Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. In no way does this work encourage or promote the activities portrayed. If you can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality, you really shouldn't be reading this. Author's Note: This is one chapter of a work in progress. A such, it would be greatly appreciated if it were not distributed beyond BDSM Library.
An Execution in the Arena
by
von Hentzau
"OK, you three. It's time," Wilbur announced, walking into the team ready
room. He pointed at Rikko, Amar and Keera, though it was unnecessary. He'd told
the entire team of combatants that there was an execution scheduled for the end
of the night's games. He also told them which Combatants he'd chosen to
participate. The three stood up and trooped out of the team room in single file.
"Send'em to Hell, guys," one of their team mates called out behind them.
The condemned were undoubtedly real humans. Huminals would have been dispatched
out of hand. The Combatants, being huminals, didn't worry about Hell. And
huminals had no qualms about assisting in the executions of humans, regardless
of where the condemned were going to end up.
They reached their team entrance to the arena just in time to hear the
announcer introduce the final event of the evening.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the much too enthusiastic, disembodied voice
intoned, "the management of this arena is pleased to announce that the Ministry
of Redemption has granted us the great honor of being the venue for a Public Act
of Atonement and Compensation."
On the far side of the arena the visiting team door slid open. A pair of
heavily armed guards, looking robotlike in their body armor, helmets and opaque
face masks entered. They were followed by three prisoners, naked but for their
shackles. Another pair of guards followed them. The prisoners were escorted to
the center of the arena, then stopped. The guards took up positions forming a
square around them.
"The three miscreants you've just seen enter the arena," the announcer
continued, "are criminals, dissidents, saboteurs. Disrupters of the public
order, the divinely ordained order. Deniers of the Words of the Lord. They have
been justly condemned to death, the horrible death reserved for those who would
threaten the common good.
"But in his infinite mercy the Minister of Public Order and Piety has
granted them the opportunity to earn by valor a quick, easy death or even,
should the Almighty favor them, a remission of their punishment. They have been
granted the opportunity to fight for their lives in the arena, matched against
three of tonight's champions, human against near-human."
Keera could hear the crowd bursting into wild cheering. Justice by combat
was always a popular event, though Keera could not see the justice in it. It
wasn't really combat. It was a simple execution. She'd taken part before in
these events. The prisoners, mere humans, physically inferior, untrained, slow
and clumsy with the weapons, usually weakened by the intense interrogations
they'd undergone, were no match for the combatants. Any combatant, even a
trainee with one or two matches under his or her belt, could take a prisoner
with a few quick strokes.
Keera looked at the prisoners, the condemned. There was a middle aged man,
medium height, thin, a bit stooped. A middle aged woman, shorter than the man
and a bit broader of build, full breasts rather saggy, a bit paunchy, but once
the possessor of a good figure. A young woman, late teens or early twenties.
Nearly as tall as the man, very slender but still feminine, very small of
breast, really just two small mounds topped by small, light brown nipples. Keera
noticed her eyes, dark, nervous, darting left and right.
They'd all had their head and body hair shaved. It was another form of
humiliation. The dark fuzz on the girl's head indicated that she'd once had
black hair. Keera imagined it as it might have been, full and lustrous.
Then the guards were releasing the manacles of the prisoners. They
positioned them as the points of a triangle, facing outwards.
Something in the prisoners' body language as the shackles were removed,
the slight efforts to touch each other before the guards moved them away,
suggested to Keera that the prisoners were a family. Not an unusual situation.
The Ministry often condemned entire families for the actions of one member. It
gave everyone an added impetus to stay on the right side of things.
The announcer had been continuing his narration. Now it was time for the
combatants.
"Resident champion of this arena in the male category, the star of the
House of Durant and a favorite of everyone here tonight I'm sure. Rikko."
Rikko bounded out of the doorway, waving to the crowd. His enormous member,
fully at attention in anticipation of the fun to come, bobbed conspicuously.
