Knight Read online

  If Fievj decided to shoot, she was dead. She’d better make damn sure he didn’t make that decision.

  Still, because it was better than nothing, she took a couple of steps forward and to the side to put the half-disassembled food dispenser directly between her and him.

  He came to a stop on the other side of the dispenser and for a moment eyed her in silence. Nicole braced herself—“Why are you here?” he said at last.

  “I was summoned,” Nicole said, feeling a touch of relief and another touch of annoyance. Of course Fievj hadn’t just been standing there glaring at her in silence—he’d been talking to her in his own language, just like every other alien aboard the Fyrantha, and the delay had been from her brain-talking gadget waiting for him to say enough that it could start running the translation. The difference between him and everyone else was that she couldn’t hear his original speech or see his mouth move through the armored helmet, which made it look like he was just staring at her.

  “Summoned by whom?”

  “By the Fyrantha,” Nicole said. “Who else?” She cocked her head to the side. “How about you? What are you doing here?”

  “What did the Fyrantha say to you?” Fievj asked, ignoring her question. “Tell me the exact words.”

  Nicole felt her lip twist. This was an old, old trick, one that had been tried on her over and over again. A guy who suspected she was lying would ask her to give a complicated or detailed answer to some question, then ask the same thing a little later, hoping she wouldn’t remember what she’d said the first time.

  Trake had been pretty good at standing up to that sort of thing. Bungie, with a mouth way bigger than his brain, had typically run into those tests head-on and, more often than not, had fallen flat on his face.

  Nicole, whose own memory wasn’t in much better shape than Bungie’s after years of binge drinking, had learned to look for ways around such traps.

  In this case, the back door was obvious. “That’s not how it works,” she said. “The Fyrantha doesn’t speak in words. Not really. It talks in pictures and shapes, and kind of like feelings.”

  Which was a barefaced lie, of course. There was no way the ship could possibly describe the parts that needed to be fixed or replaced without using words.

  But the Shipmasters couldn’t hear the ship talk the way Nicole and the other Sibyls could, at least not as far as she’d been able to tell. She could tell Fievj that the Fyrantha talked to her in pictures of cats and he would have no way to prove her wrong.

  Unless he’d already asked one of the other Sibyls the same question.

  Sure enough—“That’s not what we’ve been told by others,” Fievj said. “Other Sibyls say that the Fyrantha gives its orders in words.”

  Nicole winced. Damn.

  Now what?

  The best defense, Trake had always said, was a good offense. Not that it always worked out, especially for lunkheads like Bungie, but Nicole understood the reasoning. If she could pull something out of her butt, maybe she could still get out of this. “Of course that’s how it talks to normal Sibyls,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers. “But I’m not a Sibyl anymore. Not just a Sibyl, I mean. I’m the Fyrantha’s Caretaker.”

  Fievj actually took a step backward, the horse body arching a little before the rear legs caught up with the movement and straightened everything out. “You’re the Caretaker?” he demanded.

  “I am,” Nicole said firmly, feeling her pulse pick up speed. Given how the Shipmasters seemed to feel about Caretakers, or at least how they’d talked to the hologram Ushkai the time she’d eavesdropped on one of their conversations, she’d hoped to keep her new position secret a little longer.

  But this was the only way she could think of to get out from under the net Fievj had dropped on her. And from his reaction, it looked like it was going to work.

  “Prove you’re the Caretaker,” he said.

  Or maybe not. Unfortunately, Ushkai hadn’t given her a badge or anything.

  But there might be another way. “A couple of weeks ago, back when the ship was being attacked, there was something at the top of the ship that needed fixing,” she said. “The Caretaker—the other Caretaker, I mean—told you a Caretaker had fixed it. That was me.”

  Fievj didn’t take another step back this time. But Nicole had a feeling that he wanted to. “You fixed the shield cross-link?”

