by Timothy Zahn
The faces of Mispacch and her children flashed in front of Nicole’s eyes. But she’d done all she could for them, and more than anyone could reasonably expect. Certainly more than she ever would have expected from herself.
Anyway, she had enough troubles of her own right now. “Deal,” she said.
“Good,” Plato said, coming to a halt. “Here’s the plan,” he continued, lowering his voice and pointing to the door just ahead. “We’ll pop the door and you’ll go in. If he’s asleep, you signal us and we’ll come in and take him. If he’s awake, talk to him or something and get his attention away from the door. Got it?”
“Sure,” Nicole said doubtfully. Bungie probably wouldn’t be that easy to distract, especially if he was already wary or suspicious. Still, there were four of them and only one of him. They should make out all right.
Unless, of course, he’d found something nastier than the halberd on one of the hidden decks and brought it down here with him. If he had, they could be in serious trouble.
If he hadn’t, Nicole had just wasted an hour of whatever life Jeff had left.
Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to the door and tapped the release.
The door whooshed open to reveal a space about three times the size of her room back in the hive. In the front part was a small table and a couple of chairs, with a water dispenser by a short counter midway back along the left-hand side wall. In the rear were the two beds Plato had mentioned, behind a partially open floor-to-ceiling grate. “Bungie?” she called softly. “Bungie? It’s me.” She took a step into the room.
And nearly had her shoulder ripped out of its socket as a hand darted out of nowhere to grab her right arm and yank her sideways along the wall.
She stumbled, her free arm flailing madly as she tried to keep her feet under her. She was still fighting for balance as Plato burst into the room behind her, his hands bunched into fists, his eyes tracking the direction she’d gone. He was barely inside the room when the hand let go of Nicole’s arm—
And the blunt end of a halberd shot across Nicole’s view and rammed squarely into Plato’s stomach.
The big man gave an agonized grunt and doubled over, half turning as he staggered away. Sam, charging in right behind him, tried frantically to get out of the way as the weapon tapped Plato a second time and then shifted direction toward him. He was partially successful, taking a glancing blow off his hip instead of catching the end of the shaft full force in his gut. But even that lower impact was enough to spin him a quarter turn around and drop him with a bone-jarring thud onto the floor.
“You stupid bitch,” Bungie snarled into Nicole’s ear. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“We were worried about your leg,” Nicole protested, rubbing her throbbing arm. “That’s why we brought Sam—”
“Like hell,” Bungie cut her off, grabbing her arm again and giving her another yank that sent her stumbling past him toward the corner. “You’ll get yours after I finish with them.”
Taking a couple of limping steps forward, he gave Sam another quick jab, this one ramming him in his stomach where the first blow had been intended to land. Sam’s moans turned into gasps as he suddenly had to fight just to breathe. Plato, still hunched over with his hands gripping his stomach, turned back to face Bungie, his eyes brimming with anger and pain. Bungie changed direction toward him and raised the end of the halberd shaft again, this time pointing squarely between the big Greek’s eyes. He cocked the weapon back over his shoulder, ready to land a blow that would put Plato out for good.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, the sheer force of it ringing in Nicole’s ears and sending a violent shiver through Bungie that sent his attack harmlessly past Plato’s head and shoulder. Bungie twisted back around, swinging the halberd toward the door—“No!” Nicole’s translator snapped—
As Kahkitah charged into the room.
Bungie must have known in that instant that he’d lost. But he wasn’t the type to give up just because it was the smart thing to do. He took a couple of quick steps back from the big marble-skinned alien, trying to reverse the halberd and bring its pointed end around in front of him.
But Kahkitah was already at full lumbering speed, and the halberd was too heavy. The spear end was no more than three-quarters of the way around when Kahkitah caught the shaft between the point and the axe head and brought the weapon to an abrupt halt. There was a brief tug-of-war, and then Kahkitah wrenched it from Bungie’s grip, spun it halfway around, and lobbed it across the room to land with a bounce on one of the beds behind the partition.
