Win

  “Noon Ghost Time,” Chihar says tiredly, as we all pause our climbing efforts and stretch out on our current stones for a brief respite.

  This is when another team of Contenders comes upon us.

  Just for a moment, as I lie on my back on a slab next to Brie and Chihar, I think I’m hallucinating voices. . . . It’s happened before—in this claustrophobic hell of black precipices and huge floating blocks, it’s easy to mistake the frequent gusts of wind for ancient ghostly presences out of Ancient Egyptian antiquity. Even the Games audience noise has been reduced to a remote swell of surf. . . .

  But then it’s unmistakable. Others are coming this way. There are voices and moving lights painting the stone slabs with shadow motion, coming from below and off to the right.

  We sit up in alarm, and Brie puts her finger up to her lips to indicate silence. Zaap and Lolu and Kokayi are occupying a block of stone slightly above us, and we can see them come to attention, crouching in fight-ready positions.

  “Lights off?” I whisper.

  But Brie shakes her head. “Too late.”

  She’s right. A few seconds later we hear the sounds of climbing stop as the newcomers suddenly grow quiet. They must’ve seen our illumination from up ahead.

  Chihar draws out a long knife, and I see the glint of steel in both of Brie’s hands.

  My pulse starts racing, and I reach into my own bag’s nearest compartment for a bladed weapon, and find for some reason, Logan’s knife—his gift to me. It’s the first thing that comes to hand, and I grab it, together with a short pair of club sticks attached with a cord, resembling Earth nunchaku or nunchucks. The Atlanteans call them uas-ames-ga-uas, abbreviated as uas-uas, and use them in a similar manner. I’ve had several uas-uas lessons from Aeson and, compared to some other hand-to-hand weapons, feel reasonably comfortable using them.

  Right now, I’m praying I won’t have to use them at all.

  The sounds of climbing resume, and we can now tell at least three Contenders approaching our location, one woman and two men. We hear the words “Safe Base” used.

  The first person who emerges on the nearest stone slightly below ours is a huge man in Athlete Red with long black hair tied back in a segmented tail. He pulls himself up with ease and I watch the muscular strength of his movements with growing alarm. He finds his footing, then looks up and finds us staring at him, with our weapons ready.

  At once, the Athlete freezes. He quickly takes in the situation, seeing six of us, on two stone levels, surrounding him, and apparently he makes a smart decision. Slowly he moves one beefy hand forward, palm open, in a conciliatory gesture, which is unexpected.

  “Truce!” he says loudly in a deep calm voice.

  There’s a long general pause. All you can hear are very distant sounds of the surf and the Games outside and everyone’s amplified breathing.

  Then a cool female voice sounds from further down below. “Truce!” the woman Contender says also.

  “How many of you are there?” Brie Walton calls out in rough Atlanteo, pointing one knife at the Athlete, as she crouches next to me.

  “Three of us, and six of you,” the Athlete says in the same even tone. “We saw the light and hoped this was a Safe Base. We’re not interested in kill points right now.”

  “How do we know you’re not lying?” Brie says.

  On the level above us, Zaap snorts. “We don’t. Dumb risk to trust them.”

  “Yes, we don’t know, but we have the advantage,” I say, as I lift up and flick my uas-uas sticks in what I hope is a suitably menacing expert move. “Come up slowly, one at a time, so we can see you.”

  “Or don’t,” Chihar adds. “You can go back the way you came from. Less trouble for everyone.”

  “Or you can even go around,” I say. “Maybe that’s what you’re doing right now. Maybe there’s more than three of you, and some of you could be trying to surround us even now. But I must warn you—if you think there are only six of us, we could be lying too, and are actually in the process of surrounding you. Plenty of room for everyone to move in ever-widening circles.”

  The Athlete remains motionless, and appears to be in a genuine quandary at my twisty-worded threat. I’m hoping that’s how it comes across, a vague threat that leaves room for the imagination to fill in all kinds of dangers, and act as a deterrent, just in case these people decided to confront us.

  But in that moment, I hear another calm and strangely familiar voice coming from two levels below.

