Contest

They all stood in silence -- the three groups forming a precarious, unspeaking triangle.

It was then that Swain looked down at his wristband. It now read:

INITIALISED--7

Seven.

Swain looked up slowly.

The Presidian had begun.

THIRD MOVEMENT

30 November, 6:39 p.m.

----ooo0ooo------

The parking lot was silent.

Somewhere off to his left Swain could hear the drone of New York traffic, the honking of car horns. The sounds of the outside world -- the ordinary world.

Selexin drew up beside him.

'Just keep looking forward,' Selexin was staring intently at the tall bearded man before them.

'He is Balthazar. The Crisean. Small-blade handler: knives, stilettos, that sort of thing; Technologically, the Criseans are not well-developed, but with their hunting skills, they don't need tech--'

Selexin cut himself off.

The bearded man was staring right at them. Looking directly at Swain.

Swain kept his eyes locked on Balthazar.

Just then the big man turned slightly, revealing something hanging from his waist. Something that glinted under the harsh electric light of the parking lot.

A blade.

A sweeping, curving, vicious-looking blade. An extraterrestrial cutlass.

Swain lifted his gaze. A thick leather-like baldric hung over Balthazar's shoulder, attaching itself to the belt at his waist. Fastened to the leather strap were various sheaths and scabbards -- and in them, a whole assortment of lethal throwing knives.

'You see them?' Selexin whispered.

'I see them.'

'Criseans,' Selexin said respectfully. 'Very impressive bladesmen. Very quick, too. Fast. Take your eyes off him for a second and before you know it, you'll have a knife lodged in your heart.'

Swain didn't answer. Selexin turned to him.

'Sorry,' he whispered. 'I shouldn't have said that.'

'Daddy...' Holly said. 'What's happening?'

'We're just waiting, honey.'

With one eye on Balthazar, Swain scanned the parking lot. Looking for something... looking for a way out...

There.

In the south-west corner of the lot, maybe twenty yards away from them -- a pair of elevators, encased inside a brightly lit glass-walled foyer. It was the same elevator bay he had seen earlier, only here it opened out onto the parking lot.

Swain handed Holly to Hawkins, at the same time as he pulled Hawkins' heavy police flashlight from his gunbelt.

'Whatever happens here,' Swain said, 'I want you to run as fast as you can to those elevators over there, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Once you're inside and the doors are shut, let it go halfway up a floor and press the Emergency Stop button. Okay?'

Hawkins nodded.

'You should be safe there,' Swain said, rolling the big flashlight over in his hand. 'I don't think they'll have figured out how to use elevators yet.'

Beside them, Selexin was watching the other two contestants warily. 'What happens now?' Swain asked him.

At first there was no reply. The little man just stared intently at the empty car park. And then, without turning his head, Selexin said, 'Anything.'

Reese moved first. Darting towards Swain. Heavy, bounding steps.

Swain felt adrenalin surge through his body. He swallowed, gripped the flashlight tightly.

Reese kept coming.

Christ, Swain thought, how the hell do you fight a thing like that?

He tensed to run, but suddenly Selexin grabbed his arm. 'Don't,' he whispered. 'Not yet.'

'Wha--?' Swain watched Reese charge toward them.

'Trust me,' Selexin's voice was like ice.

Reese was bounding toward them now. Swain wanted desperately to run. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Balthazar slowly unsheath a pair of throwing knives--

And then Reese turned.

Sharply and unexpectedly. Away from Swain and the group.

Toward Balthazar.

'Ha! She had to,' Selexin whispered proudly. 'Had to. Classic huntsman behaviour...'

Then suddenly, in a blur of motion, Swain saw Balthazar's right arm move in a rapid throwing action-- and abruptly two flashes of silver fanned out from his hand, whistling through the air.

Thud!

A glinting steel throwing knife embedded itself in the concrete pillar between Swain and Hawkins, missing them both by inches!

The second futuristic-looking knife was intended for Reese, but unlike Swain, she was ready for it. Running low and fast, she rolled right when she detected the flying blade coming toward her and -- crack! -- the throwing knife, flying downward, lodged in the floor of the parking lot underneath her, cracking the shiny new concrete, standing almost upright.

Selexin was still praising his tactical decision. 'I tell you, classic huntsman behaviour. You take out the more dangerous prey first, catch it off-guard--'

'Tell me about it later,' Swain said as he glanced over his shoulder to see Reese -- shrieking wildly -- slam into Balthazar, toppling him over backwards.

Swain pushed Hawkins toward the elevator bay. 'Go!'

Hawkins took off, holding Holly close to his chest, running straight for the elevators.

Swain was about to follow them when he turned for a final look at the battle behind him.

Reese had Balthazar pinned to the ground beneath her, jamming his hands down beneath her powerful stubby forelimbs. Balthazar was struggling desperately, reaching for his cutlass on the floor, inches out of his reach.

But the weight was too much.