Nicole had been impressed by the plan the Ponngs had described for the wolfmen.
She was even more impressed when it worked.
Not perfectly, of course. Even Trake’s plans had seldom worked perfectly, and Trake was as clever and street-smart as anyone.
In this case, the problem came when the stick hornet drone operator turned out to have a guard. That was followed by a lot more flailing than Nicole had expected as the two Ponngs tried to keep them from alerting the rest of the group.
Fortunately, Nicole had brought the captured wolfman drone along, and was able to get the paralyzing cords far enough out of their sheaths to stun both stick hornets. In the end there was no alarm, and no injuries on either side.
On the plus side, the plan got an unexpected bonus when Wesowee suddenly declared he wanted a quick swim in the river. The presence of a big, lumpy alien in the middle of their war zone brought fighters from both sides of the river to stare, which helped divert their attention from the quiet fight.
Twenty minutes after the Ponngs first led the way into the grass the little group was back at their exit door with the controller. A little experimentation, and they soon had the associated drone flying to them. Three minutes after that, Wesowee having completed his swim and joined them, they were back in the corridor, the Ponngs each with a drone tucked under an arm.
“And now?” Teika asked.
Nicole looked around. The biggest danger had been the chance that the Shipmasters would be waiting for them when they emerged from the arena. But there was no one in sight: no Shipmasters, no Wisps, no Koffren.
Did that mean Nicole had read them correctly and that her vague, hastily thrown-together plan was working? Or were they simply leery of tackling Nicole now that she had a pair of drone weapons? If so, they might be delaying while they gathered a bigger force to take them out.
Or they could be simply playing along, waiting for her to make a mistake that would play right into their hands.
Unfortunately, the only way to find out was to keep going.
“Wesowee was right earlier,” she said. “Taking the drones means we’re taking food away from both sides. I don’t like that any better than he does. Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
“I have food bars,” Wesowee offered eagerly.
“They probably can’t eat them,” Nicole said. “But there may be another way. Back in the Q4 arena Jeff and I found a place where the Shipmasters had cut into one of the food dispensers from the back so they could more easily control how much came out. They must have something like that here.”
“When we fought here, the food conduits fed into the grassland,” Moile reminded her.
“Right, but there’s clearly another system that goes directly to the hive, since that’s where they collect the drones, count them, and dump the right amount into each side’s bin,” Nicole said. “If we can find where they’re tapped in and mess with it, we might be able to give both sides enough food that they won’t need to fight.”
“Just because they don’t need to fight doesn’t mean they won’t,” Teika muttered.
“I know,” Nicole agreed reluctantly. “But all we can do is offer them the choice.”
“That’s very sad,” Wesowee said, his tone matching his words. “Fighting is terrible.”
“Yes, it is,” Nicole said. “So here’s what we’re going to do. Wesowee and I will head around the rear corridor and try to find where they’ve tapped into the food conduit. But first, Moile, we’ll find you and Teika an empty room where you can practice using the drones. Learn how they work, how to trigger the weapon, how to maneuver. That sort of thing.”
“Shouldn’t we stay together?” Moile asked. “Surely the Shipmasters are even now preparing a new attack.”
“We’ll be okay,” Nicole assured him. “You won’t be far away, and I’ll shout if we need you. But I don’t want you practicing out here in the open where someone might see you. It’s possible the Shipmasters haven’t figured out we have working drones, and if they haven’t I want it to be a surprise.”
“Very well,” Moile said. He didn’t sound convinced, but as usual he was willing to accept Nicole’s orders. “Let’s go, then.”
“Yes,” Teika agreed grimly. “Before the Shipmasters deliver a surprise of their own.”
The corridor running along the rear of the arena was long and slightly curved. On the arena side, where much of the equipment for the air, food, and water systems was located, there were only a few doors. The other side had a few more, irregularly spaced along the wall. It was a pattern Nicole had seen a lot of on the Fyrantha, and on her first try found exactly the sort of room she was looking for.
