by Timothy Zahn
“Got it,” Jeff said. “Nicole, with me.”
He angled off to the left, shield held ready, Nicole beside him. They ran into the intersection and braked to a simultaneous stop.
The Koffren was there, all right, lumbering toward them from halfway down the corridor, spider gun in one hand and sword in the other. As Jeff and Nicole came within his sight he opened up with the gun, blasting their shields. “Levi?” Jeff shouted as he again handed off his shield to Nicole and unlimbered his hose.
The Koffren got three more steps before Jeff and Levi opened fire, spraying him with oil and liquid plastic. The big alien snapped his forearm up to protect his helmet and face from the oil, just as the other one had done.
Only where the other Koffren had kept charging, this one slowed in response, perhaps cautious at his sudden inability to see exactly where his enemies were.
That was a mistake. With his pumping legs slowed down, the plastic spray had more time to congeal. He jerked with a slight pause, tried to keep going, jerked again at Levi’s second shot—
And with a furious roar he toppled forward, his spider gun still spitting wildly.
“I’m empty,” Levi warned.
“Go!” Jeff snapped, snatching back his now completely covered shield. “Yeah, me, too,” he said under his breath. “Time to move ’em out, Nicole.”
“On it,” Nicole said. Peering watchfully around the side of her shield at the entangled Koffren, she sidled around behind Jeff, then turned and sprinted toward the wall. The Ponngs were running ahead of her, their drones now hovering over the line of waiting Wisps, watching down the long crosswise corridor for any last-minute move by the Shipmasters. Tomas was running beside the shorter creatures, ready to throw the depleted plastic canister at any other attackers who might show up. Nicole kept running, peering closely at the Wisps …
And felt her stomach tighten. Six Wisps, waiting just like she’d told them, right where she’d told them.
Only they weren’t the same Wisps.
“Well?” Jeff panted as he drew alongside her.
She shook her head. “Plan B.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Nothing for it,” Nicole told him. “At least the Koffren helped us out a little.” She raised her voice. “Everyone—hold back!” she called. “Let me go first.”
She slowed to a trot, passing Tomas and the Ponngs, and stepped up to the nearest Wisp. This was it. Getting a firm grip on her shield, she turned and backed into its arms.
And as the arms closed around her, she knew she’d been right.
No Welcome, Protector. How may I serve? No greetings, or communications of any sort.
But she should at least try. Open the wall and take me across to Q2, she thought at it.
There was no response. This was a Q1 Wisp, one of the Shipmasters’ slaves.
And it was here to kill her.
From behind her came a blast of heat as the Wisp opened the door into the duct. All of the others were within Nicole’s line of sight: Levi and Tomas starting the emotional wind-down she’d seen so often in Trake’s men after a job or a fight; Jeff standing between and behind them, whispering urgently as he explained what was about to happen; Moile and Teika still on alert, their attention slightly unfocused as they summoned their drones back to their arms. The Wisp swiveled around and glided to the opening …
“Go!” Jeff snapped.
An instant later Nicole was jolted forward into the shaft as Jeff slammed his shield hard into the Wisp’s back. The Wisp’s grip loosened slightly with the impact, and out of the corner of Nicole’s eye she saw the upper tips of its wings as they unfurled. She and the Wisp floated together in the flood of hot air whipping past from beneath them, and for a second she thought the Wisp might defy its masters, breaking the order they’d given it so that it might keep the ship’s Protector alive. That first heartbeat turned into another, and then a third.
Then, suddenly, the Wisp seemed to notice it was holding Nicole over the opening it had been ordered to take her into. The slender arms opened, and with a single reflexive yelp Nicole tumbled into the fiery air.
And as she fell, with her body released from its paralysis, she got a two-handed grip on her shield’s handle and raised it high above her head.