  “Gwen Lark? Is that you?”

  I crane my neck sideways. “Who’s asking?”

  “Kateb Nuletat! Formerly with Deneb Gratu’s team. Remember me?”

  “Oh!” I say. And then for some reason I feel a surge of good feeling, and my mouth naturally smiles. “Kateb! Of course I remember you!” I exclaim. “Wow, I thought you got killed by Hedj Kukkait’s team when they broke into Deneb’s Safe Base!”

  From below comes a minor chuckle. “No, not dead yet,” Kateb’s voice says. “So, can we come up?”

  My teammates are staring at me with frowns of doubt.

  “Of course!” I say, making a split-moment decision.

  Brie curses under her breath.

  A few moments later, the three newcomers have climbed up onto the stone slab directly below us. The large black-haired Athlete with deeply tanned skin and hazel eyes, is introduced as Tuar Momet.

  The woman, Avaneh Lehatut, is also a Red, but in the Warrior Category (which explains why she and Tuar haven’t killed each other). She is tall, fierce looking, with intense blue eyes, a completely shaved head and several ornate tattoos on the back of her scalp and her hands, which is as much as can be seen of her pale golden-tanned skin beyond her long sleeves. She looks at all of us with a suspicious glare, one to match Brie Walton.

  Kateb the Inventor is his usual bland self, his gilded hair in a segmented ponytail, and hazel-green eyes calm and unblinking, as he stands watching me and my crew. I notice, his usual helicopter weapon that normally folds into a short trident, is missing.

  So I ask him what happened.

  “It’s still here.” Kateb pats his equipment bag. “As soon as I realized the nature of this Game Zone arena, I put it away. I cannot use it in close quarters, it needs room for the blades to spin.”

  “Makes sense.” I nod, recalling the amazing span of the cutting blades.

  “So, wait—why should we trust these clowns?” Brie says with irritation, tapping her knives on the stone on which we perch.

  “Kateb treated me fairly when we were with Deneb Gratu’s team,” I say with confidence. “He had my back.”

  “And why should we trust any of you?” Avaneh the Warrior asks coldly, addressing all of us but only looking at me.

  “Imperial Lady Gwen Lark was a good, useful member of the team,” Kateb says in answer. “For someone who was a prisoner at first, forced to be there, she came up with many clever solutions to our problems—when she didn’t have to.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a smile. “And you shared your water with me when you didn’t have to.”

  Kateb shrugs, carefully maintaining his bland, slightly cool demeanor. “No big deal, it was merely practical to not have you weak from dehydration.”

  “It was still very kind, so thank you,” I say, keeping my smile.

  Brie makes another rude noise. “Okay, enough with the love fest, you two, what now?”

  Kateb replies to Brie but watches me. “I think we should work together.”

  There’s a small pause.

  “What about Deneb Gratu?” I say.

  Kateb’s expression becomes disdainful. “That chazuf abandoned half his team to deal with an army of hostiles. He lied to us, gave you a decoy, and took off with the real Red Grail. His methods are crude and dishonorable, and any further association with him would be an act of stupidity. I no longer work with him.”

  “Okay . . .” I say. “So you have your own team now, I see.”

  For the fir
st time Kateb smiles then slowly shakes his head. “Ours is not a proper team—all three of us normally work alone, but we have formed a temporary association so that we can find a team worthy of our abilities.

  “Yes,” Avaneh the Warrior says. “If your team meets my standards, Gwen Lark, then I would like to work with you and your crew.”

  “Wait . . . my crew?” I say, raising one brow. “Sorry for any misunderstanding, but this is not my team. . . . We’re all in this together, working as equals. I’m not any kind of leader, I’m just one of the group—right?” I pause to glance around at my teammates for reinforcement.

  But they’re all looking at me curiously.

  And then Brie rolls her eyes meaningfully at me. “Lark, you’re kidding, right?”

  I frown. “What?”

  “What?” Brie mutters back. “We’re your team.”

  My mouth parts. “But—I thought this was just an informal thing, I mean come on—”

  But then I see Chihar nodding silently, and the others also—Lolu, Zaap, Kokayi.

