He rolled to his belly, climbed up, blinded by pain. He reeled in a circle, dazed, looking for Xim. Gallen suddenly spotted the dronon lord a dozen meters off, crawling away.
He raced toward the dronon. Xim swung around to meet his attack, and Gallen leapt into the air before the dronon could raise his battle arms. Gallen’s kick landed in Xim’s face, and Gallen fell backward.
He looked up. Xim wobbled feebly, raised on his hind legs, extending his battle arms in the air. There was dirt and grass all over Xim’s face, rubbed into his broken eye clusters. A thin grayish ooze dripped from a crack in Xim’s skull.
Gallen panted, scrabbled backward to get out of Xim’s reach. The dronon dropped his battle arms, rested a second.
Gallen stood up. His shoulder was dislocated, and the bones made a sickly rasping noise as they grated together. His leg was spurting blood.
Xim raised back up on his hind legs, prepared to meet Gallen’s attack. Gallen staggered forward and stopped just out of Xim’s striking range. He stood for a long moment, looking into the dronon’s eyes. Xim waved his single remaining feeler in the air. His head leaked a gray-white fluid; an eye cluster was gone; one of his rear legs was ripped. Gallen had seen a hundred men back down from a fight, and though he didn’t know what might be going on in the monster’s mind, he decided to give it one last chance.
“Beg for mercy,” Gallen said, “and I’ll spare your life.”
“Fight me!” the dronon clicked.
“If you insist.” Gallen leapt in, feinting a strike. Xim swung his battle arms, and Gallen danced back. The creature’s reaction time was slow, terribly slow.
Xim raised his battle arms again. They were wobbling, and Gallen fell back, panting.
Xim stood on his hind legs for a moment, and his battle arms waved feebly. He tired and dropped his arms. The white ooze was running thickly from his skull, and Gallen knew then that the creature was dying.
All around him, dronon vanquishers began thrumming, and the translator in Gallen’s ear whispered, “Kill him. Finish it.”
Gallen shouted at them, “You’re a morbid mob.” And he turned, advanced on the Golden. The small white royal larvae skittered away from beneath her legs.
She raised her battle arms, crossed them in surrender, and put her head to the ground. Behind him, Gallen heard clattering, glanced back. Xim toppled to the grass.
Gallen went to the Golden Queen. She kept her battle arms crossed in token of surrender.
“Under the rules for conquest, you may choose only to maim me,” the Golden said. “If you so choose, I will not fight you.”
Gallen stopped in front of her. She raised her head to look up at him. “Why should I spare you?” Gallen asked. “So you can continue to breed? So your children can challenge me?”
Her mouthfingers clicked over her voice drum. “I have already given birth to many Lord Escorts. My children will hunt you down. You cannot escape your fate.”
Gallen stared at her distantly. He stepped forward and removed Semarritte’s mantle from her head. She really did have a nice golden color.
He slammed a fist into her face.
He discovered that his wrists must have been stronger than Veriasse’s, for instead of merely gouging her, his blow cracked her head open.
All around him, the dronon raised their battle arms and clattered them together, crying, “Behold the Golden! Behold the Lords of the Swarm!”
Gallen raised his hands for silence, looked out over the assembly. The room fell quiet. “You tell them, Maggie. You’re the queen now.”
Maggie glared at the dronon and shouted, “All of you: get off our worlds!”
Gallen turned away from the carnage, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his left hand. Around the arena, the dronons’ carapaces scraped and rattled as they evacuated the dome.
Maggie hunched over Orick. The bear was badly cut, and he breathed shallowly. Blood soaked much of his fur from groin to chin. Yet her mantle whispered to her that the nanodocs in her pack might still save him, so she forced the seven pills down his throat and waited.
Everynne was lying in a pool of blood, too, but she already had nanodocs working on her. The tiny machines were closing her wounds, had slowed the bleeding. There was nothing more that Maggie could do.
Gallen came and threw Semarritte’s mantle down at Maggie’s feet, then sat and petted Orick’s snout. Maggie picked up the mantle, held it under her arm. All around them the room rustled as dronon fled the premises, and within five minutes, they sat alone on the grass. The sun was setting out on the horizon, and shadows lengthened. From here, she could not see the vast sea of molten glass on the omni-mind’s surface, only the other domes nearby. Overhead the stars shone more fiercely than any she had ever seen.
Gallen went to Veriasse’s pack, got some water, and gave drinks first to Everynne, then to Orick. He bandaged his own leg, and had Maggie pop his shoulder back into its socket. Then he sat beside Maggie and held her hand for a long time, neither of them speaking, except once when Gallen said, “Oh, my, look at that!”
She looked up just in time to see a falling star. A moment later, dronon ships began streaming away in a solid convoy.
After an hour, both Everynne and Orick were still breathing deeply. The nanodocs had closed their wounds, and Maggie’s mantle whispered to her that it was a good sign. Both of them would probably survive.
Maggie sat still for a long time, then began crying. Gallen held her for awhile, and said, “I’m really tired. Do you think it gets cold here at night? Should we get some blankets for these two? Build a fire?”
“Och, you’re kidding me, aren’t you Gallen?” Maggie said. “You know this place has to have heaters in it. I’m sure it won’t get cold.”
“Heaters?” Gallen asked. “What’s a heater?”
Maggie slapped him, thinking he must surely be joking, but then she looked deeper into his eyes, and she wasn’t sure. Could he have learned so much in the past week and still never have heard of a heater?
He laughed at her confusion. “So, are you going to put that mantle on, or aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, come to think of it,” Maggie said. “There’s no one here making me wear it. To tell the truth, I sort of like learning slow. I could put it on and learn everything there is to know at once, but it seems to me that that would be sort of like eating all the desserts you would ever want in your life all in one day-if you take my meaning.”
“Aye,” Gallen said. “It does sound nasty.”
“Besides,” Maggie said, “it belongs to Everynne.”
“That it does.” Gallen sighed. “Even if she doesn’t want it.”
He got up, walked away in the darkness, and Maggie thought he’d gone to get his bedroll, but a moment later she heard him digging in the dirt.
Gallen had a wavy-bladed dagger, and he used it to scrape a long, shallow hole in the ground. Then he put Veriasse in, covered him with clumps of grass and a bit of dirt. Maggie went and stood beside Gallen. He gazed down at the grave for a long time and asked, “Do you think there’s a heaven?”
Maggie sighed. “It’s damned possible.”
Gallen said, “If there’s a heaven, I think Veriasse will find himself guarding the gates. You know, keeping out the rabble.”
“Aye, he’d like that job,” Maggie agreed.
Gallen walked over to a good spot of grass, then lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head, and stared up at the stars through the dome. The last of the dronon ships had left.
Gallen looked like some country boy back in Tihrglas.
“Gallen,” Maggie said, “what are you going to do when you get home?” She didn’t ask him to include her in his plans. She didn’t intend to go back, and even though they’d spoken of finding a world together, she didn’t know what he might be thinking now. She wanted him to come with her voluntarily.