JerichoPsyatic Output = 150 Bio-units

  Synaptik = Unbound

  Jericho blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the massive figure standing over top of him remained. It was human in shape, but so tall its head nearly brushed the nine-foot ceiling. He g the two unsen on the floor. They had been lifted off their feet like they weighed no more than dolls.

  The alien wore tless thin strips of white cloth and they wound around his body like he had been dressed for his own burial. At the alien’s hip was a on that made Jericho’s eyes bulge. One side of the on was a curved bde, almost as long as his entire body. The other was the polished barrel of a psma on—a rger version of the handheld guns the refinery guards carried.

  The ter betweewo halves was the oval-shaped psma chamber, and a curved hilt. Somehow, both ends floated a few inches away. They must have beeogether by an invisible forbsp;

  It was an infamous on; ohat would allow the alien to cut his head off and blow a hole in his chest within a single breath. It was a on only HWND pilots carried.

  Jerichled to find his voice, and his words came out slurred. “You’re a pilot.”

  With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself into an upright position, sitting awkwardly not to disrupt his mending leg.

  The alien said nothing as he pulled the door closed. The darkness sted for only a moment, before bright white light filled the small room. Jericho squihrough its harsho find the sourd saw a small sphere that floated just above the alien’s shoulder.

  In the light, he could make out the finer details and a shiver ran down his spine when he saw the inch-long spitened against the alien’s head. A closer look revealed more spines on the alien’s neck, and even on the back of its hands. Jericho assumed more were hiddeh the individual strips of fabric wound around the muscur body.

  “My name is Arthros. I am the ander of the eighth HWND division in the Hokku Navy. I wao get a closer look at you.”

  The name sounded familiar, like something Jericho had heard from a childhood story.

  Arthros tinued, “There is little information about you in the records. You fought well despite your size. I was surprised because your somatic scores are quite poor.”

  “What are you–, why are you here?”

  The alien’s face was rigid as stone, but the strange spines quivered on his skin. “There wasn’t a single person in the arena who expected you to survive. Except for you. You believed every sed that you were going to win, didn’t you?”

  “I–well, yeah of course,” Jeribled.

  This guy is a lunatic.

  “Why?” The question was barely a whisper, and it was filled with pure curiosity.

  Jericho furrowed his brohat?”

  “Why did you believe you would win? It’s ohing to think you survive, or even to hope. But it is entirely different to believe,” Arthros murmured.

  He thought about the question and shrugged, “I want to be the best.”

  The drugs were fading, and his words were being clearer. The pain was sharpening his thoughts.

  “The best?” Arthros’ spines quivered like they had a mind of their own.

  “All my life I’ve been told that I’m worthless, and I pn to prove those people wrong. I ’t do that if I’m lying dead in a pit,” Jericho said, surprised at his own vi.

  Arthros swept his calg gaze around the room, as if he were judging every cra the stone walls. “Why jois if you’re so eager to leave?”

  As if I had a choice, pal.

  Jericho gritted his teeth. “I didn’t join, I was foro, sold. You think this was my choice? I’m a human. We don’t st long here.”

  “A human with an unbound psymetra score does,” Arthros said, his eyes fshing.

  To Jericho, the words were fn. “Huh? What does that mean?”

  Arthros ied the bodies at his feet and then at the cast around Jericho’s broken leg. His pierg gaze flicked to Jericho’s face. For a moment, his eyes gzed and shifted out of focus.

  “She says you’re too small,” he said suddenly.

  Arthros’ lips curled, aapped the tips of his razor-sharp teeth together. It wasn’t a fearsome look, but an expression of thoughtfulness.

  “She? I don’t uand. What am I too small for? Wait, what’s a psymetra score?” Jericho grimaced as the pain began to radiate from his leg.

  Arthros didn’t answer. Instead, he was looking him up and down. “I’ve been traveling to Kleth’altho for many years, always searg and always leaving disappointed. Never would I have expected you.”

  This guy is off his rocks.

  The pain was being unbearable, and his patience was starting to fade in response. “Look, you’re a HWND pilht? I’m obliged to serve you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll try my best to help.”

  The Hokkonian’s eyes fshed. “You’ll try? You don’t have the slightest clue what I need, human.”

  The sphere above his shoulder flickered and the light dimmed. Arthros’ spirembled as his eyes shifted in and out of focus.

  He’s talking to himself.

  The alie close. There wasn’t a single blemish on his smooth skin. “Are you a waste of my time?”

  He squirmed uhe iy of the gaze, but anger welled up inside of him. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, but for some reason, the Hokkonian was testing him. The st thing he needed was a crazy killer alien rambling when all he wanted was rest.