Other members of the House team accused him of practicing his entries to get the
proper affect to draw the most applause from the ladies in the audience. He knew
who his opponent would be, so he continued halfway around the arena and took up
position three meters away from and facing the man.
"And his counterpart, the reigning female champion of this arena, Amar!"
Amar jogged easily out from the doorway.
Wilbur hadn't assigned a particular prisoner to any of them. Rikko knew
he'd take the male, there being only the one. But which of the females Amar and
Keera were to take hadn't been specified. So it was up to Amar to pick. It
really made no difference, but for some reason Keera hoped Amar would take the
older woman. It was with a slight sigh of satisfaction that she saw that Amar
was taking up position in front of her.
She should have expected it, Keera reflected. Amar was well known on the
circuit for taking a vicious delight in going for boobies. Perhaps it was, as
some of the other combatants commented, her own weren't particularly impressive.
At any rate, the older woman's full, mature pair would offer Amar more
opportunities to indulge herself than the younger woman's tiny mounds.
"And third, a rising star of this arena, Keera!" Keera ran out, one arm
raise in acknowledgment of the cheering she could hear through the plastic dome.
"Better watch your rump, Amar!" The announcer continued. "Keera's moving up on
you."
Amar half turned towards Keera, made a kissing motion and then slapped her
own bare cheek. The message was clear and the audience loved it. They cheered
even louder.
Keera took her position facing the young woman.
"And the designated weapon for this combat," the announcer said, "the shock
pole!"
Again the crowd burst into applause. The shock pole wasn't the most
spectacular device, but it did insure a longer combat, since repeated strikes
were necessary before a lethal blow could occur.
"In its infinite mercy," the announcer continued, "the Ministry has decreed
that long standing custom will be honored. Should any of the condemned triumph
over his or her opponent his sentence shall be commuted, as the evident will of
God."
Two attendants entered the arena, each carrying three shock poles. They
first handed them to the professional combatants who immediately, instinctively
assumed the proper position with them, left foot forward, right hand near the
butt of the pole, left hand halfway up the shaft, contact point aimed for the
opponent's right shoulder.
Then the attendants handed shock poles to the prisoners. They seemed not to
know what to do with them. Keera was surprised. Anyone who'd seen more than a
couple games must have seen shock poles in use. They were dangerous, more
dangerous than many of the weapons used, but anyone who wanted to rise in the
games had to take the risk of shock pole matches.
One of the attendants handed a pole to the young woman. He placed her hands
for her on the one meter, ten centimeter hardwood shaft. He pointed to the brass
bulb on the end, being careful not to get his finger to close for fear of a
spark jumping the gap.
"That's the contact," he said. "That's what you want to hit her with." He
gestured at Keera . "Be careful not to touch it. It's charged. It will
definitely knock you on your ass."
More than that, Keera thought. The first couple discharges would be really
unpleasant, but nothing she or any other combatant couldn't shake off. In fact,
in combats like this the combatants usually let the condemned get in a strike,
maybe two, just for the benefit of the crowd. Usually on an arm or leg, where it
wouldn't matter. Never on the chest or belly or, don't even think about it, the
crotch, because that could really throw your game off. But a harmless first
strike somewhere was tolerable. It made it look like it wasn't what it really
was, an out and out execution.
But after those for-show strikes there would be no more playing around.
Each time the pole recharged after a strike its power was upped. Each successive
strike would be stronger. After a certain number of strikes the poles became
lethal. Just how many strikes varied with how the technicians had them set,
always a secret, and to some extent the resilience of the victim. The
Combatants, being far more fit than real humans as well as having been bred for
combat, could take a shock that would kill a citizen off the street. It might be
five or it might be a dozen or somewhere in between.
And that was the risk one took in a normal shock pole combat. The combat
went on until one or the other Combatant was unable to continue, either because
he or she was rendered unconscious or the medical monitors determined that the
next strike would likely be fatal. Nominally, combat in the arena was not to be
fatal, because the law considered that cruel, but accidents happened and they
happened far more often in shock pole combat.
