Pandora's Box

Chapter 4

The Mion system had already appeared on the locators, and the Armaon began to reduce speed, gradually lowering the power of its hyperdrive engines and shifting to the main thrusters. The system was encircled by several rings of asteroids and drifting dust streams, all illuminated by a vast red star – the local sun. The sight was magnificent: everything moved in grand harmony, caught in an endless cosmic dance of motion and balance.

Upon entering the planet’s orbit, Maarv activated the scanning systems, which quickly pinpointed the city’s location and analyzed the atmosphere. The air was perfectly clean, entirely breathable and free of impurities.

«At the very edge of the smaller city there’s a large spaceport», Arma announced at last. «I’m also detecting a few landing pads within the Trade Corporation’s district, but they appear to be private and, from what I can tell, shielded by energy screens.»

«Well then, let’s not get too bold too soon», Draam grumbled. «We’ll land on the outskirts. No need to draw unnecessary attention.»

The Armaon had barely touched down when a whole group of rather suspicious-looking figures approached the landing pad. They wore worn mercenary jumpsuits, some of them with fully sealed helmets. They were all well-armed and didn’t look particularly friendly.

The moment Arma opened the hatch, two of them immediately tried to climb inside, but were swiftly seized and escorted back out by a pair of infantry droids. Draam and Kane followed them down the ramp, greeting the newcomers politely in Galacton.

«This is a paid spaceport», drawled the tallest of them instead of offering a greeting. He wasn’t wearing a helmet; his face was crisscrossed with scars, and his eyes held a cold, measuring look. «Twenty galactic credits, and we’ll make sure your ship’s protected from any riffraff. Trust me, this place crawls with scum.»

«I can see that», Draam replied slowly, his gaze sweeping over the motley crowd. «No shortage of scum around here, that’s for sure.»

«Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!» another thug yelled. «You’d better watch it! We’re not the kind to joke with! And your walking tin cans won’t help you here! Look over there!» He jabbed his finger toward two small towers nearby, where a pair of old battle turrets creaked out of their housings and took aim at the ship.

The gang had clearly mistaken the Armaon for a research or cargo vessel – its design was unfamiliar, and its relatively small size for a battle cruiser had misled them.

The ship’s two hidden stern guns released a deep, vibrating roar that made everyone’s ears ring; the shockwave knocked all but Draam and Kane off their feet. In the same instant, the towers with their ancient turrets blew apart, scattering white-hot fragments in every direction. The display was both spectacular and unforgettable.

«Oh, I beg your pardon – I interrupted you in the most uncivilized manner», Draam said politely, with a hint of guilt in his tone. «Would you be so kind as to remind me where we left off?»

The thugs stared at him in stunned silence.

«You’ll regret this», the tall, scarred mercenary finally managed to blurt out. «We’ll report this to His Excellency, the Governor!»

«Dear friends, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding», Kane interjected smoothly, giving Draam a quick wink. «Twenty credits is a perfectly reasonable price for the fine protection of such respectable gentlemen! The moment I saw your open and honest faces, I thought – these are exactly the ones we need! How wonderful that you’ve done us the honor of being the first to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement!»

After these words, the thugs exchanged bewildered glances and lowered their weapons, now completely thrown off balance. They cast uneasy looks at Draam, then at Kane, then at the Armaon, clearly unsure what to do next.

Kane reached into his pocket and produced several folded notes of galactic credits, at the sight of which the mercenaries’ eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation.

«Oh, and one more thing», Kane went on, as if suddenly remembering something, just before handing the money to their leader. «We’ve heard that, in addition to your admirable morals and fine business sense, the local populace also has a certain fondness for… games of chance at the Arena! And as it happens, we were hoping to attend the fights of that famous Rionian wonder-warrior and place wagers of rather… let’s say, indecent proportions.»

«You’ve come to the right place! We’ll take you to the Governor and you can discuss any bets with him! Follow that piece of junk over there!» He pointed toward a rusty contraption that vaguely resembled a transport vehicle standing nearby.

Draam rolled out an open aerobot, in which Smorg was already sitting. Inspired by his recent public appearance on Ilion, he had decided to go out more often now. The enormous Vriinian took the front seat, occupying two places at once, while Kane sat behind him together with one infantry droid. The rest stayed aboard, watching through the droid’s eyes, or rather, its lenses, everything that was happening on several large holographic screens in the mess hall.

They left the spaceport and after some time reached a cluster of small buildings that grew more numerous as they went. It was clear that the lower levels of the houses and structures had been built long ago and by a far more civilized beings – of white stone adorned with intricate runic carvings and traces of colorful mosaics. The multilevel extensions added by later inhabitants, however, possessed neither beauty nor grace.

