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It achieved nothing besides giving me a sprained wrist and making me realize how unfit at being a fighter I was.
I sat in the corner and cried. Pathetic little creature that I was.
I wrapped my hands over my stomach and felt that familiar glow.
Was it the baby? I wondered.
Kren had an ability, one he’d hidden from everyone most of his life. Was it responsible for what I did earlier with the wall?
Maybe I only managed to do it because I channeled the baby’s ability somehow. It wasn’t me at all.
How could that be?
Because you’re pregnant with an alien.
“Are you in there, little baby alien?” I said, rubbing my stomach gently. “If you are, thanks for earlier. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d really appreciate it if you could do it again. Daddy needs our help.”
Daddy.
I liked the sound of that. I especially liked it when it was attached to the champion hunk.
Fighting for his life.
For all our lives.
It didn’t need to end right now. Our lives could continue.
We just needed the will to make it happen.
But how?
There was no reasonable plan I could think up that resulted in us getting out of here. I was going to have to play it by ear.
So far, my plans hadn’t exactly been blinding successes. Having a baby to escape this place? What had I been thinking?
How about telling the Supervisor I no longer wanted to be a part of that plan? That worked out really well! I was still trapped in this damn room!
How about showing my face to Kren so he knew where I was? And then accidentally letting the Supervisor see me in the same breath? And now Kren was in the worst possible situation.
I sucked at plans. And I wasn’t going to make another one so long as I lived.
It was fly by the seat of my pants or nothing.
The Supervisor approached the wall with his goons on either side.
“The show’s about to begin. Would you like to watch?”
20
KREN
The crowd roared as I entered the pit. They hadn’t roared like that for me in many years. They craved to see my death, and today they thought they would finally get that wish.
The guards hadn’t taken me to the armory as I expected. Instead, they brought me directly to the pit. I was without armor or weapons or shield. I stank of some creature’s shit and had damp grass in my hair.
Some champion I looked.
But I raised my arms and played to the crowd anyway. Credits exchanged hands and bets were made. Probably by how many fighters it would take to take me down. The record was four.
