Mander sat uncomfortably on the elabrorate sofa, the room was far to bright for his taste, all the yellows and pinks made him dizzy. On an opposite chair an attractive young girl no older than 17 with bright blonde braided hair and soft green eyes sat calmly humming to herself a tune Mander had never heard before.

"Are you May?" Mander asked breaking the silence.

"No I'm Mai," she replied slightly offended.

"I'm sorry I'm terrible with names, comes with age I'm afraid," Mander laughed.

"May will have her hair tied in a pony tail, I have mine braided, we don't like being confused, didn't Diego tell you?"

"Sorry Diego missed out that detail, his exact words descirbing you guys were muscular transvestite, hot twins and shy emo, but they all seem pretty cool,"

Mai smiled and rolled her eyes, "hot twins so typical, and Rene is much prettier than me and May when her hair isn't in the way,"

"I see well I look forward to getting to know all of you better as we work together, do you have any particular reason to wanting to bring down Liandri?" Mai went silent and looked to the ground, "I'm sorry to have asked," Mander apologized, "if it pains you to remember then forget I asked,"

"No, no its fine, I'll tell you but could you tell me your reason first?"

"My quarl with Liandri goes way back when Liandri first arrived on Geoearth and discovered the abundance of precious minerals to mine, we Geo's never had any interest in it we had our own tech and resources and willingly gave Laindri permission to mine provided they take care and don't destroy the natural beauty of Geoearth, for awhile they kept there promise but as more mines where unearthed more roads were built, forest were starting to get cut down and Liandri even started building high tech cities, many of the younger Geo's sided with Laindri and started living in these cities which steadily grew and grew and even started working in the mines. Eventually Geo was divided in two those who lived in the major cities goverend by Liandri and those who still lived in what is now called Old Geoearth where we tried our best to keep our age old traditions, however many of the younger Geo's loyal to the old way started to rebel and many resistance groups were started, they attacked transport roads, blew up mines they were labelled as terrorists and soon one by one these groups were brought down shown no mercy, but then things took a darker turn, Laindri accused all those in Old Geoearth as being terrorist and we were all put under tight rules and made to suffer it was about this time my son left, but then one day a child threw a rock at a high ranking offical the result the entire town was put to the flame that town was my home, my wife and my young daughter died that day leaving me with nothing, angerly I started my own resistance group and was a major thorn in Liandri side we were to be the last resistance on Geo and wanted Laindri to never forget us, but unfortunatly even my group was destined to fall, it was Diego's enemy Draulic who would eventually be the cause of our fall ordering one of his best spies to locate our base and lead the Laindri eradication squad to our distruction we wiped them all out unfortunatly we had to blow our a base, all my men went down that day I was the only surviving warrior and when our resistance fell so did all the old ways of Geoearth, having nothing left for me on Geoearth I joined Diego to help him and find my son,"

"Thats some story, I'm sorry about all your loses and I hope you find your son,"

"Thank you, with Jerry's help I'm sure I will,"

"Guess I'll tell you why I joined Jerry, Laindri once had a research institute which specilzed in psychic abilities, they would preform terrible experiments to discover its secrets and tried to create artifical means to harness psychic powers, a particular interest with them was the psychic bonds twins shared, me and my sister were but one set of many twins researched, natrually Liandri found nothing psychic abilities is fantasy, or is it, slowly I started to be able to read my sisters thoughts and she could read mine, this was the only success Liandri had and the other twins now traumatized from the experiments and seriously unstable were terminated to make room for another batch me and my sister were moved on for the experiments to continue, nearing instanity we were rescued by Jerry who helped us escape, since then we have dedicated ourselves to making him the new leader of Liandri, I know he will change things,"

"It's tragic what Liandri does to children, they must be stop-" Mander was interupted when a wall slid and a large screen emerged and with flash Jerry appeared.

"Ah hello there Mander it's a pleasure to meet you," Jerry said politely

"And you Jerry, on behave of my children I wish to thank you for all your surport,"

Jerry laughed, "So really are the father of natures deadliest,"

"These kids need a good role model, although none are my children by blood and I have only adobted Gina I see them all as children I would be proud of,"

"What a man you are Mander, I wish only my father, no all father could be like you, now I believe you have a favor to ask me?"

"Yes speaking of family I'm currently searching for my long lost, last remaining blood relative, my son Trace,"

"The universe is a big place Mander it would be difficult to find one man,"

"Yes but I have information which could make the search easier but only for someone with some accses to the ins and outs of Linadri,"

"My resources are limited but I will try my best for you, what information can you provide?"

"My son Trace would currently be 20 years old, a full blooded Geo, he left home at 18 to find away to bring down Liandri, expose their dark secrets and make them stop the discrimination on those in old Geo, if he has ever attempted such a thing Liandri should have information on him, if we was a successful thorn then perhaps Laindri would have placed a bounty on his head in the black market, another theory I have is that he currently works for the company in an attempt to bring it down from the inside and expose secrets,"

"I see, well there are currently many 'terrorist' groups against Liandri I could try and dig up as much information available on them as possible, accessing the Black Market bounty heads posted by Laindri will be an easy task, as for finding an employee, that could be difficult like I said the universe is a big place and Laindri has countless employees, our only hope of finding him in that situation is if he has worked is way to respectable position,"

"So you will help me?"

"Yes, I'll have one of my best work on it for you and I'll let you know about any developments, you should just focus on the tournament, now I must leave,"

"Thank you," Mander bowed as the screen went blank.

"That you happy now pops?" Mai said rising from her chair, "Don't worry if Jerry says he'll do something then you can bet your ass he will, come on I'll show the way back to town,"

"Thank you Mai, we are very fortunate to have such reliable allies,"

"Heh, and we see ourselves fortunate in having such powerful allies, with us together Liandri will fall,"

"Hmph, perhaps,"

Marcus was sitting up on the end of the bed, gingerly testing the strength of his injured arm. Azazeal's plasma bolt had cut through the Alitan armour and seared most of the flesh off his right shoulder, but the Liandri surgeons had expertly reknitted the wound with a cloned muscle graft mere hours after he had been rushed to the campus hospital. Marcus laughed to himself - he could die as much as he liked in the tournament but Liandri didn't want to lose any of their valuable competitors outside the arenas. Under a thick bandage his shoulder was still slightly stiff and tender, but the wound was now well on its way to healing, much faster than he would have thought possible. Of course, he thought wryly, the faster he was back on his feet the faster he was back making money for Liandri in the Tournament.

His mood was good. His first delirious night in the hospital had been plagued by nightmares of the Twilight Wraiths, but those raw memories like the wound in his shoulder were fast being covered up by scar tissue. And the winnings from their first victory had been considerable. The Battleclaws agent handled all the funds for them of course, but once the money was released at the end of the Tournament, even with a seven-way split, affording the passage to Ramiel now didn't seem so impossible provided they continued to win.

He looked up as the door to the recovery ward hissed open, and the Liandri Angel standing outside stepped aside to admit a lean Solstice warrior with glossy white-striped fur.

<Hello Aino.> Marcus said in Alitan, ignoring the stiffness in his right arm to bring it across his chest in the Alitan salute, <How did the match today go?>

<We won,> Aino replied in a satisfied voice, returning the gesture and padding across the palely-lit ward to Marcus' bed, <Battleclaw and Swiftpaw have been straining at the leash to take part in a match, and when Koda pulled out to try and get some more research done they both got the chance.>

<Good for them.>

<I think Swiftpaw impressed the games masters with his martial arts; he took down a gene-boosted human twice his size one-on-one. Him and Blackfoot had a right feud going on, I think they were competing to see who could score the most points in the last five minutes. Can't blame him for wanting to prove himself again in his first match.>

Marcus smiled, <No.>

<Battleclaw was taking it very seriously, she really wanted the humans to see us prove our team skills and realise that we were most formidable as a purely Alitan team. No offence.> she added apologetically.

<None taken,> Marcus replied, thinking about the aloof and brooding Minqua with whom his inclusion in the team had sat worse than most, <Battleclaw never liked humans like me that much anyway, did she?>

<She can be quite pig-headed when it comes to Alitan supremacy,> Aino
grinned, <She just hasn't seen much in her life to endear her to humans, that's all. Give her time - she'll respect you as a warrior eventually.>

Marcus nodded.

<How's the arm?> Aino queried.

<Better. A little stiff.>

<You should get back to the training arenas as quickly as possible. Trust me, it'll help it get stronger quicker. It's...>

<The Alitan way, I know,> Marcus smiled, <You told me that yesterday. I would've done but the med-tech wouldn't let me out; something about if I strained the ligaments by working them hard too early I'd be stuck here for at least another few days.>

<You reckon they'll let you out today?>

<Yeah, I think so.>

<Come on then, I'll train with you.>

*   *   *

Marcus ducked a massive haymaker's sweep of his opponent's bastard sword, sidestepped the follow-up attack and jinked inside his guard. His tarydium knife pierced the side of the man's neck in a flash of translucent blue and he went down hard.

