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THE ANNOUNCER
Jorell Rube The Fifth was… not pleased.
His rider had specifically requested aquatic foods from Ammonite, an artificial growth planet terraformed twenty star cycles ago. It produced absolutely decadent spliced seaweeds curated with fresh flavors from around the universe. Peaches from Earth. Stone Star Fruits from Kepler. Jackon Bells from Gliese that had the texture of sky gelatin but the flavor of sugar floss.
Yet here he was in his dressing room, which was arguably smaller than last year’s accommodations, and there wasn’t a single Ammonite offering in sight.
Jorell plodded to the fur-covered egg chair, sinking down into the softness and studying his faces in the three mirrors. At least he looked good. Flarking good. His favorite face was framed by a sleek black bob. Diamonds dazzled in the darkness, blinking like stars. Though he typically didn’t like makeup on this face, he’d opted for a black winged liner and a constellation of jewels across his right cheek.
His other face was a different story. He’d chosen a cobalt blue hair style. Space buns with a delicate crown circling each. Homage to this year’s surprise entrant.
King Kaio Targen, Son of Ramzen.
Jorell gave a little shiver of delight. Kaio was a glorious mountain of a man and Jorell relished the idea of watching him getting sweaty and dirty during the games. He would bet good money that Kaio grimed up good.
He sighed wistfully, tucking his long legs beneath him and reaching for a chocolate-dipped Gesta eyeball, a brainless fish from his own planet. Once he broke through the crunchy surface, the gel-like fluids inside squished delightfully in his mouth, flooding his senses with a strange metallic sweetness. He’d have his agent email Bloodworm, attaching the rider once again and warning that a breach of contract hours before the games began would cost a pretty penny. Millions of currency units to retain his services. Jorell knew Bloodworm couldn’t replace him so late in the game, especially considering he was responsible for thirty percent of female alien viewership and forty percent, or more, of nonbinary watchers. Bloodworm wouldn’t want to risk a ratings drop, not during his second year in charge.
A hesitant knock sounded on the dressing room entrance.
“Um, Mr. Rube? It’s the head nutritionist. I’ve just been told there’s been a mistake concerning your food requests.”
Jorell closed my eyes, trying to recall if he’d met the food staff on board this year’s spectator ship. They hadn’t lifted off yet, but they would do so soon after the bonding rituals. He rifled through images, his two brains working overtime, until the carousel of mental pictures came to a stop. The head nutritionist was Cubexion. A lot of renowned cooks were from that planet, given that they had three times as many taste buds as most sentient creatures. Two mouths, one above the other beneath a large nose with three nostrils. All the better to smell with. He thought the nose anatomy would get overwhelming, frankly. Cubex was a gas giant, the air laced with a thousand different spices.
“Enter,” he said simply, unfolding his legs and standing up. He looked best standing, his wide shoulders supporting two slender necks. The jumpsuit he wore was skintight until it reached his knees, where it billowed out in a cloud of fabric that undulated with every move he made.
The entrance whooshed open and the Cubexion walked in slowly, balancing two silver trays filled to the brim with Ammonite cuisine.
“I prepared everything myself, Mr. Rube. I hope it’s to your liking. Only the freshest gatherings from Ammonite. I have a supplier I trust explicitly to send me only catches of the day. I’ve prepared them in the usual way, but also crafted a few new dishes I believe will be to your palate’s liking.” She danced across the floor, moving gracefully as her mouths spoke in unison. It was a strange echoing, her tone almost musical.
For a heartbeat, Jorell wondered if her two mouths could do two things at once. His sexual organs were closely placed. Perhaps she could service them both at one time. Both at one time. He shivered again; this time it was not King Kaio who made him squirm, but this lovely creature in front of him.
“It all looks absolutely delicious.” Jorell focused his gaze on the nutritionist herself instead of the platters she’d placed on the dining table.
Her cheeks flushed and her eyelashes fluttered. “Oh, Mr. Rube. I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“I’d be more pleased if you’d agree to spend a few hours with me. There’s so much time before the bonding ceremony. I’m positively famished.”
“I’m not allowed to eat while on duty.” She stammered.
“Then let me do the eating.” He strode toward her, waiting for her to verbally decline with her musical two voices or take a step backward in subconscious refusal. She did neither.
Jorell Rube quickly found that Cubexion tasted nearly as pleasing as the very best Ammonite had to offer.
* * *
“Viewers across the universe!Welcome to the Eleventh Annual Galactic Gladiator Games!” Jorell’s voice boomed from the slender mic near his lips.
Translators re-activated from all around, pinging in sharp successive sounds that jarred his senses. Here he was again, catering to the grossly rich and obscenely wealthy, all gathered here to watch bloodsport and try to feel something, anything, to enrich their pathetic lives.
Pathetic. Jorell would give a lot to be that kind of pathetic. Money to burn, private planets and space cruisers that made the main spectator ship seem small.
“I’m Jorell Rube The Fifth coming to you live from this year's bonding ceremony! Like last year, our fierce gladiators will be paired with the weakest sentient creature in the known galaxies! Humans. But not just any humans. Human women. Emotional. Weak of body. And empty of spirit. Our new commissioner Magnum T. Bloodworm could not have picked a more compelling pairing!”
He extended his right arm, flourishing fingertips as a new screen bloomed to life behind him.
“And if you’ve heard the rumblings, the rumorings, the whispers in dark corners of the galaxy, then you know that this year’s games feature an extra special participant. Hailing from the planet Orenda is King Kaio Targen, Son of Ramzen!” Behind Jorell, Kaio’s chiseled form rotated slowly, showing off all the gorgeous royal’s best angles.
The image behind him split, frizzing out and then catching fire. Two alien warriors displayed now. One of them was still Kaio, and the other was eerily similar… yet not. The same midnight skin. The same height and expanse of muscles. Yet this gladiator had ruby dark hair that glowed red in the backlighting.