Or the combat could go until one of the Combatants could take it no longer
and, dropping the pole and sinking to their knees, signaled surrender. But that
almost never happened because the crowds hated that kind of ending and also
because it could be doubly fatal. By the rules of the arena, when a shock pole
Combatant surrendered the victor was allowed one more strike. That late in the
match it most likely it would be a fatal one. And if not, the Combatant who
surrendered was disgraced and quickly traded to a bottom rung team, one of those
teams most likely to engage in the illegal but extremely lucrative privately
held "death matches".
But that was in normal combat. This was an execution match and someone
would always get in a last fatal strike. The object was to draw it out, to give
the crowd something to yell their heads off about.
The young woman took up her position uncertainly. Keera could see the fear
in her eyes.
The horn blew. No one moved. To Kerra's left Amar made an easy jab at the
older woman, which she parried tentatively. Amar could easily have overpowered
it and driven in for a chest strike but she allowed her pole to be deflected,
deftly recovering. She assumed a defensive posture, ready to parry the attack
that should have come but didn't.
"I'm going to come at you now," Kerra said quietly to the young woman. "Be
ready to block me."
She aimed a thrust at the young woman's mid-section but before she could
carry through she heard the man call out.
"Carolyn, no!"
Keera heard the hollow wooden sound of a shock pole hitting the floor of
the arena. She looked past the young woman to see that the man had thrown his
pole away and now stood with arms at sides. The young woman now dropped her
pole, followed quickly by the older woman.
The crowd started to boo. The man spoke up. The power of his voice
surprised Keera.
"We will not be willing participants in our own murders!" he cried out.
One of the attendants approached him.
"Do you realize what you're doing, fool?" he said in a low voice, but one
calculated to carry to the two women. "You're dead, all three of you, no matter.
Do it the easy way! A few quick pains and then it's all over. Do you realize
what the alternative is? Do you?"
He waited for an answer. The man stood, silent, unmoving.
"Die standing on your own two feet, man!" the attendant said, his voice
growing louder. "If you don't pick up that pole you'll die slowly and in agony.
You'll die the most painful, humiliating way you can imagine."
He paused again, waiting for an answer, a move to pick up the shock pole.
The man remained still.
"Think about your wife and daughter, man!" he tried one more time. "Do you
really want to put them through it? Do you want to see them die in unspeakable
agony?"
The man finally spoke.
"You may kill us as you please, but we will not be willing participants in
our own murders."
The attendant shrugged as if completely unable to make sense of such a
decision. He signaled to the control booth and stepped back away from the man.
"Incredible!" the announcer's voice boomed out over the arena. "Incredible
the obstinacy of these dissidents. The management regrets that we will be unable
to present the entertainment scheduled this evening."
There was a pause. Then the announcer came back on, lowering and slowing
his voice for the changed circumstances. Somber music began playing, very low,
in the background.
"Since the condemned prisoners you see before you have refused to take up
the Ministry's gracious offer to fight for amnesty or a quick death, the
management of this arena has been authorized by the Ministry for Redemption to
carry out the sentences imposed upon them."
The crowd burst out in applause. Keera knew that was her signal. She
quickly jabbed at the young woman's solar plexus with the shock pole. The young
woman screamed in pain and collapsed, doubled over. Amar and Rikko
simultaneously did the same to the older woman and the man. Then they withdrew
to the doorway they'd entered and waited for the arena attendants to make their
preparations. Wilbur appeared through the door and handed each a wide leather
belt with various implements hanging from them.
Out in the arena three execution frames were being lowered. These were
three sided devices made of stout pipe, a horizontal crossbar with a hanging
vertical pipe at either end. They were lowered until the bottoms of the two
hanging sides just touched the ground.
