Critical Path

A young woman with flowing brown hair breezed in from a side entrance. She lifted her elaborate green dress before sitting on the chair. A brute of a croatoan followed and stood behind her. Stocky, mean looking, it had one of their large, angular rifles slung over its shoulder and a sickle in its left clawed hand.

She tilted her head to one side and sat forward, staring at Charlie. “He’s an old one.”

The stocky croatoan clicked.

“What’s your name?”

Charlie detected a mix of French and perhaps Turkish in her accent. He replied, “Joe Nobody. And you are?”

“My name is Aimee Rivery. Welcome to Unity, this is my town.” She paused for a moment and looked him up and down. “I’m going to give you a choice, old man. Your fate rests on your own decision. Do you understand?”

Charlie frowned. “A choice of what?”

She whispered something to the alien, who left the room. Returning her focus back on Charlie, she said, “We need to increase our crop production, due to our current expansion rate. You can have a place in my town if you’re prepared to work hard. You’ll be fed, have a roof over your head, and no trouble will come your way. What do you say?”

“You want me to farm root?” Charlie said.

“Amongst other things, yes. Is that not clear?”

Charlie squeezed his eyes tight and bit his lip. It didn’t help; he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The hopelessness of the situation coupled with the suggestion made him burst out in laughter, which echoed around the room.

Aimee gave him a stern look. The large croatoan returned and stood by her side. She dismissively waved her hand in Charlie’s direction. “Very well. Have it your way. I was prepared to give you a chance, against advice…”

“Whose advice? Why did you bring me here?”

“You were recovered from a pod. That makes you a person of interest. I know more about you than you think.”

“Like what? Who around here knows me?”

“Somebody you’ve been annoying for years.”

Footsteps slapped across the stone floor behind him.

Charlie’s face straightened.

An instantly recognizable voice said, “The little wasp. Did you really think you would get the better of me?”

Augustus walked in front of Charlie. He stopped and removed his right sandal.

“You will fight my champion in the arena,” Aimee said. “Then we shall see who is the one laughing once the festivities are over.”

“May I?” Augustus said, pointing at Charlie.

Aimee nodded. “Do what you will.”

“Hold him steady,” Augustus said to the croatoan restraining Charlie.

He raised his sandal above his head and swept it down, striking it against Charlie’s cheek. Charlie winced with the strike, but refused to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt him.

The blow stung, but that was the least of Charlie’s worries.

The man who knew what Charlie had done now had control of him. And by the sounds of it, Charlie was set for a public fight.

Augustus knelt down and fastened it back around his foot before straightening his mask and rearranging his robes. At least this answered the question of what happened to him. The pod clearly had protected them both.

But what kind of deal did Augustus strike to have attained such a lofty position so soon?

Aimee stood and pointed down. “I want him alive tomorrow, Augustus. Don’t disappoint me.”

She left by the same side entrance, followed by her burly guard.

Augustus brought his masked face right in front of Charlie’s, close enough that Charlie could feel the Roman’s hot breath. “Did you see that monster with Aimee? He’s your opponent.”

“You saved me so you could watch me fight an alien?”

Augustus grunted. “I didn’t save you. I simply prolonged your miserable life for a few weeks. There’s no way in the world I would allow you an easy death.”

“And if I win?”

“I’ll have you flogged every day you aren’t fighting in the arena. History will not remember you. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t get to write history. If you did, your own wouldn’t be so abysmal.”

“I beg to differ. Future generations will be in awe of me. You… you’re a flea.”

Charlie looked Augustus in the eye. “What does it feel like to lose two empires?”

Augustus stepped back and raised a clenched fist. He slowly lowered his hand by his side and turned to the croatoan. “He’s not worth my effort. Take him to the ludus. Throw him in with our other new arrival.”

Charlie’s camo shirt scrunched around his neck as the alien gripped the back of his collar and dragged him up and shunted him to the door. Charlie glanced back. Augustus licked his fingers and extinguished a candle.

CHAPTER FOUR

A young girl, dressed in a fresh white robe, carried a metal platter piled with pig’s trotters to the dining room table. She carefully placed them in front of Augustus. He pointed at his hammered metal goblet and cleared his throat. She scurried to a side table, grabbed a clay jug and returned, filling the vessel to the brim.

“I remembered from last time,” Aimee said.