Degastani Caught
17 Nov 2017Stryker Aune
Part 4 of Degastani Delinquents.Black Omega Holdings Degastani, Degastani 1, Deep desert
The cavern was spacious, only dimly lit by beams of natural light punching through holes in the cavern ceiling. In the shadows, crystal spheres of bioluminescence could be seen scattered about. There were various pits of sand and around each one a mass of indigenous people were whooping and hollering. Inside each pit a pair of individuals were fighting a stream of opponents. Overhead, a number was displayed, recording the total victories amounted thus far.
Stryker looked about. Shirtless and bare foot, his feet dug into the sand as sweat dripped down his massive chest. He felt the strong back of his fighting partner’s against his own. The man was muscular trim and fit, though Styker still dwarfed him in sheer size. His name was Yitz’chak. With his ark quick eyes to match his quick reflexes the two worked well together covering each other’s weaknesses and playing to their strengths.
“Stryker, to your left!” he warned.
Stryker turned to his left and raised his clawed prosthetic limb, bringing it down he left a nasty gash along his opponent's back who fell into the dusty sand with a scream. Yitz’chak circled around hopping over the downed man and landed a kick square in the chest of another oncoming opponent followed by a well placed strike to the face with his palm. Viciously another man threw himself at the pair. Stryker caught him mid-flight by the neck. Turning, the mechanic brought the hapless man’s back down on upon his knee with a sickening snap. Tossed to the ground and forgotten, the crowd erupted in bloodthirsty jubilation and Stryker had to admit he was enjoying the carnage. The pungent smell of blood made his own boil. His partner circled in front, liberating a knife from a new contender’s hand that had just joined the fray. Stryker watched as the man turned the knife and buried the curved blade right up to the hilt in the man’s throat. Yitz’chak kicked that man over and took a moment to wipe his sweaty brow casting another lingering glance over Stryker. The attention enamoured him and he found himself eyeing his partner’s physique.
The distraction was enough. Stryker felt a blow to his back; but being made of solid muscle, it did little to upheave him. He turned and swept low with a leg catching his assailant by the ankle who toppled backwards. Stryker seized the opportunity. Bringing a foot down hard, he made contact with the man’s face and felt the bones crush under the weight of the foot and the wet warm slick of blood ooze out from under. The spectators roared once again at the sight of the brutal butchery capturing Stryker’s attention. He caught sight of a familiar figure and his eyes narrowed with savage intent.
Where the hell have you been?
It was Preacher and he felt a wave of annoyance surge within him. He hadn’t seen the man since they were ambushed out in the open desert. Stryker had assumed that he was either killed or working his magic. However, the man appeared to be in good health. Stryker assumed that he managed to talk his way out of his predicament.
His annoyance vaporized as he caught Yitz’chak in the middle of another longing glimpse. Looking up, Stryker caught sight of the holographic number hovering over his pit. According to Fredegi customs if he managed five hundred victories the trial would end and he would be granted his freedom. Though, if he failed he would be put to death. He didn’t know why this other man was paired with him during this grueling ritual and assumed that he too was fighting for his freedom. Grateful for the help Stryker felt a bond forming with the unknown man.
Stryker’s prosthetic caught another man by the arm. As the sharp metallic claw tore through the flesh and bone Stryker grinned inwardly relishing in the anguished screams of his victim as he left the limb a dismembered bloody pulp upon the sands. Yitz’chak pressed his back against the engineer’s and elation welled up inside of him. He was beginning to enjoy the physical contact and was desiring more.
Another man was dispatched by the pair in a brutal beatdown. Overhead the announcer ended the match by broadcasting the final victory. “Five Hundred!”
Stryker gazed overhead, his chest heaving from exertion. The fight had been long and arduous for both men. Euphoria gripped Stryker and in lustful passion he seized Yitz’chak in his bulging arms and brought him in a long and sensual kiss. Power and domination washed over the mechanic as his partner returned with passion in kind. So lost in their rapture he wasn’t even aware of the mass of people pushing in on him. All he cared about was Yitz’chak as they were lead out of the arena.
* * * * *
Stryker lay on a simple woven mat that had been spread out on the floor roughly hewn stone floor. Exhausted and satisfied he watched the dim warm light from the bioluminescent crystals danced about the room as Yitz’chak lay in his arms.
Yit’chak’s thick Arabian-esq accent pierced the silence “Where do you come from?”
Stryker gazed at him for a long moment. That wasn’t such a simple question anymore. Since the loss of his family he really didn’t belong on Sowiio, but he really wasn’t a part of Black Omega either. Though he was told he was part of that family, he wasn’t treated as such. He was a simply a tool used to bring about their means.
