was younger still than he had been when he had killed Taurex-only six cycles old. Too young to lose his mother. ”Don't leave me-let's run away, Niomie! You and me.”

”Shhh! Don't talk so!” She cast a fearful glance at the guard who was standing by the door, waiting for her. The man was glaring back at them balefully-clearly he had heard Kor's words.

”I will talk so!” Kor shouted, his eyes growing even hotter, his vision growing red. ”Why should we stay and let ourselves be sold? What makes Master any better than us? Why should he own us? We should own ourselves!”

”That's enough of that kind of talk.” The guard came forward and grabbed Niomie roughly by the arm. ”And enough goodbyes. Time to go, slave-your new master awaits.”

”No!” Suddenly the rage fear and grief all came to a point inside him. Kor felt them burst out, coming from his eyes in a concentrated blast. The guard stared at him for a split second, a shocked expression on his face...

And then he had no face, only a smoking, seared crater where his features had been. The lipless, burning hole that had been his mouth opened wide and a howl of pure anguish came out.

Kor didn't know what he had done or how he had done it-he only knew the guard was incapacitated. He turned to Niomie.

”Come on, Mother-quickly, let's go!”

But she backed away from him, a look of horror on her lovely face.

”Oh, no-no, what have you done? How did you do that? Your eyes...your eyes...”

My eyes! Suddenly Kor came back to himself and realized that the red beams coming from his eyes weren't just a memory-they were blasting through the blood red waters of the Remembrance Pool, causing it to boil on contact. The water roiled and churned until he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the beams to stop.

He tried to think. What was he doing in the pool when he'd been determined not to go in?

With a flash he remembered-he'd jumped in to get Maggie. And oh G.o.ds-she was down there now, sinking slowly in the b.l.o.o.d.y depths. What if the strange beams that shot from his eyes had harmed her? What if he'd killed her? Cut her in half with the strange lasers that somehow shot out when he got angry or upset?

Kor dived frantically, trying to see through the viscous red water, desperate to find her.

With a rush of relief he finally saw the faint outline of the dress she was wearing. She had sunk nearly to the bottom and she wasn't moving, only her hair floated around her head like seaweed. G.o.ds, was she hurt?

Kor dove down, reaching for the trailing edge of the white lace dress, praying he wasn't too late to save her. Praying that he hadn't hurt her-that he wouldn't lose the female who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time.

Someone was tugging on Maggie's dress, pulling her up to the surface of the blood red water-but she barely noticed. She wasn't at the bottom of the Remembrance Pool at all.

She was back in the Microbiology lab at USF and Donald was facing her.

”You've been an exemplary lab a.s.sistant, Margaret,” he said formally.

”Thank you, Dr. Mahoney.” Maggie looked down shyly. She'd been in love with her brilliant, aloof professor for ages-almost ever since she started working for him. Was this just his end of the semester speech? Or was he-gasp-finally beginning to notice her? She waited breathlessly, hardly daring to look at him as he went on.

”You're such a good a.s.sistant, in fact that I...” Donald cleared his throat, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously in his thin throat. ”I think it would be beneficial if we saw each other outside work. In a social setting.”

”Professor Mahoney...” Maggie finally dared to look up at him and make eye contact. ”Are you...are you asking me out on a date?”

Donald cleared his throat again. ”Yes...I suppose that's the socially accepted term for it. Will you go?”

”Oh, yes!” Maggie felt a huge joy swelling inside her. He noticed me! He finally noticed me!

”Excellent.” Donald looked relieved. ”Well then, you may pick me up at eight tonight. As you know, I do not drive.”

”Yes, I know.” Maggie didn't even care about that. It was just that Donald was so brilliant he could never concentrate on the road well enough to get his driver's license. Of course, when your head was always filled with advanced theories and complicated hypotheses, it was completely understandable that something as mundane as driving should take a back seat. And she...

”...has some excellent theories which deserve to be pursued,” Donald's dry, flat voice explained as he talked to the review committee. ”I have no hesitation whatsoever in recommending that Margaret's research be given funding.”

Margaret's heart swelled as she listened to him defending her. Not everyone on the review committee believed she ought to be given a green light on her project. But when Donald had heard she was having trouble getting funding, he hadn't hesitated a bit.

”Your theories are excellent, Margaret,” he had said. ”Shouldn't I know? I was instrumental in helping you develop several of them.”

Maggie had felt a twinge of irritation-her research had nothing to do with Donald's ideas. But irritation was quickly overcome by affection. He believes in me! He cares-cares enough to stand up and fight for me. He...

...was down on one knee in front of her. Right there in the Microbiology lab and there was a small black velvet box in his hand.

”Donald?” Maggie looked at him, hardly daring to hope. They'd been dating for so long and he'd never even broached the subject of marriage before, though she had dropped several hints. Could it be that he was finally going to ask the ultimate question?

”Margaret?” he asked stiffly, holding out the box and swallowing so that his Adam's apple bobbed in that adorable way he had when he was nervous. ”Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

”Oh, yes! Yes, Donald!” Maggie flung her arms around him and buried her face in his boney shoulder. ”Yes, I will!”