  And it’s Kokayi the Entertainer who jumps down from the upper ledge onto my own stone and makes a short, elegant, somewhat amused gesture of salute to me. “I’m afraid, amrevet, this is indeed Team Lark, and you are our Imperial Lady and ingenious, resourceful, and—dare I say—inspired leader.”

  I take a moment to digest that information. Yes, they’re right, of course this is my team! They sort of gravitated around me from the start, and just because I don’t boss them around or act all alpha and issue intimidating commands doesn’t mean they don’t consider me the hub of the group.

  I’m a different kind of leader, I suppose, and I always tend to forget it—especially now. Sometimes I can be so dense!

  “Okay,” I say, taking a big breath, as I look around at all of them, Contenders on block levels above and below. “Team Lark it is—if no one objects.”

  Brie raises one sardonic brow. “No one objects.”

  “Hush,” I say to Brie. And then I face the others. “I’m giving all of you a chance to speak up now. I mean it. This team is going to be based on basic human decency, cooperation, and honesty. If you don’t like it, then please leave now. I’m not going to stop anyone. But I’m also not going to tolerate betrayal or deceit.” As I speak those words I let my gaze stop on Lolu, who seems to understand my meaning very well and looks down guiltily.

  As for the newcomers, Avaneh the Warrior and Tuar the Athlete stare back at me silently. I take their silence for agreement.

  “So now that’s settled,” I resume, “here’s what we need to do first—”

  Just as I’m about to describe my plan of action, we hear the distant sound of bells outside, pealing three times, followed by a formal Games announcement.

  “Attention, Contenders! Your meal is served!”

  Chapter 59

  “Oh good! This is exactly what I had in mind,” I say, as the announcement bells end. “Water and rations. Once we have them for the day—and use the sewer toilets outside as intended—we can return back here and search for a Safe Base. Anything else can wait.”

  Everyone seems to be fine with this. As we hurry to orient ourselves in the right direction using location gadgets, I can hear Zaap approach and whisper to Avaneh and Tuar: “Whatever you do, do not let her see you empty your bladder on the stones here, she gets really angry about it, some kind of Earth custom I think, don’t know why, but it’s bad—”

  I pretend not to notice, but hold back a smile.

  And so we make our way horizontally in the general direction of the pyramid’s side facing the cliffs and the audience, where the meal is being distributed. We advance as quickly as possible, jumping over crevasses, climbing from stone to stone. Now that we’re not stopping to examine every surface for symbols, or taking extended rest stops, we should likely be out of the interior in well under an hour. As long as they’re still serving water and rations when we emerge, we’re good.

  It occurs to me, there are nine of us now. And we represent every Category except one, which I find curious. Wow, Gwen, not such a loser now, are you? You have your very own team. . . .

  We move in pairs or triplets, more or less. Kokayi, Lolu, and Zaap—who’s personally taken on the duty of watching the girl Technician—range quickly ahead, fleet-footed and acrobatic. The two Reds, Tuar and Avaneh, both bulky and more muscular, keep up a similar hard pace, making up for agility with sheer strength. Next comes Brie who’s usually at my side or slightly ahead, and Chihar who tends to follow me. Same arrangement as usual. The difference this time is that Kateb brings up the rear, silent, lean and powerful.

  A few minutes into our fast pace, I turn back to Kateb the Inventor, as he leaps easily across a three-foot chasm onto my current slab. “So, Kateb,” I say. “How exactly did you happen to run into me, of all people, and my group, inside this great big pyramid space? Rather unusual coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  Kateb does not change expression. “I must admit, I was following you, Gwen Lark.”

  “Oh?” I pause to look closely at him.

  “I saw you just before Stage Two started, and we were all still outside. You made a loud argument in defense of this ancient Earth tomb to the Games officials and the audience. It was—unmistakable. It also helped solidify my decision to work with you. I pushed through the crowd to join your group, but the Game Stage started, and by then there was too much confusion to reach you. So I followed you the best I could, into the interior. On the way, I joined forces with two others.”

