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  But unlike Kamali’s toy archery set, these had real sharpened points. Nicole wasn’t sure the arrow would have killed her, even if it had hit her square in the forehead like it almost had. But it sure as hell would have left a nasty hole in the skin.

  Still holding the arrow, she carefully worked her way around and up again into a crouch. This time, she made sure not to ruffle the grass in front of her. “Okay; the food dispenser. Tell me how it works.”

  “At the third cycle of the morning, it delivers five measures of food,” the Maven said. “If the lever is pointed toward this side of the ravine the food comes out the spout on our side and is suitable for us to eat. If the lever is pointed to the other side, it delivers five measures of Ponng food. That pattern will repeat three more times, at intervals of two cycles. When the fourth time is complete, the machine will no longer function until the third cycle of the next morning.”

  “How do you know when the payoff is due?” Nicole asked. “Do you have a clock or something?”

  The Maven gestured, and one of the two Thii who’d accompanied them handed her his sword. “There, at the center of the hand guard,” she said, pointing.

  “I see it,” Nicole said, nodding. There was a tiny clock set into the middle of the sword’s hilt. It was an old-style clock, with hands and everything, except that these hands were both the same length.

  And now that she had the weapon up close, she could see that the blade didn’t seem at all sharp.

  Carefully, she eased her thumb against the edge, then pressed a little harder. Nothing. The weapon might look like a sword, but it was in fact little more than a sword-shaped club. The tip, though, was pointed enough to draw blood.

  Arrows and swords that could poke and hurt, but not easily kill. Whatever the Shipmasters were going for here, they’d sure given the fighters some strange weapons. “How big are these measures?”

  “Each is enough to feed one person for a day,” the Maven said.

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Twenty.”

  “And how many Ponngs?”

  “We were told there are also twenty.”

  “Got it,” Nicole growled, glaring across the ravine. So five rations delivered four times per day, for a total of twenty meals. One side could feed everyone while the other side starved, or else each side could go through a slow, half-ration starvation process. A little different from the system in Q4, but it had the Shipmasters’ stamp of calculated cruelty all over it. “So you have to fight or you don’t eat. Tell me your strategy.”

  “It’s not so much a strategy as a necessity,” the Maven said ruefully. “As the time approaches we send one of the young males down the slope to the machine. The timing is critical. If he goes too late, he risks being unable to win control of the lever from the Ponngs. If he goes too early, the enemy arrows will inflict severe injury on his body and again make it impossible for him to win the contest.”

  “Right,” Nicole said, fingering the arrow. Though it would be hard to kill anyone with these things, she could see how a steady rain of them could raise enough welts and bruises and draw enough blood to incapacitate the victim. Especially when the victims were built as thin as the Thii were. “And I assume everyone else from both sides shoots arrows down at the other side’s champion as long as he’s in range?”

  “That is correct,” the Maven said. “We’ve tried sending more than one male down, with the second and third ordered to shield the first. But the result was to risk having three warriors incapacitated for the remainder of the day instead of one.”

  “And if you lose enough men early in the day, the Ponngs have easy pickings for the later feeding times,” Nicole said, nodding. And of course, by giving both sides weapons that would only wound and disable, the Shipmasters had ensured that each side always had the same number of mouths to feed. “So it’s a balance.”

  “Yes,” the Maven said. “But now that balance has changed. The Ponngs will not dare to attack you. Thus, we will be able to turn our full force against their warrior—”

  “Whoa,” Nicole interrupted, holding up her hands. “Wait a second. I can’t take sides in this.”

  “Why not?”

  Because if I get involved the Shipmasters will have more evidence that humans can fight and they may put Earth on the chopping block along with whoever wins your damn little war here, that’s why. “Because I can’t simply allow the Ponngs to starve,” she said instead.

  “But you may allow us to starve?” the Maven countered.

  “I don’t want either of you to starve,” Nicole protested. “I’m hoping to find a way to get both sides more food.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Nicole said. “For starters, I need a closer look at the machine. I’ll go get Wesowee and we’ll head down there.”

  “Impossible,” the Maven said stiffly. “Your companion will stay here in guarantee of your return.”

  So that was why the Maven had insisted Wesowee stay at their encampment while Nicole and the Maven made their little inspection tour. Nicole had assumed it had simply been because it would be hard for someone the Ghorf’s size to get this close to the channel without drawing Ponng fire. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way,” she said. “He’s my assistant. Where I go, he goes.”

  “Then neither of you goes,” the Maven said, just as stiffly. “You will remain here until your own hunger forces you to comply with my instructions.”

  At other times and places, Nicole reflected, she might have gone into fear or defense modes. Here, faced with a threat from a bunch of spindly four-armed insects with blunt swords and toy arrows, her first reaction was to laugh.

  So she did.

  “You’re not serious,” she said when the laughter had run its course. “People who want to kill you are right across the channel. All I have to do is run across to them, and you’d be out of luck.”

