by Timothy Zahn
Hunter snorted again. “And you think their lack of food makes them unique? We, too, have just enough food for our own nourishment.”
“I was told there’s more in the stone building on your side of the arena,” Nicole said.
“You were told correctly,” Hunter agreed. “That supply is why we have enough for ourselves. Were we to lose it, the dispenser here in these rooms would have much of its supply cut off.”
“Wait a second,” Nicole said, trying to figure this out. “You have enough food in here? You don’t even need the dispenser in the stone building?”
“Of course we do,” Hunter said. “Weren’t you listening? We must control the bastion or the room dispenser’s flow will be cut off.”
“So you don’t actually need the other dispenser,” Nicole persisted. Apparently the Masters had set things up so that the defenders never had to worry about food as long as they held on to the stone building.
But if they didn’t need the food … “Would you consider just giving some of it to the Micawnwi, then?” she asked. “As long as you control the building, that should still be within the rules. Right?”
Hunter gave another snort. “And so again you seek to trick and destroy us,” he said. “Or do you seriously think the Masters will be so easily fooled?”
“I’m not trying to trick—”
“Let me explain the realities of this place to you, Sibyl of the Fyrantha,” he cut her off harshly. “We had to fight—to fight and to die—for what we have. The legged-snake creatures we were forced to battle defended the bastion with determination, and it was only through great energy and loss that we captured the bastion and drove them from the arena. You think we should then risk our lives again by meekly giving it to our enemies? What advantage would such a reckless act gain us?”
“Maybe stop the killing?” Nicole shot back. “They might not be your enemies if they had enough to eat.”
“Or they might use the extra food and time to build their strength at the cost of our own,” Hunter said. “No, Sibyl. If they’re the strongest, they’ll ultimately prevail. That’s the way of the universe. We would be fools to voluntarily aid them in those efforts.”
From one of the rooms came a voice. Nicole frowned, straining her ears—“This is the Oracle,” the voice said. “Hunter of the Cluufes, I would speak with you.”
Nicole felt her throat go dry. Time to get the hell out of here. “I understand and accept your position,” she said. “I simply thought the subject worth bringing up.”
“Hunter of the Cluufes?” the Oracle called again.
“And I thank you for your time,” Nicole continued, raising her voice to try to cover up the Oracle’s. “I’ll be on my way.”
Without waiting for his permission, she turned and strode back across the room. The guard, still standing in the doorway, looked questioningly over her shoulder at Hunter as she approached. Then, to her relief, he stepped aside. She passed him and headed out the door, wanting to look back and see what Hunter was doing but afraid that such a look might warn him that something was wrong.
She hit the stone path and lengthened her stride, trying to speed up without looking like she was hurrying. Her throat was tight with anticipation of an angry shout from behind her, her back tingling with the thought of the guard and his sharp-tipped halberd.
Just ahead, the path curved around a clump of trees. Nicole rounded the trees, putting herself temporarily out of sight of the Cluufe door—
And broke into a flat-out run, her feet pounding along the stones, her sleeves brushing the edges of bushes and low-hanging tree branches as she raced along. She sprinted past a dirt trail heading off into the hills to her right, and she wondered briefly if that was one of the routes the Cluufes used to go up one of the craggy ridges to spy on the Micawnwi. If it was, and if there were any of them still up there, at least now they could only come out behind her instead of cutting her off from in front.
Twenty yards ahead, the stone path split in two, giving her a choice of angling to the left or to the right. She eyed the split, trying to figure out which would be more likely to take her where she wanted to go.
An instant later she nearly fell as a warbling scream erupted from somewhere far behind her, the sound sending a jolt through her muscles that briefly knocked her off balance. She was still trying to get her feet back under control when an answering call came from the distance ahead and a little to her left.
So they were on two sides of her. But at least now she knew which way she needed to go. The scream from ahead and left must have come from the stone building, which the Cluufes would have heavily guarded. The right-hand path must therefore lead away from the building, hopefully over the hills toward her usual arena door. She shot a quick look over her shoulder, wondering if Hunter or the guard had taken up pursuit—
And suddenly she toppled to the ground, her hands barely making it up in time to break her fall, her right ankle blazing with pain.
I’ve been shot! was her first, horrified thought as she sprawled among the tall grass and matting of dead leaves, the stabbing pain in her leg now joined by a throbbing in her chest and both wrists. Shoving herself back up onto hands and knees, wincing as more alien screams rippled back and forth on both sides of her, she frantically clawed her way to the nearest bush. She got behind it, realized belatedly that it gave her no cover whatsoever, and kept going. A couple of yards farther ahead was a line of bushes with tendril-like branches that shot up from the center and then flowed out and down like frozen bluish-purple spray from a fountain. She fought her way through the grass to the edge of the line, slipped between two of the bushes, and collapsed behind them onto her side. Curling up like a baby, she gripped her ankle, trying not to groan with the pain.
