Knight

by Timothy Zahn

  “Well, on a real beach, that would be driftwood,” Jeff said. “Floating debris that came in on the tide. Don’t know why it’s here—there for sure isn’t anywhere for driftwood to come from. Maybe to keep the beach sand from being washed away.”

  Nicole nodded. Or maybe it was there to give something like crabs or lobsters a place to live. She thought about telling Jeff how the Fyrantha had once been a zoo, decided this wasn’t the time to get into that. “Maybe you’d better stay here,” she said, eyeing the sticks. They were mostly laid out loosely enough to walk around, but a few of them were grouped into bigger tangles. “You don’t want to trip and fall.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Jeff said. “Looks like the tide’s already going out. See how far past the waves the wet sand goes?”

  “What?” Nicole frowned at the sand. Then she got it: the waves weren’t reaching as high onto the wet sand, which meant they’d been reaching higher earlier, which meant the water level was going down. “Oh—right. And you said it goes down another sixty feet?”

  “The water only goes down a few feet, but dropping to that level opens up sixty feet of sand,” Jeff corrected. “Or so I’m told. But one of the things they hammered into us in the Marines was always take intel with a light grip until you can confirm it yourself.”

  “So where down there is the extra food dispenser?”

  Jeff’s toe caught on the sand, sending him into a brief stumble. “I’m impressed,” he said as he recovered his balance. “How did you know it was there?”

  Nicole shrugged. “Where else would it be? You already said no one can cross the river.”

  “Well, they say that,” Jeff murmured. “Like I said, I’m reserving judgment until I confirm it myself. But, yeah, the only reasonable place for the two sides to meet—and fight—is here on the beach. Nice bit of logic.”

  “Thanks,” Nicole said, feeling her face warming. Getting a compliment from Jeff—especially on something that was just her thinking—felt better than she’d expected.

  Trake had never complimented her on anything except how well she could use her body as a distraction during a job. Bungie’s comments had always been more like insults than compliments. None of the rest of the gang had really cared one way or the other.

  “So to answer your question, it’s built into the bluff on the other side of the river,” Jeff continued. “Only about a foot up, so it’s underwater most of the time. I don’t know if that’s something the Shipmasters put in especially for their battles, or whether it was original equipment.”

  “Doesn’t really matter,” Nicole said. “The point is that the only time we can get to it, the green team can, too. Unless you can open it up underwater?” she added as that thought suddenly struck her.

  “I don’t know,” Jeff said thoughtfully. “Definitely something we should check on. Okay, watch your footing—I don’t know if the waves are uniform, or whether there might be sneakers.”

  “Right,” Nicole said, shivering. She hadn’t heard that name before, but she was all too familiar with that kind of unexpectedly violent wave. They reached the edge of the water; keeping one eye on the waves, she peered as far around the bluff as she could.

  Which wasn’t very far. The ocean was still coming at least three or four feet up the side of the rock, leaving the dispenser underwater and not giving her a view of anything on the far side. “I guess we’ll have to wait,” she said. “How long before it goes down far enough—?”

  “Did you feel that?” Kahkitah spoke up suddenly. “Nicole, did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?” Nicole asked, her skin suddenly crawling. Were there bugs out here? Had Kahkitah felt a bug land on him?

  “A door opened,” Kahkitah said. “A door like the ones we’ve traveled through many times today. I felt the warmer air come over us.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Jeff asked.

  “The Fyrantha’s got a bunch of back doors,” Nicole gritted out, looking frantically around. “Which door was it? Where?’”

  “I think it was the one we came in through. Or another nearby.”

  So Shipmasters or Wisps, and either one was trouble. “You’re sure it was this side of the river?”

  “Yes.” Kahkitah straightened up. “I’ll protect you, Nicole,” he said, his birdsong going dark and almost menacing. “They won’t harm you while I live.”

  Which unfortunately wouldn’t be very long if the Shipmasters had brought greenfire weapons. “Jeff—”

  “I know,” Jeff said. “Damn.”

  “We have to get out of here. If they get to me—”

  “I said I know,” Jeff said. “Can you swim?”

  “Can I—? No.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to learn, and fast,” Jeff said. “But don’t panic—the water’s only three or four feet deep near the bluff, so there’s no chance of drowning. The catch is that you’re going to have to stay underwater as much as you can or they’ll spot you.”

  Nicole looked helplessly at the water. The thought of getting in there—of putting her head right into it where she couldn’t breathe—

  “It’s that or let them catch you,” Jeff said. “You’ll also need to keep your eyes open so you can see where you’re going.”

  “I don’t know,” Nicole said, her voice starting to tremble. “I don’t…”

  “You want me to come with you?” Jeff offered.

  “Or I can,” Kahkitah added.

  Nicole took a deep breath. “You’re still injured,” she told Jeff. “And you’re still supposed to be helping him,” she added to Kahkitah. “I’m the one they want. I can do this.” She took another deep breath. “If they ask where I went—I don’t know. Make something up.”

  Before either of them could raise another objection—and before she had time to think it through—she walked out into the ocean.

