Pawn

by Timothy Zahn

  A bitter-edged half smile touched his lips. “Everyone,” he corrected softly, “in the world.” Almost delicately, he fell over onto his side.

  He never moved again.

  * * *

  The other Cluufe greenfire gun was still where Nicole had last seen it, resting in the bushes at the top of the hill. Nicole retrieved it and returned to Jeff’s side.

  His eyes were closed, and for a moment she was afraid he was gone. But he was still breathing, though the breaths were coming slowly. For now, that was all she could hope for. Settling herself beside him, she hoisted the black tube up onto her shoulder and looked down the hill.

  The Micawnwi and their tree were still moving toward the Cluufes and the stone building. But it seemed to her that they were moving more slowly now, and that the tree was wavering a little, as if those carrying it were starting to tire.

  From the same clump of bushes as before came a green flash, and a section of the tree’s leaves burst into momentary flame. Swearing under her breath, Nicole lined up her gun.

  And paused.

  That was probably Hunter down there. He’d struck her as the kind of arrogant, control-freak type who’d make sure he was one of the ones with the cool weapons.

  And she’d seen how Hunter handled this sort of thing.

  The gun down there flashed again … and sure enough, this shot came from a slightly different part of the bushes. There was a short pause, and another shot lanced out from yet another spot.

  A distant scream wafted up from the battlefield, and it was all Nicole could do to hold her own fire. But she did. She had to. She had no idea how many shots were left in her gun, and she couldn’t afford to waste any of them firing at the wrong place. One more shot, she decided, and she should have Hunter’s pattern.

  Another shot lit up the ground and the tree, and Nicole winced at the answering scream. Hunter had his targets’ positions now.

  But so did she. Shifting her aim to the spot where he should turn up next, she set her finger on the trigger and held her breath.

  And as he fired one final time, from exactly the spot Nicole had predicted, she squeezed off her own shot.

  She’d expected nothing particularly noticeable to happen. Maybe if she was very lucky there would be a scream or wailing to show that she’d hit her target.

  She hadn’t expected the group of bushes to explode into violent, green-edged fire.

  Apparently, a direct hit on one greenfire gun by another wasn’t very good for them.

  “Nicole?” Jeff’s voice came weakly.

  She looked at him. His eyes were slightly open, still brimming with pain but at least conscious again. “It’s okay,” she said. “I got him.”

  “Good.” His mouth worked, as if he were trying to find some moisture. On impulse, Nicole pulled out one of her bottles and dribbled some water down his lips. “Thanks,” he said, licking at the flow. “The hive. The Cluufe hive. You should get down there. They might need you.”

  Nicole hesitated. He was right, she knew. Even with both of the Cluufe guns gone, the small Micawnwi force they’d sent to the enemy hive might need help, especially if the explosion sparked a massive Cluufe retreat.

  But how could she leave Jeff in this condition?

  “You hear me?” he croaked.

  Nicole grimaced. How could she leave … but what good would it do for her to stay? “I was just going,” she said. Reaching down, she slipped the water bottle into his hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks for the water.”

  “Sure,” Nicole said. “Next time bring your own.”

  But his eyes were closed again. Swearing under her breath, Nicole stood up. For a moment she gazed out over the hills and trees behind her, picking out what she hoped would be the fastest route to the Cluufe side of the arena. Then, holding her gun close so that it wouldn’t bump into anything, she headed down the hill.

  As it turned out, she needn’t have hurried. The initial encounter was clearly over, and three of the four Micawnwi men were standing guard at the entrance to the Cluufe hive, each of them now armed with a captured pike. Lying inside the hive just beyond the doors were the unmoving bodies of the fourth Micawnwi and at least three similarly unconscious or dead Cluufes. “You all right?” she asked as she rounded the curve in the path and walked toward them.

  “Yes,” one of the Micawnwi said. His voice was polite enough, but Nicole could sense his quiet distaste at having to report to a woman.

  “Is the battle still ongoing?” one of the others asked, his tone a little more civil.

