No such sting in the tail awaited them. Presently, Bala glanced upwards and saw firm ground above her. It was still a bit of a drop, and she wondered how best to manoeuvre herself down there without injury.
“What’s the hold up?” asked Annie, her attempt at a light tone sounding rather strained. “We’re not exactly having fun back here, y’know.”
“A moment, please. I can see some sort of hole…”
It was just ahead of her: a rectangular aperture, short and wide. Stretching a cautious hand towards it, Bala felt the artificial gravity field weaken and vanish, to be replaced by the familiar pull of the planet. She pushed her hand into the waiting hole, where her questing fingers found a sturdy metal bar.
That was the answer. Without hesitation, she grabbed the bar with her other hand, and pulled herself forwards. Her body cleared the artificial field – a smooth transition, culminating with her hanging by her fingers, feet only a couple of yards from the ground. After taking a moment to re-orientate herself, she let go, landing with the poise of a gymnast.
Sanity reigned again – or it would have done, if not for the unnerving sight of her friends lined up on the ceiling above her.
“Come on, I’ll help you down.”
As she prepared to receive Annie, Bala’s eye was caught by something to the engineer’s left. It was an insect, thin-bodied and many-legged. She would never have noticed the little creature if not for the pristine whiteness surrounding it.
The insect trudged a slow path along the ceiling, needing no artificial aid. It’s your domain, thought Bala. You’re welcome to it.
Soon, the women had all left that domain, eight bodies glad to feel the planet’s pull again.
“Another hurdle cleared,” Rivers declared. “You can all be proud of yourselves, Bala and Iris especially. We’ll take a break before we go on; that was a stressful experience, and -”
She was cut off by sudden violent noises coming from behind them – grinding and screeching, followed by the crash of metal on stone. The sounds were distant and distorted by echoes, but readily identifiable nonetheless. The circular hatch that had been the exit to the previous challenge had been ripped from its hinges and cast down into the passageway.
Whatever it was that Annie had seen was now pursuing them.
“On second thoughts,” said Rivers, “it may be prudent to keep moving.”
* * *
Hunter had arrived back in the director’s studio just in time to catch the tail-end of her crew’s strange journey across the pit. Any pride she felt at their continuing success, however, was overwhelmed by concern at the potential consequences of their first failure.
She considered Nomi. The entertainment minister sat stiffly in her seat, eyes fixed on the big screen, which was once again showing the action below ground; the director’s chair was filled by an elderly male, who was already starting to cut together tomorrow’s highlights programme.
The captain strongly believed that Nomi was having second thoughts about the trap she’d sprung. There was still hope, but she’d have to tread carefully.
“My team is still intact, I see.”
Nomi briefly glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the human’s voice. She nodded. “They’re doing well.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Do I? Yes, perhaps I am.” The minister gestured at the screen, currently showing the eight women making their cautious way along yet another passage. “Your species isn’t physically imposing, at first glance. My people have a tendency to equate a robust body with a robust spirit. It’s a preconception I really must work on shedding; most of your group have shown impressive poise.”
“I’m glad that they’ve surpassed your expectations. But harder challenges lie ahead, I imagine? Perhaps soon you’ll see what you’ve been waiting for: the spilling of alien blood.”
This time Nomi spun fully round in her seat, eyes wide. “That isn’t what I want!” Her deep voice had risen in surprise. “I take no pleasure from suffering, none!”
Hunter kept her own tones light and inoffensive. “That’s to your credit. I apologise if I made an improper assumption – it’s just that I’ve gotten the impression we aren’t very popular around here.”
“Ah.” The minister’s eyes drifted over to the door, where Rolo was once again standing watch. “It is an embarrassing truth that certain elements of my society have a pronounced dislike of foreigners visiting our planet, whether as tourists or immigrants. ‘Foreigners’ meaning our cousins from the other colonies of course. In the case of aliens, the resentments are magnified eightfold.”
“And this xenophobic element runs through your whole society? All the way to the top?”
Nomi raised a hand respectfully to her chest. “You’re very shrewd, Captain. Yes, that may have been a motive for some of the senior ministers who backed my proposal to open the Zakazashi to you. I can assure you, though, that it was not mine.”
“I believe you,” said Hunter. She walked deliberately round to stand in front of Nomi. When she spoke again, it was in the flowery brand of Matan favoured by the Gatarans. Any little thing that might forge a connection with this woman was worth trying. “That brings us to the question that consumes me: what was your motive? My mind tells me, ‘Money and power, of course!’, but my soul suggests causes more subtle. What, though? Why would anyone trick strangers to their deaths, if not for hatred of them or love of oneself?”
The minister’s jaw worked. She seemed on the edge of confession. But when she spoke, it was to change the subject. “Your people have reached their next challenge.”
Hunter glanced behind her, determined not to be deflected from the current line of questioning.
But deflected she was. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight of what confronted her team: a mammoth chamber, and every inch of it a shifting, frenzied death trap. Gouts of flame sprang from nozzles; rotating razorblades spun merrily along the walls; trapdoors opened and closed rhythmically; pendulums adorned with wicked blades swung back and forth.
