The ring is twenty metres in diameter. The surrounding walls are made up of crude, wire meshed, so that anyone inside cannot get out, it reaches up to the ceiling. The low roofed hall containing over three hundred beings of various races (inclusive of humans). A mixed stench that is fecund hangs like a beast of smoke over the heads of betting beings who are intoxicated, in the rush of atmosphere. It is a primitive place for a primitive activity. The main event is about to start.
*
Walker sits at the bridge listening to Irons talk. The mentally ill patient talks as though he has just learnt that he can do so. Cutter is not amused.

Reed enters bridge ,having checked Dobrovowski, "stable. The blood we gave seems to tide him over. Twenty minutes for the next donation?"

Walker nods.

Dexter sleeps in her quarters.

"And anyway...are you listening to me Cutter?" Irons enquires.

Walker doesn't reply.

"You're not really interested are you?" Irons feelings are hurt.

"Not really," he answers.

"Are we going to be ready?" Reed refers to their increasingly difficult position.

"As long as we get the men aboard..then we can buy more time. It is a question of getting ahead of the assassins, "Walker opinions, "computer, set course for Cetrian VI. R.S.T.C."
*
A Slyth appears through one underground entrance. It' s shell like head hard, dark shiny under the low lit tunnel to ring. She knows of the opponent. She has been warned to particularly watch his left arm.

From the opposite side a large gentleman walks toward ring via another tunnel. He has been through tunnel a multitude of times. It matters not. The money is good and it tests him. He likes fighting Slyth too, they remind him of one he used to know. He smells the air, the stink of the alien meeting his nostrils. This one isn't his old pal, probably still back with his own people after that disastrous attempt to take the vessel so many moons ago.
*
Within the crowd stomping, chewing, swearing, intoxicated beings a single man has come not to watch the fight. He has come to die. His time is over. This is the best way he can deal with the assignment. Whilst the client is inside ring...there is the prefect opportunity, at his most vulnerable. The problem being escape from the far and maddening crowd. Escape will be impossible....probably.
*
The castle opens out before her, shedding like a split orange and disappearing into multitudes of flames. Dexter knows that she is dreaming. She has never had a dream so vivid and full of sensual touch, like explosions on the mind. Her heart is full of life. She sees Cutter as a young man, in old United Forces battle dress waving to her. He is standing on a beach. The beach is long and she notices in a brief snap of time the beach is strewn with corpses.

Scene change. A young woman appears before Dexter taking her hand. The whole thing seems real unlike a dream. The woman is pretty. She speaks: "you must leave them while you can. You do not belong here. It is bad for you to be here."

"Why do you think that?" The reporter queries.

The woman expands. Erupting upwards like a kid's story of a giant.

Dexter wakes up abruptly. In the room the young woman is still there, looking at her.

She lights up her room quickly.

The woman from the dream is no longer there. The reporter's heart beats fast. Chills of fear run in a steady constant to the base of her spine. The nightmare disorientates her.
*
'A Slyth alright .Huh! No problems. I've killed one before. This one won't be any different,' Wheeler thinks.

He hasn't thought of the vessel or the Sub-man from Holodern IV days or any of that bollocks for years. Wheeler decides to focus on the task in hand. He cools his own strength, staring out his opponent. He knows where Slyth weak spots are. If she has sense, she'll know where his are too.

'It won't matter to though...she'll be sorted.'
*
Reed locates the position of Wheeler.

"According to the computer's coordinates..are long, lost, buddy is several hundred metres under ground, in Vilate City...9th quadrant...well he doesn't change.."

Walker looks over Reed's shoulder, joining him from captain's chair, "why? What does it mean?"

"It means.." Reed says turning, "that our friend is in the roughest part, possibly the roughest place on the planet. It is not a nice area. I think I remember going to there once on leave, a long time ago. They must be doing the ol' fisticuffs still, I'd a thought that would have been shut down long ago.'
*
The Slyth grabs Wheeler's left arm and throws him into the steel mesh. He collides in a great crash and cheering from the beings that have bet on the alien.

Being devious- which is the name of the game; a game where survival is paramount- the alien accidentally forgot to tell the ring's doctors that she has two replaced, robot, arms. Of course, Wheeler always forgets to tell them about his false left arm.