“Is this another hive?” Wesowee asked, looking around at the orderly rows of cots laid out on one side of the large room and the low storage bins lining the other side.
“Something like that,” Nicole said. “I think it’s called a barracks. It’s a place where a lot of people can sleep together.”
“It’s not very private,” Wesowee said doubtfully.
“It’s not meant to be,” Nicole said. “Okay, this looks good. You can probably start by flying the drones around, figure out what all the controls do—”
“We understand how to approach this task,” Moile said.
“Right,” Nicole said. “Sorry. We’ll come back and get you when we’re finished fixing the food supplies.”
“But also listen for Nicole to shout,” Wesowee added. “If the Shipmasters find us, we’ll need your assistance.”
“We’ll be ready,” Teika said. He laid his drone on the nearest bed, peered at the controller, and touched a green spot. The drone lifted a few inches—
“You can go,” Moile said. “Unless you feel we need you to watch over us.”
“That doesn’t sound very polite,” Wesowee said, a little uncertainly.
“No, he’s right,” Nicole said, wincing a little. She’d always hated it when Trake had someone sit on her when she was learning something new, whether it was how to take a gun apart or even just how to pick a good lookout post. Hated and resented it, and she wasn’t surprised that the Ponngs felt the same way. “Sorry. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
A moment later they were back in the still-deserted corridor. “Adjusting the food supply may take some time,” Wesowee warned as Nicole steered them toward one of the doors on the far side. “I also understood that a special code may be required as to the proper mixture.”
“I know, and we might have to pass on that part,” Nicole said. “The main reason I wanted to get away from the Ponngs is that I want you to send a message to Kahkitah. Can we get to your secret phone system from here?”
“Of course,” Wesowee said, craning his neck to peer at the door indicators. “In there,” he said, pointing to the second one down.
The room turned out to be a pump room. “Memories,” Nicole said under her breath as she looked around.
“Pardon?” Wesowee asked as he worked his way through the cables and racks filling the rear section of the room and reached a pair of thick pipes running horizontally along the far wall.
“It’s like the room where I put Bungie after he got shot,” she told him. “So how does this work?”
“These are water conduits,” Wesowee said, pointing at the two pipes. “This”—he tapped a small box running between them—“is a temperature sensor.” Shifting the finger to a corner of the box, he flipped open the lid. At the bottom of the box, beneath a rectifier simplex, was a small adjustment screwdriver. Wesowee pulled it out and began tapping one of the rectifier’s connection pins.
Nicole watched him, thinking about the old movies and TV shows she’d seen where someone used Morse code to send messages. Wesowee finished tapping and then pressed a finger against one of the other pins. “Could you hear?” he asked, looking back at Nicole.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Understandable,” Wesowee said, nodding. “There’s a sound, but it’s much higher in pitch than most other species can hear.”
“But Ghorfs can?”
“Actually, we don’t hear the sound so much as we feel it,” Wesowee said. “It creates a sort of tingling in the network of small bones that support our gill structure. It’s much clearer underwater than it is here, but this is adequate for our needs. Kahkitah has been called, and we need only wait for him to find an opportunity to—ah.” He broke off, shifting his finger and tapping the pin again. “He’s here. What’s your message?”
“Tell him I need him to send a couple of the Thii over here to me,” Nicole said.
Wesowee trilled an acknowledgment and started tapping. Nicole listened to the clicks, running the images of the four aliens through her mind. Insect-thin, narrow heads, thin limbs, four arms each, taller than the Ponngs but thinner. Nise was the leader of the group; Sofkat and Misgk were his two main soldiers, and—“Tell him to make it Nise and Iyulik.”
“Iyulik?” Wesowee asked, his birdsong voice sounding confused. “He’s the youngest and least experienced of all of them.”
“I know,” Nicole assured him.
“But if we’re going to fight the Shipmasters, shouldn’t we use the best soldiers we have?”
“Just send the message,” Nicole said, waving toward the box.