“There’s no way…” said Hunter. “No way across. They’ll have to go back.”
“We’ve moved beyond the time of picking and choosing,” Nomi responded softly. “They’ll find their path blocked if they attempt retreat. But there is a way. Difficult to see, harder to walk. A worthy test for your courageous team.”
Hunter caught movement in the corner of her eye. Rolo had inched forward for a better view.
* * *
… Three steps forward … Wait a second … Two to the side … Wait three seconds …
Rote memorisation had never been one of Alice Cumberland’s strengths. But the knowledge that one slip meant death, for her and her daughter, was doing wonders for her concentration. So far they'd progressed with neither scratch nor singe, though the buzzing of blades filled their ears and the smell of petroleum was all around.
… Two steps forward … Wait … Run to the turntable … Duck …
It had been Sandra Rivers who'd seen the route through the maze of death. The young woman had the scientist's gift of being able to see patterns in strange places; crucially, she could also think in four dimensions. While the rest of the team had stared in consternation at the confused jungle of scorching fire and serrated blades before them, Rivers had needed barely two minutes of study to perceive the repeating cycle of the various traps. Five more, and she had spotted a way through, a path which would lead them safely from one side of the room to the other, without the need for physical heroics. But their timing would have to be perfect – no rushing, no lingering, not if they wanted to live.
… Five swinging blades, all in a line … Step behind each one as it rushes past … Don't look left or right … Eyes ahead, Alice …
The “4D tunnel”, as Professor Rivers had dubbed the safe route she'd uncovered, looked to be designed for only one person at a time to traverse. But humans were smaller than Matans; Alice felt there was enough room for her and Gypsy to go through at th
e same time.
The two of them moved together, mother and daughter acting as one. Alice had one hand on Gypsy's left upper arm, the other near her right hip. No words had been exchanged since they'd begun their treacherous trip through the traps. Such was the roar of the flames spouting rhythmically about them that any speech would be futile.
… Up the ramp … Grab the rope …
This had been the part that had worried Alice the most before they started. She wasn't strong enough to hold both of them up by one hand; Gypsy would have to do some of the work. Thankfully her daughter didn't freeze, hugging the rope with her arms and her bare legs and getting the best grip she could. As planned, Alice fastened her right hand as high up as she could, while coiling her left arm round Gypsy's waist. She just barely had time to get her second hand on the rope before the floor gave way beneath them.
… Now hang for ten seconds … We can do it …
All the muscles from Alice's right wrist and downwards were protesting mightily, but she was more concerned with awkwardly trying to pin her daughter to the rope. The less onus placed upon Gypsy's feeble strength the better.
Alice sneaked a look down; her vision was partly obscured by her daughter's hair, but she caught the glint of metal in motion far below them. Gypsy, perhaps more wisely, kept her gaze fixed above them, on the distant point where the rope was knotted to a hoop on the ceiling.
They seemed to hang there for the longest time. Finally, just when Alice was beginning to think that she'd misremembered the sequence, the trapdoor snapped shut beneath them. They hurried on, reaching a long and blackened grate, which lay atop a line of eight circular nozzles, each of them spouting fire at regular intervals.
… Two nozzles forward, one back … Two forward, one back … Three forward, two back …
Their feet clattered on the grating. Flames sprang up in front and behind them, suffocating in their nearness. Whirling knee-high blades to either side discouraged them from trying an alternative path.
Gypsy's head was down, trusting entirely in her mother to see them through. When Alice caught a glimpse of her face, it was surprisingly blank, a slight frown the only sign of inner turmoil.
Past caring, perhaps? Resigned to death?
… Nearly there … Get tight to the wall … Wait … Wait … Now forward … Wait for the trapdoor to shut … Forward … No! …
Just in time, Alice remembered that this last trapdoor possessed a cruel trick. Moments after closing it would swish open again, seeking to capture hasty adventurers who made a dash for safety. She brought the two of them to a halt even as a dark pit opened inches from their toes. Then it was closed again and they could finally run, away from the heavy piston which struck the spot where they'd been standing, away from the last few gouts of flame, away from all the horror and out into the arms of their companions.
Alice was dimly aware of Kiaya Ferguson wrapping her in a hug. She allowed herself a few seconds to bask in the euphoria, the sheer relief of having survived.
But just a few seconds, no longer. Then her attention returned, as it always did, to her daughter. Gypsy's grey eyes were cloudy and glazed; she must be pretty far gone, as she barely flinched when Hisano gave her a congratulatory slap on the back.
Alice guided her daughter away from the cacophony of the death traps and towards the relative peace of the broad exit arch. The elder Cumberland was peripherally aware that Annie, who had been so helpful in getting Gypsy mentally ready for the challenge, had now started across herself. Gypsy would worry if she noticed; this was a good time for some distraction.
“We did it, love. We're safe! I'm so proud of you.”
Gypsy nodded, her eyes slowly clearing. “I need my skirt back,” she said.
“Course. Hang on…” Alice retrieved the garment from her backpack. She had insisted that it be taken off while they were taking on the death traps – it was cumbersome, liable to tangle around the legs and cause trips – and Gypsy had acquiesced quickly, her fear of death evidently greater than her fear of people seeing her legs. Now that the immediate danger was passed, though, her modesty was returning.
