Grand Central Arena

by Ryk E. Spoor

  Carl chortled. A moment later, he said ‘‘Sethrik says to enjoy the view ahead, because soon the only thing you’ll see ahead of you is him.’’

  ‘‘Tell him and his crew to stop dreaming, because that’s happening only in their dreams.’’ She felt it now. The Molothos Shadeweaver had creeped her out, and she had plenty of questions, but she felt it. She and Skylark were one single unit, and unless Sethrik was the same way with his ship, they didn’t even have a chance.

  At Mach 3.5 they blasted out of the asteroid field, Sethrik behind her by a full ten kilometers (or, at their current speed, about eight point five seconds, more or less). But up ahead, both sight and radar were fading, as the massive barrier cloud, apparently including metallic and water particles that foiled long-range detection, roiled before them. Skylark and Dellak sped to its edge, both pushing high-speed competition until the limits of sensors required a sudden deceleration by airbrakes and reversers.

  Green-blue flickered around her, the world was awash in mist of seafoam and glacier ice. Dammit! Ice is real!

  she suddenly realized as both radar and visuals recognized something ahead that didn’t shift like cloud, kicked in jets and airfoils in a shuddering turn that mashed her to the control couch, clearing the spinning block of ice, or maybe crystal, by meters, fighting to get back on course. Inertials told her the right general direction, but now she realized how tricky this part of the course was. You couldn’t rely on long-range radar or imaging, and if you got off course in here you could exit very badly out of line, maybe end up on the wrong side of the far-post gravity well and have to circle back to pass it the right way around.

  ‘‘Carl, can you give me a transmission vector? Make sure I’m staying on course? I can’t see crap in this, it’s like swimming in a stagnant pond.’’

  ‘‘Trying . . . you’re about six degrees off in the azimuth. Come down six point three.’’ Carl said. ‘‘Sethrik’s on the nose. Think he anticipated it, his pit crew’s probably got him locked on a beacon.’’

  ‘‘He’s ahead of me now, isn’t he?’’

  ‘‘By the time I get you back on line and coach you down, about ten kliks.’’

  Damn; he’s gained twenty on me in one stupid move.

  ‘‘Okay, well, we can’t let me screw up like that again.

  You keep backing my vector for me, right?’’

  ‘‘Got your back. No worries.’’

  She’d slowed to less than five hundred kilometers per hour, and even then visual range was terrible. She couldn’t even see Sethrik at all. A flurry of rocks streamed by, and then, just visible to her left, a huge, sluggisly wavering, semi-spherical something, seeming gelatinous and alien; then her eyes and mind adjusted, and she realized she was looking at a massive floating lake, an aquatic environment in a weightless space. Tiny movement near the lake showed that something must live there.

  Brown-blue clouds suddenly lightened, and Skylark cleared the cloudbank, her rear camera showing a trail of smoky gray following her. Ahead she could see Dellak, and shoved the throttle forward. Sethrik wasn’t taking chances, though, and as they both flew the same craft, they reached their limits at the same speed. The Blessed retained his lead.

  Ariane swung her ship completely around as they approached the red-marked gravity turn point and accelerated back towards the starting point, letting the gravity field suddenly whip her sideways and, with her properly-timed acceleration, send her shooting back the way she’d come, on a slightly different course. Sethrik had done the same thing, but she noticed (with some satisfaction) not quite as smoothly, so she’d made up a couple of kilometers.

  But he was still very good, and she had to grudgingly admit it in the next couple of hours. He maintained his lead as they passed through the cloud again and the second field of contained asteroids. The zikkis came at them in clouds, somehow managing to match even these flyers in short, ragged bursts, adhering to the craft like armored five-tentacled squid and trying to pull them towards some presumably lethal destination. Turning and accelerating the ship sharply could dislodge them, shake them off, but it diverted you and slowed you down. Sethrik seemed to be able to anticipate their moves slightly, and mostly evaded them, while Ariane and Skylark had several incidents which drastically slowed them down. By the time they’d fought clear, Sethrik was more than fifty kilometers ahead.

  ***

  ‘‘I think he may be better than I am.’’