The Sub-man attempts to get up but the Slyth is already on top of him. Putting his head in a lock, within a few moments he'll have difficulty breathing. She can't believe it would be so easy to beat the reigning champion.
*
Dexter walks to the tail end of the ship. The corridors stretch on and on, monotonous. She just needs to go somewhere, far away from the bridge; from them.

"Look you don't have to follow me you know!" Dexter addresses No. 27.

The clear smooth surface of the android's face gives nothing away. It stands impassively. She turns and walks away, this time at a more swifter pace. The android follows, copying exactly her steps and speed.

She stops.

It stops.

She runs. It runs, all the while maintaining an exact distance. Dexter only wanted to go for a stroll.

Swiftly she goes through a door on her left, considerably bigger than the rest. No. 27 goes to follow but then stops at the door.

Dexter turns back. The door opens again. It remains standing there as though forbidden to follow her into that particular space. She smiles at it, amused, "what's the matter? Are you scared?"

With that everything goes black. The last thing she sees is the expressionless android as the door shuts.
*
Reed sets the controls in the small craft for Cetrian VI. He knows the ring can be brutal. Although Wheeler is good, everyone ends up coming a cropper there sooner or later. The short man decides that the sooner they get him out of there the better.

"FEMALE: DEXTER IN RESTRICTED WING. ANDROID NO. 27 REQUESTING ORDERS."

Walker frowns. He thinks for a moment whilst double checking stasers. Wheeler must be first. Yet they cannot lose anyone, not even the reporter, then they confront whoever it is intent on their exit from existence. Dexter may have her uses for the team.

"Computer...tell 27 to stand fast and await further orders. Post 19 and 57 to its position in the meantime."

Reed gives Walker a scathing stare.

"Get Wheeler out of that cesspit," Walker leaves landing craft- annoyed that he has to stay behind.
*
'This is always a good crowd pleaser. I bet they have been exchanging bets like mother fuckers,' thinks Wheeler as he borders on losing consciousness. His man in the stand will make a tidy profit for them both. 'Time to rock.'

Wheeler has been thrown to a position on the floor, with his face down in the grit. The Slyth has moved her hand to grip around Wheeler's neck to an arm lock, where both arms are held in a trap; his legs are being sat on- the alien's knees pressed into centre of Wheeler's hamstrings, her remaining hand locked in a choke. The Slyth (like all her race) is considerably heavy, the lightest can weigh in at thirty stone.

The stupid being has been messing around with her opponent. She has slightly released her grip on the human several times- to show off in front of the crowd who now cheer for what looks like a new reckoning force in the ring. Now the Slyth will go for the kill, it shouldn't take long, the human looks as though he is on the home straight, straight for his maker.

Wheeler feels the pressure increasing around his throat. His breath struggling, grit puffed up in clouds. The crowd is at fever pitch. His head is beginning to thump as oxygen is denied. Rich' will certainly not shift the alien bastard- too much weight- another strategy is called for; one that the Sub-man has been relying on during the whole match, he seems to have spent most of face down in the dirt or against boundaries.
*
The bar room above the ring is empty but for a few drunks who are either sleep or look bleary eyed at anything about the shoddy place. The assassin is the only sober person in the place. It will soon fill with the rabble from two floors down in the ring. On a small T.V the fight is drawing to its climax as Wheeler's eyes close and his body goes limp. A doctor appears from one of the entrances, held back by a ring official.

After he slips into unconsciousness, the official lets the doctor and two large gents pull the Slyth off the body of Wheeler.

The bar man looks up at the screen cursing. The assassin asks, "lost money?"

"You bet your fucking arse! That fat son-of-a-bitch got fucking wiped in the first few seconds. He should have never let that-" the bar man's words stop suddenly as the doctor examining Wheeler is thrown to one side.

The assassin rises from his chair slowly, a sickening feeling filling his guts.

On the small monitor the magnitude of jeers and general excitement cannot be felt. The Slyth turns just as Wheeler delivers a jab to her face. The two gents rush into the human but he pushes one away and knees the other in the groin. The alien is dazed having a punch targeted to middle of her forehead- a weak spot of the race. He hits a left hook across the alien's head, landing on its ear, which blinks out the Slyth's lights for good.