  The first step, the one that brought the waves against her boots, was fine. The second—the one that sent the water into her shins, through her jumpsuit legs, and over the tops of her boots onto her feet—made her gasp with shock. The water was a lot colder than she’d expected.

  But she couldn’t stop now. She kept going, aiming for the edge of the bluff. The water reached her knees—her thighs—she gasped a second time as the cold slapped into her stomach—

  “Go!” Jeff called from behind her.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Nicole bent at the waist, put her hands out in front of her like she’d seen divers do on television, and shoved off the ground into the waves.

  She thought she’d been prepared for this. She was wrong. Not just for the shock of hitting the water face-first, but the wave of panic as it closed over her head and pressed up into her nostrils. For that first horrifying instant she was back at her one and only beach experience, rushing carelessly toward the surf, a sudden huge wave surging unexpectedly over her head and crashing her down as it filled her mouth and eyes with salt and sand. It was all she could do to keep from clawing her way to the surface and letting loose with a scream of terror.

  But she didn’t dare. Behind her were the Wisps, and the heat-transfer ducts, and an even more horrifying death.

  Besides, in that first terrifying second she wasn’t sure she could get out of this. Her waterlogged jumpsuit was weighing her down, dragging her into the depths of the ocean. She flailed her hands desperately, trying to remember what her grandmother had told her about swimming all those years ago—

  It was yet another shock when she’d barely started sinking when her flailing hands hit the bottom.

  And as suddenly as it had appeared, the panic vanished. Of course she was on the bottom—Jeff had already said the water was only three or four feet deep. She could stand up at any time and be clear of it.

  And with that, she could finally focus on getting clear of the danger behind her. Bracing herself, she opened her eyes.

  Like the ocean itself, it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. The image was blurry, and the water felt strange agai
nst her eyeballs. But she could see, and that was what she needed. Pressing her hands and feet against the bottom, she started pushing herself along.

  At first, all she seemed to accomplish was to shove the sand out of the way. But the sand layer turned out to be only a couple of inches thick, with a more solid floor beneath it. Once she was pushing on that, she started making real progress, especially since the waves didn’t seem as strong down here as they were on the surface.

  But she wasn’t in the clear yet. Her lungs were starting to hurt, and there was still the river mouth to get past. She thought about coming up long enough for a quick breath, decided that would be a good way to get grabbed, and kept going.

  The river, when she reached it, was pretty intense. But like the waves, the turbulence seemed lower than she expected, certainly less than it had looked from the observation balcony. Maybe when the river hit the ocean and started spreading out it lost some of its punch. She got past it; and then there was only the second bluff between her and safety.

  Her lungs were burning by the time she made it around the base of the bluff. She went as far past it as she could, then angled back toward the shore. The waves again started pounding at her as she came into the shallower water—

  And then, suddenly, her head poked through the waves. She shook the water away from her face, puffed the last remaining air from her lungs, and took a shuddering breath.

  She kept going, gulping in more air, staying flat and pushing her way through. She reached the beach and stumbled to her feet, slogging through more sand as she headed away from the water. Her wet jumpsuit dragged at her, and the sand now clinging to her boots and legs added to the weight.

  But she’d done it. She’d done it.

  At least for now. She couldn’t see anything around the far side of the bluff—not Jeff, Kahkitah, or any Wisps. The question now was whether the Shipmasters were still watching from above her, and if they were how fast could they get themselves or more Wisps to this side of the arena.

  Eventually, it would probably come down to getting caught or slipping out one of the arena doors. Which would probably only give her a choice of where else in Q1 she got caught.

  One crisis at a time. She reached the reeds and wove her way through them, trying to figure out her next move. Her number one goal had been to escape from the Wisps, with everything past that a bit vague.

  Still, if she could find Miron and Iosif and persuade the green group not to fight, maybe they could all sit down and figure out how to work together against the Shipmasters.

  How she was going to get them on her side was another one of those vague future things she didn’t quite have worked out.

  But at least she was about to leave the Shipmasters’ view. She passed the edge of the reeds and walked in under the trees—

  “Gotcha!” a triumphant voice came in her ear as a hand closed around her upper arm.

  Nicole twisted around, snapping her arm up to try to break her attacker’s grip. But he knew that trick, and had a solid hold, and all she accomplished was to pull him briefly off balance.

  At least it wasn’t Fievj. That had been her first terrified thought before her brain caught up enough to realize that wasn’t the Shipmaster’s voice. Instead, her attacker turned out to be a black-haired man with dark eyes and a craggy face, dressed in a green jumpsuit, whose hand as he gripped her arm looked like it was twice as big as hers. “Oh, hi,” she said, automatically dropping into the cheerful, friendly, brainless mode that she’d learned was the best way to greet a new and possibly dangerous face. “I’m Nicole. Who are you?”

  He blinked. Apparently, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

  But he recovered quickly. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I’m Nicole,” Nicole said again. “I’m—well, I was—the blue group’s Sibyl.”

  “The blue group?” the man countered, looking pointedly down at her jumpsuit.

