Harold Zamona stormed through the cell corridor until he reached the cell watched by the armed guard, who saluted the approaching figure and stepped back to get out of the way. The Emperor’s Herald stopped and looked through the force field that acted as the cell’s door and fourth wall.
“It’s quite a mess you’ve put me in, Ortega.”
“Good to see you to,” said the captain, leaning on the small cot provided within the cell. “This guard you left me with won’t talk. I can normally get a few words out of a guard even if I can’t trick them into doing anything for me, but this guy’s trained too well. Good job on that, incidentally.”
“Seems that your ad libbing paid off. Everyone’s confused about my demands, sayin’ that it’s time to see you and me fight.”
“What can I say? People like me.”
“People trust you, I’ll give ya that. So I’ve got good news for you: you’re getting the fight.”
Ortega sat up in his cot.
“Oh? Great. I’m a little surprised, but great.”
“Not great,” said Zamona. “You’re gonna be dead. Everyone’s gonna see it. And instead of a nice, clean takeover, everything’s gonna slow down.”
“You’re telling me that your invasion was going to be a bloodless one, Zamona?”
“I’m telling you that you’d better start comin’ to terms with your life, because it’s just about done. You’ll get your flight suit, and your blaster, and be ushered to the arena that we’ll set up for just you and me.”
“Great! I’ll see you in the ring.”
Ortega leaned back into his cot and Zamona narrowed his eyes. Soon, Captain Ortega looked back at the cell entrance.
“Is there something else?” said Ortega.
“What’s your game here, boy? You’re gonna die here. I’ve tried lookin’ at this from every angle, and at the end of the day it’s just gonna end with Veskid still conquered and you dead.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” said Ortega. “I’m hoping things’ll work out.”
“Things don’t work out like this. Not for you.”
“We’ll see,” said Ortega. “We’ll see.”