One at a time the three prisoners were dragged to a frame. They were stood
up, their arms raised and spread so their wrists could be fastened at the upper
corners. Then their legs were spread wide and fastened at the bottoms of the
uprights. The frames had clearly been adjusted specifically to fit each
prisoner, leaving each in a tight spread eagle. When each prisoner was fastened
the frame raised up slightly. They would shortly begin a slow rotation so the
audience could view all sides of captives. Keera knew that large projection
screens positioned above the audience would also provide them with closeups.
Curious, she thought, how the thousands of decent, upright citizens attending
tonight who professed outrage at the merest hint of nudity in the outside world
insisted on seeing every square centimeter of a Combatant or a condemned
criminal.
But before the frames started moving the attendants had one more
preparation to make. A pair of them went to each of the prisoners and held a
small ampule under each one's nose. The fumes given off acted to trigger those
centers in the brain controlling arousal. After a few sniffs the prisoner's
erogenous zones would begin to react involuntarily as if being pleasurably
stimulated. It was another means of humiliating the prisoners, separating them
from world of humans.
The man tried to resist breathing in the fumes. One of the attendants held
his mouth until lack of air forced him to breath in through his nose. His penis,
under the circumstances quite reasonably shriveled to a tiny nob, began to
engorge until he was suitably if not spectacularly erect. The two women
similarly, if not so obviously, began to react to the chemical, their nipples
enlarging and their vulvas engorging and flushing red.
Now it was time for the combatants. They came back out, to the applause of
the crowd. Again Rikko went to the man, Amar to the older woman, Kerra to the
young woman.
Keera approached her slowly, studying the tautly stretched form, the
slender arms and legs, the lines of the torso, the small brown nubbins of her
nipples, the lines of her abdomen curving down and inwards towards her pussy.
This pussy that was spread open, all its secret, damp folds exposed to view,
exposed to touch. This gorgeous, erotic young body, hanging helpless before her.
The thought that for a brief while this tender flesh was hers to do with, to
torture or pleasure as she wished, excited her immensely, even more than the
thought of taking her in combat had excited her.
Kerra reached out and stroked the woman's pussy. With her other hand she
gently pulled and twisted an erect nipple.
"Enjoy it while you can," she whispered to the frightened young woman.
"This is the last pleasurable touch you'll receive."
To one side Amar was doing something similar to the older woman. Rikko was
taking liberties with the man's cock and balls.
The crowd was going wild, cheering, laughing, hooting. On the street
outside, Keera knew, such activities, a woman touching a woman or, even worse, a
man touching a man, would be shocking, an abomination. It would even be cause
for the Morals Police to arrive in a hurry and haul in everyone involved,
bystanders included, for a visit to a Re-socialization Center.
But this was the arena and these weren't really people anymore. They'd been
cast out of human society for their actions. They'd been thrown to the animals,
the animals who looked like humans but whose DNA proved them to be "other than
human". The condemned had been given to the animals and this was what animals
did in the arena. And with these acts these condemned prisoners were finally
degraded to the level of animals.
Keera judged that she had gone about far enough. It would be bad form if
the girl came before she was executed. Better to leave her in a highly aroused
state. She'd take what was coming more easily. With one final stroke of a moist
pussy Keera stepped back The girl watched her with frightened, questioning eyes.
There was a scream from Keera's left. Wide eyed, the girl tried to turn to
see what was happening but the angle was too great. Keera could see, though.
Amar was torturing one of the older woman's breasts. She had seized the member
between the arms of a metal device something like a large nutcracker. In the
Combatants' quarters they jokingly referred to it as the "boob cracker". Amar
was squeezing with both hands as well as twisting. Keera had something of an
idea what the woman was going through. In the after hours horsing around in the
team quarters Amar had once pinned Keera to the floor and applied the device,
just lightly, to one of her boobs. It hurt like the dickens and Amar wasn't
really trying.
Keera glanced to her right. Rikko had a similar but smaller device which he
was applying to the man's testicles. The man was trying to be stoic, trying not
to cry out. That was a mistake. Rikko would keep applying pressure until he got
a satisfying response and Rikko was extremely strong.