They were fighting a close-combat deathmatch, Aino's preferred kind of warfare. Marcus hated it - it was even more brutal and horrific than the most intense firefight, and he had developed an aversion to it on Na Pali where to tangle with a Necris up close usually resulted in a swift death. But the Necris liked to press their advantages of speed and blade work at every opportunity, and he had had to learn something of the vicious craft for the times when he had been unable to keep them at the preferred arms-length with his ASMD.

What really unnerved Marcus about hand-to-hand combat was how you could see every detail of your opponent's face as you fought - the set of their features, the colour of their eyes, and the blank, glassy look that came over those same eyes as life left them. Years of experience had hardened him to it as they had hardened him to killing and death in general, but the dreams that followed a face-to-face struggle were invariably the worst.

The eyes of the man Marcus had just killed had been fixed and dilated, either from adrenaline or something more illegal. Marcus wouldn't have put it past Liandri to dope their gladiators up on narcotics and combat stimms, and doubted they would deny the same to the individual-ladder competitors, who had volunteered for this training match as extra practice, if it improved their scores. As before the training match opponents were a very mixed bunch. Marcus reeled through all the faces he had seen in the last half hour of intense combat - a dark haired man, eyes glazed with psychosis as he ran at Marcus screaming his hate; a tall black man with a face laced with surgical scars and arms bulging with vat-grown muscle enhancements; a gnarled veteran of the individuals tournament, his teeth gritted in grim determination; a young woman whose multiple battle scars had been flawlessly repaired by cosmetic surgery, and whose eyes were so hard and cold they reminded Marcus of a Necris blademaiden.

Another face appeared and came charging towards Marcus. Marcus spun round and saw a tall man, shaggy haired, with the muscular build and dark skin of a deep space miner. Dark blue tattoos snaked up his arms. Marcus ducked as the man swung a punch at him, but a lightning-fast jab followed it and connected with Marcus' face with bone-breaking force, causing him to stagger backwards. Marcus spat blood from his split lip, and more blood was running from his nose and dripping off his chin. Droplets of it flew as he dodged another punch, stopping it with his forearm in an impact that stung enough to tell Marcus it would leave a severe bruise. His opponent was attacking relentlessly, his face set in a snarl, but in his savage attempts to pound Marcus into the ground he wasn't giving a thought to his own defence and left himself open for a slash of Marcus' crystal knife that raked across his exposed throat. The man fell backwards, clutching at the spurting wound. Marcus' eyes flashed left and right for other threats, then he straightened, wiping blood from his mouth. The miner, still conscious, was looking up at him, black eyes wide, choking.

Marcus had no desire to watch the man bleed to death. He stepped forward and rammed his blade down. As he turned and headed for higher ground, an uncomfortable thought nagged at the back of his mind. Even before Marcus had cut his throat, it wasn't anger he had seen in the miners eyes. It was despair. Shaken, he crushed the thought, falling back on the Nali litany to focus his mind. Then the locator at his wrist beeped.

*   *   *

"For ****'s sake!" one of the Liandri technicians monitoring the training match snarled.

"What's up?" asked his companion, leaning over the first tech's shoulder to look at his computer screen.

"Number 327's just hiding in a corner again."

The second tech sighed, straightening up, "Okay, switch on her tracker so the cat and her team-mate can find her. They ordered six gladiators to fight against so we'd better give it to them..."

*   *   *

Marcus looked down and saw that a target down in the lower levels had been lit up for him, and a dashed line on the LED display similar to the ones that indicated flags and team bases in the more complicated types of match was guiding him to it. He turned around and headed down, following the locator while staying alert for other gladiators that might ambush him on his way down. He slowed to a walk as he approached the indicated area, crouching down with his knife held out in front of him and placing his feet carefully so that they made no sound against the floor.

He sensed the attack coming a split-second before it happened. Whirling round, he grabbed the lunging wrist, chopped down hard on his attacker's elbow so that they dropped the knife they were carrying with a yelp, and kicked them back against the far wall. All this had happened in the space of a heartbeat, and as his mind finally caught up with his instinctive action he was surprised to register that his opponent was a young girl. She couldn't be more than 16 or 17, her features soft but her expression of hard defiance a sharp contrast. She was wearing a Liandri jumpsuit that seemed too big for her thin frame. Her black hair fell into her eyes, which stared up at Marcus with the intensity of one who has seen more than someone of her age should. But what really threw Marcus was what she said next.

"Go on then," she challenged him, "What are you waiting for?"

Marcus just stood frozen, his knife hanging loosely in his hand.

The spell was broken as Aino, in full feral form, darted in like a flash of white lightning and sideswiped the girl away from Marcus, pinning her to the floor and delivering a crushing bite to her neck.

<Too slow!> she celebrated, <What's wrong?> she added, turning her red-stained muzzle towards Marcus and ****ing her head curiously. Marcus didn't answer; his voice had temporarily abandoned him.

<You can't afford to hesitate,> Aino chided him. And to prove the point, she sprang at him with claws extended.

<OOC - More to come soon.  Also, may I draw your attention to my new avatar :D Looks scarily like Eevee, don't you think?>

If Diego was concerned by the encounter with Blake, Cleet thought to himself as he cupped his hands round a cigarette and thumbed the lighter, he wasn't letting on. They were taking a quick break before moving on to the next club and Diego, who was by now more than a little drunk, was complaining loudly that he hoped there would be more female competitors at the next venue.

Cleet blew smoke down his nose and began walking while Diego continued to talk away to Snowva. Diego Turner was not an easy man to read, but Cleet knew him well enough to know that the playboy attitude was essentially a smokescreen. Diego had had more one night stands than Cleet cared to remember, but hadn't committed to a serious relationship since finishing with Alex two years ago and Cleet could tell he missed one. Cleet didn't think about it often - he felt uncomfortable overanalysing his friend - but study and analysis was Cleet's strong point, and when he applied it to Diego he usually narrowed the cause down to the same possibilities. Either Diego was still secretly hung up on Alex (although Cleet admitted that this was the least likely option - he had never sensed any awkwardness between Diego and Alex, indeed their friendship seemed only to have strengthened), he was afraid of spoiling their friendship with another serious girlfriend, or he was afraid that any new relationship wouldnt compare to the one he had with Alex.

Although, Cleet thought as he stubbed out his cigarette, there was another, more recent possible cause. Diego had stepped up his playboy lifestyle considerably since Liandri had come back into the picture. Perhaps it was his form of escape, rebelling in any small way he could against their Liandri masters who kept them all on such a short leash.

Cleet threw down his cigarette stub and ground the butt under the toe of his shoe. This was dangerous. The deliberate lack of cooperation, the revealing of Level 2 before Liandri had authorised it...if they drew too much attention to themselves before Jerry and the others could put his plan into action...

Diego looked up, and Cleet followed his gaze to see a young girl leaning up against a hab wall, arms folded, staring intently up the main campus thoroughfare. There was almost nobody around this side of the campus at this time of night, but the girl had still withdrawn into the shadows of the alleyway, as if she didn't want to be noticed. Her dark eyes were fixed on the solid metal gates that stood closed at the other end of the road, surrounded by high walls, patrolled by blue-armoured Angels and skimmers with scissoring searchlights, and blocking anyone from getting in or out of the campus. She was frowning at the massive stylised L that was emblazoned on the gates, and the Liandri symbol frowned back.

"Hey there!" Diego called out, putting on his most charming smile. The girl turned, slightly startled.

"It's awfully quiet out here, why don't you come back with me and I'll show you where the action is."

The girl's face hardened.

"**** off." she snarled.

Diego's well-practiced smile faltered slightly.

"That's a bit harsh. I'm sure you'd like me if you got to know me better."

"I don't want to get to know you better," the girl retorted, "Odds are you'll be trying to kill me in the arena tomorrow."

"Hey," Diego said, spreading his arms wide and grinning broadly, "What happens in the arena stays in the arena."

The girl's small fist connected with Diego's mouth. Diego's alcohol-slowed brain was caught off guard and he lost his balance, tumbling over backwards to be caught just in time by Snowva.

"Whats her problem?" Diego asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Guess you can't win them all, Diego." Snowva said, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

Cleet and Snowva looked round as two Liandri Angels appeared and seized the girl's arms, twisting them roughly up behind her back.

"Alright 327," one of them growled, "We don't let you out of the security wing twice a week so you can start on paying competitors, let's go."

"Love a girl who can kick my ass," Diego slurred as the girl was dragged away.
She offered no resistance, but looked mutinous, "I said that to the Angel the other night too - you remember that, Cleet?"

