Critical Path

“Grab him,” Augustus said.

His men slowly approached Charlie.

“Baliska, now,” Aimee said.

Baliska drew his sword from his thigh and leapt forward, raising the blade. Augustus fumbled under his robe for his dagger while backing away.

Doctore lifted his sickle to meet the blow. The weapons clanked against each other. Baliska reacted first, taking another quick swing before Augustus’ man could raise his weapon. The sword buried deep into the side of his neck and he fell sideways.

Doctore briefly gurgled and twitched while a dark red pool quickly formed around his top half.

One of the ludus guards staggered back and looked at Augustus with a blood-freckled face and fear in his eyes. “What now?”

Baliska advanced.

Augustus pushed the guard forward and fell back. His heel caught the bottom of his own robe and he lost his balance. He gasped for air after his back slammed against the stone surface.

The dagger slipped from his hand and skidded away.

The guard cowered behind his sickle as Baliska hacked at his leg. He screamed, dropped his weapon, and crumpled to the floor, clutching his calf. The alien strode over to him, held up its sword with both hands, and thrust it down into his chest, killing him instantly.

“Enough,” Aimee shouted. Baliska returned to his position behind her.

Augustus scrambled to his feet and repositioned his mask. He edged in the direction of the entrance. “I never meant for this to happen. The weapons were just for show. I gave my men strict orders not to use their weapons. This wasn’t my fault.”

“Baliska, take Augustus to the courtyard cells,” Aimee said. “I’m sick of hearing his bullshit.”

Augustus stood up straight. No matter what happened, he vowed to keep his dignity. “There’s no need for this. Think of what I’ve done for Unity. I protected it. I’ve provided entertainment. What has Charlie Jackson ever done?”

Aimee encouraged Baliska forward with a casual wave of her hand. “He’s going to do more than you ever could. You’ll appear in the arena tomorrow against three croatoan harvester drivers. They came in fresh today.”

The alien bounded over and grabbed Augustus by the shoulder. He briefly struggled against the revolting beast until a glove clamped around his other shoulder, holding him firmly in a vice-like grip.

“If you aimed to humiliate me, it’s worked,” Augustus said, still hoping he could talk his way out of it. “Can we put an end to this silliness?”

“Do you mind if I walk with them to the cells?” Charlie said. “I’ve got a bit of unfinished business with him.”

“Be my guest,” Aimee said.

Baliska ripped Augustus off his feet and dragged him out of the room. He couldn’t believe how they treated him. The oldest surviving member of the human race, a former emperor, no less!

If he got out of this in one piece, Aimee, the Jacksons and Baliska would end up in several pieces and tossed into the garbage dump behind his ludus.

As his feet scraped along the stone, one of his sandals fell off.

Charlie, strutting close behind, picked it up and smiled down at him. “What was it you said? Did you really think you’d get the better of me?”

Augustus attempted to spit through the mouth hole in his mask. “They’ll see you for exactly what you are, and I’ll be waiting. Birds will peck out—”

Aimee and Denver left her chamber and followed along the corridor.

Baliska dragged him into the courtyard.

The croatoans on the rampart looked down and clicked with excitement. A man opened a door to one of Aimee’s cells. Baliska shoved Augustus toward it.

“Wait,” Charlie said. “Put him on his knees.”

The creature forced him down. He winced after his knees buckled and slammed against the cobbles. Charlie approached in front of him and held out his sandal. “Here’s your sandal back.”

For a terrible moment, Augustus thought the bastard would inflict the humiliation on him that he carried out during their first meeting in Unity. He slipped the sandal around his foot, nodded and said through gritted teeth, “Thank you, I suppose.”

“I haven’t finished yet,” Charlie said. He dropped to one knee and started unlacing his boot.

Augustus looked at Aimee. “You can’t let him do this. You can’t.”

She raised an eyebrow and flapped a paper fan in front of her face.

Charlie took off his boot. A gut-wrenching odor attacked Augustus’ nostrils, like sickly sweet garbage, coming from the fetid sock. He tried to recoil away, but Baliska wedged his body against his back.

Charlie stood and turned to Aimee. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” she said.

He grinned and raised his boot. “Hold him steady.”

“Please, you can’t do this to me. I—”

Jackson swiped his boot across Augustus’ jaw. A bolt of pain spread across his face, but more worryingly, his mask split down the middle. He could no longer see as the eyepieces dropped to either side.

Charlie ripped the mask away and inspected it. His bastard son stood behind him, watching with indifference. Charlie threw it against the cobbles and stamped his other boot on it, smashing it to pieces.