  “I couldn’t tell you if I’m a waste of time. I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re even talking about.” He knew he should cut back the frustration in his tone, but he was fed up.

  The alien paused again. Jericho wao grab the alien’s fad give him a shake. Anything to make sense of the situation. Was he still high?

  “You’re too small,” Arthros murmured, quietly and to himself.

  I heard you, you bastard!

  Jericho’s temper fred and he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He ighe throbbing in his leg a down to his one good foot.

  “You’re wrong! My size is not my problem!” he snarled, ready to swing at the ptuous pilot.

  You and y mouth.

  The alien was on him in an instant and a massive hand pinned his chest to the bed. Poieeth were bared in an animalistiarl, ready to tear out his throat. Spihat covered the alien’s bald head and neck were erect. It seemed the Hokkonian had been repced by a monster.

  Finally, the alien spoke with a deadly edge, “Then what is your problem?”

  Jericho was frozen, anger evaporated like water on a hot stove. He worked his jaw for an answer but found no words.

  He heard the whine of his mother’s voice, “You’re nothing but a parasite. I clothed and fed you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to your sister–look at her! That’s on you, because you’re weak. You’ll always be weak. At least I was able to get some in my pocket for your miserable life.”

  The jingle of s in his mother’s palm still haunted him.

  “I’m weak.” He ground the words between his teeth.

  “I give you a choice, Jericho Hound, ohat will be your own.” The monster had already begun to fade, and Arthros’ voice was amicable once again.

  Jericho still had no idea why the Hokkonian was there. What choice could he offer?

  He’s going to kill you. He’s going to ensve you. Why else would a HWND ander visit you?

  “What kind of choice?” Jericho asked.

  “Do you want to pilot a HWND?”

  The silence was deafening. Jericho didn’t know whether to ugh in his face or break down in tears. It had to be some sort of sick joke.

  “What are you–I don’t uand.” Jericho rubbed at his right eye with the heel of his palm.

  Arthros stood upright. The sphere floating above his shoulder pulsed, and an ugly look flickered on his stoic face. He g the sphere and snapped, “He’s unbound!”

  He’s talking about me.

  Arthros rubbed at the spot between his eyes with the tip of his middle finger. He swiped at the sphere, and the strike from his ha it tumbling away. It quickly returo the spot on his shoulder.

  Jericho braved a question, “What does unbound mean?”

  “It means you have an unpreted psymetra score,” Arthros said ftly, as though that were expnation enough.

  “Psymetra?” Jericho echoed.

  Arthros’ lips curled again, and he swiped a grey tongue across the front of his teeth. “I won’t get into details, not now. But know this: all life in the gaxy has a psyatic output—an energy reading to quantify power. There are two major factors that tribute to ootal output: somatid psymetra scores. They go hand in hand, though the psymetra often bottlenecks the other.”

  The expnation sounded gibberish, and Jericho frowned as he tried to follow along.

  He gave up and focused on the one part he uood. “So, if my psymetra score is good, then my power output must be great, right? Good enough that you’re here to recruit me.”

  Arthros paused, looked as if he were about to speak, and then turo leave. “I’ll give you a few days to decide. When I return, I expe answer.”

  “Wait, you didn’t answer my question. What is my power output?” he asked.

  Arthros blinked, “It’s very, very bad.”

  “But you said my score was good!” Jericho protested.

  Arthros narrowed his eyes, “I said unpreted.”

  “So do I even have a ce?” Jericho asked.

  The Hokkoniaated and the sphere on his shoulder pulsed rapidly. “You probably don’t.”

  Jericho swallowed. The rollercoaster of emotions was making him nauseous. “I don’t uand.”

  The Hokkonian shrugged, “And you won’t, not now. But take fort in the fact that I believe you are worth my time. Despite your output, you are still unbound.”

  “I’m unbound,” Jericho echoed the words, searg for any shred of significe he could g to.

  He still didn’t know what they meant, but Arthros’ eyes fshed with an unreadable light when they were spoken.

  “The choice is yours, human. Both options could end with you dead, but only one will give you what you’re looking for,” Arthros said.

  Jericho widened his eyes, “Dead?”

  Arthros was already gone, slipping out the door with impossible grace for his size. When the door closed, the light was gone and Jericho was left in the darko pohe alien’s words.

  What I’m looking for. What am I looking for? It ’t be real. I’m still high on painkillers.

  But the throbbing in his leg said otherwise. It was a while before sleep came, and when it did, it was filled with dreams of giant alien mechs.

