Which category were the Prisoner’s new companions to be? They were land creatures, and land was traditionally the home of the People’s enemies. But the habitat was not the traditional environment.
Were the land creatures food? Their smell was neutral; their size was acceptable (the Prisoner could easily subdue, then rend one of them). Yet they had provided medical assistance and, far more important, had effectuated an end to imprisonment; social norms required the Prisoner to respond in kind, helping them to communicate, for example.
Attacking and eating them would simply be wrong, especially when the Prisoner still possessed a food source.
The problem remained. The Prisoner was forced to reach into an unused part of its vocabulary to class the companions with smaller, sleeker creatures from the home world that frequently accompanied individual members of the People on food-gathering swims, feasting on creatures the People did not eat.
From a distance, the creatures could have passed for smaller members of the People, except that they possessed only two arms.
That was it: Two Arms.
The encounter with these Two Arms had been troubling for other reasons. First, their speed was exhausting. Second, their anomalous presence; the Prisoner believed it knew all of the races resident in this world, outside the People’s habitat. It and the Connate had been told the stories and shown the images for close to seven different types, from the Air Creatures to the Mud Crawlers.
What was the Two Arms’ relationship to the People? Clearly they knew of them—and showed no overt hostility or fear.
Of course, given the Prisoner’s hostile relationship with its own People, that was hardly to the Two Arms’ credit. The Prisoner was prepared to believe, however, that the Two Arms possessed no detailed knowledge of the People’s activities or conflicts. Likely they had no idea of the Prisoner’s existence until their meeting.
Well, now they did. And the Prisoner was bound to them.
But beyond politeness, the key factor in determining the nature and tenure of the relationship was this:
Did the Two Arms know of the Ravagers? If not, they would soon. Best to act as if they did. It would be best to assume they did.
The vital question was this: Which side would the Two Arms choose? If they chose to be allies, all would be good.
If they chose to be enemies, well, then, with looming regret for the rudeness of repaying kindness with violence, the Two Arms might have to be eliminated and even consumed.
The Prisoner regretted the option, but actions taken by the Connate and the People made such violence inevitable.
The Prisoner’s own relationship with the Ravagers was fraught; it had changed twice, and, given imprisonment and lack of contact, might be non-existent.
No matter. The Prisoner was still forced to act as if nothing had changed during the imprisonment. Understandings had been reached. Courses of action had been decided.
The first required action had been to gain control of the Warship. That, however, would have required time and lack of pursuit.
The Connate and others knew of the Prisoner’s escape and were on the trail already. Reaching the control habitat was no longer possible.
The Prisoner knew that the Ravagers’ ultimate goal was not control of the Warship. That was merely the means.
The Ravagers wanted to activate, then use, the external transport system, to expand their influence and field of operations.
So the plan must be changed.
It was not an easy thing for one of the People. But it was necessary for the Prisoner.
First, the dead habitat must be crossed, a challenge for any member of the People given the lack of water, elements in the atmosphere, and temperatures.
Then contact must be made with the nearest neighbors, the Air Creatures that guarded access to the Warship’s most vital systems.
The Air Creatures were not allies of the People nor of the Ravagers, but the Prisoner might be able to use that hostility to its advantage.
That action was moot until the habitat had been crossed.
And the Two Arms dealt with.
VALYA
“Where is this thing taking us?”
Valya, Dale, Makali, and Zack had followed Dash into the heart of the dead habitat for half an hour—sufficient time to cross at least two kilometers, maybe more—before Makali dropped back to ask the question. Sunk into a zone of sullen petulance, Dale kept close to Dash…conveniently leaving himself isolated from Valya and the others, who trailed at a distance of thirty meters.
Zack said, “I don’t know.” He smiled. “To the other side.”
The other side couldn’t come soon enough for Valya. This habitat was a landscape out of a cold war nightmare.
First they had traversed the open, shattered, scorched remains of a Beehive…though it was so distressed that none of them realized that until Makali pointed it out.
Then it was onto a surface that was nothing but gray, hard-packed ash. Occasionally they passed hillocks that seemed to cover structures that had been blasted or crushed. The weird twilight, approximately half the light found in the human or Sentry habitats, with a nasty bluish tint (based on the type of star that warmed the deceased inhabitants’ home planet?), made it downright eerie. As a girl, Valya had enjoyed more than her share of monster and nuclear disaster movies. Now she half-expected to be confronted by a team of post-apocalypse vigilantes in black leather, or a swarm of fast-moving zombies.
So far, however, there had been nothing at all. No movement, no color, no life, no sign that life had ever existed here. Just the settled ash of a nuclear winter.
“Look at that,” Makali said.
She had stopped in front of a good-sized boulder with fairly smooth sides. On it was the shadow of a creature that immediately struck Zack as crablike. It was wider than it was tall and seemed to be reaching out with flattened claws. “The former inhabitants, do you suppose?”
“Probably,” Zack said. “It reminds me of images from Hiroshima.” He trotted forward, catching up with Dash and Dale, and forcing Makali and Valya to do the same.
“Dash,” he said, “a question: What happened here? In this habitat?”
“Sanitary procedure,” the Sentry said.
“What needed to be sanitized?” Zack said. Valya wondered, had the crab creatures on the stone been the infection? Or the infected? Had the Architects—assuming they were the ones doing the sanitizing—destroyed a habitat in order to save it?
“Apostates,” Dash said. That was the way it was translated, anyway.
Zack looked at Valya, who shook her head. “Nonbelievers?”
“Beings that refused to take part,” Dash said.
“In what?”
“Corrective actions.”
“Against whom?”
There was an uncommonly long pause. “Creatures called Ravagers.”
“I don’t know that term,” Zack said, growing impatient. “We’ve got Architects and Sentries and Apostates and now Ravagers. What are the relationships?”
“Architects and Ravagers are at war.”
“So whoever lived here—they were the Ravagers?”
“No,” Dash said, and moved off so swiftly, with its long, relentless strides, that further interrogation was impossible. Dale hurried after the Sentry, leaving Valya with Zack and Makali.
All three were struggling with the lack of air. Valya wanted to prolong the restful moment as long as possible. She pointed back the way they had come, saying, “Whatever was detonated in that war must have been located behind us.”
“Maybe they grew a nuke in their Beehive,” Makali said.
“Don’t assume it’s a nuke,” Zack said. “There are other kinds of weapons. Energy, microwave, plus things more advanced races could develop.”
“The results are the same, aren’t they?” Makali said. “Total destruction. So what difference does it make?”
It made this difference to Valya: She realized that the Architects weren’t as advanced as she had hoped. And that nothing was as good as she wanted it to be.