Pawn

by Timothy Zahn

  “I don’t think you have any business going in there,” Nicole said. “You’ve got a long life ahead of you. You’ve got nothing to gain by going in there and catching an arrow.”

  “That’s your idea of something to gain?” he countered. “Is that what this is about? You going out in a blaze of glory?”

  “No, this is about getting Mispacch and her kids some food,” Nicole told him. “And I don’t have time to argue about it. Get out of my way, will you?”

  He didn’t budge. “What if I could get them that food without anyone else getting shot or hurt?”

  Nicole snorted. “If you’re talking about food bars, I already told you the Micawnwi couldn’t eat them.”

  “I was thinking about something a little more elegant,” he said. “You said the food dispenser had a display on it, right? Forty colored lights?”

  “That right,” she confirmed, thinking back. “There were several different colors.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “See, I think those lights are the readout that indicates the formula of the stuff the dispenser is putting out. That’s what the dispenser in our dining room looks like, except you don’t see the lights because they’re back behind the counter. And of course we get a variety of different menus, which I’m guessing the Micawnwi don’t.”

  “If you can’t see the lights, how do you know what they look like?”

  “The thing broke down a couple of years ago and Levi and I had to get back in there,” he explained. “I saw the display, and also the keypad entry thing that looks like it controls the mixture. If we can figure out the Micawnwi code, we should be able to reprogram another dispenser to whip up some extra formula for them.”

  Nicole looked back over her shoulder, a flicker of cautious hope rushing through her. “You mean we could feed them from here?”

  “Well, no, not from here exactly,” he hedged. “I could see the control system on our machine, but the thing had been welded shut. Probably to keep someone like me from messing around with the controls and accidentally poisoning everyone.”

  “Sam was able to make whiskey.”

  Jeff’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Huh. He must have found a dispenser somewhere he could get into.”

  “Or else Plato unwelded ours.”

  “Could be,” Jeff said. “Maybe we should hunt up the doc and ask which it was.”

  “He won’t tell us,” Nicole said.

  Jeff started to say something, took another look at Nicole’s face, and thought better of it. “Fine—we shouldn’t need his anyway. What I was starting to say was that if the arena dispensers have to be changed every few weeks, they should be more easily accessible. If we can get to the Cluufes’ dispenser, we may be able to reprogram it.”

  Nicole chewed at her lip. Hunter had implied that between the dispensers in their hive and the stone building there was plenty of food available for his people. That meant taking food for the Micawnwi shouldn’t hurt the Cluufes any.

  And if Hunter had been lying about that … well, he was the one who’d refused to share any of their supplies, even knowing Micawnwi children were starving. Serve him right if he got a little hungry himself for a change. “Okay,” she told Jeff. “How do we get to it?”

  He seemed taken aback. “That was the part you were supposed to know,” he said. “You were back there, weren’t you? You said you saw the mechanism.”

  “I saw the Micawnwi mechanism,” she corrected. “But the wall on that side had been cut to give the Shipmasters access. I don’t know if they did that to the Cluufes’ side.”

  “Why not?” Jeff asked. “They’re both part of the same game, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, but they’re playing different parts,” Nicole said. “So far the ones on the Micawnwi side seem to be the ones that are supposed to attack, with the ones in the Cluufe section defending. They’re starving the Micawnwi to make them desperate enough to fight. The Cluufes are supposed to have plenty to eat unless they lose the stone building.”

  Jeff shook his head. “What kind of sick monsters make someone else fight to the death for food? It’s like a bad horror movie or something.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make the rules,” Nicole said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if the Cluufes have the same shutoff valve or not. I couldn’t see the controls on the Micawnwi version from the back, and I don’t see why the Cluufe side would be any different.”

  “Your classic no-win situation.” Jeff hissed out a sigh. “Maybe Plato was right. Maybe we should just forget it.”

  “You want to quit, go ahead,” Nicole said. “While you’re thinking about it, you want to get out of my way?”