  “Yes,” Nicole told him. “But it shouldn’t be much longer—”

  She paused, turning back toward the far end of the arena. Was that the sound of footsteps coming toward them?

  It was. Lots of footsteps. Lots of hurrying, frantic footsteps.

  The Cluufes were retreating.

  And they were heading straight for her.

  Frantically, she looked around. But the action was pure reflex. There was no way she could get to any serious cover, not before the front of the wave arrived.

  Which left her only one option. Taking a couple of quick steps closer to the Micawnwi, she turned to face the approaching Cluufes, rested the butt end of her gun on the ground beside her with the business end pointed upward, and waited.

  Twenty heartbeats later the first group of Cluufes charged into sight around the curve of the path. They got another five or six steps, and the wave behind them had also appeared, before anyone seemed to notice the human woman standing directly in their path.

  In a sudden tangle of surprise and confusion the whole pack came to a disorderly halt. Some of the ones in front snapped their halberds up into attack positions—

  “Who speaks for the Cluufes?” Nicole called.

  There was a moment of quivering silence. Then, one of the Cluufes in the back pushed his way through the crowd and spoke. “My name is Listmaker,” he called back. “With the death of Hunter the rule of command has passed to me.” He flicked a glance behind her. “Do you speak for our enemies?”

  “Amrew Man-second speaks for the Micawnwi,” Nicole told him. “He’s one of the people who are either coming up behind you, or are about to be. I speak only for reason and peace.”

  One of the other Cluufes snarled something. “What reason and peace do you pretend to speak?”

  “Let’s start with reason,” Nicole said. “From your sudden arrival here, I assume the Micawnwi now control the stone building and its food dispenser. As you can see behind me, the Micawnwi also control your hive and its food dispenser. If the situation stays as it is, you’ll all die, either stabbed or starved.”

  “We wouldn’t die without taking many Micawnwi with us,” Listmaker warned.

  “I know,” Nicole said. “It seems to me that enough Micawnwi and Cluufes have died already. More than enough. That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

  A ripple of suspicious murmurs ran through the Cluufe ranks, a wariness Nicole could also hear from the three Micawnwi behind her. “I figure that between the dispensers in the hives and the one in the stone building there should be enough food for everyone,” she said, hurrying to get the words out before either side could try to override her. “Let’s put the weapons away and work out a distribution deal.”

  “Impossible,” Listmaker insisted. “The Masters have ordered us to fight. Only by defeating the Micawnwi can we be assured of survival.”

  “Only by defeating the Cluufes can we be assured of survival,” one of the Micawnwi countered.

  “Fine,” Nicole said. “You’ve fought, and one of you has defeated the other. Game over.”

  Listmaker looked uncertainly at the Cluufe standing beside him. “Game?”

  “Game, competition, trial,” Nicole said. “Whatever the Shipmasters want from you, I’d say they’ve had their money’s worth.”

  “You’re not listen
ing,” Listmaker said. “If we don’t retake the bastion, our food supply will dwindle and we’ll be killed.”

  “If you keep fighting, you’ll also be killed,” Nicole pointed out. “Seems to me you’ve got nothing to lose by trying it my way.” Some of the Cluufes in the rear of the group turned their heads suddenly to look or listen behind them—“And if you don’t make a decision fast, it’ll be made by Amrew and his friends,” she added. “What’s it going to be?”

  Listmaker exhaled in a soft whistle. “What do you wish us to do?”

  “Put down your weapons and come over here,” Nicole said, her heart pounding as she stepped back and beckoned them over. Listmaker might be cooperating right now, but the whole thing was still balanced on the edge. A change of heart on his part, some last-minute treachery from one of his fellow Cluufes, or a flat refusal by Amrew to play ball would throw the whole lot of them into a final desperate battle for survival. With Nicole squarely in the middle of it.

  But if she could get this done quickly enough …

  Maybe Listmaker was thinking the same thing. Maybe all the Cluufes were. For whatever reason, they obeyed her order with remarkable speed, setting down their halberds and hurrying past into the limited space between Nicole and the three Micawnwi guards.