  “Yes,” Nicole said with a flicker of relief. She’d been afraid he was going to ask for details, and between her bad memory and the whole pile of other stuff she’d had to learn about the Fyrantha’s equipment she’d lost the exact name of the thing she’d replaced. “I swapped out a few of the components and got it started again.”

  At least, she assumed that was what had done the trick. She didn’t actually know for sure. Still, Ushkai seemed to think she’d done it.

  Assuming he knew what he was talking about. Given this was coming from a computer hologram that had promoted her to Caretaker based on a complete misunderstanding of a random action she’d taken, that might not be a good assumption.

  “You must not interfere here,” Fievj said.

  So he wasn’t going to argue any more about whether or not the Fyrantha had told her to come into the arena? Good enough. “I already told you I was sent here,” she said. “The Fyrantha found a blockage in its food system and sent me to repair it.”

  “There’s no blockage,” Fievj insisted. “The test that’s been set up here is vitally important.”

  Nicole felt her stomach tighten. So that was how he wanted to play this? Fine. She could play that game, too. “So is the ship’s health,” she countered. “The blockage is backing up a lot of pressure. We’re looking at damage to several different systems if it doesn’t get fixed.”

  “Nonsense,” Fievj insisted. “The back pressure isn’t nearly enough to be of any concern.”

  Right on cue, there was a muffled pop from the Thii side of the channel. Nicole looked up to see a spray of multicolored food bits flying up into the air, looking for all the world like someone had made a version of Old Faithful out of a piñata. Clearly, the Thii had made it through their pipe.

  “There,” she said, pointing. “See? Pressure relieved. The Fyrantha will be feeling much better now.”

  For a long moment—longer than a double translation should take—Fievj gazed up at the fountain. Then, he lowered his masked face again to Nicole. “I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice stiff. “I believe you’re deliberately sabotaging our experiments.”

  Nicole snorted under her breath. So this was all just experiments now? Starving innocents and forcing them to fight was all being done in the name of science?

  Yeah. Right.

  “I am the Protector,” she said, trying to sound regal. That never worked when Bungie tried it, but it was worth a shot. “My job is to guard the Fyrantha and the people inside it. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “You said you were the Caretaker.”

  “I’m both Caretaker and Protector,” Nicole said, silently cursing the slip. Identifying herself as Caretaker had been risky enough, and adding Protector to the mix could only put her higher on the Shipmasters’ radar. But it was too late now. “The safety of the Fyrantha is my primary purpose, and I’ll do whatever’s necessary to that end.”

  Fievj gazed at her another long moment. “Protector is the Lillilli word for warrior. Yet you tell us humans do not fight.”

  “We don’t,” Nicole said. “The word is also translated as caretaker. Which I also said I was.” She waved a hand. “And as one of the Fyrantha’s Caretakers, I need to get back to work.”

  Another long pause. Earth was in trouble, all right, Nicole thought bleakly.

  And it was all her fault.

  Plato had warned her and the rest of the repair team not to fight among themselves or show any other signs that humans were capable of combat or war. But Nicole had ignored him. She’d gone into the Q4 arena and helped bring the two battling alien groups to
a draw. Worse, she and Jeff had both participated in that final fight.

  Only later had Ushkai told her how the Shipmasters were testing alien races for combat capabilities, gathering information they could then sell to other races who were looking for cheap cannon fodder for their wars.

  Nicole had spun Fievj a story about how she was an anomaly, that she wasn’t like other people. But she doubted he’d believed her. Her only hope was that he hadn’t been able to convince the other Shipmasters of that, or that they were concerned enough about losing their repair crews to sell Earth to anyone else.

  But she’d dealt with people like Fievj back in Philadelphia. She knew his sort. He was stubborn, and suspicious, and he wouldn’t give up until he knew the truth. All Nicole could do now was do her best not to add fuel to that particular fire.

  No fighting, no aggression, not even any bad language if she could avoid it. If she behaved herself from now on, maybe Fievj’s suspicions would blow over.

  But then, maybe they wouldn’t.