At least there was no arrow sticking out of her leg. That was something. There was no one charging in pursuit, either, at least no one that she could see as she peered back at the path through small gaps in the tendrils. The screaming had stopped—did that mean they’d given up?
She peered back at the path, realizing now what had happened. The flat stones of the walkway were slightly elevated above the ground on either side. Not much, no more than an inch or so. But it had been enough. With her balance already thrown off by her reaction to the Cluufe screams, her stupidity in looking behind her while she was running had landed her foot on the edge of the stones and twisted her ankle.
She clenched her teeth, gripping the throbbing ankle a little tighter. Was it broken? That was the big question. Jeff had told her how food was withheld when someone couldn’t work, and even with crutches she might not be able to hobble to the team’s work sites fast enough to qualify as doing her job. A sprain wouldn’t be as bad as a break, but she might still find herself facing a day or two of not eating.
Assuming, of course, that she even made it back to the hive. If she got caught by the Cluufes, there was no telling what would happen to her.
She shifted her attention from the main path and her ankle to the right-hand path she’d been aiming for before her accident. It was only a few yards ahead, and partially shielded from view by more bushes and tall grass. It had looked reasonably smooth—if she could get to it, she might be able to crawl along it and get the hell out of here.
In fact, crawling might be better than running. It would be slower, but staying low would make her harder for the Cluufes to spot.
Even more encouraging was the fact that the pain in her ankle was starting to fade. Maybe she hadn’t done anything more serious than twist it. A nice, careful crawl out of the Cluufe area, then back up on her feet for better speed, and she might just make it. Unwrapping her hands from her ankle, she began slowly shifting around in preparation for getting up onto her hands and knees.
And then, just visible through the foliage, Hunter and the guard with the halberd emerged from around a clump of trees, hurrying along the stone path.
Nicole froze, silently cursing herself. Ankle or no ankle, pain or no pain,
she should have hit that branching path the second she’d gone off the main one. Going to ground never worked for long—she’d seen way too many guys get nailed because they’d tried to hide and wait out a chase.
If it was the cops chasing them, they usually ended up in jail. If it was a rival gang, they usually ended up dead. Nicole still didn’t know which of those categories the Cluufes fit into.
But there might still be a chance. If Hunter and the other Cluufe turned left at the fork and headed for the stone building, she might be able to get onto the other path before they realized she hadn’t gone that way and turned back. The two Cluufes reached the fork.
And, of course, came to a stop.
Nicole mouthed another curse, watching as the two aliens looked around. Were they just going to stand there, trying to sort out which way to go?
Raising his head, Hunter called something. “Wishsinger?”
There was a pause. Nicole frowned—
And then, from along the right-hand path, the one she’d just been about to crawl onto, came a soft voice. “No one came this way,” the translation came. “Shall I continue to watch?”
“No need,” Hunter said. “If she didn’t pass you, she didn’t go that way. You’d have heard her running through the grass. Did you hear any noise at all?”
“I heard movement a few moments ago. Would that have been you?”
“It might have,” Hunter said. “Or she could have passed on the other path. We’ll continue to the bastion—with luck, we may trap her between our forces.”
“Do I return to my watch duty, then?” the other Cluufe asked.
The guard beside Hunter touched his arm. “She may have left the path and doubled back,” he warned. “If so, she may yet escape.”
“She seeks food for the enemy,” Hunter said firmly. “She’ll have gone to the bastion to try to get it.”
“Or the Masters may have taken her away by methods of their own.”
“In which case all is futile anyway,” Hunter snapped. “But until that’s been proved, we’ll act as if she may still be caught.” He gestured toward the path. “Wishsinger, return to the stronghold and watch the large door, just in case Listmaker is right.”
“Understood.” There was a swishing of branches, and a Cluufe appeared, marching quickly down the right-hand path. He passed Hunter and the guard with a nod and hurried back toward the Cluufes’ hive. Hunter took another look around, then turned down the left-hand path, with the guard Listmaker following.
A moment later, Nicole was once again alone.
Without a single clue as to what the hell she was going to do.
She couldn’t go back, even if she wanted to. Wishsinger would see to that. She couldn’t go down the left-hand path, not with Hunter and Listmaker and whoever was at the stone building in that direction. That left only the right-hand path, the one she’d originally intended to take.
But did she dare risk it? One Cluufe had already come down from the hills and stone ridges. What if there were more? What if that was the route to their spy position above Micawnwi territory, not the path she’d passed earlier?
If so, there was a good chance that going that way would run her straight into their arms. She shifted position, wondering how far she could see up the path.
As she did so, her hand came down on something hard and cold.
She frowned, looking down. There was something just visible beneath the grass and matted leaves. Something dark gray, smooth, and metallic.
A lost weapon?
Carefully, she brushed away some of the leaves and grass. The metal didn’t seem to have any kind of edge anywhere on it, like a knife or the axe part of the halberd. It was long and straight, but not round like the shaft of a spear. She tried to dig beneath it, but her probing fingers felt only cold flatness all the way down to the ground.