  Just in time. Listmaker and the final handful of Cluufes had just reached her when Amrew and the main Micawnwi force loped into sight around the curve. Amrew waved his halberd high and crowed something. “There! Now make an end of it!”

  Nicole let them get three more steps, making sure the Micawnwi in the back were able to see her. Then, without moving, she squeezed the gun’s trigger, sending a brilliant flash of green fire up toward the ceiling. “Stop!” she ordered.

  The Micawnwi skidded to a staggered and confused halt, a taller and hairier version of the Cluufes’ own bewildered reaction to her presence a few minutes earlier. “What are you doing?” Amrew demanded.

  “You’ve won the war,” Nicole told him. “Congratulations. The killing now stops.”

  “It does not,” Amrew retorted, starting forward again. “Vengeance for our deaths—”

  And again came to a sudden halt as Nicole sent a second blaze of green fire into the sky. “The vengeance stops now, too,” she said firmly. “We’ll find a place where the Cluufes can be kept out of the way, we sort out the food so that everyone gets what they need—”

  “This is outrageous—” Amrew snarled.

  “And you all live happily ever after,” Nicole ground out.

  Some of the Micawnwi exchanged glances, and Nicole saw the tension starting to drain from their postures. For some of them, at least, the idea that the war might be coming to an end seemed to be a relief.

  Amrew clearly wasn’t one of them. “Why should we obey your orders?” he demanded. “You, a woman and an alien?”

  “Because without me, you’d probably be dead right now,” she said flatly. “Whether you choose to remember or not, I was the one who came up with the marching tree idea.” She turned to Listmaker. “And you owe me because I’m the one who stopped Amrew just now from slaughtering you where you stand,” she added.

  “I wasn’t arguing,” Listmaker reminded her mildly.

  Nicole pursed her lips. Could that actually have been a hint of a sense of humor? “You’re right,” she agreed. “So it’s just you,” she continued, turning back to Amrew. “One other thing.” She lifted the greenfire gun a few inches off the ground. “I’m the only one who still has one of these. So. You going to cooperate and live? Or not?”

  Amrew looked over her shoulder at the Cluufes. Probably wondering how many Micawnwi would be killed if they simply charged the smaller aliens right here and now. Nicole got a tighter grip on her gun …

  And then, from somewhere in the distance, came a faint voice. Nicole frowned, trying to locate its source—

  “I am the Oracle,” the translation murmured.

  Nicole frowned. Did that mean the voice was coming all the way from the food dispenser room? The Oracle must have the volume really cranked up. “Are the leaders of the Micawnwi and Cluufe present?” it continued.

  Nicole looked at Amrew. He was staring past her toward the open door. “I am Amrew Man-second,” he called.

  “I am Listmaker,” Listmaker added.

  “Return to your hives,” the Oracle said. “The test is over. Return to your hives, and prepare to be returned to your homes.”

  Nicole caught her breath. They were going to be sent back home? Did that mean all of them were going home?

  “There’s still unfinished business to be done,” Amrew called, hefting his halberd.

  “No,” the Oracle said flatly. “There is not. Return to your hive. Now.”

  One of the Micawnwi touched Amrew on the shoulder. “It’s over, Amrew,” he murmured. “Come.”

  For a moment Nicole thought Amrew still hadn’t gotten the message. Then, abruptly, he spun around and stomped through the group gathered behind him, forcing them to move hastily out of his way. The others, some with long, penetrating looks at the Cluufes, followed.

  And as Nicole watched them go, feeling cautious relief sagging the tension out of her muscles, she saw a Wisp standing half-hidden behind the bushes at the side of the arena.

  It didn’t speak or beckon. But its eyes were on her, and its message was clear.

  Once again, she was being summoned.

  For a moment she considered simply saying no. She was deathly tired, and she needed to see to Jeff.

  But saying no would take strength, and a willingness to argue or resist or fight.

  And she was tired of fighting.