  “I’m not quitting,” Jeff insisted, stepping away from the closet. “I’m just saying we’re no farther ahead than you were yesterday.”

  “Sure we are,” Nicole said, brushing past him and opening the closet. There were two fully loaded food vests at one end. She pulled out one and slipped it on, then tossed the second one to Jeff. “Now we have a plan. Here—you can carry this one.”

  “There’s lunch here for six people, you know,” he reminded her, eyeing the vest dubiously. “How long exactly are you planning for us to be in there?”

  “Don’t know,” Nicole said. “How hungry are you willing to get?”

  “Point,” he conceded, putting it on.

  “We’ll need some tools, too,” Nicole continued. “Which ones will you need to reprogram the dispenser?”

  His mouth dropped open an inch. “I thought you said we couldn’t get to it.”

  “I said I couldn’t get to it from the back,” she corrected. “We might be able to get in from the front. Come on, come on—which tools?”

  “From the front?” Jeff echoed. “Well, that could be handy. You couldn’t have mentioned that two minutes ago?”

  Nicole shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were as crazy about doing this as I was. Besides, I said we might. So which tools?”

  He stared at her another second, then looked back at the closet. “We should probably have both an electronics and a general tool set,” he said, stepping to the racks and picking out a pair of vests. “You want me to carry both of them, I suppose?”

  “You’re the one with two good ankles.”

  “Right.” Shifting both vests into one hand, he dug into one of his jumpsuit pockets with the other. “Well, if I’m going to carry everything else, you can lug this.”

  Nicole stiffened. Resting in his palm was another inhaler.

  “You told me Fievj had taken your inhaler,” he explained. “I forgot to grab you a replacement last night, so I picked it up this morning. Thought you should have it in case we need to talk to the ship.”

  “Sure,” she said, trying not to be too sarcastic. “You get any rattlesnakes? We could probably use some rattlesnakes.”

  He winced. “Yeah, I know,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “But as long as you don’t use it a lot, you should be all right. Right? I mean, the other Sibyls use the stuff two or three times a day and still live for months and months.”

  “So you figure as long as I just take an occasional shot of the stuff, I should be fine?”

  “Yeah,” he said, wincing again. “Sorry—it was just a thought. If you don’t want it—”

  “No, I’ll take it,” she cut him off, jamming the inhaler into a pocket. “It’s just…”

  “It’s just what?”

  She sighed. “What you said just now. As long as I don’t use it a lot, I’ll be fine.” She hunched her shoulders. “It’s the irony of it, that’s all.”

  “Irony?”

  She stepped over and closed the closet door. “That’s the same thing I said to myself when I first started drinking. Hell, it might even be the same words.” She waved a hand. “Never mind. Let’s go before someone catches us.”

  * * *

  So far Nicole had been zero for two on her assumptions of how the morning would go. But she was pretty sure her third assumption would pan out.

&nb
sp; She was right. Amrew and the rest of the Micawnwi men weren’t at all happy to see her.

  “What are you doing here?” Amrew demanded as Nicole and Jeff stood by the entrance to the Micawnwi hive. “Never mind,” he added before Nicole could answer. “I don’t care why you’re here. Leave, now. We don’t need you.”

  “Really?” Nicole countered, trying hard to forget that this was the man who’d casually forced his own wife and children into slow starvation. “From what I saw of yesterday’s battle it looked like you can use every bit of help you can get. How many did you lose, anyway?”

  “We came very near to victory,” Amrew said. “That’s what’s important.”

  Nicole locked her gaze on the nearby sentry. “How many did you lose?” she repeated.

  The sentry glanced furtively at Amrew. “Three,” he said. “One dead and two injured.”

  “But the enemy also lost one to death,” Amrew added firmly. “And we nearly reached the objective.”

  “Yes, you said that.” Nicole gestured to Jeff. “This is Jeff. He’s here to teach you how to fight.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jeff lean a few inches closer to her. “Nicole, I don’t know how to use weapons like this,” he murmured urgently.

