My eyes are open slowly, my vision blurred. There is a whining hum in my ears. The Ulima in me pulls me to focus as best as it can. Staggering to my feet I lean against a wall of metal. Smoke all around me. From my pocket I pull the black box, the blood from my hand forms beads and rolls towards it. The letters begin to glow, I feel a weakness come over me. Falling to my knees, my eyes unable to look away from the glow. I hear whispers in my mind, like a call from the depths of my consciousness. The patterns begin to change, light dancing within them.
Boom!
I am thrown to the ground again, the box ripped from my grasp. I groan, my body feels heavy, but my mind feels somehow clearer, still dazed from the explosion I crawl away from the box. I look back to it as I move, its glow beginning to fade. Part of me wants to take it, the other wants to run far away. Closing my eyes and breathing deep, I calm myself and focus. Survival is my only concern now.
Managing to get to my feet, I head back towards my tribe, not daring to look upon the box again, for fear it might take me. As I approach I see bodies in the pathways. They belong to some of our neighbors. My pace quickens.
As I come upon our dwelling I see shrapnel sticking into the walls, I rush inside. People lay moaning on the ground. Where is Arrum. Frantically I look among the injured, moving sheets of metal.
“Kale.” I hear him say, he is in the corner of the room near Nekam, Neeba and Nevari.
Kneeling down I check him for new wounds but he is unharmed. He actually looks much better. The medigel seems to have worked its wonders.
“It is gone?” Nekam asks me.
“Yes my chief.”
“Good.”
The room is filled with eyes that glow, there is fear among my people. The explosions and gunfire continue for hours. My tribe clutches each other praying to their gods. I have no words to spare for them, my mind lingers on the box. Thinking of the whispers I heard from within. Hearing a gasp and murmurs from my tribe I focus my gaze upwards and see the soldiers have returned, albeit fewer in number.
“Line up!” one of them barks.
The man whose leg was severed from the laser cannot do what they ask. I see a woman help shoulder him. Gripping Arrum tightly I help him stand, putting some of his weight on myself, he does not need much assistance now, in a day he may be ready to fight again. They pull the clothes down from our necks and scan our identification codes, shoving us along and out the door. People from other tribes walk through the wrecked passageways towards the gates of the city. On the rooftops I see soldiers with their rifles trained on us. Those that linger are shot, the pace quickens.
When we approach the exit they scan us again, dividing us into different lines, Injecting something into our necks and direct us to the sands in a single file. The children and newborns are separated from their mothers, people wearing a white garb with the Republics emblem take them, those who resist are shot without hesitation. They take them towards large transport ships upon the sands with hundreds of soldiers filing out. They bid us to sit in rows. We wait in silence, afraid to even speak. The only sound, the quiet sobs of mothers worried for their children. I am among unfamiliar faces, I cannot see Arrum or anyone from my tribe, I lost them when they divided us. Feeling my neck, there is a small bulge near my spine where they injected something. The purpose I do not know.
***
It has been more than a day now, the stench of people soiling themselves grips to the air like a heavy perfume of despair. The suns bake us, some already succumbing to its embrace. Those that have tried to run lie on the sands as a constant reminder. The soldiers in their metal armors number too many to count now, they come and go from the city dragging out bodies. Bringing to us those that hid away. Bipki drones hum above us, scanning us periodically. The words from the black box lingers still in my mind.
“Attention residents of sector B135.” A man says, his voice echoed on the Bipki that hover above us “The Governor will be speaking soon.”
There is a large circular disc in front of us now, rising up above it so all can see, a hologram of a man’s head and shoulders. His hair is slicked back and neatly trimmed, he wears a military dress uniform, an insignia of the Republic and decorations attached to his shirt, their meaning unknown to us. We know his face, we have seen it before from Republic broadcasts. Below him appears a counter, it is a countdown of twenty minutes. It begins ticking downwards.
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“I am Senator Adonious of House Helenius. As decreed by the Republic of Hekat, I am your master.” He says after a time.
There is a distinct coldness behind the smile on his face.
“You have been found guilty of harboring rebels amongst you. Under the laws of the Republic, the sentence is death. As the Interim Governor of this solar system, it is my divine right to administer it.”
The crowd begins to murmur, weapons raise, a reminder for the silence that follows.
“Fear not, I am merciful.” He smiles a twisted grin “You are privileged with the opportunity to redeem yourselves.”
All eyes dare not blink as they wait for him to continue.
“I will give unto you a series of tasks to complete. Those who are able to complete them will be rewarded greatly.”
17 minutes remain.
“There are 9,457 of you, only 5,000 will be permitted for the second task.”