  Carl didn’t immediately answer, which was a bad sign. Then, ‘‘I hate to admit it . . . but you might be right. Every time you start to catch up with him, he’s managing to keep the lead.’’

  ‘‘The only reason I’m this close is that you’re a little better than his support crew,’’ Ariane said. Sethrik’s pit person had somehow slightly misaligned with Sethrik’s speed and course, forcing the Blessed pilot to realign and costing him quite a few seconds, while Carl had practically flown the refuelling structure up to Ariane. She could see Sethrik, at least, but he was still over ten kilometers ahead and she just couldn’t shrink that lead. They had passed around the far gravity turn for the last time, and were weaving through the rather tangled last set of asteroids.

  As she emerged from that gauntlet, she could see that she had slightly cut the distance. Okay, he’s not better than me at that, but he’s more than good enough that I’m not going to catch him unless he screws up or I figure out an angle.

  They were coming up on the zikki swarm again, and a small inspiration hit her. If my inner ear and Skylark can take it, anyway. She set her jaw. I sure hope these creatures are as tough as Orphan says, because I’m going to feel really bad about this maneuver otherwise.

  As the swarm sighted her and jetted crazily at her from all directions, she slammed the throttle to full and, at the same time, inverted airfoils on opposite sides of Skylark.

  The double-arrowhead racing ship leaped forward and began spinning like a drillhead along its main axis, whirling multiple times a second. It literally bored through the swarm, batting aside zikki like fish caught in a paddlewheel. Inside Ariane felt the world spinning crazily, the ship shuddering with impact after impact as it drove through the swarm by sheer power and centripetal acceleration, a straight-line brute-force approach completely different from—and considerably more dangerous than—Sethrik’s ballet of evasion.

  As the impacts subsided and the hard-driven Skylark began to accelerate beyond limits, she groggily took the controls and leveled the airfoils, throttling back. Carl came on the air, laughing hysterically. ‘‘My God, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! Holy Jesus, though, are you all right, Ariane? That must’ve been rough!’’

  ‘‘It was,’’ she said muzzily, still trying to clear her head and keep her high-nutrition, low-bulk lunch down. ‘‘Skylark held up pretty well, though. Where’s . . . ’’

  ‘‘Sethrik and Dellak?’’ Carl sighed. ‘‘You did great, you shaved about five kliks off his lead.’’

  She cursed. ‘‘Which means he’s still five ahead of me. And there’s nothing really between us and the finish line.’’

  ‘‘Just the Skyfall, and both of you’ve gone around that enough times so that I don’t think there’s much you can do there.’’

  He’s going to win. That son of a bitch is going to win, and we’re going to have to pay him.

  Far ahead, she could see the trailing cloud of the Sky-fall. It wouldn’t be long before they passed that, and then . . .

  And suddenly she sat up, so suddenly that the delicate controls of Skylark caused her to wobble. ‘‘Carl, send me the course description again. The exact text!’’

  ‘‘Um . . . sure. Here. ‘The first obstacle is the Skyfall. After passing the Skyfall, the second obstacle is a series of asteroids aligned in a cylinder; they move within this cylinder, of described radius thirty kilometers, and the contestants must remain within a concentric twenty kilometer cylinder; they may not avoid this obstacle merely by flying outside the asteroid region. The third�
��’’

  ‘‘Got it!’’

  Her gut had settled, and her grin was back. Win or die, that’s the way.

  She began to throttle back slightly. But I’d rather win than die, so let’s be a little tiny bit careful.

  Ahead, Sethrik and Dellak began the efficient turn, the minimum-deviation shift necessary to skirt the edge of the Skyfall.

  Skylark did not.

  ‘‘Um, Ariane . . . what the hell . . . ’’

  ‘‘Quote: ‘after passing the Skyfall’. That’s it, Carl. After passing. Unlike all the others, there’s no demand that you go around it. It’s just assumed that you go around it.

  ‘‘I’m going through.’’

  ‘‘You’re nuts!’’ Carl shouted, appalled. ‘‘Look at that, will you? It’s a ten kilometer-thick wall of falling rocks!’’

  ‘‘Not as close together as they look. And what the hell, it’s worth a try!’’

  ‘‘No, it’s not!’’

