The door slid open, and a slow wave of purple mist crept in. “What about you?” Buck asked.
“I have my tasks as well.” He touched both sets of knuckles against both Buck’s temples. “May Andarko and Celine watch over you and guide you in what you must do.”
Buck reached up on tiptoes to touch his own knuckles to Moodri’s head. “May Ionia watch over you,” he said, somehow understanding that to believe in one religion was to believe in them all.
Buck stepped into the corridor, then turned back to Moodri with a sudden panicked thought. “Will I see you again?” the child asked. “I mean, when we have . . . landed.”
Moodri touched his hearts. “Of course you will,” he said. “Each time you look up at the stars.”
Then the door slid shut, and Buck was alone.
But for no reason he could explain, he was not afraid.
C H A P T E R 1 7
BEYOND THE CLOSED DOOR the crowd howled, and Ruhtra clutched George’s tunic. Four rounds had been played. The second cage was empty. The next time Coolock entered, his choice would be one of the three—George, Ruhtra, or Zicree.
But George was prepared. He had killed one Overseer this crayg. Coolock would be the second. George had already planned his attack. One blow to distract the Overseer. Then grab the prod. Use it as a club. Coolock’s skull could be fractured before the other Overseers would know what had happened. It was the only way George could be part of the rebellion.
The door opened with a hiss. The chanting of the crowd was fevered, like howling beasts standing ready to devour the corpses of the losers.
Ruhtra huddled in George’s arms, and George made those arms like the iron bars of the cage—solid, unbreakable. What was happening was Ruhtra’s worst fear. What was happening was George’s fault. He would make it end, just as he had held the creature from the airlock at bay so many years ago.
“Stangya, please!” Ruhtra pleaded. His panic was overwhelming.
George looked into his brother’s eyes. “I will protect you,” he swore. Repeating the pledge he had made as a child.
Coolock entered the holding chamber, the fall of his boots unmistakable.
Ruhtra shook. “Don’t let them take me.” His body trembled as if an Overseer’s prod had already been discharged against him.
Coolock’s voice boomed in the chamber. “It is time.”
And Ruhtra collapsed. He was a child again. George’s younger brother. Cowering in the corridor as the monster advanced. “I cannot go. Please, Stangya, please.”
George brushed his knuckles to his brother’s temple. The cage door clanged open. Coolock entered, arrogantly stepping into the cage unafraid.
Zicree waited in the corner, beyond caring.
George and Ruhtra rose together. Coolock moved his prod from one to the other, eyes gleaming with madness and hate. “Now,” he said, “who shall it be?” His eyes fell on Ruhtra.
But George pushed forward, looking for his opening. “I will go in Ruhtra’s place.”
Coolock gazed at George as if carefully considering his offer. He grabbed George’s tunic. George made a fist at his side. As soon as they stepped through the cage entrance he would strike.
“You will be a brave player,” Coolock said to George, then shoved him sideways, throwing him against Zicree as he grabbed Ruhtra instead. “But you will make for better sport!”
Coolock pulled Ruhtra from the cage. George rushed forward, but the cage door slid shut, making all the bars clang as if they, too, shook with fear. Ruhtra screamed and scrabbled in Coolock’s unbreakable grip. George plunged his hands through the bars and shouted his brother’s name.
But Coolock only laughed, only laughed until the door closed, cutting off Ruhtra’s final desperate pleas and the cheering of the crowd.
“Ruhtra,” George sobbed against the bars. He had led his own brother to certain death. Was anything worth it? Even a rebellion that had been kept from him?
He felt Zicree’s hand rest on his shoulder. “To live on the ship, to die on the ship, what difference does it make?”
George had no answer for him. Only emptiness.
C H A P T E R 1 8
VORNHO STOOD BESIDE BUCK in the corridor lineup and tried to jam a finger under the boy’s arm.
