Pawn

by Timothy Zahn

  “It’s like a tank,” Jeff murmured, clearly as awed by the sight as Nicole was. “A tree hugger’s version of a tank.”

  Nicole grimaced. Tree hugger, yes. Pretty much literally, in fact.

  But tanks had armor plating. All the Micawnwi tree had going for it was concealment.

  Concealment, plus a small surprise lurking inside.

  The Cluufes had undoubtedly been warned of their enemies’ advance by their spotters. Still, Nicole could sense a moment of stunned disbelief as the men guarding the stone building finally got a look at what that advance consisted of.

  But the confusion didn’t last long. There was a shout from somewhere in that area, too faint for her translator to pick up on, and four Cluufes broke from their positions and headed toward the lumbering tree, their halberds held ready in front of them.

  The Micawnwi and their tree continued forward, apparently oblivious to the approaching threat. The Cluufes spread out as they reached the tree, and in a neatly coordinated attack thrust their halberds through the canopy.

  Or rather, tried to thrust them. To their obvious consternation, the spear tips barely penetrated the surface before the axe heads caught on the tangle of branches behind the outer layer of leaves. The Cluufes pulled the halberds back and tried again, a couple of them turning the axe heads sideways in the apparent hope that they would be able to slide between the branches more easily that way.

  But the branches were just as thick in that direction, and once again the Cluufes had to pull back, simultaneously taking some rapid steps backward as the advancing tree threatened to run them over. There was another shout from the stone building, an insistent-sounding one, and the attackers once again stepped forward and tried to drive their halberds through the branches.

  They were pushing at the weapons when the Micawnwi men, walking unseen within the cover of the tree’s branches, counterattacked.

  Only with their halberds’ axe heads having been removed, there wasn’t anything to catch on the branches. The Micawnwi halberds—really just spears now—stabbed outward through the leaves with complete surprise and devastating force.

  A second later all four Cluufes lay motionless on the ground, dead, their blood slowly staining the arena’s greenery.

  “That should persuade Hunter to take this seriously,” Jeff murmured. Picking up the greenfire gun, he balanced it on top of his right shoulder like a bazooka. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

  Nicole nodded, easing a little farther to her left where she would have a clearer look at the area around the stone building. Even if Hunter had left one of the weapons with the guards at the hive, the other one was surely out here somewhere. Now that he’d seen that halberds were useless against the advancing Micawnwi, he had no choice but to bring it into play.

  She was peering down at the Cluufe area, looking for signs of the black tubes, when a brilliant flash of green slashed across her vision.

  From behind her.

  She flinched, reflexively pressing closer to her tree. Jeff had also frozen in place, his head turned and leaning just a little away from the edge of the tree as he searched behind them for the shooter’s location. Clenching her teeth, Nicole did the same, turning her head and easing it carefully toward the edge of the tree.

  She was peering up at the trees and bushes dotting the hills above them, wondering if the shooter could be all the way up and back on one of the stony ridges, when there was a rustle of leaves no more than thirty feet away. A black tube slid into view along a branch, and a second green flash lashed out.

  An instant later there was an answering shot from Jeff’s tree that blew apart a circle of branches and sent a brief flash of yellow flame across the leaves.

  There was a squeal from the hidden Cluufe, quickly cut off. The black tube sagged, then dropped to the ground with another crunch of leaves.

  “Think I got him,” Jeff murmured. “Stay here—I’ll go check.”

  “No,” Nicole said, looking back at the battlefield. The Micawnwi tree’s leaf canopy now had a pair of blackened spots, each with a small circle of flame burning fitfully around it. But there was no indication the shots had hit anyone inside, and the tree was still moving its plodding way toward the stone building. “Stay here and watch for the other gun,” she said, gathering her feet beneath her. “I’ll go see.”