  “Yes, I—” Nicole broke off in bewilderment as she followed his gaze. Her nice, blue outfit had somehow turned pure black. “I—what?”

  “You got it wet,” the man said, a little less belligerently. “Ours go pretty dark, too. I’m Gregor with the green team. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to Miron,” Nicole said. “Could you let go? You’re hurting me.”

  Gregor took a moment to think about it. Then, a little reluctantly, he let go of her arm. “Don’t know if the boss wants to talk to you,” he said. “But come on. Let’s find out.”

  * * *

  Nicole had spent a lot of time in the Q4 arena, and she’d noted that the two halves there were slightly different, with different layouts of trees and bushes and paths. It was the same way here in Q1, with more hills and less sand on the green team side of the river than on Jeff’s. There were also two paths up the cliffs toward the river, instead of just one, both of them twisting and turning enough through the trees that she couldn’t see more than a dozen feet along either of them.

  There were three more green-jumpsuited men sitting on the ground near the hive entrance when she and Gregor arrived, all of them working on long, slender sticks with small rocks. All three looked up as Nicole and Gregor came into view through the trees. “Who’s that?” one of them called.

  “Nicole,” Gregor called back. “Blue team’s Sibyl.” He gave a little snorting bark of a laugh. “She’s here to see the boss.”

  “Oh, this I gotta see,” the man said. He laid down his stick and rock and stood up, brushing the dirt from his butt. “This way, darlin’.”

  Nicole bristled. She’d always hated pet names like that, especially coming from people who barely even knew her. But this wasn’t the time to make a fuss. Gregor led her through the door, and a glance over her shoulder showed the three others had joined up behind them. “Boss?” Gregor called as he led her toward the food dispenser room. “Got a visitor.”

  Nicole braced herself, hoping she would recognize Miron when he came out. There were few things more embarrassing—and dangerous—than getting a gang leader’s name wrong or mixing him up with someone else. There was a shuffling of feet, and as they reached the door a man stepped out of the room into view.

  Only it wasn’t Miron or Iosif or any of the other green group members she could remember seeing. It was—

  “I’ll be damned,” Bungie said, his surprised expression dropping instantly into a leer. “Look who finally came crawling back.”

  * * *

  For that first agonizing second Nicole couldn’t speak. She could barely even breathe. Bungie was the green team’s boss? Bungie?

  She’d thought he was gone from her life. She’d hoped he was gone from her life. The last time she’d seen him had been when he’d tried to run out on Plato’s death sentence. Nicole had helped with that, partly out of disagreement with Plato’s decision, partly out of the fading nostalgia that connected Bungie to the world she’d been snatched from.

  But his escape had been ended almost before it started when Fievj suddenly appeared and hauled him away. At the time Nicole had been too preoccupied with rescuing Jeff from the Cluufes—and was frankly just as happy to have Bungie alive but out of everyone’s hair—to wonder what the Shipmasters might want with him.

  Now, too late, it was obvious.

  Plato and all the other foremen had worked hard to keep human aggression a secret from the Shipmaster. But Bungie didn’t know about that. Even if he had, he liked bragging about his fights and scores way too much to keep quiet.

  Which meant that in a single week—hell, probably in a single afternoon—Bungie had ruined everything.

  “So you come here to beg, or what?” Bungie asked. His leering smile went all sly and knowing. “Or you got something else in mind?”

  Nicole hesitated. She’d come here with the intent of talking Miron out of fighting. Even with a change in leadership she might still be able to do that, though her approach would have to be totally different.

&
nbsp; But she couldn’t do it here. Not in front of the dispenser room and the listening ear the Shipmasters almost certainly had there. “Let’s take a walk,” she suggested, nodding back toward the arena.

  “Why, so that they don’t hear the deal?” Bungie demanded, stabbing a finger at the other green group members. “You figure they’ll all want a piece if they do?”

  Nicole sighed. She should have remembered how obstinate Bungie was with anything that wasn’t his idea. She would just have to go with the one way that always worked. She braced herself …

  And spinning around, she ducked past the men behind her and made a dash for the door.

  She probably could have outrun them. But that wasn’t the point. She got through the door, continued on for a few steps, then stopped and turned and waited for them to catch up.

  They came pounding through the door, Gregor and the other three crowded together in a bunch, Bungie bringing up the rear. The main group slowed as they saw that Nicole had stopped, but Bungie either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He charged straight through the pack, nearly bowling over Gregor as he passed. For a second, Nicole thought he was going to run straight over her, too, but at the last second he braked to a halt. “You think that was cute, bitch?”

  “It’s a nice day,” Nicole said. “I thought we could get out in the sunshine for a bit.”

  “Don’t pull that crap on me,” Bungie snarled. “There’s no outside here. Any idiot knows that.”

  “Ah,” Nicole said. Which was pretty unfair, given that Bungie had been firmly convinced forever that the arenas were pieces of Earth. “Well, it’s sort of sunshine. Look, what I wanted to tell you was that we don’t have to fight. We really don’t. There’s plenty of food, and anyway I can get us out of here anytime you want—”

  “What are you babbling about?” Bungie demanded. “What’s food got to do with it?”