  “Very well,” Fievj said. “Return to your tasks. But be warned. Your interference will not be tolerated forever.”

  For a second Nicole was tempted to call his bluff and demand to hear exactly what he was going to do when the Shipmasters ran out of patience. But he might have an answer she didn’t want to hear.

  Anyway, it never paid to push someone into a corner. “That’s up to you,” she said. “But I must continue to do what the Fyrantha tells me.”

  “That’s your choice,” Fievj said. “But be aware that decisions have consequences. And not just for you.”

  Nicole felt her eyes narrow. “If you’re threatening the Thii—”

  She broke off, silently cursing herself. She knew better than to start a threat she couldn’t back up with action. And no matter what tweaks she managed with their food supplies, their fate—as well as the fate of the Ponngs—was completely out of her hands.

  “The Thii will soon no longer be your concern,” Fievj said. “But there are others who your decisions may affect.”

  Nicole resisted the urge to look up along the bank. Hopefully, Kointos and Wesowee had already taken off and were safely out of the arena.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she’d asked Kointos to come in here. Wesowee was only supposed to get her a tool kit.

  Maybe he’d misunderstood. Like Kahkitah, Wesowee was a little slow—

  She froze. Kahkitah. And Jeff, and Levi, and Carp, and all the rest of her old team. She hadn’t even thought about them.

  For that matter, why was she thinking of them as her old team? Less than two weeks past, and they were already fading from her thoughts?

  Not good. Very not good. She had a lot of ghosts from her past, but some of the worst were the memories of waking up with only the vaguest idea what had happened the night before.

  Or the two nights before, or the three, or sometimes the whole week.

  It had been bad enough back in Philadelphia, where Trake’s knowing smile and Bungie’s nasty comments had added a layer of embarrassment to the aches and nausea that usually came with the mental fog. But eventually the nausea would go away, and Trake’s people would find something else to be amused by, and it would all be over until the next time alcohol got the better of her.

  There, the result had been embarrassment. Here, surrounded by suspicious Shipmasters and warring aliens that might or might not obey their instructions to leave the repair crews alone, anything that dragged down her focus or memory could get her killed.

  Speaking of which, being glared at by an armored centaur was probably not the best time to let her mind wander this way. “I can only do what the ship tells me,” she said. It was dangerous to keep falling back on the same excuse, but it was the only card she had. “What happens next is not my concern.”

  “Perhaps,” Fievj said. “There is mystery surrounding you, Protector. I don’t like it.”

  “Really,” Nicole said, resisting the urge to tell him that she really didn’t care what he liked or didn’t like. For one thing, antagonizing him would probably be a bad move; for another, she unfortunately did care what the Shipmasters liked or thought or did. As long as they were in control of the Fyrantha, she had to.

  But right now, she mostly wanted them to do their liking and thinking and doing somewhere else instead of right in front of her. “But that’s a conversation for another day,” she said. “I have to get back to the Fyrantha’s business now.”

  Fievj didn’t answer. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Nicole started climbing back up the slope to the Ponng side of the arena. He didn’t move as she climbed, and was still standing in the same place when she reached the top and looked back down.

  Watching her? Studying her? Or was he just waiting for her to leave so he could call the other Shipmasters and seal up the holes the Ponngs and Thii had made in their food lines? Fix the holes, put the dispenser back together, and start the whole war thing again?

  She scowled. Not if she had any say in it.

  Moile and Teika were waiting at the top. “You are all right,” Moile said, sounding relieved.

  “Sure,” Nicole said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “We were concerned,” Teika said. “The Masters are … fearsome to behold.”

  “They are that,” Nicole conceded, frowning past them across the channel. After that first impressive geyser from the Thii side, the flow of food had disappeared from sight. Was that it? “What about the food? Did you get through the pipe?”

  “We did,” Teika said.

  “And it’s glorious,” Moile added, waving both hands behind him. “Come and see.”