Bungie didn’t waste any time with snarls or curses. Spinning on his heel, he headed for the halberd as fast as his injured leg would allow, clearly intent on retrieving it.
He got three steps before Plato snatched up one of the chairs and hurled it into the backs of his legs, knocking him flat on his face. Before he could disentangle himself, Kahkitah was on him, grabbing his upper arms and hauling him to his feet.
Bungie kicked backward, catching the alien in his marble-encased lower leg. Kahkitah didn’t even seem to notice.
“Son of a bitch,” Plato half grunted, half groaned, as he staggered his way over to where Sam still lay curled up around himself. “You okay?”
“I think he broke my stomach,” Sam managed between gasps.
Plato shot a look at Bungie. “Is that possible?”
“Of course not,” Sam bit out, trying to push himself up. “Give me a hand, will you?”
With Plato’s help, Sam managed to get himself up and into the remaining chair by the table. Through it all Bungie watched in silence, his expression a mixture of defiance, amusement, and quiet fear.
“Okay,” Plato grunted. He was mostly vertical now, though he still kept one hand pressed against his stomach. “You—Bungie—Nicole has a question for you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple of questions for her, too,” Bungie said.
“Shut up.” Plato gestured to Nicole. “Go on.”
“Those hidden decks and rooms you talked about last night,” Nicole said. “Did you find any weapons up there?”
Bungie snorted. “If I had, you think I’d still be fooling around with that piece of junk?” He jerked his head toward the halberd.
“I mean it,” Nicole insisted. “Was there anything that might have been a weapon? Or something that looked like one but was too big for you to carry back here?”
Bungie’s forehead creased. “Why do you care about weapons all of a sudden? We being invaded or something?”
“Jeff’s in trouble,” Sam told him. “If she doesn’t get a weapon—”
“Shut up!” Plato snapped.
Nicole winced. But the damage had been done. Bungie’s frown disappeared, replaced by a sly smile. “So you find something to charge to the rescue with, or Pretty Boy gets the chop? Poor Pretty Boy.”
“Did you see anything, or didn’t you?” Nicole asked, her heart sinking.
“Oh, yeah,” Bungie said in that same self-satisfied voice. “Hundreds of weapons—whole rooms full of them. You want me to show you?”
“He’s lying,” Plato said, looking disgustedly at Sam.
“No kidding,” Nicole said, looking around the room. She’d hoped that Bungie’s explorations might have turned up something she could trade for Jeff, even if it wasn’t the specific weapon Hunter had demanded. But there was nothing here.
“Any chance you can make some other trade with these Cluufes?” Plato asked.
“I doubt it,” Nicole said. “But I can try.”
“You’d better get started,” Sam said, carefully levering himself back to his feet. For a moment he wavered, one hand gripping the table, then just as carefully sat down again. “Go on. We’ll take care of Bungie.”
Nicole frowned. There had been something odd in his voice just then. “What do you mean?”
“Like I said, we’re going to nail him to the floor,” Plato told her. “Do
n’t worry about it. Go on—we’ve got him.”
Nicole focused on Bungie’s subtly altered expression. Clearly, he’d heard the same strangeness in Sam’s voice that Nicole had. “I should probably stay,” she said. “Maybe I can reason with him.”
“Yeah, a lot of good reasoning has done up to now,” Plato said pointedly. “Just go.”
“And take the halberd with you,” Sam added. “Maybe you can trade it for Jeff or something.”
“They already have those,” Nicole said, her vague suspicion starting to harden into something ugly. “I’ll help you get Bungie back to his room first.”
“We can handle it,” Plato said.
“I don’t mind.”
“I said we can handle it!” Plato snarled.
Nicole flinched back, a flood of bitter-edged certainty washing over her. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you.”
The room went suddenly very quiet. “Go back to the arena, Nicole,” Plato said evenly.
