26
In gaming central, the light from the central monitor washed over Wu Lin’s face, making it appear even longer and paler than usual.
“So they made it out,” Kendra said. “Where are they?”
“Scans shows human bodies in a bubble two rooms away from the kidnappers,” Wu Lin replied.
“Can they get out from there?”
“Perhaps,” Xavier said. “Perhaps. If you look at these earlier vids, you can see this woman-”
“I know her. Wu Lin? Face rec.”
“Darla Kowsnofski, structural engineer.”
“Thank you, Wu Lin. That’s a very good thing. She seems to know her way around the dome. She might be able to get them out. I wish we could talk to them.”
“It’s a miracle we can-”
“Xavier?” Wu Lin said. “We’ve been watching the gamers, and I think something is going on. They’re trying to make contact.”
Kendra was at her side in an instant. “Have we got sound?”
“We can,” Xavier said. “Pipe gaming auditory auxillary ‘A’ into the main channel.”
There was a moment of silent anxiety, and then Angelique appeared in the air, waving her hands at the camera. Her hands gestured: palm-palm-palm, fist-fist-fist, palm-palm-palm.
“What is she doing?” Xavier asked.
“Morse code,” Kendra said. “Scotty and I met through an aviation club, and we both loved the twentieth- century stuff. Pilots used Morse for their VHF omnidirectional range navigation systems. Let me have the switch.”
In response to Kendra’s urging, the light in the gaming dome began to pulse.
In the creche bubble, lights flashed on and off in what first seemed a random sequence, and then settled into a recognizable pattern of dots and dashes.
Scotty grinned. “That’s Kendra’s fist. Great. We’ve got contact.”
In the bubble where Ali was being held, the Kikayan heir watched Gallop and a thin man named Miller wedge explosives charges against the wall. “I hope your people know what they’re doing,” he said.
Celeste smiled at him mildly. “We knew the doors would stop working. And your Security teams might be stupid enough to try something. We’re changing the map.”
“Fire in the hole!” Miller yelled, and the wall exploded. Light streamed in from the next room.
Celeste looked through the hole, and her expression was unreadable. “What the hell. Wow. It seems you people prefer very strange entertainment. Well, shall we?”
With one arm she lifted Ali until his feet dangled from the ground. He squinted at her. “That would be impressive if we weren’t on the Moon.”
“Funny man,” she said. “I like funny little men. They make me laugh. Especially when they scream. Move.”
The next room was piled with dead Selenites. Their staring, faceted eyes gazed out at eternity.
In another life, at another time, Ali would have been delighted. “Some kind of alien morgue, perhaps. I don’t know how the game was planned.” The woman and her partners were so curious about their surroundings that for the first time they seemed to have forgotten about Ali. “There are two tunnels in, so one might be the entrance, and the other the exit. Look-” He pointed at an alien who had been half shucked out of his shell.
“They’re using the shells for something,” Miller said.
“Some kind of sculpture, perhaps,” Ali said. “All I can tell you is that it’s a puzzle.”
“Puzzle?” Miller asked. “This whole thing is a game, yes?”
“A game,” Ali said. “I came all the way to the Moon to play a game. All the way to the Moon to avoid the politics of my father.”
“That’s the thing about politics,” the man said. “It follows us everywhere.”
Ali grabbed a handful of fake alien guts and smashed the goop into Miller’s face. He sprinted for the open tunnel. Before he could reach it, Celeste stepped out of the hallway directly in front of him, her open palm smashing him in the face. Ali’s head snapped back, his feet flying out in front of him, and he hit the floor. Celeste thumped her foot down on his chest.
She smiled down at him. “Little man, we were told to protect you. Not to hurt you. But make no mistake: If you try to escape again, I will blind one of your friends.”
“No. Please.”
“Very good,” she said. And then to the others: “Barricade that door. We have to settle in for a while.”
“Are my friends… all right?”
“Should be. Perhaps they have to urinate. I assume that there are restrooms in this dome?”
“Yes. They’ll be marked with the usual crescent moons. I’m sure everyone would appreciate some relief.”
“I’ll organize that,” Celeste said. “We’re almost finished here. But remember that if you try anything else, you won’t pay for it alone.”
In the creche, Scotty was impressed, but disappointed. “Xavier can’t help us?”
“Not here,” Angelique said. “Independent power for the game. He can’t open the door, but we can.”
“And the door leads…?”
“Straight to bubble 38-C,” Angelique said. “And Asako is in… 35-C.”
“Then we have to move fast. What are our clues here?”
Wayne, Angelique, Sharmela and Scotty got down on all fours to look at the floor. Sharmela spoke first. “It looks as if the floor is divided into panels and pressure switches.”
Angelique next. “Must be recalibrated for one-sixth gravity. What do you think?”
“A drop,” Wayne said. “Maybe an alarm.”
“The alarm on the same circuit?” Angelique said.
“Good thought,” Wayne said. “It might not be working.”
Scotty frowned. “Do you really want to risk that?”
“Not in the slightest,” Angelique said. “I’ll go.” She stripped off her gear. She was built like a dancer. Without glancing at them, she began posing for invisible cameras. The floor was divided into hexagons, like the walls. When she stepped on one, a soft light glowed in the creche wall, and a larva was momentarily highlighted. A sound like a sigh before it settled back down.
Another step, followed by a higher-pitched sound. A larva squealed, and Angelique backed down.
“Auditory-based,” Wayne said. “I think this thing is some kind of lullaby machine. We need to make a song that keeps them asleep, or they’ll wake up. That’s the alarm. We need to work this together. We need balance and sensitivity for this. Who’s had dance training? Gymnastics? We can’t be sure the main computer is compensating for gaming points.”
“Eighteen years of jujitsu,” Scotty said. “No dance.”
“Twelve years of kathak. Indian dance,” Sharmela said, and wiggled her ample hips.
Wayne nodded. “That’ll just have to do.”
Scotty, Sharmela and Angelique walked carefully across the floor, the grubs singing in their sleep, now more responsive, now less. A discordant note, and Wayne backed up, trying another hexagon. Then the grubs all glowed in sequence, and hummed, blended and harmonized… and the door opened.
“That answers that question,” Scotty said. “Main power, down. Localized power, reverted to backups. How long will the backup batteries last?”