  The two Ponngs led her through the tall grasses to the hole in the ground. If they’d created the same kind of geyser as the Thii, it had been smaller and had already subsided. But there was still enough pressure in the line to drive the food pellets up out of the hole and into a sort of bubbling food fountain. The piles around the hole were already up to Nicole’s shins, and the whole place was a flurry of activity as a dozen or more Ponngs scooped up the food with their hands and loaded it onto carriers made of tree branches and woven grass mats. When a given mat was full, the Ponng would drag it away, disappearing through the grass in various directions.

  “Looks like you’ve got it down to a system,” Nicole said. “How much have you gathered?”

  “Vjoran?” Moile called.

  One of the Ponngs turned, and Nicole recognized him as the one who’d been all set to fight the Thii for the food machine’s output, and who’d seemed rather annoyed when Nicole and Kointos interfered with his moment of glory. “Yes?”

  “Has a tally been made?” Moile asked.

  “A full tally has not,” Vjoran said, his eyes steady on Nicole. Still annoyed, she guessed.

  “Has a partial tally been made?” Moile persisted.

  Vjoran’s eyes slipped away from Nicole’s gaze. “We have food for some days to come,” he admitted. “Perhaps five.” He again looked briefly at Nicole, then looked away. “Perhaps more.”

  “With another four at least still ungathered on the ground,” Teika added.

  “At least,” Moile confirmed. “You have saved us, Sibyl.”

  And to her surprise, he bowed low at the waist, his face nearly touching the ground. “We are at your service for the full length of days. Command us.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Nicole said, wincing. Teika had said Moile’s offer of servitude had been genuine. Clearly, he’d been right. “I don’t need slaves, thanks,” she said. “I’m just glad I was able to get you some food.”

  “We remain at your service,” Moile said, still bowed to the ground.

  “Fine,” Nicole said with a sigh. “Get up. Come on, get up.”

  Moile—rather reluctantly, Nicole thought—straightened up again. “Okay,” she said. “First: Did Kointos and Wesowee get out of here okay?”

  “They left as you went to speak with the Master,” Moile said.

  “Kointos insisted
,” Teika added, “but I don’t think Wesowee was fully pleased that you’d sent him away. He wished us to thank you further on his behalf.”

  Nicole shook her head. Between Moile and Wesowee, she was well on her way to building a starter slave kit. All she needed now was a plantation.

  She looked around. Actually, this arena was already almost like a plantation, only instead of cotton it was growing grass.

  And what every plantation needed …

  “You want me to put you to work?” she asked. “Great. I’ve got a job for you, and after that you’re done.”

  “We remain at your service,” Moile said.

  “You can remain wherever you want,” Nicole growled, suddenly tired of this whole thing. “But once I leave here, you’ll probably never see me again before the Masters send you home.”

  The two Ponngs exchanged glances. Maybe the Shipmasters hadn’t said anything about sending them home. Or maybe they’d already concluded they would die here.

  Maybe they would. She only had the Shipmasters’ word that the test fighters were returned to their homes.

  “What is this job?” Moile said.

  “We’re going to end your little war with the Thii for good,” Nicole said.

  “We’re going to fight?” Vjoran asked eagerly.

  “Nope,” Nicole said. “Moile, Teika—follow me.”

  Nicole’s memory and focus might be having some problems, but her sense of direction was working fine. Ten minutes later, they were at the control box for the channel water supply.

  “Okay,” she said, pointing at the controls. “Here’s the job. You start the water, and you don’t let it stop until the channel’s at least half full. Got it?”

  Again, Moile and Teika exchanged glances. “The Masters forbade us to handle these controls,” Moile reminded her carefully.

  “I don’t think they’ll bother you this time,” Nicole said.

  “Why not?”

  Nicole hesitated. What should she tell them? What could she tell them? That this war had been staged to see how well the Ponngs could fight? That maybe, just maybe, giving both sides enough food had screwed up the Shipmasters’ plans enough that they wouldn’t care anymore if the two sides were kept apart by a flooded channel?