“Why?” Nicole demanded. “Because you don’t like him? Because he’s a screw-up?”
“Because he’s dangerous,” Plato said. “More dangerous than you realize.”
“Nicole, I saw Jeff this morning,” Sam said. “I saw what Bungie did to him. We can’t let him just run amok that way.”
“So lock him in his room.”
“The doors don’t have outside locks,” Plato said, glaring at her. “Why do you even care about this piece of trash?”
Nicole looked at Bungie. That was a damn good question.
She didn’t owe him anything. If anything, he owed her for all the messes he’d caused aboard the Fyrantha that she’d had to clean up. She didn’t owe him anything for Trake’s sake, either. Even if Bungie had done anything for the group to deserve that kind of consideration—and she doubted he ever had—that life was far behind her.
She didn’t care about Bungie. What she cared about was doing the right thing.
It was a surprising thought. In fact, it was a terrifying one. After all these years of doing whatever was necessary to survive, this was no time to be parroting lofty ideals. Or even growing a conscience.
But that was, in fact, what it seemed to boil down to. Bungie hadn’t done anything aboard the Fyrantha to deserve death. Certainly not a cold-blooded execution without a trial or an opportunity to defend himself, or even a final warning and one last chance to clean up his act.
Still, a conscience wasn’t supposed to replace her common sense. She couldn’t let Plato and Sam flat-out kill Bungie, but she also couldn’t let him roam free around the ship. But there was one absolutely secure place where they could keep him isolated while they hammered out some kind of permanent plan.
The arena.
On one level, it was crazy. There were people in there, innocent people he might attack or otherwise make trouble for. He’d certainly never shown himself to care about innocents, and he wasn’t likely to start now.
On the other hand, both the Micawnwi and Cluufes knew him, didn’t like him, and would probably take a poke at him on sight. Any thoughts he might entertain about having free run of the place were likely to get squashed pretty quickly. He would need to find a place to go to ground, and he’d need to find it fast. On top of that, all the doors were locked with a code he didn’t have, and Nicole and Plato would have complete control of his food supply.
They wouldn’t want to keep him in there more than a few days, of course. But it should at least serve as a holding area until they could come up with something permanent.
The trick would be getting Plato to agree to it. And since Nicole was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen, it was all going to be up to her.
“I don’t care about him,” she said flatly. “I care about justice.” Her eyes flicked to Kahkitah. “I’m guessing Kahkitah does, too.”
“Kahkitah will do as he’s told,” Plato said just as flatly. “So will you.” He hissed out a sigh. “I know how this looks, Nicole. But believe me, I wouldn’t even consider it unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“Necessary for whom?” Nicole countered, looking casually around the room. Plato and Sam were still recovering from Bungie’s attacks and wouldn’t be racing down the Fyrantha’s hallways at top speed anytime soon.
But then, neither would Bungie, not with his leg still on the mend. She would have to buy him some time, probably with the halberd. If he had enough of a head start, they might be able to get to the arena before the others could catch up.
“Necessary for all of us,” Plato said. “I can’t explain—not yet. But if we don’t stop him, right here and now, he’ll ruin everything.”
“Yeah, he does that,” Nicole said sourly, starting toward the rear part of the room. “Fine—whatever. You’re in charge. You said I could take the halberd?”
“Yes,” Plato said, his eyes narrowing. She’d given in way too easily, and he knew it. “Be careful—it’s heavier than it looks.”
“I know.” Nicole walked past Kahkitah and Bungie without giving either of them so much as a glance and slipped past the partition. Up close, the beds smelled a little musty. She picked up the halberd and, holding it with the blunt end forward, started back toward the exit door. “You realize, Kahkitah, that killing is wrong, don’t you?”