  ***

  “It had to have been a dream,” Kyrin said in a disbelieving tohat’s just crazy!”

  “It is crazy,” Jericho said as he watched his girlfriend mix his medications into a chemical soup.

  Her skinny frame was bent over the et by his bed. There was a time when he would have ehe view. Years of torpe abuse had melted away the curves he had appreciated. Now, seeing her like this only made him sad, but what could he really do? He it fighter; it wasly a career with health bes.

  To cope with the stant threat of his demise, Kyrin turo torpe. It was his fault, really. Everything usually was. He wasn’t even sure if she was still with him because she loved him.

  Every week, she drained his profits and stuffed her pockets with torpe vials. She was with him for the mohe little that he mao make.

  “You’re nothing,” his mother whispered in his ear.

  The nurses had said she could take over his care as long as she followed the rules of the Med ter. He wished that they hadn’t. She could be a little too much to handle while he was in this state. Not to mention the readily avaible painkillers she could swipe.

  He turned his mind back to Arthros. “You’re not listening to me. It was real. I even looked his name up after he left. The guy is a legend. I knew I reized his name—he’s from the stories Dad used to tell me.”

  She frowned, “You shouldn’t have had any access to your s. You need rest.”

  “Do you even hear what I’m saying? The Arthros was in my room. Last night. Recruiting me.” He enunciated the st words like he eaking to a child.

  She paused with his medie in hand and gave him a ed look. Her lips, scarred from the torpe-inflicted chewing, were pursed.

  “And you think that makes sense? I read somewhere that the mind do amazing things with tiny bits of information, and you were on a lot s.”

  He gave her a bnk stare, “You don’t actually think I halluated that.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She hurried to his side ahe gss to his lips.

  “You did–ugh!” The liquid tipped into his mouth and the bitterness made him gag.

  “Drink up–drink it all. There you go, yup, mmm that’s not so bad,” she cooed.

  He choked at the st amount, wiping the creamy remnants from the er of his mouth and spitting off the edge of the bed. She was already turning away to set the gss down on the ter.

  “You don’t believe me.” He could hear the weariness in his own voice.

  My own girlfriend thinks I’m crazy.

  She started to wash her hands ier basin and gave him a pouting look. “Of course I believe you honey.”

  The patronizing tone irritated him, and he closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

  I’m the one who was high and halluating? Ironic words ing from a junkie.

  He heard the bed creak and opened his eyes to see Kyrin pg a knee otress. A smile pyed on her lips as she climbed on top of him. She had tied her messy brown hair up in a bun, but some of it fell in curly lengths down the side of her face. Her big brown eyes were filled with pyful light—the only thing the torpe hadn’t touched. He immediately felt guilty and turned his eyes away from her as she straddled him.

  “e on Key, I’m not in the mood.” He gently pushed at her hips.

  “But I haven’t had a ce to gratute you yet,” she teased.

  He sighed again and watched with a twinge ret as she slid off the bed. The gratutions would have to wait.

  “I have to make my decision, Key, and I ’t waste any time.”

  She gave an indignant sniff. “So, I’m a waste of time?”

  “You know I didn’t mean it like that–Hey! Where are you going? I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She stopped at the door and furrowed her brow as she stared at him. “Maybe you should stop with the dreaming and focus on the present. Yetting a little old for fairytales, don’t you think?”

  He felt his jaw drop at the audacity. He was the one who risked his life every day to ehey even had food to eat. Sooner or ter, he was going to die, and then what would she do? Rot ireets like the other zombie junkies?

  He took a deep breath, “If it is real, then it could be a real opportunity for us.”

  “It’s not.” She opehe door but before she left, she looked over her shoulder. “Get some rest. We need you to be healthy for the fight.”

  The fight. She said it so simply, as though he would survive as surely as he had all the other times. If he just died, she would see how foolish she was being. He wondered if she would be heartbroken.

  It’s not you she’s worried about losing.

  He was aloh his thoughts as he pted his future with Kyrin, and the surreal enter with the Hokkonian. If he did choose to leave with Arthros, what would happen to her? Could she e along? Or would the pilot make him choose? His heart skipped a beat. Would he be able to choose?

  He tried to close his eyes and nap, but sleep evaded him. With a grunt of frustration, he hopped off the bed and grabbed the crutches leaning against the wall beside him. The boitch Kyrin had given him was ced with painkillers, so the throb in his leg was reduced to almost nothing.

  He opehe door and gnced around. The on room was empty save for the circur desk in the ter and the nurse who stood there. They locked eyes and she gave him a warm smile.