  “Thank you for being honest,” I say, holding on to my hovering equipment bag for better leverage as I jump across the gap between this and the next stone.

  “As you said, you expect honesty,” he says, then points to my floating bag. “Interesting technique. Typical of you.”

  “Enough blabbing, move it, move!” Brie yells at both of us from up ahead. “Some of us need to drink and pee!”

  Kateb throws a cool glance in Brie’s direction, then back at me. “So much aggressive bluster, that one. You allow her to speak to you this way?”

  I snort. “Brie? It’s complicated. She’s a real piece of work. But she did save my life quite a few times and proved to be a good team member. Plus, she’s a fellow Earthie. So, yeah, she can mouth off as much as she likes. Though, there are times when I wouldn’t mind giving her a hard slap—”

  Brie snarls, “I heard that, Lark!”

  “Oh, shut your trap, Walton!” I respond blandly. And then I chuckle.

  The light ambiance increases as we continue to move. At last we emerge back into white, blinding daylight. I am supremely grateful for my anti-glare contact lenses that start working their magic immediately, soothing my vision against the killer light of Hel.

  Our calculations have been correct, so we are facing the cliffs, and the hovering fleet of rectangular platforms covered with goblets of water, interspersed with other platforms holding meal ration packs.

  Now that we’re outside, suddenly other Contenders are everywhere, climbing the stone blocks above and below us in every direction.

  Everyone draws weapons, and a few hand-to-hand skirmishes happen on nearby stones, but mostly we’re all here for one thing—water and food.

  There is no Taboo Rule preventing us from using Voice commands, so while Chihar and Brie stand next to me, I take a deep breath and sing a keying command, and then call over two hover-tables—one with meals, the other with water.

  “Don’t forget, you may take only one of each,” Kokayi reminds us, as he walks lightly along the edge of the stone block right above.

  “We know,” Tuar the Athlete says, from the other side, below and behind my level. Next to him is Avaneh and Lolu, with Zaap right behind her. Tuar holds a thick short sword in one hand and a compact round buckler shield in the other.

  He looks dark and dangerous, for which I’m glad. Because, only one stone over, is another group of armed Contenders, giving us hard looks as they wait for their own
food and water platforms to arrive.

  Meanwhile, the general roar of the audience is increasing in anticipation of various conflicts.

  “Tha-las-sa! Tha-las-sa!”

  And now the chants begin, as the Games announcers give breathless commentary.

  “Kuk-ku! Kuk-ku!”

  “De-neb! De-neb!”

  As our food and water hovers within reach, Chihar and Brie grab and pull in the levitating platform tables. I look up briefly, searching the upper tier blocks above us for familiar celebrity Contenders. The daylight is blinding, Hel is near zenith and shines directly in my eyes, so most figures overhead appear indistinguishable, in silhouette. . . . Is Hedj Kukkait somewhere up there? And does he already have a replacement team of Contenders assembled—since most, if not all, of his original crew died in Stage One? What about Deneb, the jerk?

  “Hey, wake up! Here’s your lunch!” Brie thrusts a ration pack into my hands, jerking me back to attention.

  Chihar is more dignified as he offers me a goblet of water. “I recommend one sip now, and save the rest for later,” he says prudently.

  “Agreed.” I take the goblet, then search my bag for a flask to transfer the liquid contents. “We’ll eat and drink later. Let’s take our share and quickly get out of here.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s about to get ugly,” Brie says close to my ear, watching me put away my ration pack and water flask. Her own are already well hidden in her bag, while she holds on to the floating meal platform with one hand, keeping it within reach for the others on our team.

  The rest of our group comes down—or up—to the stone where Chihar and Brie stand and hold our levitating rations. They rush to pack their bags with meal packets, and pour the water into flasks.

  I glance to my right, and see a nearby block with two Greens, a White, and two Reds, watching our team closely, as they do the same thing with their own platforms of rations. The White is a Vocalist and he is staring directly at me.

  That’s when the bells ring the hour, and the pyramid begins to shift again, all around us.