The jolt as the aluminum caught the updraft nearly wrenched it from her hands. She clenched her teeth hard, snarling curses as she squeezed the handle with all her strength. Above her she could hear the clamor of voices and movement as Jeff, taking advantage of the open door, got the others into the shaft and then jumped in behind them.
The fall seemed to take forever. Nicole’s hands and arms began to tremble from the strain, the air flowing past her seemed even hotter than usual, and with her shield blocking the view above her there was no way to see whether or not the rest of her team had made it into the duct and were doing their own controlled falls to safety.
For that matter, even now the hoped-for safety was hardly guaranteed. If the Shipmasters were fast enough, they might be able to order the Wisps to close their own wings, drop down the shaft to somewhere below Nicole and the others, and reacquire a grip on their victims. This had been Nicole’s only trick, and if Fievj found a way to counter it she had nothing else in reserve.
She was still thinking those thoughts, still waiting in the darkness for Wisp arms to once again wrap around her, when she spotted a faint haze of light beneath her. She barely had time to bend her knees in anticipation before her feet hit the grating at the bottom of the ship and she sprawled off balance onto the floor.
She was still lying there, shaking with reaction, when the others began landing around her.
For a long moment the only sounds were the soft clatter of metal on metal as everyone set down their shields or other equipment, mixed in with the softer mutterings of relief or aching muscles or sheer disbelief. Nicole tried to set down her own shield, but her fingers were locked so tightly around the handle that she couldn’t let go.
“Here, let me help,” Jeff said, kneeling beside her. He got his fingers on hers and started massaging them. “Seen this happen before, usually with a rifle. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nicole said, her voice shaking. “Anyone hurt? Anyone hurt?” she asked more loudly.
“That,” Levi said with a hint of humor in his voice, “has got to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Tomas?”
“Yeah,” Tomas muttered. “Crazy. Stupid. And damn wasteful.”
Nicole looked up at Jeff, saw her same puzzlement reflected in his own expression. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“He was there,” Tomas said, and in the dim light Nicole could see that he’d turned a vicious and powerless glare on her. “He was right there. And with his sword. We could have grabbed it and cut his damn freaking head off. But no. Our great leader and Protector couldn’t wait one more damn freaking minute before hustling us out of there and into this damn pit.”
“Tomas—” Jeff began warningly.
“No, that’s all right,” Nicole said, a wave of weariness washing over her. “We’ve just proved to them that we can fight. Why not show them that we can kill?”
“Yeah,” Tomas bit out. “Why the hell not?” He stood up, looked at his blackened shield a moment, then tossed it aside. “Which way’s back?”
“That way,” Nicole said, pointing in the direction of Q4. “But it’s easy to get lost, so we should—”
“Take your time,” Tomas cut her off as he headed that direction at a brisk walk. “I’m going home. Let me know when you get your next big idea. Better yet, call me when you’ve got the bastards lined up against the wall.”
“You can’t get up from here without a Wisp,” Jeff called after him.
“Watch me!” Tomas shouted back over his shoulder. “I fell down the crap hole by myself. I can figure out how to get back up.”
Jeff looked at Nicole. “Can he?”
“I doubt it,” Nicole said with a sigh. “I never found
a stairway out of here. Neither did Wesowee when he was hunting for me.” She held up a hand. “Don’t worry. Once we’re in Q4 I’ll call a Wisp and have it meet up with him.”
“He might not trust it.”
“Then he can just wait for us to catch up with him.”
They watched Tomas as he walked between the support pillars, coming occasionally under one of the dim ceiling lights before disappearing for good into the darkness.
“Well,” Jeff said. “At least we know that your radio relay sabotage worked.”
“We do?” Nicole asked, her eyes and thoughts still on Tomas.
“Sure,” Jeff said. “If they’d been able to warn the second Koffren how we took down the first he’d have tried a different sort of attack.”
“Unless they’re incapable of such thought or improvisation,” Moile suggested. “Sometimes great strength in a person is accompanied by less intelligence and ingenuity.”