  “They’re special techniques the enemy doesn’t know,” Nicole continued, ignoring his protest. “Give him one of your weapons and he’ll show you.”

  Amrew seemed to measure Jeff with his eyes. Then, he turned his halberd to point upward and tossed it to Jeff. “Very well,” he said. “Let’s see what you have to offer.”

  Jeff took a moment to examine the halberd, turning it over a few times as he ran his eyes and hands over it and got a feel for its weight and balance. Then, with a final glance at Nicole, he began flipping it over and around, slowly at first, then faster and faster, carving out a complex pattern of swings, spins, and jabs.

  Back in the hive, Nicole had seen him do similar moves with her crutches. But she’d never realized how much more could be done with the longer and heavier halberd. The extra length gave him a whole new category of maneuvers that the crutch hadn’t let him execute.

  If Nicole was impressed, the two Micawnwi were even more so. Amrew seemed stunned as he watched the performance, and the sentry was so enthralled that he didn’t even flinch when the tip of the halberd suddenly jabbed through the air a foot away from the side of his head.

  The show lasted maybe a minute. When it was over, Amrew was convinced. “I’ll call the fighters,” he said. “We’ll begin training at once.”

  “Don’t call them too far,” Nicole warned. “You’ll want to do your training inside the main room, not out here.”

  “How big is this room?” Jeff asked, craning his neck to see past the two Micawnwi. “You saw how much space we’re going to need.”

  “I’m less worried about a shortage of space than I am about an abundance of Cluufe spies,” Nicole said.

  Jeff looked up into the forested hills. “Damn,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you say something? I could have taken the demo inside.”

  “Sorry,” Nicole apologized, trying to sound sincere. In actual fact, Jeff and Amrew had done exactly what she’d wanted, and exactly where she’d wanted them to do it.

  Not that she was about to tell either of them that. Not yet, anyway. “But better late than never,” she added.

  “I suppose,” Jeff said dubiously. He gave the hills one last look, then gestured to the Micawnwi. “You heard her. Let’s get inside.”

  There were thirteen Micawnwi who Amrew apparently decided were healthy enough to participate in the training. They were crammed pretty tightly into the central room, and for a long time the session was a loud and raucous thing indeed. The Micawnwi were understandably awkward with the new techniques, and there was a good deal of clinking and thudding as the halberds rammed into each other or bounced off the walls or other Micawnwi.

  But the aliens were determined, and Amrew pushed them hard, and as the morning progressed the clinks and bumps and untranslatable sounds that Nicole began thinking of as Micawnwi curses gradually faded away. By lunchtime the only sounds emanating from the training room were Jeff’s or Amrew’s orders and the faint swishing of halberds being whipped through the air.

  Fortunately, the earlier confusion had gone on long enough to give Nicole the time she’d needed to go into the food dispenser room and carefully record the colored display lights onto her notepad with her stylus. During the worst of the noise, which would hopefully mask everything else from the ears of the listening Oracle, she’d also borrowed Varkos Man-second, the young sentry she and Mispacch had run into on Nicole’s first visit, and had utilized his strength and size for one other task.

  And with that, the preliminary work was done. Now, if and when they got to the Cluufes’ hive, Jeff should have everything he needed to reprogram their food dispenser. Assuming, of course, that the rest of the Micawnwi could buy them enough time to pull that off.

  She hadn’t told Amrew that part of her plan yet. She could hardly wait to hear what he thought about it.

  But that confrontation was still a little ways off. With the first round of training complete, Jeff announced a half-hour break and informed them they’d be pairing off for actual combat drills after lunch.

  Nicole and Jeff found an out-of-the-way spot against the wall where they could eat their food bars without getting walked on. The Micawnwi men, Nicole noted, each got a small handful of some stuff that looked like trail mix from the food dispenser. From the snatches of conversation Nicole was able to overhear, it was clear that the Shipmasters had discovered her interference and returned the dispenser to its proper starvation level.

  Not surprisingly, none of the women or children joined the men for their midday meal.