Cleet was frowning up the alley in the direction the two Angels and the girl they had called 327 had disappeared, wondering what to make of what had just happened. Diego meanwhile, still half-slumped against Snowva, looked up at the big man and grinned.

"Nice catch, Snow. Second time tonight."

*   *   *

Marcus sat in the common room of the Battleclaws hab, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows and his head supported on one fist against his temple. His other hand was scratching behind Kiwi's ear as the Na Pali rabbit dozed on the seat beside him, her nose twitching occasionally. The only light in the room came from the blue glow of the hologram projected from the data slate resting on the table in front of him. Marcus had been too absorbed in his task to notice that night had fallen outside the windows, and the internal lights remained unlit as the room gradually darkened.

Between matches and Commander Battleclaw's incessant training exercises, Marcus had surfed Liandri corporation;s labyrinthine datalinks until his eyes and head hurt but had turned up very little more than what their agent had already told them. It was almost as frustrating as the research he had tried to perform on Nature's Deadliest. For such an apparently comprehensive and free-access database, there were a lot of gaps and classified sections.

Finally giving up, he had turned to browsing old picture files. The hologram that flickered before him was a six years old snapshot taken of the crew of the ISV Kran shortly before its first mission. Liandri files on the ship were sparse - he would probably have had more luck with the datalinks of the Kran's home corporation, Inuit - but they were all Marcus had access to for the time being. Marcus had very few mementos outside his own memory, as most of his things had either been lost along with the Kran, or sold on during the four year period in which its crew were listed as missing, presumed dead. Plus, Marcus smiled faintly to himself, it wasn't like he had had a camera or many opportunities to use one on Na Pali. Nevertheless the planets stunning scenery and the brief periods of peace he had enjoyed among the Nali were burned into his memory alongside the far more numerous memories of hardship and horror, and provided just enough of an offset to keep him sane.

Had it been worth it? Na Pali was still a war zone, and perhaps the Nali themselves were in a worse position than ever now they were caught between both the Necris and the newcomer humans of Inuit corporation. Anger gripped Marcus as he thought of Myscha and the others - they had met through freak chance in the aftermath of the Kran disaster, but the four years that had followed had changed both him and them. Now he didnt even know where they were, or if they were even still alive.

He didn't know if Luthienne was still alive either. Even if they denied him access he would find a way in, but the possibility that he would arrive on Ramiel only to discover he was too late was his worst fear. He was stuck here until the end of the Tournament, and his impotence grated on him.

The thought of Luthienne brought his eyes back to the bottom-right of the hologram, and the smiling young med-tech with her dark red hair brushed down one side of her face. How that face had changed in six years. His eyes flicked over to his own holographic self, shorter haired and with engineers insignia across the chest of his blue Inuit uniform. He didn't even recognise the young, unburdened face that looked out of the picture at him, the face of a man who worried about little beyond the next mission, and had already made plans to revisit Luthienne's homeworld of Mar Sara along with Tom and Lu when their next shore leave rolled around. His eyes scanned across all the other familiar faces - the XO Keith Dallas, grinning like an idiot, and in contrast the sober, controlled face of the captain Mikael Leatham. Tami Carter, their Alpha Centauri-born friend from the science and research department. Kira Argmanov - Marcus remembered she had been engaged to petty officer Nikolai Onalopov at the time of the crash. Tom Reynor, standing between Luthienne and the ship's dockmaster, Ivan Romanov. The Marcus Fantom in the picture was as dead as they all were.

I'm still here, Marcus thought savagely, and I'm not going to give up.

He reached out to touch the hologram, blurring the image of Luthienne's face as his fingertips passed through the immaterial hologram.

<How much longer are you going to continue this pointless exercise?> Lune snapped to her brother, who was once again hunched over his computer terminal pursuing his covert research.

It was the day before the Battleclaws next match, and it was an important one because it would be one of their final games of the first heat, after which their progress or disqualification from the Tournament's next phase would be decided. To Lune the thought of failing at the first hurdle was unthinkable, and she was frustrated that their agent had been unable to secure them another Tournament team to practise against, instead relying once again on Liandri's sub-par stable of gladiators. At this crucial stage of the Tournament keeping her team sharp was critical, and they needed the challenge of a coherent team more than a random rabble of humans.

<You seem to be forgetting to put your clan first.> she added savagely as Koda failed to reply. Koda snapped round in his seat at the grave insult.

<You should know better than to question my devotion to the Battleclaw clan, sister,> he growled, making it clear that he felt she had overstepped the mark, <The honour of our tribe is all that concerns me, and if our clan has been wrongfully slandered then I want hard evidence to to show to the cabinet.>

Lune sighed, looking past Koda out of the hab-block's transparisteel window and found little in the bustling, ugly campus with its blocky grey buildings and garish lights to lift her mood. She longed for the sight of her homeworld, but knew she was honour-bound not to return there until her duty was done. She thought of her father, trying to draw inspiration and find the right words to smooth the troubled waters between her and Koda.

<Why are we really here. Lune?> Koda asked, fixing the Battleclaw commander with his sharp intelligent eyes.

<Before our first match you reminded me why we were here - to bring honour to our clan. Whatever the truth of the matter is, the fact remains that the Battleclaws have lost face among the other tribes. Anything we try to present to the elders will be worthless if we do not regain their respect by proving ourselves in this human Tournament first.>

<Truth is the guardian of honour,> Koda growled, quoting an old Serelian maxim.

<Please don't make me pull rank on you, Koda,> said Lune seriously, <If truth is the guardian, so is trust.>

She touched Koda's neck with her claw, brushing the fur aside from the scar concealed there.

<I can do this without you, but I'd much rather not.>

Koda did not answer, but he got up and padded over to the door to join their team-mates downstairs.

*   *   *

<Swiftpaw, Nyantooth, circle round to the left,> Koda's voice barked over the team radio, relaying Lune's orders, <Blackfoot, Fantom, go right and take the high ground.>

Marcus sprinted through the training arena's maze of passageways to get into position. It seemed that Koda had finally relented and agreed to rejoin the team proper. Marcus had noticed the icy interactions between the team commander and her brother, but had not been able to figure out what it had been about. Granted he was wrapped up in his own worries about the Tournament and what would come after, but from what Aino had told him none of the other Alitans seemed to know what to make of the feud either. They did however seem noticeably galvanised by the return of both their leaders.

<Come on, Mushroom!> Nokoni roared, his teeth bared in a hungry grin as he bounded off ahead of the human.

Marcus dropped into position on the first floor balcony and shouldered his ASMD, covering the open area below.

<Hostiles inbound on your position, coming up through the western corridors.>

<Copy that.>

Marcus shifted aim to cover the approach vector. He found himself getting more and more uneasy with every training match that Lune put them through. He hadn't had time to review the Liandri datalinks before the game, to find out the story behind the latest group of gladiators that their agent had pitted them against. Would not knowing who his opponents were make killing them easier? On Na Pali, a Necris was just a Necris - soldier or assassin, male or female it didn't matter, it was kill or be killed. How much difference was there? Wasn't it worth it to do what he needed to do?

Marcus had learned long ago to push such thoughts to the back of his mind in battle. He had had to make much harder decisions in the past, and knew that when the time came he would pull the trigger just like every other time. The mixture of fear and exhilaration would take over, and he would kill. And just like every other time, the aftermath wouldn't be any easier.

He put a searing blue energy bolt through the chest of the first gladiator to appear. Nokoni roared a Solstice warcry and leapt from the balcony into the melee below, racking the slide on his shotgun as he fell. Left alone on the balcony, Marcus continued to track and fire and kill. He cursed as he missed his intended target - a female gladiator in a plain Liandri jumpsuit. She had only been visible for a split second before she disappeared into cover. He ejected the empty shock core from his hissing weapon and seized the new one that had just been teleported in for him, but in the time it had taken him to slam the core home the gladiator had broken cover again and sprinted away unnoticed by Nokoni. This time he got a better glimpse of her, and saw that her face was pale from shock underneath her dark red hair.

The impossible thought hit him like a hammer.

He hadn't seen her face. It was impossible, but he had to be sure.

< Kick in scene music - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSYYEDXaGo0 >

Without thinking, Marcus put one hand on the balcony and vaulted over. He landed badly on the hard metal of the deck below, rolling to break his fall but still twisting his ankle painfully. He gritted his teeth, pushed the pain to the back of his mind and half staggered half sprinted to the open corridor that led out of the central chamber.

<Mushroom?> Nokoni called out from amongst the savaged bodies of three Liandri gladiators, <Where the hell are you going?>

Marcus didn't hear him. As he entered the corridor he saw a brief flash of movement as someone darted through a door on the left wall. He sprinted after the gladiator, stealth forgotten. He still carried his ASMD but it hung loosely in his hands as he ran. Another gladiator came briefly into view as he sprinted across an intersection ahead. He didn't notice Marcus, and Marcus let him go. His vision had narrowed to one point, one target, all his self-taught combat experience forgotten and irrelevant.