“Not all killing,” Kahkitah said. “Sometimes it’s necessary for the safety of an entire group.” He craned his neck to look down at Bungie’s profile. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Told by whom?” Nicole countered, coming to a halt two paces in front of Plato, with Kahkitah and Bungie another two paces to her right. “By Plato? By Sam? Because sometimes killing isn’t for the good of anyone except the person doing the killing.”
“I’m guessing you’ve had a lot of experience with that one,” Plato muttered.
“And don’t forget, he admitted right up front that he was a murderer,” Sam reminded her.
“It was self-defense,” Bungie protested. Clearly, he’d figured out Nicole was planning something. “He’d have killed me if I hadn’t gotten him first.”
“He deserves a fair trial before any punishment gets handed out,” Nicole said. Casually, she turned the halberd so that the blunt end was pointing straight at Plato’s stomach.
“He deserves whatever I say he deserves,” Plato said, his eyes on the halberd. “Go on, get out.”
“Sure,” Nicole said, easing the halberd back a few inches as if preparing to follow up Bungie’s earlier shot to Plato’s stomach with one of her own. Plato spotted the movement and took half a step backward, pivoting slightly to make himself a less open target. “You know, I don’t think I’ll need this thing,” Nicole continued, cocking it back a couple of inches more. “You take it.”
Pivoting on her foot, she shifted to a two-handed grip on the halberd and threw it.
But not forward, toward Plato. Instead, she lofted it to the side, sending it straight toward Kahkitah’s head.
Kahkitah might not be human, but in this case he had the same reaction most humans did. Letting go of Bungie, he snapped both hands up to catch the object suddenly coming at him.
And taking a long step toward him, Nicole grabbed Bungie’s hand and yanked him into motion, half dragging, half pulling him toward the door.
Plato, balanced to dodge or deflect an attack, was caught completely off guard. He cursed and lunged, but Nicole and Bungie were already past him, Bungie pushing his bad leg for all it was worth. Sam, still sitting by the table, tried to leap to his feet, but a quick shove from Bungie as they passed sent him slamming back into the chair.
The room behind Nicole erupted with Plato’s curses and Kahkitah’s confused whistles, and for a second she found herself flashing back to all the other frantic getaways she’d been involved in over the years. But she knew better than to let either the confusion or the memories distract her. The open door was three steps ahead, with the empty corridor beyond it. Only Kahkitah could catch them now, and whatever Plato ordered him to do she could h
opefully talk him into something else once they were out of the Greek’s earshot. Two more steps—one—
And as she sprinted through the doorway she slammed full tilt into a mass of shiny metal that suddenly appeared in front of her.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, sending a jolt of pain through her chest and a dazzling array of stars across her eyes. She bounced backward from the unyielding mass, slamming a split second later into Bungie as he collided with her from behind. He gave a grunt of his own and bounced backward, his bad leg collapsing beneath him and dropping him to the floor.
And as Nicole staggered sideways, fighting for balance and breath, Fievj stepped into the opening, blocking any chance of escape. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“A small discipline matter only, Shipmaster Fievj,” Plato said, his voice suddenly taut and strained. More strained even, Nicole noted uneasily, than it had been as he’d pronounced Bungie’s death sentence a minute ago. “Nothing you need trouble yourself with.”
“Indeed?” the centaur asked, taking a few more steps into the room as if for a closer look.
Only now that Nicole knew what he looked like without his fancy armor, she could see that his own front legs and the suit’s rear legs strode along in subtly different ways. Fievj was doing the front part of the walking, while the armor’s rear legs were somehow keeping up with him.
The armor itself she could understand, especially if he sometimes went into the arena where people might shoot arrows at him. But why in the world pretend he was a centaur?
“This man appears to be wounded,” Fievj continued, pausing and peering down at Bungie. “How did these injuries occur?”
Sam and Plato exchanged quick glances. “It happened while he was checking a problem with one of the doors,” Plato said, and Nicole could hear the slight hesitations in his voice that told her he was being very careful how he chose his words. “But he’s been treated and should make a full recovery.”