Wesowee gave the warble that was the Ghorf equivalent of a sigh and resumed tapping. He paused and again held his fingertip to the pin, and a moment later nodded. “Kahkitah acknowledges and promises to send the Thii to you as soon as possible. Is there any place in particular you’d like them to meet us?”
“Let’s try the other side of the Q3 arena—the side toward the front of the Fyrantha—on level 36.”
“That’s only four levels below the arena entrance level,” Wesowee reminded her. “A coordinated search would quickly locate them.”
“It’ll be all right,” Nicole said. “I know what I’m doing.”
For a moment Wesowee eyed her in silence. Then he did the sighing thing again and tapped out the rest of her message. “He acknowledges,” he said, returning the screwdriver to the sensor box and replacing the cover. “Have you discussed this plan with Kahkitah or Jeff?”
“No,” Nicole said. “Mainly because I didn’t come up with it until we found out about the drones.”
“They will be useful weapons,” Wesowee said. “But good weapons require good soldiers to best use them.”
“If this is about Iyulik again, don’t worry about it,” Nicole said. “Young and inexperienced is sometimes a good thing.”
“In what way?”
“There were these two things Jeff was very big on when we were talking about plans,” Nicole said. “He called them assumption and misdirection. The Shipmasters have made some assumptions about us—”
She broke off. “Did you hear something?” she asked, lowering her voice.
“In the corridor,” Wesowee said quietly. “Shall I look?”
“I will,” Nicole said. “Be ready to run.”
She stepped to the door, waiting while Wesowee disentangled himself from the machinery. She spotted a small bucket on the floor beside the door and picked it up. It wasn’t much of a weapon—small, light, and awkward to hold—but it was all she had.
Wesowee was standing behind her now, waiting for her to make her move. Bracing herself, she opened the door and stepped out.
And nearly walked straight into an armored Shipmaster.
“Yeeeough!” she shrieked.
Luckily, he seemed as startled by the near collision as she was. He jerked back, jerking a second time as he reacted to her unexpected scream.
Fortunately, he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of the two Koffren five steps behind him. Even as Wesowee popped into the corridor behind Nicole the big aliens grabbed for the spider guns holstered beside their swords and started lifting them into firing position.
“Run!” Nicole shouted, and hurled her bucket as hard as she could toward the Koffren.
Useless as a weapon, as she’d already noted. But the Koffren hadn’t had time to focus on what was in her hand. Reflexively, they dodged sideways to get clear of the unidentified object arrowing toward them.
A second later, Nicole was snatched off her feet as Wesowee wrapped his lumpy arms around her, turned his back to the Shipmaster and Koffren, and took off at a dead run.
“What’s the danger?” he asked in a bewildered tone as he raced down the corridor, his voice just loud enough for the Shipmaster to hear. Even in the midst of a potential battle—maybe especially in the midst of a battle—he needed to continue playing the role the Ghorfs had set for themselves. “Nicole? What’s the danger? Why are we running?”
“There are bad people back there,” she said, trying for the same volume level. She didn’t know whether or not the Shipmasters were still buying this act, but she owed it to the Ghorfs to do whatever she could to maintain it.
“Stop!” a Shipmaster voice demanded from behind them. “I order you to stop.”
“Let me down,” Nicole murmured to Wesowee. “We can run faster that way.”
“Not yet,” Wesowee said. “I need to shield you from the spider guns. If I fall, go on without me.”
“But—”
“Have no fear, Protector,” he said. “I know how to pretend foolishness.”
“That wasn’t what I meant—”
An instant later a spider shot flashed past to slap into the ceiling. Nicole frowned, wondering how on Earth the Koffren could have missed—
And as a second shot plastered against the wall ahead to her right a drone shot past overhead. It tilted up sharply on the back edge, the air blast from the rotating blades killing its forward momentum, then headed back, its poisoned whipcords snapping out into attack mode.
Apparently, the Ponngs were fast learners.
“Let me see,” Nicole whispered.
Wesowee hesitated, then loosened his grip a bit, just enough for Nicole to twist around in his arms and look over his shoulder.