He skidded slightly as he turned down the brightly-lit side corridor, and was just in time to see the red-haired female gladiator dart right through another door. Marcus ran after her, dull riveted metal flashing past on either side of him. He reached the doorway and threw himself through it, with no suppressing fire and no thought given to cover. There were two entrances to the room - the one he had come in by and a second corridor that looped back to the main intersection they had run through earlier. The gladiator whirled as she realised she had backed herself into a corner, and as he skidded into the room Marcus saw her face for the first time.

"Lu...Luthienne?"

Her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes were wild and dilated with panic. Her auburn hair was clean and neat but the way it sat about her head seemed slightly incongruous, as if it had been brushed and ponytailed by someone else. She gripped an M32 assault rifle so tightly to her chest that her knuckles were white. Marcus was still staring in shock, his own weapon forgotten in his hands, as Luthienne snapped up the M32 and blew his head apart.

*   *   *

Marcus stumbled off the respawning pad, his mind still reeling. He immediately began running, not even bothering to pick up the shock rifle that had teleported in front of him. His foot clipped it as he sprinted past, sending the sleek gun spinning away across the floor.

<Fantom!> Lune's voice was crackling in his ear, <Fantom, where are you? Report!>

Marcus tore the microbead out of his ear. He felt as if he was dreaming. The light that swam over the arena, distorted by the flickering shield overhead as it shone down into the open-topped level, added to the surreal feeling. He found Luthienne again in the same room, backed up against the wall with her gun barrel darting rapidly between the two entrances. The split second it took her to react to Marcus as he burst into the room for a second time allowed him to tackle her to the floor, bullets whining over his head. Luthienne struggled and screamed, kicking out at Marcus as her M32 clattered away across the floor. Marcus finally succeeded in pinning her underneath him, his heart breaking with the effort. He caught her left hand in his right, seeing the thin scar slashed across her palm and feeling the matching scar on his right hand burn. He seized her hand in a vice-like grip, touching the two scars together. Luthienne still struggled. Her terrified eyes didn't seem to be looking at Marcus, but through him - she didn't recognise him at all. Marcus tried to form words, but they caught in his throat and he had to try again.

"I must not fear," he finally whispered. Luthienne wasn't even screaming any more, just fighting Marcus with the feral strength of one fighting for their life. She battered at the black plates of his Alitan armour, trying to twist away from him and free her hand but he held on tight. He held on even as Luthienne wrenched her other arm free and closed her hand around the tarydium knife at his back.

"I must not fear," Marcus repeated, more forcefully. He felt the knife hiss out of its scabbard, but then he saw Luthienne's lips move.

"Fear is the mind-killer..." she said, her voice the barest whisper. Abruptly her struggles slowed and stopped, like a clockwork toy finally winding down.

"I will face my fear." Marcus whispered.

"I will let it pass through me." Luthienne replied, and the shimmering blue blade she had been about to stab into Marcus' back dropped to the metal deck.

"And when the fear is gone there will be nothing - only I will remain."

Luthienne's eyes cleared, focussing on Marcus for the first time. Still too in shock to feel almost anything Marcus looked down at her, his hair falling into his eyes and his face scratched with bloody welts from Luthienne's nails.

"Marcus..." Luthienne stammered, and then seemed to just collapse in his arms.

Claws clicking quietly against metal made Marcus turn. It was Lune, who looked both confused and angry. Marcus released a still shaking Luthienne and stood.

"Stop the match!" he yelled, looking up through the heat-haze shimmer of the energy shield surrounding the arena towards the games master's box overlooking them, "Stop the ****ing match!"

He moved to put himself between Luthienne and the incredulous Battleclaw commander, his arms spread protectively.

(Just a bit of fun :) lol)

"Do not stop the match!"  Lune growled at the game master box, her cold glare drilling into Marcus.  "What the hell do you think your doing Phantom?!"

The three of them turned to the 2^nd door leading to the main intersection as a man from the gladiators team ran in, raising his gun to fire at Marcus, not seeing Lune from his angle. Marcus didnt have a chance to react from the man entering and disappearing in a haze of blood as a bullet from Lunes pistol racketed his head back.

Marcus turned back to the Serelian commander who was checking the bullets left in her magazine, "You have to stop this match, I cant let anything happen to Lu!"  Marcus yelled at the feline

Lune glanced at the red-haired female peering past Marcus, her face was etched with fear, she wasnt a fighter.  "Phantom, she is our prey.  Move aside."  Lune only had one bullet left in her current magazine.  Marcus didnt move, Im ordering you to step aside, now move.  Marcus shook his head.

<What the hells going on over there?> Kodas voice appeared in Lunes ear

<The human isnt behaving himself!> Nokoni retorted with a howl of laughter as he tore down another gladiator.

"She is not your prey, she hasn't even attacked you!  Killing her won't bring you any honor!  She's not even supposed to be here!"

"Move aside."  Lune said a final time after a short pause.

oo0oo

"Sir, what do you want me to do?"  One of the controllers of the match asked from his seat in the front row of computers that handled the match.

"The BC commander doesnt want it stopped, so dont stop it.  Besides, this will get some great ratings.  Nothing like a fight between team-mates."  The supervisor said with a smile.

"This is a training match, its not live."  The controller said quietly.

"Maybe not, but it is being recorded."

oo0oo

Frustrated with Marcus lack of cooperation, Lune raised her gun and aimed it at him cutting him off mid-sentence as he yelled for the match to be terminated.  <Your willingness to die for this human is cowardly, but since your just going to respawn, it just makes you an idiot.>  Lune pulled the trigger; the point blank bullet tore through Marcus despite the armour and exited his back.  Marcus staggered back a step and turned to see Luthienne fall and disapear before he too fell to his knees and respawned breathing deep for air.

"Now you can stop the match."  Lune holstered her weapon.

oo0oo

"Oh, ouch that was harsh."  The supervisor and his colleges laughed, Lets get them out of there then.  "This fights over."

The Underdog wrote:

---

Yay things are getting real interesting! But ur stopping there! *Jumps up and down* I want to get on with the story!

---

LOL Some people are never satisfied...ah well, here you go:


"Let me get this straight," said the Liandri executive, a stocky woman called Sutherland with straight blonde hair and an unsympathetic attitude, "You want to resign from the Battleclaws and start your own team? Even if we release your share of the team funds, it won't be enough to buy professional players even if you could convince them to join a new team this late in the Tournament."

"That's alright," Marcus said, tossing a data slate across the desk towards her, "I've already picked out my team."

"Only three?" Sutherland said pointedly, glancing over it, "You'll be screwed if one of you gets injured. And what about the larger matches? You'll need at least one more member."

"Those arent compulsory until phase 3 of the tournament. We'll have won enough matches to get the money together to buy another player by then."

"This is all very irregular, and very risky," the executive said, steepling her fingers, "See this from my point of view Mr Fantom. Why the hell should I risk money sponsoring your team?"

"I know what I'm doing," Marcus replied, "You'll get your return on this, don't worry."

"Have a look at his match records," the Battleclaws' agent put in on Marcus' behalf, "He's already proved that he can fight."

"He might have," the executive replied, skimming the data slate again, "But what the hell is this? I understand that gladiators are probably all you can afford Mr Fantom, but you haven't even requested some of our more lethal ones!"

"Those are my selections," Marcus persisted, "Just leave the rest to me."

"I need more than your assurances, Fantom!" Sutherland snapped.

"Ma'am," the Battleclaw agent said, leaning close to whisper to the seated executive, "We could stand to get a lot of publicity out of this."

"There's not enough potential reward for the risk and effort," Sutherland hissed back, "We'll have to reorganise the match timetables, pay for advertising on top of everything else, and if they don't qualify then we'll have thrown Liandri money away. And the boss," she added in a low voice, "Will not be happy about that."

"We don't have to pay for any serious advertising until it's off the ground and we can gauge how it goes. And even if this does crash and burn, who cares? The ratings boost from the split in the Cats' team will more than recoup the start-up costs. So if this does work we could be looking at major profits."

Sutherland held the man's gaze for a second, then turned back to Marcus.

"Alright Fantom, make it happen. If you can get this new team together and prove yourselves in the last few matches before the second phase starts then you'll have our backing. If not..."

The threat in that unfinished sentence weighed on Marcus as he was escorted to the security wing. After passing through several security checkpoints that checked both his card ID and his retina scan he explained his business to the Liandri supervisor, who had two Angels lead him down a lift that opened into a long corridor.

It was uncomfortably bright in the corridor, throwing the featureless walls and floor into stark relief. On either side were rows of plasma-gated cells, and Marcus tried to ignore their occupants who glowered up at him as he passed. Some of them were alien; others just not entirely human.