Buck twisted, deathly afraid that the circuitry key would fall from his scarf. “Stop it!” he whispered, trying to push his friend away with the most minimal of arm movements.
“Loosen up,” Vornho whispered back. “You’re a hero, Finiksa, just like me!”
Buck glanced over at his friend and saw that Vornho also wore a second golden clasp of rank on his black scarf. “Heroes of the water hub,” Vornho said excitedly. “That’s what we are. Wow. Too bad you missed seeing that cargo explode. It was eech ka. Real eech ka.”
From down the line Watch Leader D’wayn’s voice rose in warning. “You two! Keep it down. And keep the line moving.”
“Yes, Watch Leader,” both boys said at once. Vornho had a hard time trying not to follow it with a giggle.
“Keep quiet,” Buck said, “or they won’t let us go on the bridge.”
Vornho stretched up to see how the line was progressing. About ten pairs of Watcher Youth were in front of them, being guided through a narrow opening into an access tunnel that Buck had never seen before. “Relax,” Vornho told his friend, “they have to get us onto the bridge. Haven’t you seen how edgy all the Overseers are?”
“So?” Buck asked, afraid to know what that might mean.
“So something’s going on,” Vornho said conspiratorially.
Buck stared at him questioningly.
“The cargo’s up to something. It’s obvious, you vrick. That’s why they sealed most of the corridors and closed the shift. It’s like the thing at the water hub.”
“Why does that mean they have to get us to the bridge? Why not lock us up in the crèche?”
Vornho rolled his eyes and made the wiped-off-spots gesture across his forehead. “Where have you been, blankhead? There’re jabroka-fiends all over the ship. Hundreds of them, I heard.”
Buck frowned. Vornho was always convinced there were hundreds of some kind of monster roaming the ship. “Then why don’t they just flood the corridors with the holy gas of obedience?”
Vornho punched Buck’s shoulder. “Don’t you get it? They’re all out of it.”
Buck wiped his own forehead back at Vornho. “Blankhead yourself, I saw the gas in the corridors on my way here.”
“Well, yeah, I mean they’ve got some,” Vornho insisted, “but not a whole lot. They used up almost all of the reserves when we were at the water hub. They got the pumps making more of it, but they won’t have enough to fill the ship until after we’ve translated again.”
There were only four more pairs of Watchers ahead of them now. D’wayn looked at Buck and Vornho with narrowed eyes, which was enough to make both boys whisper again.
“You’re still not making sense,” Buck said. “Why does any of that mean we have to go to the bridge and not the crèche?”
“Since there’s not enough gas to keep the cargo quiet,” Vornho said as if talking to a four-year-old, “the only thing the Overseers can do to disrupt whatever’s going on is to put the ship through a hard translation. You know how sick you can feel if you’re too near the hull for a translation?”
“Yeah,” Buck said apprehensively.
“Well, this time it’s going to be ten times worse,” Vornho said. “They said it’ll probably kill all the Elders and a lot of the podlings, but it’s only what they deserve, right?”
Buck didn’t answer. “What’ll it do to us?”
“Nothing,” Vornho said. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. The bridge is protected from the translation. That’s why all the Overseers not on duty deep in the ship are going to be up there.” He grabbed his scarf proudly. “And that includes us!”
Then Vornho reached out to shake Buck’s scarf as well. Buck couldn’t pull back in t
ime and knew in despair that Vornho couldn’t help but feel the circuitry key. But D’wayn’s hand grabbed Vornho’s at the last instant.
“I said keep it down, boys,” the Watch Leader said. “Even if you are ‘heroes of the water hub,’ you still have to set an example for the younger Watchers. Am I understood?”
Both boys bowed their heads. “Yes, Watch Leader.”
D’wayn patted their arms. “All right now, into the tunnel, hold onto the rail, and have fun.” She guided Vornho and Buck to the small opening. It was barely large enough for D’wayn to fit through, and Buck doubted that any jabroka-transformed worker could have made the squeeze. Through the opening Buck could see what seemed to be a wide, moving belt on the floor, as if all they would have to do was stand still and the floor would take them up to the bridge. He found it an exciting concept. Vornho went first and was quickly pulled away with a laugh.