  The Maven had a hunched, haunted look about her, the same look Bungie displayed whenever he’d backed himself into a corner. “Yet your companion is still with us,” she tried.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Nicole scoffed. “Did you take a good look at him? He could break you in half without even trying.” She leveled a finger at the alien. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to send someone back to bring Wesowee here. He and I will then go down and look at that dispenser. Understood?”

  “Yes,” the Maven said, her voice sounding labored. “And then you will feed my children?”

  Nicole frowned. Her children? “Are you saying these Thii are all yours? Seriously?”

  “Of course,” the Maven said. “When I became their leader, they became my children.”

  “Right. Whatever.” Nicole had known women like that, women who thought they were mother to a whole neighborhood. Some of them had been good at it. Others had just used it as an excuse to yell and give orders.

  She had no idea which kind of block mother the Maven was. She also didn’t plan to hang around long enough to find out. “Just get Wesowee, okay?”

  Five minutes later, the Ghorf had rejoined her. “There’s the channel,” he said eagerly, pointing through the grass.

  “Yes, I see it,” Nicole said, wincing in anticipation at the arrow that was surely about to zoom across the channel and bounce off his head or chest.

  But no attack came. The Ponngs on the other side must be able to see enough of the big alien to recognize that he wasn’t one of their enemies. “Was that food dispenser there when you brought in the plates?”

  Wesowee whistled thoughtfully. “Is that what that is? A strange place to put food.”

  “The Shipmasters sometimes do things the hard way,” Nicole said. Explaining how the arenas worked would take far more time than she wanted to spend. “So it wasn’t here earlier?”

  “I don’t know,” Wesowee said. “I delivered the plates to the far end.” He pointed to their right. “I never came to this part of the channel.”

  And
with the channel’s meandering curves, Nicole realized, he wouldn’t have been able to see very far in any direction. “Okay, it’s not important,” she said. “I want to go down and take a look at it. You’re sure that if we do that we’ll be able to get back up again?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  Which was probably as good a guarantee as Nicole was going to get without trying it. “Okay,” she said. “Maven, how long until the next food drop?”

  The Maven gestured, and one of the other Thii showed her his sword. “Approximately two-thirds of a cycle.”

  Nicole peered over her shoulder. Judging by how far the clock hands had moved, and assuming she was reading it right, they probably had a little over an hour. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s see what we can do. Wesowee? You ready?”

  Wesowee gave a triumphant-sounding bird call—

  And without warning plunged through the last line of grass stalks and ran straight down the slope. “Yes!” the translation belatedly came.

  Bracing herself, hoping the Ponng archers still remembered the Shipmasters’ warning about damaging their slaves, Nicole followed.

  The slope was steep, but the dried dirt wasn’t at all slippery. She took it carefully anyway, using the entire ten feet of flat area at the bottom to bring herself to a carefully controlled stop. Wesowee was already standing at the machine; with a quick look upward at the far side of the channel, Nicole joined him.

  She’d hoped the box would turn out to be a variant of the food dispensers in the Q4 arena, which she’d already had a good look at. Unfortunately, there was no way to know whether or not that was the case. The outer shell was solid metal, with welded edges and no fasteners that would allow it to be removed.

  “Hell,” Nicole muttered, digging her hand cautiously up into the dispenser tube as far as it would go. Again, there was nothing her fingers could discover except more smooth metal. “What did they do, sit it down here and weld it shut?”

  There was a whistle from the other side, and Wesowee’s head popped up into view. “There are fasteners on the underside,” he reported. “I can feel them. One at each corner and one at the center of each side.”

  Nicole reached under the box, digging a finger into the dirt at the corner until she could feel the underside of the metal. The Ghorf was right. Even better, the fasteners appeared to be the Fyrantha’s standard triangle-head bolts. Easiest things in the world to remove.

  Provided, of course, that you had a triangle-head wrench.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a tri-wrench, would you?” she asked.

  “No,” Wesowee said, still feeling underneath the edges. “But I could go get one.”

  “I guess you’ll have to,” Nicole said, wondering what the hidden Ponng archers were thinking. Hopefully, they would assume the visitors had been simply working on the machine and allow them to leave without trouble.

  But the Maven had tried to get her to do something to help their side. If the Ponngs suspected that, they might take exception to any attempt by Nicole or Wesowee to leave.

  From above came a sound like a burning fire. “You,” the translation came. “Come here.”

  Nicole looked up. There was nothing visible except swaying grass. “Excuse me?” she called.

  More of the TV Christmas-special log fire sound. “Come up.” There was a brief pause. “Please.”

  “Oh, well, since you said please,” Nicole muttered.

  Still, she and Wesowee were going to have to go up that side eventually if they were going to get the Ghorf home. And it wasn’t like there weren’t storage closets and tool kits on both sides of the arena. “Okay,” she said. “No one shoot, okay?”

  The slope was definitely challenging. But as she’d noted on the way down, the dirt was firm, and the cracks gave it a texturing that her boots were able to grip. Using her hands on the ground in front of her to help push, she headed up.

  She was halfway to the top when an arrow slammed into the center of her back.