To Kane, the city resembled a small provincial Chinese town of the past century, only here the contrasts were far greater. Drones of every shape and size buzzed through the air, delivering containers and parcels to the residential tiers above.

The crowds bustling back and forth consisted mostly of humanoid races. The rulers and authorities of Bajjar were known for their conservatism in matters of appearance and were far from welcoming toward visitors from non-humanoid worlds or other exotic alien species.

Before long they arrived at a mansion standing apart from all the other buildings – the residence of the so-called ‘governor’, as the local official responsible for several districts of the town was called. Around the mansion stretched a small garden with a pond, where several furry, oddly colored creatures – something between a hippopotamus and a cat, lay half-submerged in the water, dozing lazily.

The interior of the mansion symbolically mirrored the world outside: shabby, timeworn walls clashed grotesquely with a haphazard collection of so-called works of art – mock paintings, crude frescoes, and other decorations. Everything around them assaulted the eye with a garishness so extreme it bordered on the absurd.

Climbing the wide, creaking staircase, the friends escorted by the scarred thug found themselves in an oval hall lined with drinks and snacks, a place that had clearly, though unsuccessfully, been remodeled into a bar. In the far corner, two towering dancers from Siriana VII, a planet famous for supplying models to every major fashion venue in the known universe, moved slowly and sensually to the music on a small platform.

On a long couch covered with the hides of the same creatures they had seen lounging by the pond sat the local governor – a gaunt, one-eyed figure in a ridiculous, brightly colored jumpsuit, his head clean-shaven. Judging by his golden eye, he clearly had Vriinian blood in him.

«That’s right», he said with a nod, noticing how the newcomers were studying him with curiosity. «My mother was of Vriinian blood. And as for my father, I never met the old man!»

«Oh, what a tragedy», Draam replied, matching the governor’s tone with a touch of sarcasm. «Hearing such things truly breaks the heart.»

«Well, well! I can’t tell you how deeply moved I am by such sympathy!» the governor sneered. «But enough pleasantries for today. Scar tells me you’re here for the Arena, ready to place some serious bets. Is that true?»

«That’s correct», Kane replied with a smile and gave an important-looking nod at the same time, «but first we’d like to look around and fully enjoy the company of such refined and dazzling society. You understand, luck like this doesn’t come our way every day.»

«I like you!» the governor roared with laughter. «Blast me to bits, I really do! And you’re in luck – tonight’s the final bout for the new title, between the legendary Oth and the Rionian wonder-warrior. That means the stakes will be sky-high! Hold out your hands I’ll stamp you with access codes!»

When it came Smorg’s turn, the governor put away the marker and blew his nose loudly.

«Forgot to mention – you’ll have to leave your beast at home!» he sneered, spitting on the floor with open contempt. «The Arena’s a show for the noble and creatures like that don’t belong there!»

«Can you really judge nobility by appearance?» Smorg asked, hurt, already weighed down by the gloomy atmosphere of the place.

«He can talk too?!» the governor exclaimed, his single eye bulging in astonishment. «Now that’s something we haven’t seen around here before!»

Kane burst into a loud, exaggerated cough, as if he’d just heard the most outrageous thing in his life, his eyes theatrically bulging.

«This», he declared, «is the chief creditor of your Trade Corporation, Baron von Smorg, owner of the largest banking network on this side of the galaxy! Naturally, he’s here incognito and expects no formal honors, but I trust a simple gesture of respect toward the chief secret sponsor of your entire system will suffice!»

At these words, the governor’s face went pale and long. Clearly, trouble with the Corporation was the last thing he wanted. He leapt up from his makeshift throne, hastily bowing as he handed Kane a small card while bowing low before Smorg.

«My deepest apologies, Your Grace, most esteemed Baron!» he babbled, racking his memory for every respectful form of address he knew. «Had I been informed in advance of the arrival of such illustrious guests, we would have prepared a proper reception! This is the key to my personal box at the Arena! I hope you’ll find what you came here for!»

«So do we», Kane replied meaningfully, putting on an air of arrogance and giving Smorg a discreet nudge to do the same. «We very much hope that’s exactly what we’ll find here.»

With suitably dignified expressions, they made their way back out, once again marveling at the chaotic tastelessness surrounding them on every side. The drab palette of dull colors, combined with the peeling walls and shabby décor, only deepened the sense of gloom and made them eager to get out into the open air.

They had barely stepped outside when shouts erupted behind them followed by hurried footsteps and the crash of breaking glass. From the sounds growing louder by the second, it was clear that people inside were becoming violently nauseous, and their number was growing by the moment.