  But it was far too late for Carl’s argument to make any difference. Skylark was already destined for its encounter with the Skyfall, and the only question was whether it would come out the other side or not. Ariane slowed still more; the amount Sethrik had to divert to go around, she didn’t need tremendous speed to still beat him.

  She just needed to survive.

  The gray-brown wall towered before her, blotting out everything else, and then began to resolve into specks, then dots, then hurtling boulders, asteroids, pebbles, falling freely in the gravity well that now seized her.

  She made no effort to compensate for the gravity; here free-fall was more her friend than enemy, aligning her with the vertical vector of the rocks as they fell. But there were so many of them!

  A black shadow from the side, pull up! Another ahead, dive—no, loop back, another behind it! A triad, huge black-toothed stones coming together, thread the needle, through it, Oh crap!

  Skylark reeled as something smashed the tail of the little craft, sent it spinning. Ariane clung desperately to the controls, flying on instinct, surety of her bearing gone; for all she knew, she was now flying laterally down the center of the Skyfall, a thousand kilometers of plummeting death, and she couldn’t spare even the fraction of her attention needed to check Carl’s beacon. She had to hope she’d guessed right. Something else banged the hull as she careened around another miniature asteroid, and Skylark wobbled, feeling slightly less responsive, barely turning in time around the next set of falling stones . . .

  But it was lighter ahead, lighter, gravel rattling on the cockpit, and they were clear—clear! She laughed, spinning the ship once for sheer joy at having survived, and—out of the corner of her eye—saw the zikki that must have been stuck in the Skyfall and hitched a ride out on Skylark go twirling away. She heard a confused gabble of voices in her ears, but that didn’t matter, ahead was the station, the launch and landing area, and Sethrik was behind her, driving his ship for all it was worth, but it was too late!

  She was approaching waaaaay too hot, still over Mach—maybe the Arena could use its Sufficiently Advanced to stop her without injury, but she couldn’t bet that it would—after all, dying in the landing might not qualify as winning! She went to full braking flaps, hit the main thrust reversers, added the nose thrusters. Oh boy, that landing bay’s coming up awfully fast . . . and she was starting to slew, something thrown off by that little impact previously. Ariane fought desperately with the controls, cutting the thrust dangerously as she dragged Skylark back into line with the bay . . .

  With a screech of misaligned metal, Skylark grounded in the Arena landing tunnel, was caught by restraining nets, rolled half over, and stopped, three scant meters from the rear wall.

  ‘‘WINNER OF THIS CHALLENGE: ARIANE AUSTIN FOR THE FACTION OF HUMANITY ,’’ announced the calm voice of the Arena.

  Chapter 50

  ‘‘Why? Why?’’ Sethrik’s translated voice echoed the clear shakiness of his posture. ‘‘Ariane Austin of Humanity, if ever I or any of the Blessed gave you reason to believe our price would be so high, so great and terrible, I apologize—in the name of the Six, I abjectly and completely apologize!’’ He dropped to the formal pushup-bow posture and remained there for a long moment.

  Ariane was taken aback. She was sure that Sethrik’s reaction was genuine, his regret as real as it was confusing. ‘‘But . . . ’’

  The chosen of the Blessed leapt upright. ‘‘Only one thing would we have demanded, Captain Austin, only that you abandon your relationship with this . . . traitor.’’ He gestured contemptuously at Orphan, whose posture somehow conveyed a mocking smile. ‘‘Nothing worth the death of the leader of a Faction!’’

  ‘‘Sethrik, please . . . ’’ She was touched by the alien’s concern. Though this reaction more than ever showed her the horror of the Blessed to Serve, for she had no doubt now that Sethrik really was just as much a person as any other in the Arena, yet he served the Minds, who had also beyond doubt efficiently, effectively, and deliberately enslaved his entire species. ‘‘ . . . please, think no more of it. Really.’’

  She suddenly realized that she had to be very careful what she said here. The advantage they had deduced . . . Sethrik’s reaction confirmed it, in spades, and there was no reason to tell them about it. ‘‘I . . . I admit to being influenced by what I knew, and as Orphan has been our friend since our arrival . . . I did rather expect some terrible price.’’