"Marcus Fantom."

The low, sinister voice made Marcus snap round to look at the cell on his right. A pale shadow clad in a black jumpsuit rose from its seat, black hair framing a chiselled, handsome face with flat white eyes that bored into Marcus like searchlights. Marcus felt an involuntary chill - the last time he had seen those eyes had been as his vision faded to black with the pure freezing agony of two Necris daggers between his ribs. The eyes were as devoid of expression and humanity as they had been last time.

"I have nothing to say to you," he told the Phayder, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"I was never on Gryphon IV," Azazeal said, his tone soft, almost conversational, "But I did hear of the little uprising you started. Quite impressive for two humans and a rabble of Nali to cause so much trouble. And yet I found myself somewhat disappointed when I came face to face with you in the arena."

Azazeal began to pace up and down the cell, his head turning to keep his beacon eyes fixed on Marcus as he walked. He moved with a slow, hypnotic grace that made it look almost like he was walking in half gravity. Marcus clenched his jaw; he found everything about the Necris unnerving. A Ghost had never spoken to Marcus before, certainly not in his own language.

"You'll die here," Marcus growled at him, covering some of his fear with anger. A flicker of a smile crossed Azazeal's face in response.

"This cell won't hold me forever," he said, "But for now, what better way to pass the time than killing humans in this Tournament?"

Marcus stared into the Phayder's inhuman eyes, as if he could burn the alien with the force of his will. Without any warning Azazeal darted forward, crossing the cell in a split-second and reappearing right in front of Marcus, his teeth bared in a predatory snarl. In spite of the plasma force-field between them, Marcus instinctively jumped backwards in shock. Azazeal froze a centimetre behind the energy barrier, and again the sinister smile flickered across his face before melting away just as quickly.

"I'll be seeing you," he whispered.

Marcus turned in disgust and began to stride down the corridor. The heads of Azazeal and the other Necris in the cells around him turned to follow Marcus as he walked away.

"Give my regards to Diego Turner," Azazeal called out as Marcus reached the steel doors at the end of the corridor and strode through as a guard parted them before him without looking back.

*   *   *

Marcus didn't know what to make of the Phayder's parting comment. Shaken by the close encounter, he took a second to compose himself and push the Twilight Wraiths to the back of his mind before addressing the two armed Angels on the other side of the security door.

"I have a release order here for gladiators 624, 327 and 289. They've been drafted into a new team."

After double-checking Marcus' authorisation, the Angels led Marcus to the three cells in turn. The first one they reached was Luthienne's, and as soon as the plasma gate was deactivated Marcus ran forward and swept her into his arms. He squeezed her tight, putting months of isolation and regret into that one embrace. She hugged him back, and for a good minute Marcus just held her wordlessly, not wanting to ever let go of her again.

But there was a lot more to be done yet, and within ten more minutes Marcus was sitting across the table from Gideon Flintlock and the Khemrian girl Tajheri in one of the security wing's spartan interrogation chambers. Marcus had made a point of asking the Liandri Angels to give them privacy, and the three of them were alone.

The two gladiators regarded Marcus curiously. They saw a tall, hard-faced man in black trousers and a short-sleeve collared shirt of black cotton, unbuttoned to the breastbone. His eyes were dark and expressive, showing a complicated mix of having borne more than their fair share of cares, but glittering with the willpower to carry on regardless. This was not the world-weary, cynical Marcus Fantom that the Battleclaws had found on Acheron; this was the focussed and determined Marcus Fantom who had galvanised the Nali into resistance against the Necris on Na Pali. Tajheri looked at him with a guarded expression of distrust on her face. The miner, Gideon Flintlock, sat with his muscular tattooed arms folded on the table in front of him, and his expression was unreadable. But then, his kind of person was always inscrutable - right up until the moment they chose to act.

Marcus leaned forward in his chair, and his face softened as he addressed them.

"I've called you here to make you an offer."

Flintlock looked back at him levelly, "What kind of an offer?"

His voice was gravelly, with the slight accent of someone from the inner colonies, possibly Alpha Centauri, or maybe even Earth. Life was hard on the once-verdant cradle of mankind, and although it was home to some of the NEG's richest citizens, it also housed some of its poorest. Many left the overpopulated homeworld to find work and better prospects elsewhere, but though some colonies - like the New Anglian Confederation planet of Mar Sara, or the Eastern Alliance world of Xingdao - were prosperous enough, those who sought out new homes on the frontier were quickly disillusioned by the harsh conditions in a sector of feuding corporations, minimal NEG control and the lurking threat of Necris raiders.

"I want to offer you both a place on my team," Marcus said.

Flintlock snorted a humourless laugh, "Now why would you want to do that?"

"Because neither of you deserve to be here."

Marcus laid a data slate down on the table, the PDA's green-lit screen displaying both of the Liandri gladiators' profiles.

"I'm not buying this line about volunteer."

"Is that what they're calling it," the miner grunted, "I guess I did volunteer, but only because I believed that lying bastard Ross Liandri who came round the mining colony promising us a way to make quick money. Didn't exactly work out the way he told it. Tried to get out but they pulled out some small print that Mr Liandri failed to mention, and when I persisted they turned nasty. Now I don't have a hope in hell of getting out of here and all I've got to show for it's an empty bank account and getting my face smashed in ten times a day in the arena."

"That's what I'm here to offer you. A way out."

"Liandri made it sound that simple too."

"Yeah, and why would you want someone like me?" Tajheri joined in, speaking for the first time. She wore the same defiant expression as when Marcus had disarmed her in the training arena, and Marcus could tell that that incident was on her mind right now, "I'm no fighter. What does a team captain want with someone who doesn't fight?"

"Because neither of you should be stuck here in the gladiator habs. Liandri's pulling anyone it can in to make up the numbers and it's little better than slavery. And I have strong opinions on slavery."

"You know, to look at you I didn't think you'd be such a wide-eyed idealist," snorted Flintlock, "What the hell you're doing in the Tourney I'll never know. There's not much room for idealism here. That's the kind of crap that suckers people out to the frontier and into Liandri in the first place."

"As for being able to fight," Marcus went on, "Neither I or the Nali knew how to fight either. You'd be surprised what conviction and experience can do, after a little training."

"Wait a minute," said Flintlock slowly, "You're that guy from Gryphon IV. The guy who stayed alive for four years on a planet crawling with Ghosts."

Marcus nodded. Flintlock leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Tajheri's eyes opened a little wider.

"I don't want to be here either," Marcus said, "But with your help I can get us all out. It won't be easy, but we can do it."

"Sounds better than this dead end," Flintlock replied. Marcus nodded. He'd had his own dead end on Acheron, and knew how easy it was to fall into despair, but also knew how much hope and determination it could bring to discover a way out.

"You can really get us out of here?" Tajheri asked.

Marcus fixed her with an intense stare, which she returned levelly.

"I didn't give up on Lu, I didn't give up on the Nali, and I won't give up on you."

Rather than Pops' bar, Diego deliberately picked a pub where he was less well known for him and Tajheri to sit down and talk. Once he had paid for their drinks on his Liandri ID card, Diego took Tajheri over to a corner table and sat down opposite her, reclining easily in his chair and sipping his drink.

"So what's your story then?" he asked, leaning forward across the table.

"Not much to tell really," Tajheri replied, toying with her glass, "I was born in Theros on Khemri, if you know the planet."

"I know it," Diego said, nodding, "So your parents were Nahk'ti?"

The girl snorted derisively, "Hardly. They worked for Izanagi corporation, and when my mother was still pregnant with me they got sent to help establish a mining colony on some rock in the Eden system."

Diego frowned, "That's awfully close to Nahk'ti space."

"Exactly. The Nahk'ti decided they wanted mining rights to the same moon. Well you can guess what happened. Our outpost was defended by a detachment of Izanagi's Ghost Warrior mercenaries, but the Nahk'ti Desert Legion rolled right over them. The colonists had no choice but to surrender. The Nahk'ti did what they always do to prisoners of war - took them back to Khemri as slaves."

"Wait a minute," Diego said, "I heard about that. There was outrage because Izanagi made no attempt to recover the colonists. They were too afraid of pissing off the Nahk'ti."

Tajheri nodded, "They sacrificed us."

"So your parents were taken along with the others?"

"And my mother was still pregnant with me at the time. Problem is, slaves on Khemri have few rights and being allowed to have children isn't one of them. I was taken away from them and moved to another slave hab on the other side of Theros."

"What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Tajheri shrugged. Her voice was neutral, almost indifferent, as if she were merely reciting events that had happened to somebody else, "I never knew them. I never knew any of this first-hand. Some of the other slaves had been part of the Izanagi expedition, and they took me in. They told me when I was old enough. I don't remember my parents, and none of the slaves that raised me knew them personally, so I don't even know my own surname. Hell, I only know my own first name because of this."