Keera directed her attention back to the girl. These condemned were here to
suffer as part of their execution and this slender girl in front of her was
Keera's to punish. She reached for the boob cracker hanging from her belt. Then
she decided against it. The girl really didn't have enough to grab onto. She
pulled out a pair of modified pliers. They were spring loaded so she only had to
apply pressure. And the jaws were wide and wickedly ridged.
Keera reached out with the pliers and trapped one of the girl's small,
light brown nipples between the jaws. The girl opened her mouth as if to speak
or to scream but no sound came out. Something in the look in her eyes indicated
part of her wasn't ready to accept that his was really happening. Well, get
ready to believe, Keera thought. She gave the pliers a hard squeeze, then a
twist.
The girl found her voice then. She let out a scream that momentarily made
Keera release her grip. The pliers hit the floor. Keera heard the crowd laughing
as she bent to pick them up. She then gave the other nipple an even harder
squeeze and twist.
The screams coming from the other two condemned told Keera that Amara and
Rikko were getting good results. She glanced over to see what Amar was up to.
Amer was just putting away her pliers and pulling out the her needler. Keera
decided to switch also. She replaced the plers in the belt and pulled out her
needler. It was a wicked little device. I looked a bit like an odd pair of
pliers with one oversized jaw. Hidden with that hump was a centimeter long
spring loaded needle.
Keera again seized one of the girl's nipples. The girl obviously had know
idea what was coming. She seemed to brace herself for another crushing pressure.
But it didn't come. Keera waited until the girl started to relax before
triggering the device. The girl threw her head back and issued her loudest
scream yet as the needle was driven through her tender nipple.
Keera reset the device, then reached for the girl's other nipple. She
consciously stepped back a bit, knowing camera's would be zooming in. The
problem with the needler was, that while it inflicted a nice bit of pain on the
victim, it wasn't showy. Keera slipped the jaws in place and gave the cameras a
few seconds to focus before triggering it again.
She reset the device one more time. Now she reached down between the girl's
legs, to her wide-spread pussy, with her free hand. The girl opened her mouth
and began to shake her head in protest. Keera stroked the tender flesh several
times. She fondled the girl's inner lips, her clitoris. Let her fret, Keera
thought. If the girl was frightened before she was doubly so now. Then Keera
seized one of the girl's outer labia between thumb and forefinger, stretching it
out. She applied the needler, paused for a few seconds, then triggered it.
A light tone sounded, the signal from the control room that they were ready
to move along to the next phase. Keera replaced the needler in her belt and
stepped back. The execution frame rose slightly, until the girl's feet were well
clear of the floor. Keera retrieved her whip and made ready.
It was single tail whip, a full five feet long. The bottom three feet of
braided leather surrounded a stiff plastic rod, the last two feet formed by a
leather thong. A small lead weight was worked into the tip.
The frame began to slowly rotate. As the girl's back was presented to her
Keera aimed a blow against her shoulder blades. The girl cried out at the sudden
pain. As she came around face to face Keera send a back handed stroke across the
girl's thighs. As if painted on an angry red line appeared where the leather tip
had passed. The frame continued its rotation, presenting the girl's back again.
Keera aimed a stroke at the base of her buttocks, at the crease where they met
the upper thighs. It would look really good if a camera was focused on it in
close-up, as at least one almost certainly was. She didn't quite catch it, but
it was close enough. The girl screeched and jerked as if trying frantically to
pull loose from the frame.
Around again. Keera decided on a fancy stroke. She would have to be fast
and the need for control would mean she couldn't put as much force into it. But
that was not a problem. Boob shots didn't take that much power and the crowd
would love it. She started with circling the tip over her head, then a downward
diagonal stroke across the girl's left breast. Recovering quickly she brought
the whip around and up for an upward diagonal across the right breast before the
frame turned the girl away from her. She could hear the crowd cheering and
hooting.