  Carl glanced at her oddly, but his face abruptly cleared in understanding. ‘‘You were still crazy to take it to that level, Ariane,’’ he said, playing along.

  ‘‘Then my apologies as well, Captain Austin,’’ Orphan said quickly, in a somewhat shaken voice. ‘‘If my tales of the Blessed caused you to take risks to such extremes, truly I apologize for painting so terribly black a picture. Sethrik and I are enemies, yes, but he is no monster in truth.’’

  Their reactions—with Nyanthus still almost frozen in sympathetic shock over the sequence of events—simply confirmed everything she’d suspected. They seriously—for some reason she didn’t yet understand—did not take large risks unless forced into it. The times she’d been catching up to Sethrik or passing him were when she was making maneuvers which were, to her, acceptably risky, but were well outside of his comfort zone. So from their point of view . . . if they had realized that she had simply taken the risk because she refused to lose, they’d think her a total lunatic, the sort of person who’d randomly tap dance through a field of landmines because someone dared them to. And this was the sort of person leading a Faction? She barely restrained a giggle, which would probably not have gone over well, but it was pretty funny, trying to see this from their point of view. ‘‘Apologies accepted, and accept mine as well, for frightening you so for what was clearly no adequate reason save that in my mind.’’

  Orphan sighed, relaxing his posture. ‘‘Well, then, no matter what choices or reasons, it is clear that the Challenge was won, and won fairly, by Humanity. Are there any dissenting voices to be heard?’’

  Nyanthus’ translated voice was somewhat faint at first, but soon returned to its strong baritone. ‘‘I . . . I cannot dissent, Orphan. Clearly she landed well in advance of Sethrik’s vessel, and just as clearly she complied with all rules and all requirements of the course.’’

  ‘‘So I can claim our prize now?’’ Ariane asked, tensely.

  This could be it!

  ‘‘There is no doubt of it.’’ Sethrik said reluctantly. ‘‘Though depending on your claim, it may require more or less time to grant, though never too long—such, as I believe you know, is enforced by the Arena.’’

  She grinned. ‘‘Then, in that case, I know what I—what we all want. Ever since we arrived, in fact, we—’’

  Orphan was suddenly at her side, cutting her off. ‘‘I beg your indulgence for a moment; allow me to speak with the captain in private.’’

  She stared at him through narrowed eyes, remembering the most recent revelation. ‘‘Can’t you wait
a couple seconds?’’

  ‘‘We need to talk immediately, Captain,’’ he whispered. ‘‘I promise you, it is desperately important.’’

  Interrupting me now? Fine. ‘‘Very well. Is the launch bay still available and private enough for my Advocate,’’ she allowed a certain ironic emphasis to come through on the title, ‘‘to speak with me there?’’

  Sethrik looked mildly annoyed at the interruption, having evidently steeled himself to accept whatever—probably high—price Ariane had been about to demand, and now having to wait around for it. ‘‘I believe so. Be quick about it, if you may.’’

  Nyanthus agreed that the launch bay should be sufficient, and so she allowed Orphan to lead her there.

  As soon as the doors were fully shut, she whirled. ‘‘You lying son of a bitch!’’

  The Survivor was totally taken aback by her vehemence. ‘‘No, Ariane Austin, I assure you, I really do have something important—’’

  ‘‘I’m not talking about whatever bug you’ve got up your ass right now, Orphan! I’m talking about our first—our very first—encounter. That was a goddamn setup from the word go. You came to us deliberately—you were sent to us. Weren’t you?’’

  She saw Orphan freeze, like a man emerging into a lethal crossfire. ‘‘H . . . how . . . ?’’ he finally managed.

  ‘‘I had a visitor. A Shadeweaver. A Molothos Shadeweaver. And he said that you had been directed.’’

  ‘‘Minds and Manipulation!’’ was the translation of the obvious curse Orphan gave. He was silent for a moment, then with a humanlike sigh he seemed to give up, slumped down on the deck. ‘‘It . . . is true. But not exactly as you envision it, Ariane Austin. I have never . . . precisely . . . lied to you.’’

  ‘‘What you told us was true . . . ‘from a certain point of view,’ then?’’ she said, quoting the ancient line.