She shook her sleeve back from her right wrist to show Diego a simple bracelet. It was a crude thing really, just roughly fashioned wooden beads threaded together on a frayed piece of string that looked like it had been retied several times. Each of the gnarled beads was etched with a letter, so that together they spelled out the name 'Tajheri'.

"Apparently my parents gave me this when I was born...right before the Nahk'ti took me away."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Diego said, his words heartfelt.

"It's alright, like I said I never knew them. I don't need or want anybody's pity. You have to learn to look after yourself pretty quick if you want to survive on Khemri."

A slight smile crossed Diego's face, "Alright then, I completely respect that."

"When I turned 4 I was sold on to the Reydi family, one of the Nahk'ti noble houses. I worked for them for 12 years."

"Must have been hard for you."

Tajheri shrugged, "Some of the slaves just wanted to keep their heads down and stay out of trouble. Others, like me, kept trying to find a way to escape. We knew no-one was coming to get us."

The smile began to creep up Diego's face again, "I take it you succeeded."

"I was always very good at sneaking. I could move silently and hide just about anywhere. Sometimes I'd break into the kitchens and steal extra food for the others. They thought I was the only one who had a ghost of a chance of escaping, so they helped me. The first time I tried the Reydi guards caught me. The overseer beat me half to death for that."

Diego frowned, finding he had more and more in common with this girl with everything she said. He looked closely at her and noticed for the first time the slightly asymmetrical set of her eyebrows, as if the ridge of bone over her left eye had been broken and had set imperfectly. He looked down thoughtfully at the scars on his own arms.

"I had to wait years for a second chance," Tajheri went on, "But when it came the other slaves helped me escape my quarters and this time I made it out of the palace without being seen. I was on the run all night, but the city of Theros was easy enough for me to lose myself in. I hid out at the spaceport and managed to sneak aboard a Nahk'ti courier vessel the next day. I jumped ship when they got to Dargaard and thought I was safe."

"And then?"

Tajheri sighed, leaning back in her seat, "And then it all went to ****. When I got picked up by Izanagi police and tried to seek refuge with them they offered me straight back to the Nahk'ti, thinking that harbouring an escaped slave would strain relations. So that's the second time that bastard company's betrayed me."

She laughed bitterly.

"Bloody hell." Diego said.

"Lucky for me the Reydi didn't want the public embarrassment of an escaped slave, so they pretended I'd never got off-world in the first place and told Izanagi to make me disappear. They thought the best way to do that was to sell me to Liandri as an arena gladiator - which is just another way of saying slave. So I was out of one prison, straight into another."

"****..." Diego said quietly, but then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "But I'll bet all you did was start planning how to break out of here too."

Tajheri grinned, "Damn right. I wasn't classified as a dangerous prisoner, so they let me out of the security wing twice a week. But even during that time it'd be difficult as hell to get out - this campus is a fortress."

"They're pretty paranoid about their security around here. Firstly because they've got some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy running around in the Tourney, and secondly because they've got a lot of other stuff to hide too."

Tajheri looked at him, "And what would you know about that?"

"Ah ah ah," Diego grinned boyishly, "The deal was I buy you a drink, you tell me your story, and then I tell you mine. What happened next? Apart from the bit where you punched me, we can leave out that part."

Tajheri almost laughed despite herself, "As it turned out I didn't have to do anything. A guy called Fantom came into the security wing a few days ago and drafted me along with two other gladiators for his team."

"Fantom...Marcus Fantom?"

"That's him."

"Yeah, thought I recognised the name.  He was in the news today."

Diego thumbed the data slate that a previous patron had discarded on the table, and it lit up with a holographic article with a picture of Marcus Fantom in one corner, snarling at the camera. It was clearly a still frame from an arena holocam taken out of context, but it provided suitable accentuation to the title banner "**** your Tournament!" that dominated the top of the page.

"You guys caused quite a stir," Diego commented, "Very unusual to split from your team and try and start another at this stage of the Tourney."

"He's an unusual guy," Tajheri replied, "Four years on a Necris planet made him hard as nails but it also gave him some funny ideas. And he doesn't know when to give up."

"You can talk," Diego observed mildly.

"Alright. But just coming for us, me and Gideon specifically, out of the blue - I still can't figure out why he did it. But I've got to be grateful to him."

She reached into her back pocket for a laminated piece of plastic that she flicked across the table at Diego. He pulled it towards him and recognised it as a Liandri ID card.

"I'm an official competitor now. Fantom bought us off Liandri so technically he now owns us, but since we no longer belong to the company we're free to go at the end of the Tournament. Well, as long as we do well enough to recoup the costs..."

"So where are you going to go once you're out?"

"I honestly have no idea, but I'm focussing on the here and now."

Diego nodded appreciatively.

"So what about you?" Tajheri asked suddenly. Her face had returned to its neutral mask, but there was a slight edge of interest in her voice, "What's your story?"

As soon as the flash of the teleporter had faded Marcus scanned the rocky cavern, which was dimly lit by shielded lamps around the walls. It was indeed almost exactly like his first arena, except this one had two more tunnels linking the caverns at either end, providing alternatives to the direct route through the central cavern. His eyes took in the terrain at a glance - firing lanes, cover, hiding spots. He noted a raised track of rock on one side that gave a good vantage point and dismissed it - it gave good coverage of the central cavern but if Raw Steel were good, and he had no reason to believe they weren't, they might spot it early and the raised platform offered no real cover or room to dodge. And once they had spotted it the first time they would keep an eye on it.

"Whats the plan?" Gideon asked.

"Hold here and let them come to us," Marcus replied. It was a plan that surrendered the initiative, but Marcus didn't want to charge in until he knew fully what he was dealing with. And from what he'd read, Slain and Raw Steel favoured an aggressive playing style. He could count on them to make the first move.

"They won't take the central tunnel," Luthienne said, "We'd be able to see them coming from further away, and they've all got short-range weapons."

"And they won't all come down the same tunnel in case they get held up,"
Marcus agreed, "Lu, you and 'Heri take the right tunnel. Gideon, you and me'll take the left."

They split up and took cover in positions where they could see as far as possible along the two curving side-tunnels. Marcus hung back slightly while Gideon sprinted into position - if they were wrong about the central tunnel, he wanted to be able to see enough to react in time.

But Luthienne's instincts proved good. The distinctive staccato whine of Gideon's stinger rang out, followed almost immediately by the bark of an automatic, forcing Gideon back behind his rock.

"Two!" Gideon shouted. Bullets on semi auto continued to stipple the rock, keeping his head down. Suppressing fire - that meant the second man would be advancing. Marcus darted forward. A larger section of tunnel came into view ahead as he came out low, just as one of the Raw Steel contenders - Bruce Desloc, Marcus remembered from the datalinks - stood up to come forward and close down Gideon. He probably knew from Gideon's shout that there was another Returned player nearby, but he could not adjust his aim faster than Marcus could pull his trigger. Marcus' shot caught him square in the chest, burning a hole through his solar plexus, but the second man's reflexes were fast. It was Slain, and Marcus cursed himself for not identifying him earlier by his semi-automatic pistol fire. Marcus dived aside as soon as he saw Slain's eyes turn towards him, and he still only just avoided the single pistol shot that tore a puff of dust from the cavern floor behind him, exactly in line with where his head had been. Gideon broke cover, stinger spitting. Despite the surprise attack, Slain managed to bring his gun round and fire at exactly the same time as Gideon.

Slain's bullet struck Gideon in the forehead, blowing a large piece of his skull out against the back wall. Three of Gideon's tarydium shards struck Slain in the chest, the blue crystal slivers throwing him back into the cave wall. The beam of Marcus' shock rifle vaporised his face before he had even come to rest. Not wanting to take chances, Marcus looked around for Desloc as Slain's body disintegrated but the second Raw Steel soldier had vanished - the first shot had obviously been fatal.

The whole encounter had lasted perhaps 10 seconds. Marcus heard a cracking and popping of gunfire from the other tunnel, interspaced with the distinctive chatter of a TCA combat assault rifle snarling in short bursts. That would be Luthienne - her weapon of choice was the shock rifle, but their Liandri agents had forced her to make do with the more common CAR. Marcus doubted that she couldn't put down fast-moving targets just as efficiently with the high-velocity automatic as she could with an ASMD.

"Lu, report?" Marcus shouted into his team radio.

"Two targets, one down. Dahrl came charging right in and we nailed him. Krige is falling back up the tunnel. You?"

That meant the Returned were 3-1 ahead from the first skirmish.

"Two targets down, Gideon's out."

"Right with you," Gideon's voice crackled, and the muscular ex-miner came running to rejoin Marcus.