  “Nicole—”

  Ignoring him, Nicole dodged around the side of her tree and headed back. The greenfire gun was still lying on the ground, its former owner having made no attempt to retrieve it. That was probably a good sign. Keeping low, she made her way around the bushes, trying not to make too big of a wave as she plowed through the tall grass. Whoever Hunter had given the second gun to might have noticed that his friend up here wasn’t firing anymore, and she had no interest in making herself an easy target.

  Three steps from the gun now. So far no one had taken a shot at her. She could see the vague shape of an unmoving Cluufe through the branches, and the gentle arena breeze was picking up the acid tang of burned something. She felt her nose wrinkle at the odor, told herself firmly that it was probably coming from the smoldering leaves and branches. She reached the greenfire gun and bent over to pick it up.

  An instant later a Cluufe appeared from the bushes to her left and launched himself hard into her ribs, sending her flying sideways. Her foot caught on a tangle of grass, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of the narrow crest above the steep slope below. Her flailing hands managed to grab the edge of her attacker’s leather smock, and in a confused tangle of arms and legs they rolled and slid together down the slope.

  She was halfway down the hill when her back slammed into a prickly-leaved bush, bringing her to a sudden halt. The impact jarred free her hold on the Cluufe’s smock, and she heard the swishing of the grass stop as he too came to a halt. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around.

  She was a few feet above a small hollow dotted with more bushes and a single tree. The Cluufe was also on his feet and was already trying to scramble his way back up the hill. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Nicole muttered, and hurled herself at him.

  The Cluufe was fast, probably much faster than she was, and on flat ground she wouldn’t have had a chance. But he was also shorter than she was, and fighting his way up a steep slope. Nicole’s second lunge got her to his level, and her third landed her hand solidly around his ankle just as he grabbed hold of one of the viny tree roots snaking down the hill.

  He twisted half over, snarled something, and kicked hard at her hand with his other foot. Nicole snatched her hand back just in time for him to rake his sandal with vicious force along his own leg. He howled with rage and pain as she grabbed him again. Before he could line up another kick, she rolled over onto her back and then up onto her other side, twisting his leg as she rolled in an attempt to turn him around with her and break his grip on the root. He howled again, and a second later they were both once again sliding down the slope.

  Nicole looked up past the leg she was clinging to as they bounced along, wincing as various lumps and semisharp objects dug into her body, wondering if all the howling had attracted any unwanted attention. The Cluufe bent at the waist toward her, and Nicole caught a flicker of something as he raised his hand above his head—

  She barely managed to let go of his leg in time as he slashed a knife through the air where her arms had been. He slashed again as he grabbed another root with his free hand, snarling something at her. “Stay back,” the translation came. “If you fight with our enemies, expect to die like our enemies.”

  “There doesn’t have to be any more dying,” Nicole insisted, grabbing on to a tuft of grass and bringing her own slide to a halt. His knife, she saw now, was the pointed tip of a halberd, the same weapon Bungie had pulled on Jeff back in the dining room. “We can work something out, all of us together.”

  The Cluufe’s answer was to again slash his knife through the space between them and start pulling himself back up the hill. Biting out a curse, Nico
le followed.

  Or rather, tried to follow. Her vest snagged on a tree root, and it cost her two critical seconds to get it free. By the time she was able to resume her climb, the Cluufe had opened up a solid four-foot gap between them.

  He’d gotten a fresh grip on his chosen root and was widening his lead when a green flash from above blasted a fire-edged black spot through the back of his smock.

  For another second his hands continued to grip the root and knife. Then, both hands opened, and the weapon settled into the grass as his body began its slow slide down the hill.

  Nicole looked up. Jeff was leaning out from his tree, the gun still pointed at the Cluufe, his expression tight. Suppressing a grimace, Nicole gave him a thumbs-up. Stupid. He was supposed to be watching for the other Cluufe greenfire gun, not bailing her out of a situation she could have fixed on her own.

  Worse, his little act of white knighthood had just cost them half of their remaining shots.