  “Good m, Jericho. How are you feeling today?” Her bck hair fell to her shoulders, framing a sharply featured face with bright green eyes.

  He smiled back, trying desperately to remember her failing miserably. “Yeah, the boitch is helping a lot. Have you seen any weird people around? Maybe a couple of nasty looking thugs, or… a Hokkonian?”

  The nurse giggled, c her thin-lipped mouth with a pale hand. “I think that boitch might be doing a little more than helping with the pain. Do Hokkonians even e to Kleth’altho anymore?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Nah, I was just joking. I’m going to go for a walk. Is that okay?”

  She nodded with a sweet smile, “Just don’t go too far. That boitch works best with elevation.”

  He waved goodbye and crutched carefully down ay hallway—one he knew would lead to more than just a single recovery room.

  I ’t think iunnels. I need fresh air.

  He frow his cast and the crutches. He would never make it to the surface. He leaned against the wall and shook his head in frustration. He just wanted out.

  The arena!

  The sudden thought kicked him into gear, and he crutched down the hall toward a hallway he knew would eventually lead to the pit. If he could get the open sky above his head, he could think clearly.

  Eventually, the tunnel widened until it led to a broadmouth opening into the massive stadium—the same pce where he had pulled an impossible victory out of thin air. The same arena that raised him.

  It was empty today—one of the three days off during the week. He took a deep breath and gnced up at the sky, cloudless except for the green haze of Rylon exhaust from the refineries. Down here, the air was almost stless, and you could breathe in a lung-full without coughing.

  What a life you live. You get to breathe without coughing.

  He looked up at the open sky. It was bright out now, probably around midday. Starships zipped across the cloudless sky and Jericho was filled with longing as he watched them pass.

  A life iars, that’s what I’m meant for. If I leave Kleth’altho, I finally start looking for Dad.

  When Arthros returned, he was expeg an answer, whether he had one or not. Something told him the alien wouldn’t take ‘I don’t know’ as a valid response.

  “Ironic to find you here, Hound,” a grating voice called from behind him.

  Jericho turo see three humans walking toward him. Two of them he reized as the thugs from st night, but the one who led them was a familiar face he had known his whole life.

  The fighter had a mop of bck hair, green eyes, and a strong hat only added to the fearsome look he always wore on his face. He was shirtless like usual, and the bked archer on his chest seemed to have grown from the added mass he had gained over the years.

  “Dyn, I didn’t take you for a dog walker.” Jeriirked at the goons behind him.

  An ed look crossed weasel-man’s face, “You mank-headed waste of–”

  “Shut up!” Dyn snarled.

  The skinny human ged and turned away, muttering darkly under his breath.

  Dyn gave the weasel-ma disgusted look and turned back to Jericho. “Don’t take this personally, Hound. You know I gotta do what the boss man says.”

  “Anything to get on his good side, right bro?” Jericho gave him a bleak look and shook his head in disappoi.

  Dyn had been a young teenager when Jericho had first arrived, but despite their shared upbringing, they had never grown close. Piglikow had warhem that friendships spread weakness, and Dyn took that advice to heart.

  The jacked fighter shrugged and motio the two behind him to spread out. “Don’t worry. We’re not here to kill you.”

  “Weird. I could have sworn I told Pig-Chow to hire female dancers for my victory party.”

  Dyn gave him a wry smile. “The boss made a mistake st night. He wants you to know that.”

  Jericho g the goons behind him, and then back at Dyn. He raised an eyebrow.

  Get on with it, dickhead.

  “Well, I appreciate the se. I go now?” Jericho asked.

  “He also wants you to know that you’re no longer wele is,” Dyn said calmly.

  Jericho paused, “Is that ing from him, or the families?”

  Dyn wrinkled his nose, “e on, Hound.”

  Of course. The families would have nothing to do with this. Successful fighters were valuable—they made them a lot of money. If they found out about Pig-Chow’s vea, he would be i seat.

  “The families would be pissed if the boss let me walk. I just won an inter-species fight. They’ll be looking to book another one soon,” Jericho pointed out.

  Dyn spread his hands wide, “They ’t do anything about it if the resignation es from you.”

  “Why the hell would I–?” The sentence died as he saw the recorder in the an’s hands.

  They’re going to try and make me resign of my own free will.

  “If you openly admit that you ’t hahe fights anymore, the families will accept that,” Dyn smirked.

  As if they would. They’re not known for being ‘good people’. They’ll toss you in with the Grontar and ugh when you’re ripped apart.

  “I’m not going to do that, and you’re not going to make me.” The words came out in a weary sigh.

  He was tired, and it was a long walk to his bed.