"Push up?" Luthienne asked.

"Slowly."

The central cavern was still clear, and Marcus and Luthienne let their less experienced team members head into it first while they hung back to counter any second push through the side tunnels. Then they regrouped and started forward. Marcus and Gideon covered either flank - the side tunnels intersected the central cave by alcoves at several points and Marcus was wary of an attack from either side.

An assault rifle barked ahead of them. The Returned ducked for the nearest cover, Tajheri and Gideon both sheltering behind a thick pillar of rock that rose up to meet the ceiling, while Marcus ducked behind a jutting slab of rock on one wall. Luthienne, furthest back, crouched in a rock formation behind him. She and Gideon returned fire but were almost immediately forced to duck back by accurate shots from Desloc and Slain, softer rock disintegrating under the bullet impacts. Then Marcus was horrified to see Dahrl spin out low in one of the side tunnel alcoves.  Marcus swore in horror. Crouched behind the central pillar, Gideon reloading while Tajheri with her shorter-ranged shotgun kept her head down, his two team-mates were protected from fire to their front but not to the side.

Dahrl pulled the trigger and held it down, and the long burst of fire got them both. Gideon vanished almost immediately, Tajheri choked on blood for a few seconds before dying soundlessly and dematerialising. A split-second too late Marcus raised his ASMD and fired, narrowly missing his target and burning a glowing hole in the rock wall. Marcus swore but bit down on his anger as Dahrl flattened himself against the alcove wall to reload, putting him out of Marcus' line of sight before he had a chance to fire again. He didn't get a second chance - the first shot had given away his position. As he shifted sideways to get a better view of the alcove and try for another snap shot at Dahrl while he was still reloading, a bullet ricocheting off the rock beside his head made him shrink back.

Marcus swore again. After coming under fire from Marcus, Dahrl would probably relocate. Marcus and Luthienne needed to fall back to avoid being flanked, but the Raw Steel team weren't giving them the chance. They were fast, deadly and professional, communicating by radio and rapid hand-signals while they set down cover fire for each other to take up new firing positions and close down the two survivors. A shell from Krige's flak cannon exploded against the other side of the jutting rock, sending chips of stone flying off the other side. They scythed into Marcus' face and chest, knocking him down. He fell into the open and saw Raw Steel advancing quickly down the cavern, firing from the shoulder as they went. Luthienne almost started towards Marcus as she saw him fall, but bit her lip and stayed in cover. Gritting his teeth against the pain Marcus managed to fire off one shot from prone, a single unaimed shot fired one-handed that went well wide. A single shot was all Slain allowed him, and as the Raw Steel leader levelled his pistol Marcus' vision turned blood-red.

*   *   *

Marcus respawned on a teleporter pad on the other side of the arena. After Raw Steel had wiped them out and over-run their position, the games master must have switched their starting sides to prevent Raw Steel covering their spawn points.

Bloody hell! Marcus swore to himself, We just got annihilated!

On Na Pali they would probably have retreated. In the Tournament however there was nowhere to run to. Then fight back, Marcus snapped at himself, adapt. Fear is the mind-killer.

"Regroup, north cavern!" Marcus barked into the team radio. Luthienne and Tajheri acknowledged, while Gideon materialised on the pad Marcus had just left with a growl of pain.

"You alright?" Marcus asked. The miner nodded curtly.

The two girls joined them and they regrouped. Tajheri didn't look so much dismayed as angry.

"Central tunnel?" Luthienne asked.

Marcus nodded agreement, "Lu, take 'Heri and flank them. Gideon, suppressing fire with me."

Ahead on points and thus with time on their side, Raw Steel had gone on the defensive and established a tight perimeter around the south cavern that had been the Returned's original base. He could see Dahrl and Slain in the central cavern, doubling back as they realised the team spawn-points had been switched.

"Two targets in the central cavern," Marcus reported into the team radio.

The two targets opened fire but Marcus resisted the urge to duck for cover straight away - at the other end of the long cavern they were beyond their opponents' effective range. Marcus ran forward obliquely, presenting a fast-moving target as bullets kicked up puffs of stone around him. As he reached the centre he could see along the whole length of the tunnel to the south cavern behind. Krige was atop the rocky ledge Marcus had seen at the very start, dominating the near side of the central cavern with his flak cannon. Marcus had anticipated his position, and as he had noted before there was no room to dodge. His long range ASMD shot took Krige's head off.

"Rearguard down." came Marcus' voice in Tajheri's earpiece as she sneaked ahead of Luthienne, hugging the cave wall. He had said earlier that they were engaging two in the central cavern, meaning that there couldn't be more than one free to cover the flanks. Tajheri took another step forwards, conscious of loose stones. Right now her life depended on her skills of silent movement as much as it had in her escape from the Reydi mansion in Theros.

Marcus' ASMD flashed again from the central cavern, the strobe of the energy beam reaching part of the tunnel ahead and temporarily lighting it up. Tajheri felt Luthienne touch her arm. She turned her head and the older woman mouthed one, left side, accompanying the silent communication with hand gestures. For a second Tajheri wondered how she had figured that out, then realised she must have seen a shadow flicker in the brief flash of light. Armed with this information, Tajheri took a deep breath and jumped out before Luthienne could stop her. Desloc was fast, but with Tajheri keeping low as Marcus and Luthienne had taught her he took an extra split second to adjust his aim downward. With the element of surprise and knowing where to aim before she moved, Tajheri got to the trigger first.

Her shotgun barked, and at point blank range the bullets tore a four-inch circle of Desloc's right chest into bloody shreds. A few even punched straight through and whined off rock behind him. Desloc went down hard and Luthienne, right behind Tajheri, finished him off with a burst to the face. She strafed round behind Tajheri to cover her from the far wall, her CAR pressed hard into her shoulder, ignoring the strands of dust- and sweat-streaked red hair that were falling into her eyes.

Slain and Dahrl had worked out that Gideon and Marcus had the range on them, and were trying to fall back. Hearing the shots on their left they realised they had been flanked, but as Dahrl turned to fire at the two girls he emerged slightly from cover. As he planted a foot forward to steady the aim of his automatic, Marcus shifted aim and shot his foot out from under him. Luthienne finished him off almost before he had hit the floor, but was driven back by Slain as he fired a trio of shots in her direction to cover his retreat. The third one struck her right in the heart. She staggered, looking more surprised than hurt. She blinked once, and fell.

Not realising that shed been hit, Marcus and Gideon came sprinting forward.

"Man down!" shrieked Tajheri.

Fighting his shock, Marcus had to make a snap decision. Raw Steel were good, and if they gave them a moments respite they would organise an ambush or counterattack.

"Follow up!" he yelled, ejecting the shock core from his rifle and grabbing a reload on the run.

The Returned headed into the south tunnel after Slain, pressing their advantage. Marcus and Gideon took point. Having surveyed this half of the arena at the start of the match, Marcus could guess where a rearguard, if any, would be taking cover. He fired a couple of ASMD bolts to keep their heads down as Gideon advanced - it announced their presence, but the time for stealth was over.

Once again, Raw Steel demonstrated their professionalism. Not only had Desloc hung back to cover Slain's retreat, he had not been fooled by Marcus' unaimed covering fire. He spun out low, firing on full auto. Marcus moved as soon as Desloc began to emerge, and still he only just dived out of his line of fire, hitting the ground hard. Gideon, protected from the shots by his position hugging the nearside wall, opened fire with his stinger and drove Desloc back into cover, tarydium shards glancing off the rocks with a sharp pinging sound. A fresh magazine of shards materialised beside Gideon and he lunged at the reload; the second Gideon's fire ceased, Desloc broke cover to return fire. In the same second, the ice-blue beam of Marcus' ASMD lanced through his neck. Gideon stood up to push forward.

It was only when he tried to leap to his feet that Marcus registered the pain in his side. He clutched at the sudden burn, and his fingers came away wet. It looked like Desloc's burst had got him after all. Suddenly he felt weak.

"I'm hit," he croaked.

"How bad?" Gideon replied.

Marcus grimaced, and pulled himself into a sitting position. He had a decent shot at anyone in the tunnel and most of the south cavern if Gideon was able to flush them from cover. He braced the ASMD against his shoulder.

"Can't move, but I'll cover you. Don't give them a chance to regroup - we only need 3 more to win."

Gideon nodded, let out a shout and ran forward. Krige broke cover to ambush him. Marcus fired. The bolt went slightly wide, hitting Krige in the arm rather than the chest, but it was enough to make him drop his flak cannon. As the man yelled out in pain, his finger tensed on the trigger and the deadly flachettes buried themselves in the rock wall well wide of Gideon. A second later and a hail of shards from Gideon's stinger impaled him, throwing him back and nailing him to the tunnel wall behind. His body quickly evanesced, leaving the crystal splinters transfixed in the rock.  More shots rang out, but this time it was from a location Marcus couldn't see from his current position.

