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“This is not the end,” the voice behind the monitor shouted. “The game is not over!”
Burmoot’s brow ridge tightened. “But it is over. They have won, and they will be leaving the dome.”
The monitor zipped behind him; I assume to exit through the still-open dome hatch. The Universal Council could sulk for all I cared. Once we were safe with Adone’s brothers, we could advocate with his government to put an end to the Galaxy Games or change the rules so that contestants entered willingly and did not die if they lost. Surely there could be money to be made with a game like that.
“As for your reward . . .” Burmoot’s head tilted. A tight frown filled his face, and he gulped. “Your . . . reward . . .”
Adone reached his hand out. “Are you all right?”
“I . . .” Burmoot toppled forward, landing hard on the ground.
The monitor I thought had fled had instead fused itself to Burmoot’s back.
I gaped in horror as it continued to deliver shocks to the elderly alien’s body.