The two Koffren had been taken completely by surprise by the sudden attack from behind. One of them was staggering along, barely maintaining his balance, his spider gun forgotten as he pressed both hands against the right side of his head where the drone must have tagged him. The other Koffren seemed unhurt, but he was also clearly off balance, his gun spitting spider shots uselessly into floor, ceiling, and walls as he tried to take down the zigzagging drone now coming back toward him. The Shipmaster, his armor presumably protecting him from both the drug and direct physical impact, had nevertheless ducked to the side of the corridor as far out of the way as he could get. He was pressed against the wall, half-turned as if trying to hide his face from the drone.
And then, Nicole’s brain caught up with her. The Shipmaster wasn’t trying to hide.
He was going for a greenfire weapon.
She twisted back around, cursing under her breath, mentally urging Wesowee to run faster, knowing full well that all the wishing and urging and running in the universe wouldn’t save them now. The end of the corridor was still a good ten seconds away. The Shipmaster would have his weapon out of storage and ready in half that time.
Wesowee’s massive body could protect her from a spider gun shot. With the bolt from a greenfire weapon, they would simply die together.
Maybe the Ponngs could do something. Maybe they could keep the drones flying through the spider gun barrage long enough to distract the Shipmaster, or ruin his aim, or maybe even knock the weapon from his hand.
But only one drone was in the air, and even if the second emerged from the barracks right now, it would be too late to affect anything. Wesowee would die, and Nicole would die; and then the Ponngs, too, would die.
And Jeff would never even know what had happened to her.
And then, to her amazement, a hidden panel in the corridor wall ten feet in front of them popped open, one of the hidden staircases that even a lot of the Fyrantha’s long-term workers didn’t know about. “In here!” a hoarse voice came from the opening. “Come on! In here!”
“Do it,” Nicole said, her thudding heart suddenly in her throat. The voice was strained, but it sure sounded like—
Wesowee barreled through the open door, nearly flattening the person holding it open for them … and with Nicole’s first glance her suspicions became certainty.
It was Bungie.
“What the hell?” she breathed as he slammed the door shut behind them.
“Yeah, later,” Bungie shot back, pointing up the staircase. “Right now, run. It won’t take them long to find the door and figure out how to get through it.”
“If they don’t just blast it open,” Nicole warned. “Wesowee, put me down.”
“How are they going to—? Oh, hell. Has he got a greenfire weapon?”
“He’s got a whole buttload of them,” Nicole bit out as Wesowee set her down on the stairs. “Where to?”
“Five floors up,” Bungie said. “I’ve scoped out a room where they shouldn’t find us.”
“No, let’s go down,” Nicole said, brushing past him to the down part of the staircase.
“What are you doing?” he snarled. “I already have a place.”
“So do I,” Nicole said. “And it’ll be harder for the Shipmasters to track us there.”
“I know this ship, damn it.”
“So do I, and better than you.”
She kept going down, Wesowee clomping along beside her. She was making the first turn when Bungie caught up with them. “Fine,” he snarled. “How far are we going?”
“Not far,” Nicole said. “Level 36.”
With adrenaline still pumping through her blood, Nicole did the four flights in record time and without a single ache in her leg muscles. She opened the hidden door, checked both directions, and slipped into the corridor.
“Where now?” Bungie asked tightly.
“This way,” Nicole said, turning to the right.
“You’d better sure as hell know what you’re doing,” Bungie warned as he hurried along behind her.
“I do,” Nicole said. For a moment her thoughts flicked to the Ponngs, wondering if she’d just left them to die. Hopefully, the Shipmaster and Koffren would concentrate on Nicole and let the small aliens escape back to Q4. If the Wisps Nicole had left on the Q3 side of the central heat-transfer duct were still there, they should be able and willing to ferry the Ponngs back to safety.
But whether they were or not, there was nothing else Nicole could do for the Ponngs now. Nothing but make sure that whatever suffering they might have to go through wouldn’t be for nothing.