The screen goes blank, "Fuck! They shut down transmission. I guess life isn't so bad after all, eh?" Before the bar keep can engage the gentleman in further conversation, the assassin is heading for the door.

"Suit yourself pal."
*
Dexter wakes. She is in a room filled by light. Not like a light one could attribute to God, an alien light which feels warm on the skin and hurts the eyes. There is a faint tinge of blue from it. She has no idea how large or small the room is. The reporter can hear the faint murmur of voices. She feels fear. Something is amiss here.

From the centre there is a sudden explosion, it makes no noise as it engulfs her. She feels no pain. The flames die, she is not blown away or backwards.

Flowers of every description multiply around her. Dexter catches words from different languages, from different races.
"What is.....what is..." comes up repeatedly.

Then all the light goes out.

Dexter is still conscious and can feel her heart beating fast. Something touches her on the shoulder. She screams. Her scream echoes for a long time.
*
Wheeler is in the shabby office of the fat fuck that runs the ring. He is a king pin figure. Half human, half mutant, his family come from a long line of half-breeds; his great, great, great grandfather being a genetic experiment that was quickly hushed up. The big boss isn't happy.

"What in the fuck Rich'!?! Wha' the fuck are you trying to do here? You make a cut with Accum on the side and I pay ya' as well?"

Two of the king pin's henchmen eye Wheeler threateningly. They are both equally as big as the human and have stasers jabbed into his back. They don't like the fighter and hope this is the night they get to finish the piece of shit off.

"Go and get that weasel piece of garbage," the king pin has been saying everything.

The henchman to the left of Wheeler, whose nose is bleeding thanks to the fighter, leaves the room.

The king pin stares at his prize fighting property. The mutant type man hates it when he gets a smart arse fighter.

"Rich'....we had a deal here..why you trying to take a cut on the side? All I asked you to do was take a fall that's all. Is this the way you want it to be? Is this fucking way? Are you gonna stand there like some prick son-of-a-bitch with you fuckin' lips sealed like a virgin's crack or are you going to talk to me?"

"You sound like a Sub-man," Wheeler smiles.

The henchman knocks him to the ground with the butt of his staser. He sticks it in the disrespectful man's ear. Now the fighter is pissed off.

The weasel bursts through the door crawling along the ground. The henchman who is pointing his staser at Wheeler looks to his colleague as the other kicks the small man up his backside till he's slumped over the big boss's desk.

"Wait a minute....if it isn't Accum," the fat boss sits back in his chair, he loves moments such as these, "well?"
*
"Friend of yours.....champ'?" The mutant gets off his seat, puffing and wheezing, hearts beating fast.

"Never seen the fuck," Wheeler answers spitting out blood.

The big boss throws some mutant slang at Rich'. Wheeler knows the score as soon as a mutant starts throwing his/hers/its half-arsed speak at you your number is booked and tagged. Plus he has got up off his fat arse- the first time the fighter has seen him out of his chair. The king pin sticks an oversized staser in the weasel's mouth, who has been blubbing for the last few minutes whilst the two henchmen have been giving the Sub-man a few 'slaps'.

'Arsehole,' Rich' thinks about Accum, not minding taking a 'slap' or two for the sake of business but not prepared to buy it.

"What do you think?" King pin speaks English as he blows off Accum's head. Whilst doing so, he neglects to see Wheeler's arm moving up and throwing a dagger at his right eye. He had the weapon concealed in his boot, the two pillocks were so excited about getting their chance to turn him over, they forgot to frisk him.

The henchmen are stupid. They have put away their weapons in holsters so they could use their bare fists on Wheeler- the stupid kind of holster that can be buttoned.

Wheeler gets his own back for the beating they have been dishing out by crushing one of their windpipe's with his left hand.

The fat boss screams, letting loose (indiscriminately) staser fire that tears apart his office and remaining tough guy who struggles with holster flap, trying to get to his piece.

Noise dies as boss falls to floor, Wheeler wrestling him down, breaking the mutant's fat, sweaty neck. Police, if they investigate at all, will come only when they are sure the shooting has stopped.

Rich' finds bits of Accum's grey matter on him. He brushes it off, "you silly fucker," he says, eyeing the headless corpse.