  “Hey!” she shouted, wanting to turn around and glare at the Thii side but needing all her attention to regain her balance and keep herself from sliding back down. “Knock it off! Now!”

  There was no reply. But there were also no further arrows. Returning her attention to the slope, she finished the climb without trouble.

  Wesowee, who the Thii archer had apparently been smart enough not to shoot at, was already up and waiting for her when she reached the top. He held out a hand, she took it, and he pulled her effortlessly the rest of the way up. “Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously as they passed through the stand of tall grass lining the edge.

  “No, I’m okay,” Nicole assured him, trying to get a hand up to rub the tingling spot where the arrow had hit. Naturally, the damn thing had managed to land just out of her reach, from any direction. “They try it again, though, and I’m going to go back and kick their butts.”

  There was a fire sound from her right, and she turned to see a pair of short creatures coming toward her.

  Really short creatures. The Maven and other Thii barely came up to her chin, and they had these things beat by at least three inches. The newcomers were wider, though, with proportions that were closer to human norm than the Thii’s insect-like look. Even so, they seemed a lot less healthy than the Thii, with a sort of shrunken mummy look to them.

  Or they would if mummies came with a layer of green moss on their heads, shoulders, and arms. “If you wish, we will attack them in response,” the translation came.

  “Don’t bother,” Nicole said, eyeing them. Between them and the Thii, the whole arena looked like it had been set up as a fight between the kids that were always chosen last for school games. “Who are you?”

  “I am Moile,” one of the aliens said. “I speak for the Ponngs.”

  “Call me Sibyl,” Nicole said. “What did you want to say to me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You called us up here,” Nicole reminded him. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “I did not wish conversation,” Moile said. “Rather, I offer you a trade.” His hand did a sort of circular pointing motion toward the channel. “Food, for servitude.”

  Nicole blinked. “Excuse me? Food for what?”

  “Servitude,” the Ponng repeated. “If you will provide for my people, I will be your slave.” He did the gesture to the other Ponng beside him. “So will Teika, if you wish it.”

  Nicole looked at Wesowee. The Ghorf was just looking back, with no indication that he’d caught the significance and sheer awfulness of the offer. Probably he hadn’t. “Thanks, but I’m not in the slave-owner business,” she told Moile, trying to keep her voice steady. She had no doubt that the offer had been completely serious, which just made it worse. “What I need right now are tools.”

  “We have these,” Moile offered, touching the sword at his waist and the bow slung over his shoulder. “But we have nothing more.”

  “That’s okay—I know where to get them,” Nicole assured him. “But you’ll need to let Wesowee cross your territory to the door.” She hesitated, knowing better than to promise something she couldn’t deliver. But the look on their mummified alien faces—“If you guide him there and wait for him to come back, I may— I may—be able to get you more food.”

  “Then it is done,” Moile said firmly. He gestured to Wesowee. “At your convenience.”

  Wesowee looked uncertainly at Nicole. “Shouldn’t we both go?”

  “No, I need to stay here,” Nicole said. “You go get the tools. Just make sure at least one of them is the right size tri-wrench. Oh, and you’ll need the code to get out and back into the arena.”

  “I saw the numbers you entered on the control board,” Wesowee said. “Are those the ones?”

  “Should be,” Nicole said. “If the code lets you out, it’ll let you in again. If you can’t open the door, come get me and I’ll find out what it’s been reset to.”

  “All right.” Wesowee still looked uncertain, but he
nodded to Moile. “I’m ready,” he said.

  “Follow me,” Moile said. A moment later, they had disappeared into the grass.

  Teika took a step to the side, into the exact spot where Moile had been standing. “Is there anything I can do to assist you?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” Nicole said. “I’m going to head along the channel and see what’s at the far end.”

  “Shall I accompany you?”

  “You can do whatever you want,” Nicole said, feeling a flicker of anger. She could play the subservient, floor-mat role as well as anyone, and the game had saved her skin on more than one occasion on the Philadelphia streets. But these Ponngs were taking it way too far.

  All the lectures about self-esteem and standing up for yourself that the teachers and special speakers had droned on and on about in school flashed across her mind. Here, she suspected, the platitudes would have even less impact than they’d had on her classmates.

  Turning her back on him, she headed off through the grass.

  It was slow going at first, but after a couple of dozen yards the grasses seemed to become a little less dense, and meandering lines of plain dirt appeared, almost like paths that had been built into the area.

  It was, Nicole decided, something she should have expected. Ushkai had told her that the Fyrantha’s previous owners had planned the ship as a flying zoo, and from the way the Q4 arena had been laid out it had seemed likely they’d planned for visitors to be strolling through the various ecosystems.

  She was in sight of the curved and disguised wall marking the end of the arena when she belatedly noticed that she had a shadow. Teika, having been given no orders to the contrary, had indeed decided to tag along, and was slipping silently through the stands of grass a few feet behind her.

  Nicole’s first impulse was to tell him to go back. Her second was that he would probably be hurt or offended if she did.

  Her third was that she’d always wanted a pet dog, and this was probably as close as she would ever get.