Around and around the frame turned. Front and back Keera worked the whip up
and down the girl's slender body. Quickly the pale skin from shoulders to
mid-thigh was criss-crossed by a pattern of thin red welts. At first the girl
cried out at each stroke, but soon her mouth hung silently open, her head
lolling back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks.
In the control room the powers that be decided that the preliminary
tortures were sufficient. It would not be good if any of the prisoners lost
consciousness before the big finale. Attendants signaled to the three
combatants. The execution frames stopped their slow rotation, each one stopping
so that the prisoners faced outwards, towards their respective Combatants.
An arena attendant went to each Combatant and hand each the pyros for their
victim. Keera took the two elongated lower units and placed them in a belt
pouch, keeping the two nipple stars in her hand. She approached the young woman.
"Try not to think about it," she said quietly in answer to the look in the
girl's eyes. She seemed not to know what was to happen next, not to know what
the star shaped metal device was for, the six pointed stars with the finger size
lumps at the end of each point, each with a thick fuse extending outward. Could
it be she'd never seen an execution before? Well, maybe it was better she didn't
know what was coming.
Keera seized one nipple. She was a little surprised at how firm it still
was after the punishment she'd dealt it. She slipped one of the stars over the
nipple, pulling the brown flesh through the hole in the center. She released the
spring clips to hold it firmly in place. The girl opened her mouth as if to cry
as the metal sharp metal dug into her flesh. Keera seized the other nipple and
applied another star. The girl handled this one more stoically as the clips were
released, knowing it was coming.
Keera removed one of the lower units from the pouch, the large one. It was
metal, shaped like a dildo and thick as her wrist. Knobs and ridges studded the
surface. She reached between the girl's legs and fingered her slit. She was
surprisingly moist. Part of Keera was grateful for that. It would make insertion
easier. Another part thought, insertion is not supposed to be easy.
She inserted two fingers into her vagina. The girl's not a virgin she
thought. In a way that was good. Despite the value the real humans claimed to
place on virginity Keera thought it was a sad thing for any girl to die without
having at least once experienced the sex act. Then again, the Morals Police may
have taken care of it during the girl's interrogation, as seemed to happen with
attractive young prisoners more often than not. But that was just not the same
thing.
Keera placed the rounded tip of the pyro between the girl's lower lips. She
twisted it back and forth a few times. Then with one hard shove she pushed it in
as far as it would go. The girl gasped. It was certainly bigger than any cock
this girl had ever experienced, Keera thought. Thicker even than Rikko's. She
made sure the fuse dangled free, then removed the second pyro and took a few
steps back.
The frame started to rotate, turning the prisoner's back to Keera. To her
right Rikko's prisoner was also being rotated. Kera glanced over. Rikko had
installed the man's front pyro as prescribed. It was strapped under his penis,
wires tightly tied around the head and base of the organ. Rikko had done a
thorough job of it. The head of the tortured cock was turning dark red already.
The weight of the cylinder pulled the member downwards.
Keera turned back to her prisoner, who's battered rump was now presented to
her. The girl had guessed what was coming next. Keera could see the muscles
clenching in anticipation.
"Relax," she said quietly. "There's nothing you can do. Fighting it will
only make things worse."
She placed the blunt tip of the pyro against the girl's anus and held it
there, exerting a slight forward pressure. As she expected the girl
automatically tightened up at the touch. Keera waited a few moments until she
thought the girl had relaxed slightly, then gave the pyro a hard shove. The girl
let out a sound that was half moan, half whimper.
There was a rim around the base of the pyro, to prevent it from slipping
all the way in. Keera worked the metal device until it was in up to the rim. The
metal tube also had a narrow waist just before the rim that would keep it from
sliding out. As with the other pyro Keera made sure the length of fuse dangled
free.
Her job finished Keera retreated to the shelter of the doorway, followed
closely by Amar and Rikko. Once all three Combatants were clear the three
execution frames began to slowly rise up, turning as they did so that the
prisoners were facing outwards. They rose until they were nearly to the top of
the dome, almost ninety meters. Then they stopped.