“I’m from Sowiio.” he said choosing the latter. It felt like the safer answer. The one that would raise less dubious questions about his past.
Yitz’chak smiled, “What’s it like there? Is it hot and dry?”
Stryker shook his head. “No, where I’m from it’s warm in the summers, and bitter cold in the winters. And humid.”
“What is this humid?” Dagestani was so arid that the indigenous people didn’t even have a word to describe water in the air.
“It’s water in the air.” Stryker said as he gently scratched the other man’s back with his claw.
“How is that possible?” Yitz’chak asked.
The mechanic chuckled. “It’s because of the Ocean. So much water that the land itself can’t hold it, so the air has to.”
Stryker propped himself up on his elbow and felt the chain necklace about his torso. Guilt welled up inside of him as he grasped it tightly with his organic hand.
Yitz’chak propped his head up on his hand. “What is that?”
“A memory.” Stryker said clenching the small locket.
“A memory of what?” Yitz’chak asked.
Stryker looked away frowning as he released the necklace “Something that I don’t want to get into.”
Yitz’chak grunted, tracing a finger along Stryker’s shoulders. “Perhaps we could have more time to talk about this in the future.”
Stryker gave the man a significant look. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Yitz’chak’s demeanor grew serious “I am to be bonded soon. My father wishes me to take a wife from another tribe, but I would rather have you.”
“You want me?” Stryker asked, “Why?”
Yitz’chak grew serious, “I am the Prince of the Fredegi and I wish to take a strong mate. You have shown yourself to be a great warrior back in those pits, and I need someone strong by my side to lead my people.”
The idea of marriage took Stryker by surprise. True he enjoyed his time with Yitz’chak and they had forged some bond in the fighting pits but he wasn’t sure that he was capable of love anymore. His mind wandered back to Mhera -the scientist forced prostitute he tried to save and failed miserably. He started thinking about all the failures that riddled his life -failure to protect his twin sister. Failure to secure a Federal operative. As the list continued to grow his countenance fell.
He thought about his current mission. To make sure that Preacher would convert the Heathens to Black Omega dogma. His Orator accomplice was working on changing their minds through their religious beliefs but an idea struck him.
If I married into the tribal leadership that could secure the deal for Deggie. Degastani would be ours.
A smile spread across his lips. Finally an opportunity to seize success and win favor with the leadership counsel. He gazed into his partner’s dark eyes, his metal talons running though the black hair. ”Would accept an off-worlder?”
The prince’s tone was sincere. “They will, because they accept me.”
Stryker’s heart skipped a beat. Finally. This is my chance. A chance to win favor with Deggie.
Stryker seized the man in his arms and between passionate kisses breathed, “Then I accept.”
* * * * *
Preacher was both pleased and annoyed; though he had trained his face to not show the latter, Stryker knew the man well enough to know anyway. And why wouldn’t he be? The stupid brute mechanic won the people through raw strength and endurance. Whereas the schooled, articulate diplomat did not. But, it didn’t matter, the job was done. The Fredegi were now assets and the terror attacks against Omega mining operations had ceased since his union with the Prince. This pleased Deggie enough to send Stryker a gift and it waited in a secured hangar bay in the nearby star-port.
Stryker stood in the baking hot sands, shirtless, wearing a set of traditional Fredegi shorts and sandals as the winds whipped about and the sun gleamed off his body while Yitz’chak stood next to him in the same style of attire.
Stryker looked Preacher right in the eye. Though he would hate to admit it, he had grown fond of the eccentric zealot. “I won’t be going back to Clair with you Preacher man.”
Monolith Preacher knew all too well what Stryker was doing. He was ingraining himself in their culture to ease the transition. A tactic he had used on more than one occasion and with varying success.
“I understand.” he said extending a hand. Stryker took it and felt Preacher push a small hard object into it.
Retracting his hand, he opened it. Laying there in his palm was a small credit chip. He looked up at the man with a puzzled expression.
“Look mate, I don’t know how long it will be, so I’m leaving you a little parting gift. You know, for good luck.” Preacher said.
Stryker cocked his head with the same puzzled expression drawn across his face. “What is it?” Stryker asked.
Preacher leaned in and whispered, “Credits. I figured you could use them get that rusted bolt-hole Deggie sent you rebuilt. Cheap-skate.”
Stryker slapped the man on the back who stumbled forward from the force of the blow. “Thanks.”
“Don’t break that Prince.” Preacher gave a cheeky smile as he pulled his hood down over his face before striding out across the dunes to the lone SRV.
Stryker watched his friend until he vanished into the swirling sands. He turned to face his husband, then back to his waiting tribe. Raising his metallic claw they responded with a resounding war cry.
Special thanks to Illeana and Jubei for their edits suggestions and insight!