The Guardians of Sol by Spencer Kettenring Read Free Book Online Page A

later.”
    “Will do, my friend. See you tomorrow.”

5
    June 1, 2289. The Forge, Block 7
     
    The man that stood before me was well-muscled but only of medium build. The Vindicator danced back and forth before throwing a straight and powerful right-handed strike at me. I brushed his blow aside with my forearm and stepped in to drop him with a hit to the chin. The bell proclaiming me the winner tolled as the referee raised my arm. I was, however, disappointed. The man had had a fearful reputation and the match only lasted about twenty seconds.
    Perhaps I was expecting too much, I was tournament champion two years running after all. Still, I had hoped that some my fellow Guardians would rise to the occasion. Over the next few hours, I took out three more Vindicators and four Castigars. Only the man after this Vindicator had given me any trouble. He opened a cut on my forehead before I was able to take him out with a left hook. I had a few hours to rest before the final match, so I decided to stop by the cafeteria to see if I could get some decent grub.
    My shoulder still hurt, and it was maddening. It had nothing to do with my opponents so far today; none of them had come near it. It seemed that even with the regenerative treatments, that tank had done a lot of damage to me. At least the pain wasn’t slowing me down. The last fight was always the worst. Once I finally got back to the gym I found a quiet corner, and with a full belly, settled in for a nap.
    *****
    Something nudged me, yelled at me, but it was not enough to actually awaken me. "Come on, Rhys! Wake up, slag it! I'm your X.O. for Pete's sake - who is Pete anyway? - You should listen to me!"
    Sighing, Haywire pulled back his leg, and kicked me in the head (lightly, of course). This actually got my attention, in that I tried to hit Haywire.
    "Blast it! What was that for, Jimmy?"
    "Well boss, your final match is in 20 minutes. I just thought you'd want to be awake for it."
    "Oh... I see. I guess what I meant was: WHY DID YOU KICK ME?"
    "I tried everything else short of my pistol," James "Haywire" Freed sighed again, very theatrically. "That skull of yours is just too thick for your own good."
    I finally looked at my executive officer; the African - tall, rangy, and amiable - was almost indistinguishable from the black of his uniform.
    "You really don't have anything better to do than to kick me?"
    "Of course not. Because I want my credits’ worth out of you and this last match. The whole squad is banking on you."
    I glared. "Oh, thanks for that added bit of pressure."
    "Happy to help!" Jimmy smiled broadly. "Heads up though, this last guy is apparently a Spartan of some large reputation. Or at least that’s what his squad mates keep saying."
    "Spartans aren't so tough..."
    "I'm sure you'd like to think so, but don't take this one lightly. His squad mates call him 'Ruin.' The fellow even has a huge omega symbol tattooed on his back. He might be fresh out of the Agoge but still... Be careful, boss."
    "Yeah, I'll see you at the ring. Oh, and I think that the Pete in Pete’s sake probably refers to Saint Peter. Although if it does I don't know why. Stay out of trouble, brother."
    "You know me, brother." Haywire sauntered out to the stands surrounding the ring, by the squad's reserved seating.
    *****
    It felt like someone had hit me with a sledgehammer. The Spartan's fist slammed into the side of my face. I kept enough of my wits about me to use the force of the blow to spin a backhand into "Ruin's" face, staggering the man back a few steps.
    We stared at each other, catching our respective breaths. I was bleeding from the cut on my forehead again, as well as just under my ear and on my right cheek; my left arm felt slightly numb. The Spartan had similar cuts on his face and seemed to be favoring his ribs on one side. The bell ending the round sounded. We went back to our respective corners.
    I sat down for a moment, sparing a glance over by my squad. There was the