«What’s going on in there?!» Draam asked in surprise, stopping short and exchanging a quick glance with Kane while listening to the commotion inside the mansion.

«Reflexive assault gas», Smorg replied readily. «One of the capsules must’ve slipped out of my pocket. Mm… by accident.»

«By accident?!» Draam laughed approvingly. «Got any more? I think I’ll make my own little contribution to this garden of paradise!» he said and with that, hurled a whole handful of capsules through the open upper window with a powerful swing.

Chapter 5

Soon they reached a vast, bowl-shaped natural crater – the site of the main Arena. The entire space was roofed over and resembled a gigantic stadium. Typically, arenas for combat and spectators were built in multiple tiers descending deep underground: the higher the arena stood, the more prestigious the fight, the more titled the warriors, and the more privileged the audience.

The friends walked past the enormous gates thrown wide open toward an armored oval door marked by a glowing arrow. Crude inscriptions in various languages scrawled across it read: Entrance. Kane pressed to the scanner the card so reverently handed to him by the governor; green lights blinked to life. Finally, the lock clicked, and the door slid open at once.

A small service droid greeted them warmly in Galacton and instructed them to follow – it would show them to their seats.

The box looked surprisingly decent. It stood a little apart, raised slightly above the main tiers, with several rows of seats that, by local standards, were almost new, barely worn and not yet much faded with time. Apparently, no more than ten years had passed since they’d been torn out of some visiting ship.

Low wooden partitions with smooth handrails divided the rows, giving them something comfortable to lean on. The seating encircled the fenced central ring like a Roman amphitheater.

Kane fell silent, lost in thought as he tried to make sense of his feelings – there was something indescribable about this place, something peculiar to it alone, that made him feel almost… comfortable.

On the brightly lit ring clearly visible from where the friends sat the first gladiator appeared: a massive brute named Oth. The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and thunderous applause. Oth looked truly menacing and was even larger than Draam – a mountain of muscle with no real neck to speak of, his massive head with its small, vicious eyes seeming to flow directly into his torso.

A few seconds later, movement stirred in the passageway. Swiftly, with a running start, the second fighter leapt over the high protective fence with effortless precision. The roar of the crowd grew even louder. There was no doubt – the fighter was a Rionian. He was nearly half Oth’s size, yet no one here seemed to care about the difference in weight classes.

«Tarion!» Kane shouted, startled and unable to believe his eyes as he caught sight of the Rionian. He climbed over the railing of the box and ran up to the ring. «Tarion, my friend, what are you doing there?!»

The Rionian, like many others, turned toward him, studying him with puzzled curiosity. It was unmistakably Tarion, yet the reaction Kane had expected – the joy of reunion, the warm clasp of hands between old friends long separated, never came. Instead, Tarion calmly approached the edge of the ring and looked straight at him.

«Do we know each other?» Tarion asked politely, watching Kane with measured curiosity.

«Tarion, my friend, have you hit your head or something?» Kane said anxiously, realizing from the Rionian’s eyes that he truly didn’t recognize him. «We’ve been looking for you for a damn long time, and here you are, lounging around in the ring!»

«So, my name is Tarion», the Rionian murmured quietly. «All right then. I suggest we meet after the fight, at my place. Since you’re seated in the grand box, the little robot should be able to show you the way.»

«After the fight?» Kane repeated, glancing uneasily at the arena. «Are you sure you’ll survive a brawl with that giant? We didn’t spend all this time searching for you just to scrape you off the ring!»

Tarion smiled in his familiar way. «That’s unlikely. It won’t take long.»

Kane had barely returned to the box when the fight began.

«It looks like he’s suffering from amnesia – he didn’t recognize me! And I don’t think he remembers much of anything at all!» Kane said to Draam and Smorg. «But it’s him, no question about it – that’s Tarion!»

«That would explain a lot», Draam replied. «Otherwise, why would he be hanging around this place?»

Despite Oth’s enormous size, the fight was brief, just like all of the Rionian’s previous bouts. Tarion was far faster, and the ancient combat techniques of the Rionian warriors were beyond comparison. Within a minute, after a flurry of blinding strikes, Oth was down, motionless on the floor, while Tarion, to the roaring ovation of the crowd, vanished from the Arena as swiftly as he had appeared.

Before long, the small robot led them into the residential section of the Arena, where the gladiators and service staff lived. The place was quiet and orderly – a pleasant and striking contrast to the chaotic quarters they had passed through on their way.

At last, the robot stopped and knocked on one of the doors. There was a soft click from a magnetic relay; the door slid inward, and the robot politely gestured for them to enter.