  Dyn gripped his hands together. His tattoo danced as the muscles in his chest rippled. The muscle-bound freak was a tough win on a good day, and today his leg was shattered, and the boitch was making him dizzy.

  At least Dyn didn’t smile when he wound up for the punch. That had to meaime spent together meant something, right?

  The punch came low and fast. Jericho tried to step out of the way, but the crutches were clumsy. The strike hit him hard i, driving the air out of his lungs and dropping him to his knees. A thin string of drool dripped from his lips.

  You bastard–

  The knee collided hard under his , rattling his teeth and sending stars into his vision. Blood welled in his mouth, and he fell hard on his stomach. A knee pinned him to the dirt, pressing hard between his shoulder bdes.

  “Alright, whenever you’re ready,” Dyn said to the thugs. “Bring that thing over here.”

  A small metal device was shoved in Jericho’s face. Jericho stared at it, blood and drool bubbling at his lips as he fought for breath. The dirt felt coarse against his face, and his head throbbed, but at least the pain in his leg was gone. For now.

  “Screw you,” he hissed through the dirt.

  Dyn sighed on top of him, “e on, Hound. Don’t make this harder than it o be. Repeat after me, ‘I’m not good enough.’” The knee pressed harder, “Say it.”

  He struggled to breathe with Dyn’s weight, and the blood was starting to fill his mouth, but he forced the word out of his mouth, “No.”

  The weight from his back lifted, and the air rushed bato his lungs. Before he could take a sed breath, he was stru the head. His skull bounced off the ground, and his vision blurred.

  “Say it, Hound,” Dyn hissed, barely audible over the ringing in his ears. “‘I’m worthless. I don’t belong here.’ Say it!”

  Laughter bubbled through the drool. “You’re right. I don’t belong here.” He took a shaky breath. “I belong up there, iars.”

  Dyn didn’t say anything, and he khat he was staring at him fused.

  “I think you hit ‘em too hard,” a nasally voice said from somewhere above him.

  Dy out an exasperated groan and gravel ched as he crouched by Jericho’s head. “e on, Hound. It’s not worth it. Just say you quit.”

  “You’re weak!” His mother’s screams drowned out Dyn’s whisper.

  This wasn’t a resignatioer. It ig-Chow’s way of getting even. The ugly oaf was there when his mother had sold him away. He had heard the cruelty in her voice, and he had seen the devastating impact it had on him.

  He knows everything about you.

  Jericho pushed himself onto his hands and krying to keep his eyes focused on the blood-cravel beh him.

  This is what Brandon ran from! They don’t care about you. You could win every fight and still not get the respect you deserve. You’re just a o them—a money maker with an expiration date.

  “You tell the boss that I’ll leave,” he wheezed. “He won’t see me again.”

  He gnced up to see Dyn shake his head. “Not good enough. I o hear you say it.”

  Behind him, Weasel-man snickered, and an studied the gravel between his feet. Jericho wao scream in their faces. He wao tear into them with his bare hands; wao jump on Dyn’s bad beat him senseless with the crutches. Most of all, he wao go with Arthros.

  Jericho took a deep breath, “I quit.”

  The answer is yes.

  “Not good enough. You know the words you have to say.” Dyn gave him aionless shrug.

  Jericho’s entire body sagged.

  You’re weak, you know it. It will be so easy just to say those words—the same words you say to yourself every day.

  He wao. He was sure Dyn would leave him alone if he just admitted his deepest fear. Yet at his core, he knew if he uttered those words, it would make them true.

  “No,” he muttered through ched teeth.

  The kick hit him square in the ribs, and he heard an audible crack. It hurt to breathe, but his body involuntarily sucked in air. His lungs felt like they were tearing in two.

  “Say it,” Dyn growled.

  He wheezed, hacked, and groaned. “No.”

  A hard boot stomped on his hand, and if he’d had the extra oxygen in his lungs, he would have screamed. The rec device was shoved in his face.

  “No,” he moaned.

  The beating tinued for several minutes, but to Jericho it felt like hours. Dy him to a bloody pulp, stopping every couple of seds to calmly ask him to speak into the recorder. Every time, he refused.

  When he could no loalk, he only shook his head. When his vision slipped and unscioushreateo e him, he just kept his mouth shut.

  Dyn still spoke in his usual bored tone, but he end, Jericho could have sworn he heard a hint of respect touch the shirtless fighter’s voibsp;

  He wasn’t scious when Dy, and he woke to find himself alohe sky was dark above him. His clothes were crusty with dried blood. He closed his eyes, and suddenly the gravel felt just as fortable as his bed.

  You’re not worthless.