Ferguson argued briefly, but an ominous clanking in the wall beside them soon convinced her that Rivers was right. Cautiously, the group began to move out, checking the broad passageway for signs of further traps.
Rivers paused briefly to take a sip of water. She had only about a third of a bottle left. How long, she wondered, would they be stuck down here? They’d been told the Zakazashi was a day-long event, but could they count on that being true? A little rationing of supplies might be prudent; she’d have to talk with the team about that.
The professor made to follow her companions but was surprised to see only six of them ahead of her. Glancing back, she saw Iris Jones lingering by the hanging blade of the scythe. The young doctor was gently running a single delicate finger along the blood-spattered leading edge.
“Is there a problem?” asked Rivers.
Iris lifted her finger up before her spectacles, studying a single drop of blood which now bloomed there.
“I don’t want to die,” she said. There was a curious note in her voice – not fear, but surprise. “I don’t want to, not yet. It wouldn’t be right.”
Rivers was concerned. It perfectly understandable, of course, for people to buckle under the pressure of a life and death situation, but she hadn’t expected the taciturn physician to be the first to show the strain. They couldn’t afford for Iris, of all people, to come unravelled – her skills might prove essential before all this was over.
“None of us will die here, so long as we focus and stick together. Iris, I’d like you up at the front. You’re young and have good reflexes; you’d be able to respond quickly to any surprises. Can you do that for me?”
Iris turned from the scythe. The dull light from above reflected in her spectacles, making her expression difficult to read. Her lips twitched ever so slightly.
“Yes,” she said simply, and strode off after the rest of the group.
Strange woman, thought Rivers heading after her. I’ll have to keep an eye on her. And on Gypsy, who’s hardly cut out for this. Then there’s Annie, who’s liable to do something rash.
This is a real test of my leadership. Crisis situations like these make running a science lab look like child’s play. Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on the Captain with regard to some of the tough calls she’s had to make. I’ll have to apologise when I see her again.
If I ever do.
* * *
“This is attempted murder, plain and simple!”
“Please, Captain, there are still people trying to work in here. If you wish to complain at this volume, perhaps we could step outside?”
“No!” Hunter slammed a fist onto the back of her chair, and advanced on Nomi who, despite being twice the size of the human, took an automatic step back. “I’m not leaving this room until you get my people out of there.”
“As I’ve said, that’s regrettably impossible. Now, I’ve no wish for an incident to take place, but…” Nomi glanced meaningfully at her aide, who had silently drifted to his mistress’ side.
Hunter steadied herself with an effort. Plainly, anger and threats weren’t going to help anyone. “Fine,” she managed, in slightly strangled tones. “Let’s talk about this. You assured me that the Zakazashi wasn’t dangerous. Given that this hasn’t proven to be true, they’ve been lured into taking part under false pretences. It seems only fair to let them back out, yes?”
“Did I say that?” asked Nomi, brows drawn in an approximation of guileless confusion. “Yes, you may be right. I do dimly recall saying something along those lines when the subject first came up. I meant that the challenge is safe, relative to the other life or death games we televise. I’m sorry if I gave you a false impression, but spoken words are never binding, according to Gataran law.”
“A false impression…?” hissed Hunter. For a moment, she wished she could command the earth to rise and strike Nomi down, as she’d seen Chamonix do to the Legans back on Mahi Mata. But again, she reigned in her anger. “Okay. You say spoken words are never binding. How about the written word? The contracts my people signed had a clause saying that they could leave at any time they wished. Plainly, that time is now.”
Nomi raised a hand in denial. “I’m afraid that the exit clause only holds for the first stage of the Zakazashi.”
“Nonsense. I read the contracts very carefully. They never said that.”
“I must disagree. We have copies on hand, of course, if you want to check, but I believe that the wording is, ‘contestants may leave at any time during the challenge; they shall indicate this through a clearly worded spoken request.’”
“Exactly.”
“Yes, I believe I see where the confusion has arisen. In the newly revamped Zakazashi, the first Examination is known as the challenge, the second as the trial, the third as the labyrinth. You wouldn’t have been aware of that, of course … it’s most unfortunate.”
“You knew full well we weren’t. I’m no expert on your legal system, but I can’t believe such a poorly written contract can be binding. Let me remind you, my people are Ramiran citizens, with full legal status.”
“Of course. You can make an appeal to the Colonial Court if you wish. The law’s somewhat unclear on matters like this; they may come down on your side.”
A set-up, thought Hunter. From the moment we reached orbit, this has been her plan. First, keep our contact with regular Gatarans to a minimum, so we can’t learn that the revamped Zakazashi is a game of death. Then, exploit our ignorance of their laws to get us to sign their crooked contracts. A legal appeal could take months or years, if this place is anything like Earth. My team would be long dead.
I should have known. I should have guessed …
“I want to speak to the Ramiran ambassador at once,” she said aloud. Perhaps there was still a way to stop this.
“That’s your right. Rolo, please show the Captain to the Social Centre, and commandeer a booth. Let her contact whoever she wants.”