  He’d meant well. Just the same, he’d damn well better hope that the abandoned Cluufe gun up there still had some shots left in it.

  She was still holding up her thumb and smiling her insincere smile when a green flash from the plain slashed across Jeff’s chest.

  * * *

  He was slumped against the tree when Nicole reached him, his breath coming in shallow huffs, his face tight, both hands pressed against his left side. “Damn,” she muttered viciously as she dropped to her knees beside him. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  “There’s no need to get nasty,” Jeff murmured.

  “Shut up,” Nicole bit out, easing one of his hands away. There was a charred hole in his jumpsuit just below his rib cage, with an equally charred hole in the skin behind it. “What can I do?”

  “Afraid I’m going to need Sam or Allyce for this one,” he gritted out. “But as long as you’re here, you could take out the Cluufe who got me.”

  Nicole looked down the hill just as another green flash cut across the landscape and sizzled a cloud of burning leaves through the Micawnwi’s tree. “Looks like he’s aiming down the trunk,” Jeff continued. “Don’t know if he’s hit anyone yet. But if he hasn’t, he will soon.”

  “Yeah,” Nicole said, picking up the greenfire gun and turning around on her knees to face the distant Cluufe gunner. She’d never even fired a real gun, let alone a high-tech alien thing like this.

  But someone had to do it.

  “Remember, there’s no kick,” Jeff warned as she balanced the tube on her shoulder the way she’d seen him do it. “No recoil. No drop, either. Just line up the barrel on the target, hold your breath, and squeeze the trigger. Squeeze, don’t pull.”

  “Got it,” Nicole said. Unfortunately, with only one shot left, she was going to have to let the Cluufe down there fire again in order to see exactly where he was.

  From behind a row of bushes came another flash of green. Swinging the gun a few degrees to line up on that spot, Nicole took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Her own shot flashed out, almost hurtingly bright as it erupted directly in front of her eyes, and she saw a brief puff of flame from the matted leaves where the shot hit. She lowered the weapon, wondering how she was going to know whether she’d hit him or not.

  Her only warning was a sudden rustle of leaves behind her. Before she could even turn to look, a hand reached over her shoulder and snatched the tube out of her hands.

  Reflexively, desperately, Nicole grabbed at the weapon, managing to clamp one hand around it. An instant later she was yanked up and backward as her attacker jerked back on the tube. Still off balance, she lunged with her other hand and got half a grip on the other end of the gun. Scrabbling to try to get her feet under her, she spun herself around toward the would-be thief.

  And for the second time that day found herself unexpectedly face-to-face with Plato.

  “Let go,” he ordered, locking his other hand around the tube and giving it another jerk.

  “No,” Nicole snarled back, a small part of her brain wondering why she didn’t just let him have it. It wasn’t like he could turn it around and shoot her—the damn thing was empty.

  On the other hand, he could still use it like a club and beat her to death. Clenching her teeth, she tightened her grip. “How the hell did you get in here?”

  He didn’t answer, but merely stepped back and gave the gun another tug, again yanking Nicole off her feet. At this rate, she realized tautly, he would break her grip and have the gun all to himself within seconds.

  He took another step back and again tried to yank the gun free. Once again, even while being pulled off her feet, Nicole managed to hold on. He was backing right along the edge of the hill, she saw as she fought to regain her balance, the same edge that she and the Cluufe had tumbled down a few minutes earlier.

  Halfway down that slope, hidden by the tall grass and the fading arena light, was the knife the alien had tried to slash her with.

  She had a chance now. One chance. And it depended on her getting hold of that weapon.

  Feigning a kick at Plato’s knee to distract him, she jumped forward and to the side and dropped off the edge of the hill.

  Plato was strong, but even he wasn’t strong enough to suddenly handle that much extra dead weight without a chance to prepare for it. Nicole’s unexpected move had left him only two options: release his grip on the tube or get pulled off the crest along with her.