The friends stepped into a modest yet cozy dwelling with a small corridor branching into several rooms. Long shelves were crammed with books and buried under piles of manuscripts. More books lay scattered across the floor and the table as well.

«At least he’s true to form», said Draam. «Unless, of course, he’s started eating them now.»

«I’ve already devoured more than one book lately», came a voice from the dark corner. The Rionian stepped forward, dressed in a black fighter’s robe with a hood. «Well then, since you’re finally here, I suppose you have something to tell me, and I have something to hear.»

«Logic has always been your strong side», Kane said with a happy smile. «But for some reason, you don’t remember a thing! The last time we saw you, you were heading to the Galactic Council on Ilion – right when it was attacked, and that terrible explosion took countless lives! Since then, we’ve been searching for you, refusing to believe you were gone, and, as you see, we were right!»

«And may I ask», Tarion said with a puzzled frown, scratching his head, «why I went to the Galactic Council in the first place? Who are you, and what exactly connects us?»

«Yeah…» Kane muttered, scratching his own head in turn. «We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. And who do you think you are – some back-alley thug? You’re one of Ilion’s councillors, and our greatest friend! The real problem now», he went on, «is that you’re the smartest of us all, and no one can tell you enough to make up for what you’ve lost.»

«In short, we’d better get back to the Armaon», said Draam. «Maybe Maarv and Smorg can help restore your memory… Because otherwise… damn it, Kane’s right – this really is a problem.»

Chapter 6

Stepping out of the regeneration capsule, Tarion looked around the Armaon’s interior with astonishment, a perfectly natural reaction for anyone seeing it for the first time, or for the first time in a very long while. Yet in his case, things were far more complicated. Maarv and Smorg, assisted by Arma, had run a full scan and found no trace of physical damage.

«His memory will return», Smorg stated matter-of-factly. «Sooner or later. It depends on the circumstances… and on us. Each of us should, in turn, tell him something that might draw his mind out of the cage it’s trapped in.»

«Before we leave this planet, there’s someone I need to see and a few of my belongings I must retrieve», Tarion said, unsettled by the lingering tension around him and the unusual attention he seemed to attract. «A respectable Bajjaran who brought me here some time ago.»

«Your belongings?» Maarv asked. «And how many did you have?»

Tarion shrugged, pulled from his robe a small piece of thick fabric folded several times, and carefully unfolded it.

«This is all I had», he said, showing it to his friends.

On the fabric, drawn with a remarkably skilled hand, was the image of the Ticket rendered with extraordinary precision, down to the tiniest details, as if copied from its holographic projection.

«I’ve been trying to remember what it is», he continued. «Perhaps it was my only link to the past… something I needed to understand and restore.»

«My dear Tarion», Maarv smiled, «by irony of fate, that very object is one of the least studied and least understood in our universe known only to a small circle of the chosen. And you happen to be one of the leading experts in that field!»

«So, I’ve been wasting my winnings on local books and manuals, trying to dig up at least some information», Tarion said with a grin. «Still, there wasn’t much else to do around here anyway.»

«Still, it’s not that easy to get rid of brains and curiosity», Kane remarked. «Imagine, spending all your free time reading books… when you could be lying on the grass, knocking around the locals between rounds!»

Tarion laughed and for a moment, he was more like his old self than ever before.

«When I first arrived on Bajjar, I had no idea what I would do», Tarion began. «I left the ship that very day, and no one tried to stop me. Half the passengers had come hoping to strike it rich at the pearl fields, so I joined them. I wanted to see what it was all about – ever since I’d regained consciousness, everyone around me kept talking about the pink pearls. And, I must admit, I never once regretted it!»

«The sight itself is simply breathtaking», he exclaimed, gesturing animatedly, just like in the old days. «An enormous ocean suddenly begins to retreat before your very eyes! The prospectors jump into their massive rovers and race across the newly exposed seabed in search of precious shells.»

He smiled a little sheepishly, noticing the wide-eyed looks of his listeners, and went on:

«As it turned out, the job, though profitable, is extremely dangerous. The exposed seabed is riddled with treacherous sinkholes filled with silt and gravel where, from time to time, the rovers vanish without a trace. And as for the atmosphere among those adventurers… Let’s just say it’s far from friendly. Knife fights and brawls are an everyday part of life there. Once, our team gathered quite a haul, and some enterprising souls decided they wanted it for themselves…»

Tarion fell silent for a moment, as though recalling something, then continued, «Anyway, I had to defend my team. They were the ones who suggested I take part in the Arena fights and that’s where I stayed. The work was light, the pay was good, and best of all – there was plenty of free time to spend as I pleased.»