Just as Buck was about to go through, though, D’wayn’s hand tightened on his shoulder, only an inch from where the key was hidden.
“Watcher Finiksa,” she said formally, “I just wanted you to know that Coolock told me what you told him. I . . . I want to thank you for your support. And I want to tell you that . . . that I will not be so quick to judge members of my own family again.”
Buck wasn’t quite sure what she meant. “Family?” he asked.
D’wayn touched her knuckles to his temple. “We’re all that we have,” she said, and for once her voice didn’t sound as if it was giving commands. “And if we did not stand together, there would be no order on the ship at all.”
Buck had no idea what to say. “Thank you,” he mumbled, hoping it was appropriate.
“Thank you, spotty head,” she whispered. Then she winked at him the way a mother winked at a podling. “You’ll be wearing a black tunic before you know it. Now get along with you. Up to the bridge! Up!”
Buck almost fell on his face as he stepped through onto the moving floor. Vornho was surprisingly close. He had spent the last minute walking against the direction of the floor so he wouldn’t pull away from his friend.
“Isn’t this zan?” Vornho exclaimed.
Buck agreed. The tunnel was tilted and seemed to go on forever, but the floor was dragging them up at an angle without any need for them to walk at all.
Vornho bounced up and down on the springy moving surface, making Buck wave his arms for balance. “So what did D’wayn have to say to you?”
Buck shrugged. “Not much. Just stuff about the water hub.”
Vornho looked embarrassed. “Yeah, well, they told me what happened. About you seeing the cargo’s clearing charges under his membrane suit and all.”
Buck tried not to look at his friend. Moodri had explained about that subterfuge, too: how Buck’s memories had been changed to spare him the pressure of trying to lie to the Overseers—something he would never have been able to do on his own.
Vornho gave him a reluctant grin. “Thanks for trying to save me from blowing us all up. But next time . . . do it faster!”
Vornho shot both hands out to poke under Buck’s arms. Buck lost his footing on the moving floor and tumbled onto his back. He felt the circuitry key fall out from his scarf, but before he could roll over on it Vornho was already kicking it away with his foot.
Buck scrambled to his feet. Vornho held the key close to his eyes, peering at its circuitry patterns intently. “Hey, what the neck is this thing supposed to be?” he asked.
Buck looked up the tunnel. They were coming to a large opening where the tunnel ended and two Overseers stood to help the Watchers off the moving floor. Buck grabbed for the key, but Vornho held it out of reach, waving it back and forth.
“Something important, hmm?” Vornho said.
Knowing he had no time left, Buck decided to tell him just how important it was.
C H A P T E R 1 9
GEORGE HEARD THE MUFFLED sound of the wojchek’s whine. He gripped the bars of the cage as the first discharge blended with the chanting of the crowd.
It spun again. George lost track of how many times. He felt himself spin. He felt himself lost in the darkness. The bars melted from his grip. How could he ever have believed in a rebellion? How could he ever have believed in anything except the ship?
The ship.
He knew what its one name was now.
It was the cry of the crowd in the Game chamber—mindless, bloodthirsty, so blind they did not know that they cheered their own deaths because it was their own kind that fed the Game.
And he knew what the ship was now.
It was the Game on a larger scale. Nothing more. Nothing with meaning. Nothing that depended on the direction of Those Who Made the Ships, or thinking machines, or alien beings hidden in inaccessible chambers outside the cargo disk. Those stories were all vain attempts to give meaning to meaninglessness. But George finally understood how unnecessary those stories were.
There was no enemy here. Only mirrors.
Beyond the door the crowd screamed the name of the ship as the final discharge ended another round.
But the Game wasn’t over. It would never be over. Not while a single ship plied the dark ranges.