“Sometimes,” Levi said. “Wouldn’t want to bet on that in general. So what now?”
“Nicole?” Jeff prompted quietly.
Nicole sighed. “Like Tomas said,” she said. “We go home.”
ten
The walk back to Q4 felt longer than usual. Part of that was Nicole’s fatigue, she knew, and an even bigger part of it was the draining away of the adrenaline that had fueled their short but intense battle with the Koffren.
But most of it was heartache. Some of it was heartache for herself, but most of it was for Tomas. He’d come along with her to Q1 looking for revenge on the Koffren for Bennett’s murder, and Nicole had denied him that small bit of comfort.
The real question was why.
Because Tomas was right on all counts. The Koffren was there, the weapon to kill him was there, and the act couldn’t possibly have made any difference as to the Shipmasters’ view of Earth’s value to them. Humans as leaders or humans as soldiers—either one made Earth a prized property that would bring a good price in their war slave market.
Had the possibility of dealing with the Koffren simply not occurred to her in the heat of the battle? Certainly her mind had been elsewhere, focused on the Wisps and the Shipmasters’ own plan for dealing with Nicole and their Protector problem. If Tomas had pointed out the opportunity that had been staring them in the face, would she have given him the time he needed to do the job?
Because here and now, thinking back on the scene, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t.
And that bothered her. Not because she was squeamish about watching someone cut off someone else’s head. She’d seen far worse during her time with Trake’s gang. Certainly not because the Koffren didn’t deserve it, because they absolutely did.
So why did she still think that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do?
She didn’t have an answer. And until she did, she was pretty sure Tomas wouldn’t be getting in line to help her out with any new plans.
And if Tomas was out, there was a fair chance Levi would be, too. He hadn’t yelled at her like Tomas had, but he’d been awfully quiet on the walk back from Q1. He’d also never been the type to jump into a knee-jerk decision, preferring instead to think things through carefully. In a couple of days, Nicole and Jeff might find themselves pretty much alone.
Alone except for the four Thii and two Ponngs, anyway. The Ghorfs, too, might be willing to break their long cover and help her, but only if they saw some real chance of victory in her plan. Otherwise, they would probably also sit this one out.
Trake used to brag that he’d started out with only two others when he first started building his gang. If he could start out mostly alone and survive the Philly streets, maybe she and Jeff could do it, too.
Though both of the friends Trake claimed had been with him in those days were long gone, so there was really no way to know if the story was true or more of his usual BS.
Finally, after a wearying trudge through the Fyrantha’s basement and the usual ride through the heat-exchange ducts with the Wisps, they were there.
Levi left immediately with a mechanical good-bye and headed to his own room. The two Ponngs also left for their new quarters for rest and additional drone practice.
Leaving Nicole and Jeff alone.
“Want to get something to eat?” Jeff asked as they walked toward the center of the hive, where the dining room and medical center were located.
She shook her head. “Not really hungry.”
“You really should eat something.”
“Who are you, my grandmother?” Nicole said sourly. “I said I’m not hungry.”
“Maybe,” Jeff said. “Or maybe you don’t want to risk running into Tomas or the others.”
Nicole glared at him. But the glare didn’t have much power behind it.
Because he was right. The idea of facing Tomas so soon after he’d stormed off made her heart ache a little harder. As for the others in her work team … well, the fact that none of them had shown up to help with the Q1 sortie said it all.
Plus the fact that Tomas had probably already given them his version of what had happened. She’d be lucky if any of them ever even spoke to her again.
“Come on,” Jeff pressed. “I doubt any of them are there right now, anyway. And if they don’t want to talk to us, they’re free to leave.”
“Fine,” Nicole said with a sigh. She really was hungry. “But if someone’s there, I’m taking it back to my room.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Jeff said. They reached the dining room, and the door slid open.
And Nicole came to a sudden, jerky stop. There was a man in there, all right, seated at one of the tables as if waiting for a waitress to show up.