"Dammit, where is she?" he cursed, gripping his wound tight with one hand, "Lu? 'Heri? Where are you?"

Slain whipped round as the muscular, tattooed member of the opposing team ran right into his line of fire. He aimed in less than a heartbeat and pulled the trigger once. It was going to be close. By his count the Returned were currently ahead 8-5, though that would close to 8-6 by the time he finished pulling the trigger. As a professional of two Tournaments, he had to admit that the Returned were putting up a good fight - he had seen Krige fall and Desloc was probably down too, meaning that for a few crucial seconds there was just him and his rearguard Dahrl to hold off the opposing team. He could hold the north tunnel, Dahrl just had to hold the south and he'd be able to organise a counterattack. But, come to think of it, where was Dahrl? He hadn't reported in.

Slain's gene-boosted brain worked much faster than that of an ordinary human, and he was able to process all these thoughts in the time it took to pull the trigger of his pistol. And so it was that even as the muzzle of his pistol flashed and Gideon jerked under the impact, he realised his error.

He was just beginning to turn as a long burst of CAR bullets punched into his back. Slain coughed blood and his vision tumbled as the ground rushed up to meet him.

*   *   *

"Score limit reached. The Returned win the match."

The artificial female voice rang out through the arena, projected from dozens of hidden speakers. Luthienne let out a sigh of relief and lowered her rifle as the Raw Steel player she had just shot disintegrated to nothing. She had wanted to respond to Marcus' call for a status report, but they had been too close to Dahrl at the time and it wouldn't have been safe to answer. Not until Tajheri, who had followed the newly-respawned Luthienne round the back route, had ambushed him, anyway. Tajheri stepped up next to Luthienne.

"We did it!" she gasped.

There was a bright glare on Luthienne's right, and Slain materialised atop the pulsing respawner pad. His gun seemed to leap from its holster into his hand as he spun round and pointed it between Luthienne's eyes.

"You are about to be teleported out of the arena. Put down your weapons immediately."

As the pre-recorded voice echoed through the arena a second time, the Raw Steel captain realised that he had lost. For a second he didn't move, gun levelled, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily through gritted teeth. Then he let his arm fall and, just before her vision whited out, Luthienne saw Slain dip his head in the slightest of nods to her as they were teleported out of the arena.

*   *   *

"Wheres Marcus?" Luthienne asked abruptly, looking around as Gideon and Tajheri materialised either side of her.

"He got hit," Gideon answered, "I dunno if he respawned."

On the other side of the forcefield the Raw Steel team filed out without a word, while a team of Liandri med-techs rushed into the Returned side of the antechamber through a security door. There was a fourth flash of light from the teleporter array, and they started forward and caught Marcus before he could topple over.

"Marcus!" Luthienne cried as Marcus, still clutching his side, was lowered onto an antigrav stretcher and quickly carried away. Marcus' jaw was clenched but he managed to catch Luthienne's eye and whisper "I'm okay, I'm okay..." as he vanished through the security door with the med-techs. It pistoned shut and locked behind them.

"Don't worry miss Thrace," the Liandri operator said from behind his console, sounding completely unconcerned, "Injuries of this kind are fairly common and our med-techs are the best - competitor recovery rate is 98%."

Luthienne stepped back, her left fist clenched tightly around the scar on her palm.

"Now," the technician continued, gesturing towards the armoury door, "If you would all kindly return your weapons..."

"See, I told you they could pull it off."

The Battleclaw agent's self-satisfied smirk made Sutherland grind her teeth as they walked side-by-side through the surveillance complex on their way to another meeting. Around them Liandri compu-techs worked away noisily at banks of computers, combining reports from Angel teams and skimmer patrols with live security feeds from across the campus to ensure that if any competitor was doing something they shouldnt they would know about it.

"We'll see how it goes," Sutherland replied, "If they make it through the rest of the qualifiers we'll know they're Tournament material. But we still haven't solved the problem of their fifth member."

Her companion shrugged, "Fantom knows. I'm sure he'll sort it out once their winnings are big enough to afford another player. He'll have all the gladiators and the disqualified teams to choose from."

"Make sure he does sort it out."

"I've got my hands full with the Battleclaws."

Sutherland stopped walking and turned to the other agent. Letting the Alitan team in through the loophole of including one human member had been at his urging as well. Other executives had praised his instincts, but Sutherland was always wary of spending corporate money on what she saw as hare-brained schemes. At the implication that his alien enterprise had fallen through, her eyes narrowed.

"Why? How are they?"

"Angry. To the point that they're more brutal than ever in their matches."

Sutherland looked at him carefully.

"Ratings are up, so you might say its a good thing. I would recommend keeping a closer eye on them though."

"The CEO never wanted those aliens in his Tournament in the first place..." Sutherland muttered.

"Sir?" one of the techs called across the room, pulling her headset down round her neck. As the security controller responded, Sutherland and the Battleclaws' agent wandered over curiously.

"What is it, DuGrae?" the controller was saying.

"We lost Alexandra Burke's trackers for a moment." DuGrae replied, frowning.

"How long?" the controller asked sharply.

"About two minutes. It seems to be transmitting fine now though."

"Glitch?" Sutherland suggested. DuGrae turned her head to look at the executive.

"Unlikely, ma'am. We also lost the entire Nature's Deadliest team over the same period."

The controller's eyes narrowed.

"Where are they now?"

DuGrae tapped keys, "Still in the Haven, apart from Turner."

She brought up a security camera feed that showed Diego walking away from the Haven, in the general direction of the recreation suites. As they watched he was joined by a female competitor who fell into step beside him.

"Who's that?"

DuGraes fingers danced over her keyboard a second time and a grid superimposed itself over the girl's face, cross-referencing with the Liandri datalinks and quickly scrolling an identification across the screen.

"Tajheri, surname unknown, until recently gladiator 327, now competing as part of team 849 'the Returned'." DuGrae read out.

The controller waved a hand dismissively, "He's taken a new girl back to the Haven pretty much every night of the Tournament."

Sutherland frowned. She didn't like the idea of Turner, a level 4 security competitor - only one level above necessitating confinement in the security wing - hanging around with members of a team that she was responsible for.

"Find out what caused the break in transmission," the controller was telling DuGrae, "And if there was anyone else present during the blackout I want to know who."

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you going?" the Battleclaw agent asked as Sutherland turned on her heel and began marching towards the door.

"To the mansion. I think Ross Liandri will want to know."

"Sir," DuGrae piped up, "It looks like Jerry Liandri and his personal guard of Angels were aboard the Haven at the time."

The controller smiled. So that was it. Liandri operatives sometimes manually turned off recording devices when they wanted to intimidate competitors and have the option of denying it later. Jerry had probably been putting Turner in his place for that level 2 fiasco. The CEO had already done so, and technically it was Ross Liandri's job to keep Turner in line, but a little off-the-record reinforcement couldn't hurt.

"It's alright, DuGrae. Jerry was probably reminding Turner of what we'll do to him if he doesn't toe the line. We'll log it, but don't take any further action right now."

"Sir."

DuGrae tapped another key, and Turner and his female companion disappeared from her screen.

*   *   *

Luthienne strode down the white corridors of the medical centre, walking fast. Their bitch of an agent hadn't so much as congratulated them on their victory - if anything she had seemed annoyed that with no replacement player Marcus' injury might impair their performance in the next qualifier two days from now. Luthienne hadn't wanted Sutherland's praise, but knowing there was one more person against them in this already hostile Tournament was hardly a comforting thought. She dismissed it - odds had never mattered to her. Liandri could throw what it wanted at them, she would do whatever it took. Marcus had once said that a true soldier had to be ruthless, had to want to kill. Acknowledging that fact, she knew, was what secretly terrified him. Luthienne was not a born soldier, but there was a part of her that had learned to be ruthless. What secretly terrified her was what had happened to her on Na Pali. Having once lost herself in the cold black oblivion that the nanoblack had irreparably scarred onto her mind, she was terrified to fall again. Marcus was her compass - their twin scars the light that led her out of the darkness and then held it at bay. He was more than her love, he was her soul too.

She brushed past a stony-faced Liandri Angel - there were fewer of them patrolling the medical centre but they were still present - and pushed open the door to one of the recovery rooms. Marcus was already sitting up in his bed, a slightly ironic smile on his face as Luthienne walked through the door as if he was amused at how quickly she had come.

"Hi Lu," he said, and it melted into a much warmer smile as he put out his free arm. Luthienne stepped round the bio-monitor that sat idling beside the bed and hugged him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine. The bullet missed all my vital organs, so they just took it out and filled the wound with bio-foam. I'll be up and about by tomorrow and it'll have fully healed in about a week."