  The Cluufes were heading back to their own hive now, and Nicole tensed one final time as the three Micawnwi who’d been guarding the entrance moved toward them, their fallen comrade cradled in their arms. But there was no trouble. The Cluufes merely stepped aside and let the Micawnwi pass. They continued on, following their fellows, while the Cluufes closed ranks again and continued through the doors into their hive.

  A moment later, Nicole was alone.

  The Wisp was still waiting. With a sigh, Nicole settled the greenfire gun up onto her shoulder and walked over to the shimmery creature. “Where are we going this time?” she asked.

  The Wisp didn’t answer, but merely turned and led the way through the trees to the wall. A second Wisp was waiting there, and as Nicole came up it gently and wordlessly took hold of the greenfire gun.

  For a moment Nicole resisted. The weapon had proved useful, and might do so again.

  But the Wisp persisted, and Nicole still didn’t have the strength to resist. Opening her hand, she let the Wisp take it. The thing was probably nearly out of ammo, anyway.

  Behind the first Wisp, a wall section slid open, sending a familiar blast of hot air into Nicole’s face. As she walked toward the gaping shaft she felt the first Wisp wrap its arms around her.

  A moment later, she was once again in the heat and darkness, riding upward on butterfly wings.

  Don’t be afraid, the Wisp’s voice whispered in her mind. You seek answers. Now, you shall have them.

  eighteen

  The room the Wisp took her to wasn’t the same one she’d visited the last time they’d spirited her away from the arena. This room was rectangular and much larger, both in length and in width, its only lighting coming from widely spaced glowing circles in the ceiling. That ceiling was higher than in most of the places Nicole had been, though not as high as the arena’s. There was also no glass like in the other room, and no view.

  It wasn’t until the wall had closed behind her and she was walking across the floor toward the nearest light that she noticed that both of the room’s walls were lined with boxlike compartments. They were reasonably large, maybe twenty feet on a side, with high walls between them and some kind of open metal gridwork forming their fronts and tops.

  All the ones she could see were empty.

  Her first thought was that they must be some kind of
storage compartments, like the ones in her grandmother’s old apartment building basement. Those had also had open spaces covered by chicken wire for ventilation.

  But as she passed one of them she took a closer look. The door, which was part of the gridwork, had a lock on it. Even more ominous, in the two back corners she spotted a food dispenser chute and a water spigot connection.

  The compartments weren’t storage facilities.

  They were prison cells.

  “Welcome, Protector.”

  Nicole jerked, twisting her head around toward the voice. Standing directly beneath one of the ceiling lights was the figure of a man.

  She blinked, squinting in the dim light. Not just a man, like how she thought of Kahkitah or Amrew as men even though they were aliens. This was a human man.

  “Welcome, Protector,” he said again.

  Nicole glanced over her shoulder. There was no one there, not even the Wisp who’d brought her here. “You talking to me?” she called back.

  “You are the Protector, are you not?”

  “No, I’m a Sibyl,” Nicole said.

  “In point of fact, you’re both,” he said. Lifting a hand, he gestured. “Please; come closer.”

  Nicole looked again at the rows of cells. Was that why she was here? The Fyrantha itself was already little more than a prison for the people who’d been brought here. Was her part of that prison about to get much smaller?

  “Please; come closer.”

  She suppressed a curse. If she turned and ran … but she didn’t even know where aboard the ship she was, let alone how to get back to her room.

  Besides, she told herself firmly, if whoever this was had wanted her locked away, it would have been simpler to have the Wisp put her into one of the boxes while she was still helpless in its arms. Listening to her footsteps echoing from the metal floor—no nice soft bouncy mat in this part of the ship—she walked down the corridor between the rows of cells toward him.

  He didn’t move as she approached. Nor did he say anything as she came to a stop three feet in front of him. Now that she was closer, she could see that he was dressed in a flowing brown outfit of a kind she’d never seen before. His face and hair were strange, too, some ethnic mix she couldn’t identify. “You going to lock me up?” she asked.