How will we decide who will go? How many tasks are there? What will happen to those that are not selected? So many questions fill my fraying mind.
“If there is more than 5,000 by the end of the countdown - you will fail, your sentence carried out. Long live the Republic, happy hunting.”
The transmission ends. The crowd of thousands does not move for a time, absorbing the information. Then the murmuring begins, many saying a singular word - Utakin, fear on their voices. In the old tongue Utakin means simply - The Dying.
The soldiers lower their plasma rifles and turn about, walking two-hundred paces from us in a circle before turning around. They do not point their weapons at us again, they simply wait.
13 minutes remain.
They mean for us to kill each other. My heart pounds, eyes widen as I fully realize what is going on. It begins with a whimper somewhere in the crowd. There is a scream next. Moments later another. I look to the counter and it ticks down three places. Sekat. Everyone scrambles in a panic, sand dusting the air. Everywhere I turn I see the glowing eyes of my people, there is no time to think. A man squares off with me now in the dust tossing his blade back and forth between his hands. Gritting my teeth I prepare myself.
11 minutes remain.
He rushes towards me, I wait until he is upon me, dropping my shoulder as I roll finding purchase in the backside of his knee, he grazes me with his blade. Falling to one knee, he slashes wildly. A man comes behind stabbing him in the throat only to find a knife in his back when he turns. It is madness, there is blood everywhere. Another man comes, his eye bleeding and gouged, I roll to his bad side stabbing him in the lower back where his kidney should be. I do not stop, I continue forward slashing as I go any who come for me. I am Ulima - forsaken and death must earn me, for I do not go to it willingly.
7 minutes remain.
My arms and legs are filled with cuts, a blade comes to me from the side, stabbing me. Sekat, I slide my blade under the man’s chin into his head ripping and tearing until he lets go of the blade. People are becoming grouped now. Bipki zoom through us closely watching. I take advantage of this, moving behind the paths it clears, stepping over the dead. I feel a slash at my leg from a man half dead on the ground. Warm blood flows down my clothes. Sekat.
5 minutes remain.
A fist connects to my head dazing me, my anger rising. Before I can slash at him a woman stabs him in the back again and again. Another man comes for me, half dead gasping for air. There is something building in me as I move, a rage I didn’t know I had, bubbling to the surface.
3 minutes remain.
There is a man trying to drive a knife into another on the ground, I cut his throat from behind, my mind numb, acting on instinct. If we do not kill - we all die. The man slumps down, I move to kill the person who is pinned, but my blade stops at their neck as I see the face - It is Neeba, his eyes wide. He pulls up his knife and throws it, now looking behind me. I turn and see a woman who was about to strike, a blade in her chest. I turn back to him, grasping his arm in mine, I pull him to his feet.
2 minutes remain.
We stand back to back now against the tide of slaughter, enemies no more - our bond forging in these blood soaked sands. A larger group comes towards us after we fend off a smaller one.
“Low.” I say.
“High.” He replies.
We turn and meet them, me low, him high as we slash and stab, all the years of Nekam beating us and forcing us to fight coming to fruition. A loud noise blows bidding us to stop. Some do not and I hear the crack of plasma weapons firing into the crowd. I pull Neeba low, we huddle waiting. Our breath ragged, we are soaked in blood he and I.
My grip on my knife still strong, my nerves on edge. The dust begins to settle and I see before me a sea of blood and bodies. Moaning everywhere I turn. People shouting each others names. We slowly begin to stand together, Neeba and I. Both of our hands trembling. My heart is numb. My thoughts beginning to catch up with me, Arrum now pushing to the front. I look around me, searching the dead. As I limp, Neeba follows, his eyes hollowly searching for family or friend. I stumble, clutching my side. He grasps me, holding me up. We move onward. My vision is becoming blurry.
After only twenty meters we both collapse onto the ground unable to move forward. The mess of blood, bodies and sand hard to move through. Hundreds of drones fly through the air, they look different from the Bipki. They have the same marking as the medigel containers. They scan us and a stinger injects us. I feel a warmth flowing through my body. One of them scans around the flowing wound on my belly and it sprays a foam on me sealing the wound. It burns but I do not cry out, I am too weak to fight it. There is more than screams now, something that cuts at the soul, deeper than a blade - the sound of my people weeping. I look over and see Neeba sobbing into his arm. Upon my own face I feel tears falling silently through the blood, I do not wipe them away, I let them fall as tribute to those who have died so we might live.
I see people being taken onto floating stretchers around me, my eyes are so heavy, I can’t keep them open as I drift off.