  He chose the second, leaping sideways off the hill before he could be pulled off his feet and landing in a surfer’s stance on the steep slope. For maybe ten or twelve feet he managed to stay mostly upright as the two of them slid downward together. Then his foot caught on a low bush and went out from under him, and a second later they were both on their stomachs, both still gripping the gun as they careened down the hill.

  In the midst of all the bouncing, and with the flurries of displaced leaves and grass giving her cover, Nicole managed to snatch up the Cluufe knife.

  She and Plato came to a halt in the little hollow at the bottom of the hill alongside more of the prickly-leaved bushes. Plato was on his feet in an instant, once again trying to wrench the gun out of Nicole’s hands.

  And an instant later he staggered backward, nearly falling again, as Nicole let go. “You want it?” she called as he flailed awkwardly in the tall grass before getting his balance back. Under cover of his distraction she curled the fingertips of her right hand around the handle of the Cluufe knife and pressed the pointed end against her forearm where it would be out of his view. “Fine—take it. Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

  His only answer was to spin the weapon around to point it at her. Only three shots, she reminded herself firmly. Fievj had said the gun had only three shots. “I see you’re going to kill me,” Nicole continued quickly, taking a step toward him. “Just like you and Sam were going to kill Bungie. You could at least have the decency to tell me why.”

  “It’s nothing personal,” he said at last, his voice low. “But you wouldn’t stop. No matter what I said, you wouldn’t stop. And you have to be stopped.”

  “Wouldn’t stop what?” she countered, taking another step toward him. The end of the gun was almost within reach now. “Helping the Micawnwi survive?”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. Or believe it.”

  “Try me,” Nicole invited. “Just be sure to use small words, because I can’t—”

  And right in the middle of her sentence she leaped forward.

  But Plato had clearly been expecting the move. He leaped backward at the same time, pulling the gun back just out of her reach. Lining it up on her chest, he squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  His eyes were widening in disbelief as Nicole took another long step forward, batted the gun aside with her left forearm, and swung the knife around into attack position in her right hand. With the tip pointed at Plato, she charged.

  But just as Plato was stronger than she was, he was also faster. Dropping the useless gun, he whi
pped his right hand across his chest, his palm slapping across her right forearm and deflecting the knife away from him. As Nicole’s momentum continued to carry her forward, he swung his left arm back and up, evading the knife and then clamping down on her right elbow, trapping her arm solidly in his left armpit.

  For a moment they stood pressed close together. Nicole gazed into his eyes, now staring back into hers from only inches away. “You going to kill me now?” she asked quietly.

  She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. “I can tell them you were a fluke,” he said, as if talking to himself. “That there was something in your brain that made you snap and go berserk.”

  “Or maybe something in my inhaler,” she suggested. “Like the one you gave Sam to kill me with.”

  His eyes widened, just a bit. “You knew about that?”

  “Of course,” she said, watching him closely. “My friend Mispacch told me all about it. It was poisoned, wasn’t it?”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, Nicole.”

  “Yes, you said that already,” Nicole said. “So now, I suppose, you’re going to kill me?”

  His lip twitched, and once again, he took a deep breath—

  And right in the middle of that breath, Nicole brought up her left hand, the one that had slipped the poisoned inhaler out of her vest pocket. Before Plato could react, she sprayed it squarely across his nose and mouth.

  He jerked violently backward, as if trying to get away from her. But with their arms still locked together all that happened was that he dragged her along with him. She gave him another jolt from the inhaler.

  And then, suddenly, his muscles loosened, and he staggered back again. Nicole tugged at her arm, and with a supreme effort managed to pull it free.

  He collapsed to his knees, and for a long moment he held that posture. “Damn you,” he murmured, his voice coming as if from a great distance. “You’ve killed everyone.”

  “Everyone in the Fyrantha?” Nicole shook her head. “I don’t think so.”