Scattered Stardust

Gladiator

A sickening crack echoed through the arena. The smaller slave fell limply to the ground, its many arms and broken body resembling a crushed insect. The victor, a long limbed blue creature stood shakily, looking at its bloody hands in numb surprise. The Galra spectators roared their approval. Sentries emerged from the arena edges and gestured at the limp body. The victor seemed to understand and began to drag it back toward the entrance. Splotches of maroon blood trailed behind the pair.  

Lotor watched it all, trying to distance his traitorous emotions. It was foolish to make the victor drag the body. Surely the sentries could have disposed of it more quickly. 

But as he observed the blue alien deposit the body near the cluster of gladiators, he realized it wasn't about efficiency. This was to prevent camaraderie between the slaves. To know that anyone you befriended could be dragging your corpse the next day would surely make trust a rare thing. 

Haggar sat silently beside him in the Emperor's box. Thankfully Zarkon had not accompanied her, so it was just the two of them. Lotor couldn't help glancing at his mother out of the corner of his eye as they awaited the next fight. She looked exactly the same, unchanged in any way from their two years apart. He knew the same could not be said of himself. He had grown taller and more muscular over his exile. His white hair had grown unruly, and he now had it tied back at the base of his neck. He was still far smaller than any of the officers on his ship, but more scarred and battle hardened than any 15 year old should have been. 

As the wait for the next fight stretched longer and longer, Lotor decided the break the silence. 

"I don't suppose you're planning on telling me why you've summoned me to such a place?" he asked, eyes on the bloodstained sand below. 

"Is this not to your liking?" Haggar questioned softly.

"I must admit I find little pleasure in watching slaves kill each other. Such pitiful creatures could be put to much better use in labor camps or ship yards. But you are avoiding my question. Why am I here?"

"To remind you of your place," Haggar said in the same measured voice. Lotor looked around sardonically at the lavish Emperor's box. They sat in comfort, isolated from all other spectators and officers. 

"Oh yes, this is certainly humbling," he quipped.

Haggar turned to face him for the first time, yellow eyes flashing dangerously. 

"You are only living in such comfort because I am allowing it. Do you know what your life would be without my protection?"

She pointed down into the arena, where the next gladiators were preparing to fight. Lotor's eyes narrowed as he examined the larger of the two slaves. It appeared to be a Galra female with large wing-like ears. But something about her was... off. Not quite right. Her fur was adorned with splotches of color above the eyes and on her forehead. 3 spikes adorned each of her forearms, something Lotor had never seen on any... on any pureblood Galra. 

"This is what half breeds are in the eyes of the empire," Haggar told him. Below the slaves began their vicious fight. There were no pretty moves, no feints, no tricks. It was a brutal contest of might and the will to survive. 

"So there are others," Lotor breathed, eyes following the girl. 

"Other mistakes, half breeds, and abominations," Haggar agreed. "This is just one of the many unpleasant fates your kind shares. No Galra hybrid would be accepted by either of their races."

She turned away from him, eyes following the brawl below. 

"Remember this any time you get ideas above your station. Because the only thing you deserve," she pointed down as the Galra half breed broke the neck of her opponent, "is to live and die as an outcast."