The lights in the arena were dimmed until the three figures spreadeagled in
mid air were just shadowy forms. Three small doors, equidistant around the
arena, slid open and three robot vehicles trundled forwards on rubber treads.
Each stopped below one of the prisoners.
There were three sudden whooshes and three small rockets, miniature
versions of the usual outdoor fireworks, shot upwards to burst in front of the
prisoners. Their bodies were now lit up by the starbursts of red, yellow and
white. Keera had seen the spectacle before, but she still stood spellbound by
it.
The prisoners hanging in the frames were being showered by the small,
burning fragments scattered by the explosions. Their screams lasted longer than
the sound of the rockets exploding.
As each starburst faded another rocket was launched. Some exploded in front
of the prisoners, others behind or below. Keera waited expectantly for what she
knew would happen.
The older woman was first. A rocket burst close to her chest. A flaming
fragment touched one of the fuses on a nipple star. That point of the star fired
off it's load of tiny Roman candles, followed quickly by the other points and
then the other star. For a few seconds it was as if her bust had exploded and
flown off as dozens of points of light in dozens of directions. The crowd roared
its appreciation.
Keera knew better. Her breasts were still there, but horribly, painfully
burned.
The young woman was the next. A rocket burst directly between her legs. She
screamed, then screamed even louder as both pyros ignited, sending fountains of
flame out from her crotch.
Her father was next, though his devices went off separately, first the one
strapped to his cock, then a minute later the other one. With each the crowd
grew even louder. More rockets flew up. The air hung heavy with the smell of
burning gunpowder, despite the exhaust fans running full blast.
Then the last of the nipple stars had fired off, the last of the rockets
had gone up. Darkness again enveloped the three prisoners who, as far as the
Combatants could tell, were hanging silent.
A hatch slid open in the center of the arena. A mechanical device looking
for all the world like some bizarre assemblage a child might put together from a
Meccano set, rose up. A low hum filled the arena. The crowd had gone silent.
Ghostly bluish light began to appear above the machine. It formed a ball
and began to rise slowly. As it rose it separated into three balls, each growing
to a meter in diameter. The balls continued to rise, slowly moving one towards
each prisoner.
The light balls rose up between each prisoner's legs, finally settling on
and engulfing their mid-sections. A low but distinct keening filled the arena.
Keera wondered how any of the prisoners could still be in a condition to feel
anything. But they obviously were.
The light gradually spread out from the prisoners' crotches until they were
entirely enveloped. The three Combatants, all veterans of previous executions,
moved back into the shelter of the doorway. Small bits of charred flesh were
starting to rain down, tiny bits drifting down, larger ones falling and landing
with an audible thunk. Automated sweepers were already moving across the floor
of the arena, gathering up the detritus.
With a tinny ring a burned out lower unit hit the arena floor and rolled a
meter or so towards the Combatants. Keera stared out it for a minute or so,
wondering which prisoner it had come from. Most likely the girl, she thought, by
where it had landed. Then a sweeper came along, yellow warning light flashing,
and gathered it up.
Keera looked up again. The frames had been retracted into the top of the
dome. She didn't envy whoever had to clean them off. The smoke that had gathered
at the top of the dome was also clearing rapidly. In its place was a spectral
figure, the animated holographic image of the local bishop, much larger than
life, rotating in place and giving the crowd the standard lecture that followed
every execution. Keera paid it scant attention as the Combatants stepped into
the corridor that would lead them back to the team room. She only caught part of
the bishop's closing sentence as the door slid shut behind them.
"...we can only pray that, as their corrupt mortal shells suffered the
final mortification, they came to their senses and sought forgiveness..."
"Kinda makes you glad to be not-human, in a way," she said to Amar, who
mumbled an assent and then reached out to slap Keera's butt.
"Watch my rump? Yeah, right!" she said.
The End
Copyright 2003 by von Hentzau. Permission is granted to copy for personal,
non-commercial use only.
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