  Given that Jeff had run the Micawnwi through a full morning’s worth of practice, Nicole had assumed that the afternoon drills would be just as extensive. To her mild surprise, Jeff called a halt after only two hours, citing the balance between preparedness and fatigue, and told Nicole the fighters were as ready as they were going to be.

  And with that, it was time to let Amrew in on the whole story.

  At Nicole’s suggestion the three of them headed out into the arena, where the Oracle listening from the food dispenser room hopefully couldn’t eavesdrop. They sat down cross-legged facing each other, and Nicole explained the rest of her plan.

  Amrew listened in stony silence. When she’d finished he stared at her for nearly five seconds. Then, deliberately, he turned to Jeff. “And what’s your plan?” he asked.

  A blazing retort flashed to Nicole’s lips. But Jeff got there first. “That was my plan,” he said calmly. “I worked it out yesterday while observing your battle.”

  Nicole felt her mouth drop open. What the hell?

  Amrew looked as stunned as she felt. “It’s your plan?” he demanded. “Yet you allowed a woman to express it to me?”

  And then Nicole got it. Of course Jeff had had to say that. And he’d had to say it in exactly that way.

  Her own fault, really. She knew what Amrew was like. She should have briefed Jeff on the plan and let him present it to the Micawnwi in the first place.

  “Of course,” she said before Jeff could answer. “Jeff figured that if a woman could understand it even the slowest of your fighters could, too.”

  “And you thought I was one of those slowest?” Amrew countered. “No matter. I declare the plan unacceptable. It carries an abundance of risk, and only a small chance of success.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jeff said. “Let’s hear your plan.”

  “We attack across the plain,” Amrew said. “With these new fighting techniques to aid us, we can yet drive the enemy from the stone bastion.”

  “Ah,” Jeff said. “And you’ve tried the frontal assault strategy how many times already?”

  Amrew’s fur fluffed briefly. “Three. But with these new fighting techniques—”

  “You
have any arrows left?” Jeff interrupted.

  “No,” Amrew admitted. “But we only had ten to begin with. And the enemy has used all of theirs, as well.”

  “So you have no long-range firepower,” Jeff concluded. “That means your entire strategy is to rush at the Cluufes and try to whack or poke them before they can do that to you?”

  Another fluffing of the fur. “It’s more honorable than you make it sound.”

  “No doubt,” Jeff said, nodding. “How many of your original twenty-six fighters have you lost in your various attacks?”

  Amrew rumbled something untranslatable. “Seven,” he said. “Though two of those may yet recover enough to fight.”

  “Good for them,” Jeff said. “Which won’t help you this afternoon, of course. So seven in three battles. You really think doing the same thing yet again will yield any better results?”

  Amrew flicked a look at Nicole, then lifted his eyes to the hills behind them. “You guarantee your plan will work?” he asked at last.

  “There aren’t any guarantees in warfare,” Jeff said. “But I think this is the best shot you’re going to have.”

  “My fighters won’t like it,” Amrew warned. “They want revenge for the deaths of their compatriots.”

  “Then your fighters need to be reminded of their objective,” Jeff said coldly. “The goal is to obtain food, not to kill or maim a few Cluufes.” He gestured to Nicole. “If you don’t agree, or want to do it some other way, that’s fine. Good luck, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Amrew fluffed his fur again. “You leave me small choice. Very well—we’ll follow your plan. But this had better work. When do we begin?”

  Jeff looked at Nicole and raised his eyebrows. Nicole started to speak, remembered Amrew’s automatic resistance to anything with a female voice attached to it, and instead gave a microscopic nod. “No time like the present,” Jeff said. “Get your fighters out here and we’ll give them a briefing.”

  “I’ll also need Mispacch Woman-fifth and her children,” Nicole added.

  “A woman?” Amrew said disdainfully. “Why?”

  “We need her to come with us to the Cluufe side,” Nicole said. “If you’d rather, we could take Varkos Man-second or one of the other fighters instead.”