Rolo was evidently the aide’s name; he took a couple of steps back toward the door, but never so much as glanced away from Hunter. She made to follow him, then checked herself, turning and looking Nomi right in the eyes.
“If any of my crew die, I will make you pay, Minister.”
Nomi sagged, shoulders slumping, brow furrowed. Guilt.
It was precious little consolation.
Brushing past Rolo, Hunter made for the door. She didn’t look back at the screens showing live pictures of her crew. To do so would only make it that much harder to leave.
How many of those women might be lost by the time she returned?
* * *
Gypsy had been surprised by her own lack of reaction to her near-death incident, but she knew it couldn’t last. A tight ball of dread was forming in her stomach, a tide of panic rising in her mind. For the moment, she simply couldn’t process what had happened; so used was she to worrying about trivialities that a genuine crisis just didn’t compute.
I could have died, whispered a voice deep within her mind. All my hopes, all my fears, wiped out in an instant. No warning.
How would it have felt, to die like that, impaled on a blade? Would I have suffered for long?
She moved closer to her mother, instinctively knowing that the proximity to that soothing presence would help, as it always did.
The inner tide receded. Gypsy concentrated on putting one foot before the other, and nothing else.
She was dimly aware that they were making steady progress along the passageway leading away from the scythe. It led slightly downhill as the team from the Bona Dea progressed, while also increasing in height, until the roof – and the only sources of light – were a good thirty feet above them.
At length, and without further surprises, they reached a fork in the passage. New paths stretched before them to left and right, each appearing narrower and more uneven than the way they had come by.
On a little plinth between the two paths were a pair of what looked like electric torches. The sha
pe was highly similar to a typical Earth torch, with single buttons in long, cylindrical handles broadening into circular faces, on which the devices were currently balanced.
“Bit more like it,” said Annie, starting forward to accept the gifts, but Rivers stopped her with a sharp warning.
“Look before you leap,” she cautioned. “For all we know, picking them up might set a bomb off.”
“Well we’ve gotta take some chances.”
“As few as possible. I believe I have a compromise…”
There were some hand-sized rocks lying on the floor; Rivers instructed Annie to use these to knock the torches from their plinth at a safe distance, noting that the slight risk of damaging the useful devices was outweighed by the potential disaster that picking them up might bring. Gypsy had to wonder how a few extra feet constituted safety, but in the event nothing terrible happened, and they were able to retrieve two scratched but operational light sources, each capable of casting narrow beams of respectable power. Rivers took one for herself and gave the other to Iris, with orders to use them as sparingly as possible, given that there was no way of knowing how long they’d last.
While the two forks in the passage appeared largely identical, they ultimately chose the right-hand way, as it was slightly wider. Time, as far as they were aware, was not a factor in this stage of the Zakazashi, so they progressed slowly and cautiously, using the torches to illuminate any suspicious areas of blackness which the weak fluorescent lighting overhead couldn’t reach.
They could hardly have missed the next obstacle, though. After winding back and forth for a few turns, the rocky path abruptly straightened up, the walls about them becoming smoother and more artificial in appearance.
Running from one side of this passage to the other was a pit, some twenty feet across. The sides were smooth, a shaft running directly down into the heart of Gatari.
The way across was plain enough – a dozen white pedestals ran from one side to the other. They appeared identical and were evenly spaced. Disconcertingly, the steps appeared to hang in mid-air; it was only when Rivers turned her torch on them that a spindly latticework of supports could be seen, painted black so as to be almost invisible.
Below this there was nothing. The shaft continued downwards for as far as they could see.
Gypsy felt her stomach lurch at the sight. Unbidden images of herself plummeting down the shaft flooded her mind, and she felt sweat spring forth on her palms and back.
I can’t! There has to be another way …
Rivers, unaware of Gypsy’s distress, was continuing her safety-first approach. She knelt at the edge of the pit, reaching out to cautiously test the strength of the first step. Finding it satisfactory, she rose to her feet.
“I’ll go first. I’ve always had a good head for heights.”
The professor, testing each step with her foot before she put her full weight on it, made it across without alarm.
“It’s fine,” she said, once she’d taken the final step. There was no need to raise her voice, as the acoustics here were excellent, every word spoken echoing up and down the pit. “The pedestals are completely rigid, and the surface gives good traction.”
“So if we plummet to our deaths, it’s our fault?” asked Annie.
“Just imagine there’s no drop below you, and cross at a steady, unhurried pace,” advised Rivers. “It’s really not difficult.”
Annie, after a couple of deep breaths, followed the scientist across. Gypsy could hardly breathe, watching her. How would she feel when it was her turn?
“I’m not sure I can do it,” she whispered to her mother. They watched as Iris strolled over the bridge. The young doctor seemed quite unfazed by the challenge, glancing casually down into the depths as she progressed.
“It’s okay,” said Alice reassuringly, reaching up to tidy her daughter’s hair. “I know you don’t like heights, but it’s dead easy. One foot in front of the other, and you’re across before you know it. I’ll be right behind you.”
Gypsy felt better for a moment, but it only took the briefest glance at the chasm before them to let her fears crash back into place. “No, I’ll slip. Or you’ll slip because you’re watching me instead of the bridge. I can’t do it.”