And then, abruptly, it clicked. It was crazy, but she’d seen way crazier things aboard the Fyrantha already.
She ran her fingers under the matted leaves, searching to both sides. There it was: a second line of metal, identical to the first one and running parallel to it about a foot away.
They weren’t weapons. They were rails.
Sometime in the past, before the arena became an alien killing ground, there’d been some sort of train running through here.
She raised her eyes, tracking along the half-hidden rails. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the bush whose flowing tendrils she was hiding beneath was just one of a whole line of the things. To her left they curved around the back side of the clump of trees she’d passed just outside the Cluufes’ hive; to her right they rose upward, angling off toward a little dip between two of the larger hills. Midway to the hills, it also looked like there might be a place where the rails branched off to the left, possibly toward the stone building.
And with a surge of cautious hope, Nicole realized that the bushes provided a sort of covered tunnel for the rails. A tunnel that she could crawl through without being seen.
She had no idea how far the tracks ran, or whether they would even take her in the right direction. But for the moment, getting as far away from Cluufe territory as she could was enough of a plan. Easing up onto her hands and knees, wincing at the pain in her twisted ankle, she started crawling.
The trek was grueling. The tracks started out running more or less level, rising only slowly as they went through the low spot between the hills. But just beyond that they began to rise more steeply, not as steeply as the hills around them, but steeply enough to bring out fresh sweat on Nicole’s forehead as she worked her way up the slope. Many of the dead leaves covering the ground were rough-edged and dug into the skin of her palms as she moved, leaving little indentations until she finally learned how to recognize and avoid them. Some of the grasses had edges that caught on the sleeves of her jumpsuit, and with her posture keeping her face aimed mostly toward the ground she continually worried that she would hit a low-hanging branch.
But at least the leaves and grass didn’t crackle as she crawled through them, and there were no insects or spiderwebs she had to crawl through. It could have been a lot worse.
She didn’t know how far she crawled, but it was only a few minutes before the tracks abruptly stopped, disappearing into a solid chunk of bare rock at the base of one of the jagged ridges. Nicole puzzled at it a moment, decided there must be a hidden door there, and spent a couple of minutes trying to find a catch or release that would open it. But there was nothing she could find. Dead end.
But at least she’d made it out of sight of the main Cluufe territory. Shifting into a sitting position against the cliff face, she massaged her sore ankle and looked around.
She was higher than she’d realized, though not as high as the tallest hills and certainly not as tall as the ridges and rock spires. She couldn’t see anyone moving within her field of view, though with all the trees and other cover around her that didn’t mean much.
More importantly, as she cautiously craned her neck above the branches she discovered the Door Three exit she was trying for was visible in the distance at the far end of the arena. Even better, she could see more bushes like the ones she’d just been following leading down in that general direction. If there was another set of tracks over there, she might be able to cover much of the remaining distance without being seen.
She was taking a closer look at the area, trying to figure out the best way to get to the line of bushes, when a figure came into sight around one of the hills, walking swiftly toward Door Three. A large, shiny figure.
The Masters’ emissary.
Nicole clenched her teeth. So much for all her climbing and crawling and pain. She should have realized right from the start that he would head for that door as soon as he realized she’d escaped from both the Micawnwi and the Cluufes. She should also have realized that, without any need to hide or skulk around, he would reach the door long before she did.
And with that, the whole stupid game came crashing to a halt. On
ce he reached the door all he had to do was settle in and wait. That would leave Nicole with exactly two options: come out and surrender, or join Mispacch and her children in starving to death.
Still, there might be a way for her to wiggle out from under the worst of it. If she could come up with the right kind of story—probably something that made her look stupid, oblivious, or ditzy—the Masters might be persuaded that she wasn’t up to anything sinister. If so, maybe they’d settle for some mild punishment, or even just a stern warning.
The armored figure reached the door and stopped. His first task, naturally, was to stoop over and remove the screwdriver Nicole had wedged into the opening, then pull the door all the way closed. For another moment he continued to face the door, doing something Nicole couldn’t make out from her distance.
And then, to her surprise, he turned and strode briskly away along the arena’s far wall, heading back toward the stone building and Cluufe territory.
Nicole frowned. The screwdriver alone should have showed him that she’d come in that way. Was he really going to be content with simply locking the door again? Especially when she’d already demonstrated she could open the thing?
Unless she couldn’t open it anymore. Unless he’d just changed the keylock code.
She sighed. That had to be it. He’d changed the code, and with her now securely trapped inside the arena he was off to find Hunter and the Cluufes and sic them on her.
But she might still have an ace up her sleeve. The Fyrantha had given her access once. Maybe it would do so again. Pulling out her inhaler, she took a whiff.
Nothing.
She chewed at her lip, watching as the emissary disappeared from view behind some trees. Earlier that morning, she hadn’t gotten the keylock code until she was right beside the door. Maybe that was how it would work this time, too.
It would be risky, but she didn’t see any other options. Giving her injured ankle one final squeeze, she got back up on her hands and knees and headed toward the other line of tunnel bushes.