The skirt, which had started the day in pristine condition, was far from it now. There were streaks of dirt all over the yellow fabric, not to mention a number of little tears. Alice would need to put her sowing kit to good use if they made it back to the ship, and not for the first time – Gypsy’s toenails would often wear holes in her socks. It was a shame she only had one pair in each colour, but she’d refused to take spares.
What would you do without me, lass?
Ah, but what would I do without you?
A yell of delight made them both turn; Annie had successfully negotiated the deadly assault course. Alice smiled with relief. Now only Iris remained on the other side; the young doctor didn’t strike her as the kind who’d buckle under pressure. The bespectacled woman was already in position; she’d have to wait another thirty seconds or so for the next window of opportunity to open. Concentration was writ large upon her face as she stood framed against the inky blackness of the entrance tunnel behind.
Alice frowned. That’s odd. Weren’t that tunnel all lit up when we came through?
Then she caught the glint of metallic, skeletal limbs within the gloom, and saw that the darkness was beginning to seep into the chamber.
Annie’s monster had caught up with them.
Iris must have either heard the creature or, more likely given the noise here, divined its presence based on her companion’s reactions. She turned. The creature was mere yards behind her.
“Don’t look at it!” shouted Rivers. “You’ll miss your window! Iris!”
She had no hope of making herself heard, but nonetheless, Iris did wrench her gaze away from the darkness behind. Even at such a long distance, Alice could see the doctor composing herself, fear draining from her face, leaving it a mask, blank and emotionless.
Iris’ window opened. She stepped forward, as calmly as if she were strolling across her quarters on the Bona Dea, neither hurrying nor glancing back. Soon she was jumping and ducking to dodge the first obstacles, horizontal blades affixed to spinning poles on either side of her.
Their pursuer seemed to stop for a moment, its cloud of darkness drawing tighter about it like a billowing cloak. The twin points of its eyes lit up, splitting into spirals as it surveyed the room.
“Maybe it can’t get across,” suggested Hisano hopefully.
Her hopes were soon dashed. The dark cloud began once again to drift towards them, moving no more swiftly than a brisk walking pace. Reaching the tangle of traps, it didn’t hesitate – nor did it even trouble to change its course. Straight on it came, swinging blades and thumping weights passing directly through the heart of the Stygian cloud without striking anything tangible.
When a gout of flame struck the creature, its many limbs glowed red for a single instant before the fire was extinguished. Alice had an impression of many arms coiled sinuously about a narrow body. There was a symbol on that body, a cross – four short branches extending outwards from a circular base. A religious symbol?
“Through the arch! Move!”
It was Rivers who had spoken, her voice sharp and slightly shrill. It snapped Alice out of a trance she hadn’t even realised she’d entered.
“We can’t leave her behind!” she shouted back. Nonetheless, she backed up through the exit arch, yanking Gypsy along with her.
“We won’t,” said the professor firmly. “You see this lever?” She indicated a wooden stake protruding from the wall just beyond the archway. “It should close the exit behind us. I’ll pull it the instant Iris is through. Everyone back!”
The rest of the group joined them, but their eyes never left the strange race taking place before them. The natural instinct was to shout out and urge Iris to get a move on, but that would have been quite useless – there was only one pace at which she could negotiate the obstacles. Speeding up meant death.
The creature within th
e cloud seemed similarly unhurried, content to drift along behind its prey. When Iris was forced to hang stationary from the rope, the tendrils of intangible blackness were actually licking about her body. Alice felt sure that the valiant woman must be close enough for one of the spindly limbs to strike her down.
But no killer blow came. Instead, a shimmering claw could be seen reaching for Iris’ head, three long, multi-jointed fingers wriggling slightly as if in anticipation.
They never found their target. The trapdoor beneath the rope closed just in time, and Iris, her face still impassive, slipped away from death’s clutches.
It’s playing with her, thought Alice. It’s playing with us all. Cat and mouse.
As though hearing her words, the creature’s spiralling eyes turned steadily in her direction. Now it began to move on a direct course towards the group under the archway, its pace noticeably increasing. Iris, meanwhile, had been forced to follow her escape route around to the right-hand wall. The upshot of this was that woman and monster emerged from the tangle of traps at almost the same instant.
“Move! Faster!” cried Rivers. It was hardly necessary – Iris was already sprinting towards them at top speed – but Alice found herself joining in with the exhortations, along with several others. Thankfully, the doctor was quick on her feet. She reached them several yards ahead of her pursuer, crossing the threshold with a dive.
Rivers was already yanking the lever down before the doctor was even fully across. For a sickening moment, nothing happened. Had Rivers been wrong to assume that the lever controlled the door? Then a heavy block of wood – more wall than door – fell from a broad slot overhead. It struck the stone with a mighty boom, the reverberations persisting in their ears for several seconds.
Then, finally, silence. The roar of fire and screeching of metal were sealed behind them. At the base of the door, a few wisps of dark smoke coiled upwards and dissipated. The creature had nearly been upon them.
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