The door opened.
Ruhtra entered.
Dragged by two Overseers. His chest a gaping, glistening hole.
George sobbed his brother’s name.
Coolock tapped his prod against the bars. George was consumed by the ship’s emptiness. “I’ll kill you, you kakstu!” he shrieked, arms flailing for the grinning Overseer. “I’ll kill you!”
But Coolock bobbed his head just out of George’s reach, turning George’s rage into nothing more than a children’s game. “Who’s next to sit at the table?” he taunted. Then his eyes turned to black ice as he answered his own question. “You are, Stangya. You are.”
George lowered his arms. Coolock opened the cage. He waited outside as if uncertain what George might do.
But there was no uncertainty in George. Not anymore. He stepped out of the cage, his hands open at his sides. There was no need to attack the Overseer. There was only one need left.
The need to die.
Without even a shove from Coolock, George turned and walked to the Game chamber door.
Willingly he would face the wojchek. It was the only victory that was left to him. The only fate he deserved.
George Francisco stepped into the deepest chamber of the ship and prepared to die.
It was the only thing he had left to look forward to.
C H A P T E R 2 0
“D’WAYN GAVE IT TO ME,” Buck said.
Vornho stared at him skeptically, the circuitry key still in his hand. They were less than a hundred meters from the tunnel’s end and approaching quickly on the moving floor.
“She gave it to you? Just now?”
“Yes,” Buck said, stepping up the floor to try and block Vornho and what he was holding from the Overseers at the end of the tunnel.
“So what is it?”
“A circuitry key,” Buck blurted, the first thing to come to his mind. “For . . . for some privacy chambers. By the big ’ponics jungle on the top decks.”
Buck could see that Vornho wasn’t convinced but that he was intrigued.
“They’re just for Overseers she said. They can use them whenever they want. No waiting. Lots of eemikken. And they keep female cargo up there. Real poco, she said. Just for the Overseers.”
Now Vornho wanted to believe Buck. But he still had one objection. “How come you got one and I didn’t?”
Less than fifty yards. “You were supposed to get yours from Coolock, D’wayn said. But he’s been too busy with the cargo.” Buck held out his hand. “Give it back to me, Vornho. Not everyone gets them, so she told me not to tell anyone else.”
Vornho brought the key teasingly closer to Buck’s hand. “Not even me?”
“They were going to take us up there together, blankhead. But you’re going to ruin everything! The females. The eemikken. Everythin
g!”
Vornho slammed the key into Buck’s hand, then said, “If you’re lying to me, Finiksa, I’ll peel your spots.”
Buck shoved the key under his scarf and wedged it between the clasps. “You’ll be too busy having your spots licked, mother hummer.”
Vornho laughed. He wiggled his fingers beside Buck’s ribs. “Eat salt!”
An Overseer grabbed Buck from behind and swung him off the moving floor to a solid deck. “Easy there, young Watcher. Next time ride the belt looking in the right direction.”
Vornho stepped off the moving floor between the two Overseers and as he looked up his mouth opened wide. Buck turned to see what his friend had seen. “Andarko,” he whispered.
He was on the bridge.
Buck had never seen an open space as large before. The bridge chamber stretched out farther than the food-growth chambers with room for a hundred vats. And the ceiling—Buck gasped—there was no ceiling. It was one vast transparent dome of what could only be the same material the hull’s portals were made from.
Stars shone all around him. Thousands of them. And forward, in the direction that the ship moved, one star was so large and bright that Buck could see a visible disk almost the size of his thumb tip. It cast long shadows all through the bridge.
“That must be the course-correction star,” Vornho said wonderingly. For once there was no hint of challenge in his voice. He sounded just like Buck.
“Can you see any planets?” Buck asked. He wasn’t sure what they might look like, but he wanted to know if the world Moodri had told him would be their target was in sight.
Alien Nation #1 - The Day of Descent Page 33