Alice cast her eyes about the passage. “There’s no other way, love.”
“We could go back to the fork in the passage. Maybe the other path’s easier.”
“Reckon there’ll be dangers now whatever we try. If you can just -”
“Two more,” cut in Rivers from the other side. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Gypsy realised that the rest of the party had crossed while they’d been talking. It was her turn.
“Mum…”
“You can do it. Just trust me.”
“Is there a problem?” Rivers asked sharply.
“She’s scared,” answered Alice. “It’d be better if I could cross with her somehow.”
“The steps are too small for that. I reiterate, it isn’t difficult. I suspect that this is merely an hors d’oeuvre before the serious peril begins.”
“You can do it, Gypsy!” urged Annie. “You’ll fly right over.” Several other women chimed in with their support.
“I … I’ll try,” said the mathematician. Her mother gave her a quick hug, while the rest of the team clapped and shouted encouragement. Their backing should have made her feel good, but somehow it reminded her of old war footage of soldiers being farewelled by their countrywomen before sailing away to die in a foreign land.
They’ll not be able to do a thing to help me, if I slip …
She forced her reluctant feet to bear her towards the edge. With each step the chasm seemed to yawn wider and deeper, until it covered her whole field of vision. The other women had gone quiet so as not to disturb her concentration; she could hear a faint whistling coming from far below, and the slightest draft on her face. Before her lay the first step, a white disk perhaps fifteen inches in diameter. If there had been no drop before her, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to place her foot in the centre of the disk.
But there was a drop.
Gypsy’s teeth were chattering. She clamped her mouth closed, and tried to picture herself making the crossing, conjuring up the image of each yellow slipper firmly meeting the steps, confident strides taking her nearer to the other side …
Her brain betrayed her, as it so often did. The imaginary Gypsy she had visualised slipped on the last step and fell, scrabbling in vain for a hold on the black latticework beneath the steps and plunging out of sight with a scream.
It felt like she was the one who was falling, the blackness before her rising up to embrace her. With a strangled cry she lurched away from the edge, stumbling on a loose stone and falling flat on her back. Her mother was at her side in an instant.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I just … it’s-”
“It’s okay.” Alice helped her daughter into a sitting position and put a comforting arm about her shoulders. She called across to the other women: “You go on. Us two’ll try the other way.”
“No, we can’t split up,” snapped Rivers. “Can’t she pull herself together?”
“If she tries it while she’s like this, she really might fall in,” returned Alice, uncharacteristically letting a touch of anger show in her voice. “Go on, we’ll be fine.”
Rivers was silent for a moment, but the intensity of her glare, even at this distance, was so strong that Gypsy winced and looked away. At length the scientist let out a rasping sigh and addressed the rest of the team.
“Fine. We’ll all try the other path. Head back over. Carefully.”
Gypsy’s relief at not having to cross the chasm was short-lived, as she realised that it would be her fault if any of her friends slipped while coming back. The thought of Annie plunging to her death, of having to live the rest of her life knowing that her cowardice had made it happen, sent a fresh wave of nausea rippling through her insides.
�
�You don’t have to,” she said, but they were already crossing back over. All Gypsy could do was close her eyes and hope. Long seconds stretched by, listening to footsteps on pedestals and dreading the sudden scream that would mean a death on her conscience. Finally, her mother whispered that they were all across.
Relief.
She opened her eyes and got to her feet. Some of the women were already beginning the walk back the way they’d come. Ferguson offered a brief smile, but most of the team avoided looking at her.
Why shouldn’t they? They must be feeling total contempt for me. Contempt for the coward.
But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t …
Gypsy started after the group, but found her way blocked by Sandra Rivers, who stepped in close and placed a firm hand on each of Gypsy’s shoulders. She flinched automatically, but Rivers kept a hold of her, and spoke softly but firmly: “I understand that you’re frightened. I understand that you’re not really cut out for this. But we’re in a bad situation here, very bad.”
“I’m sorry, I just -”
“I don’t want to hear it. We’re going to try the left passage, and we’re going to face an obstacle just like this one, and you’re going to have to be ready. Do you understand? Accept our situation and get yourself ready.”
“I’ll try. I’m really sorry…”
But Rivers was already walking away.
Falling into place beside her mother, Gypsy tried her best to do as the professor had asked. If only her brain had an off switch! She could happily face the rest of this nightmare on autopilot, free from the fear of death. Perhaps she if just stop herself from thinking, just for a few hours. That might be enough …
No chance. Already, her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. One by one, she felt compelled to imagine her friends falling to their deaths, picturing the sickening crunch as they hit the bottom of the pit, constructing in her mind the horrible feeling of guilt that would have accompanied the tragedy. Was there any chance that they would have survived? Maybe they could have grabbed the latticework and clambered back up. Maybe it wasn’t as far as it looked. People sometimes survived falling hundreds of feet, didn’t they? But she didn’t know what was waiting down there – maybe there were spikes, or water filled with whatever monstrous predators they had on this planet …
Amygdala Page 20