But it wasn’t any of the blue group. This man was wearing a green jumpsuit, marking him as a member of the green work team.
The team the Shipmasters had just tried to get the blue team to kill. And vice versa.
“Nicole,” the man said gravely, nodding his head in greeting.
Belatedly, Nicole focused on his face. Normally, the green and blue work teams didn’t mix much, and until they’d been pitted against each other in the Q1 arena Nicole hadn’t talked to any of them more than a few times. In fact, up to that point she’d have been hard-pressed to put names to any of their faces.
Now, after all that, she knew all those names and faces painfully well.
“Miron,” she replied, nodding back. And not just a green team member, but their leader.
As the work leader, he should logically have also been running their side of the battle the Shipmasters had forced on the two work crews. Instead, the Shipmasters had dumped Bungie on them and put him in charge of the team. Nicole hadn’t really heard what Miron had thought about that, but she couldn’t imagine him being very happy about it.
So what was he doing here?
“Hey, Miron,” Jeff spoke up, matching Miron’s tone. “Something we can do for you?”
“I don’t know,” Miron said. “Let me say right up front that I don’t particularly want to be here. I never really thought much of your crew—except Levi; I always sort of respected him. And after the business back in the big beachfront room thing—”
“The Q1 arena,” Jeff supplied.
Miron’s eyes narrowed slightly in a small glower. His lip twitched and he turned back to Nicole. “Whatever. I’m just saying that getting dragged into that whole thing didn’t exactly endear you to us.”
“None of that was our doing,” Nicole said carefully. “It was the Shipmasters who forced all of us into that mess.”
“Yeah, that’s what Iosif figured,” Miron said. “Not what they said, but it’s what he figured.” He looked back at Jeff. “He also said you probably had military experience. Soldier?”
“Marine,” Jeff said. “I’m guessing he did, too?”
“Navy,” Miron said. His lip twitched with a somewhat reluctant smile. “I’m guessing that’s enough extra reason right there for him to look down his nose at you.”
“Nice to see s
omeone maintaining traditional Earth customs,” Jeff said dryly. “Is there a point to all this? Or is this just a this means war visit?”
“Actually, it is kind of that,” Miron said. “Though probably not against you. Something aboard the Fyrantha has changed, and we don’t know what the hell it is. You and Bungie seem to be the only ones who know anything, so we voted to send someone down here to ask you about it.”
“And you drew the short straw?” Jeff suggested.
Miron straightened up in his chair. “I’m the green team leader,” he said stiffly. “Leaders don’t foist unpleasant duty on someone else.”
Jeff inclined his head. “My apologies.”
“Actually, you’re the right person to hear all this, anyway,” Nicole said, wondering how much the greens disliked her team that just having a conversation with them was considered unpleasant duty. “When you were made group leader, I assume Plato or someone told you to keep everyone in your team from fighting with each other?”
“It was a guy named Van Damme, actually,” Miron said. “But yeah, he told me that. Figured it was a rule the Shipmasters dropped on us to make sure we didn’t suck up sick days healing up from bar fights.”
“The Shipmasters had nothing to do with it,” Nicole said. “Okay. Here’s what’s going on.”
She laid out the whole thing: the Shipmasters’ plan to turn the Fyrantha back into a warship, their scheme of raising the necessary money by pitting different groups of aliens against each other and selling off their races as war slaves, and the sudden realization that their human workers could do far more than just make repairs.
Midway through the explanation she wondered briefly if she should confess that it was her own actions and stubbornness that had put Earth in this horrible danger in the first place. But at this point it didn’t really matter how it had started. What mattered was how they were going to end it.
Or so she told herself.
She finished, and for a long moment Miron stared at her in silence. Then, he stirred in his chair. “I think,” he said, “that we need to open up this chat a little.” Putting his fingers to his lips, he blew a piercing whistle.