Wheeler pulls the large staser out of king pin's hand. It is still set to maximum. 'He always did like to make a show of things.' With that thought the door suddenly bursts open. He instinctively empties the remaining cartridge into the door space, filled by a human holding a gun. There is a riot of noise, debris and blood for a minute or so.

The smoke clears.

Wheeler switches down the staser before it over heats and explodes in his hands.

He goes over to remains of man. He picks out an ancient Smith and Western long barreled pistol.

"Odd," he comments as bullets fall on the floor whilst emptying gun, feeling unnerved that someone could know a bullet would kill a Univarian.
*
Walker enters room. Dexter is not adjusting well to what is happening to her. Time locks in her mind. Starting, then stopping again.

"Ms. Dexter are you there?"

Walker grabs her. Pulling her hard through a hallucinatory window, out onto a hallucinatory street.

White takes over. They are back in room, which looks like a little girl's room.

"Daddy?"

"No. Not me," Walker tries to think fast on his feet.

He tries to speak to the distraught reporter. He knows that she will go insane if he doesn't get her out of there. He himself must find a way out. Dexter seems away with the fairies, not listening to him at all. Still holding onto her hard, talking all the while, he makes them leave the room once more. A stone wall from Fourteenth Century Earth.. greets them, blocking their path.

Dexter snaps to, "where the hell am I?"

Walker is glad she is back with him, "this...is..still in the vessel," his voice sounds far away to her, even though they are next to each other through the illusion.

"What is happening here?" Dexter asks, hearing her own voice echo off.

"Stick with me........" another sentence of Walker's fades off and is incomplete, pushed into another dimension of thought, lost in itself to abstractness.

They now stand in a disused hospital, falling to bits. They both stand in war time, what war they do not know. The beds are much bigger and the strange equipment seems to suggest it is a Slyth place of care.

She gasps as the whole scene changes to the beaches of Holodern IV.

Then the planet of Saf El looms below them as they float in space above it.

The rate changes quickly. Dexter's words have stopped. Her screams have run dry. Sounds. Sights. Scents. Feeling and touch. Tastes of different air confuse her. Walker remains immobile, even when great beasts leap upon him attempting to tear him to shreds but he closes his eyes, head slanting in wistful, meditative thought.

The space is white once more. Everything is quiet. Dexter has no idea of how long she has been out. Now she knows why No. 27 was so reluctant to follow her. He speaks to someone. The reporter recognizes the woman..the lady from her dream.

She disappears.

Walker looks over to Dexter, head turning slow, his eyes are filled with a thousand souls tormented; killed in a brutal fashion, their screams filling her ears: "Cutter...CUTTER.....CUTTER...." Voices like in a chant joining the chorus; symphonic in build up.

Mary Dexter covers her ears. Something new and much louder approaches as the ghosts of slaughtered draw near. She clasps tight shut her eyes. It sounds like some instrument, a howling noise- electronically crude, painful to her sense of hearing. She blacks out.
*
Reed can tell Wheeler has started without him. 'Does he have the assassin though?' The short man checks his scanner. One person in upper secure level- the big oaf himself. 'Okay Rich'..let's get you outta here.'
*

The booze relaxes Wheeler. He switches through monitors. Out in a bar every person, being, is oblivious to the action that has taken place. Most of the king pin's guard are dead. Lying in heap by the door or having fucked off. 'They can team up with someone else, the ring has gotten boring…' Wheeler's bitter thoughts betray him, they kick like an ulcer of emptiness.

Rich' takes another long draught of whisky.

Someone calls to him. He thinks he recognizes the voice yet he just can't place it. He kicks over the desk, bottle in one hand, staser in other aimed directly at door.

"Rich'...Rich?" The bloke calls again, Wheeler drinks lazily from bottle, wearily taking cover behind desk, "Rich'? Are you alive in there or am I going to have to come in there and get you?"

Suddenly it clicks with the big guy, "fuck me… Sgt. Reed! Is it you?"

Reed appears at door smiling, decloaked, "you could have fucking waited for me." He looks around bodies laughing with Wheeler who goes over to greet him. The short man notices the ancient gun and plush clothes of assassin, the face is unrecognizable but the veteran knows that no scumbags in the sector would have such good taste, or the dosh, to buy such high quality gear; plus the fact that no scumbag could possess an Earth antique.

"Fuckin' hell, it is a ghost," Wheeler bear hugs breath out of Reed.