Part Two: The Games
Chapter six:
Sleep must have come to me, because I am woken as the sun rises. They rush me downstairs, to a speeder, by speeder to the hanger, and by hanger to a Star Destroyer. Back the way I came.
Before I enter the shuttle, Osca, Vaynich and my prep team are there to greet me. Each of my preps wishes me good luck. Osca gives me a hug, tells me she's rooting for me or Perrin.
Vaynich pulls me aside. "The supplies, the only supplies you'll get, weapons and food and such, are out in the main area," he tells me. "Don't go for them. They're drawing you into a massacre. Run. Find shelter, water and food, and pick off the easy ones when you have the safest chances."
"I know," I say. But I smile at him. It's odd how a simple manipulation of facial muscles seems to set people at ease. I think it works.
On the Star Destroyer, I'm placed in a cell. They don't call it a cell, but that's what it is: a blank metal square of a room. Time passes. I pace, I sit, I sleep. I do some strengthening exercises. The ship is moving. I figure we're in hyperspace.
Eventually they come for me. The Stormtroopers move me into another room. They wait at the door. This time the room is furnished, and occupied. "Hello Kara," says Chrona.
"Hello," I said. "What are you doing here?"
"Sending you off," he says.
"Why?"
"I felt we had a sort of connection, you know, like a friendly one."
"Well," I said, "We don't. We're strictly…professional."
"Whatever," Chrona sighed. I can see the decision in his manner to stop even trying. "Here is your clothing for the games." He gives me a box.
There's a privacy screen, but I ignore it for old time's sake. The clothing is very functional, quality material. I get standard socks and undergarments, and pull on tan pants that are practical for movement, but still accentuate my hips. I put on a black tank top, and a thick black jacket with gold-colored buttons. My boots are black as well.
"One last bit. They found this in your cast off clothing. I thought I might send it with you." Chrona reaches out and hands me something. It's a small brown piece of wood, with the symbol of my gang etched into it.
Galen's keepsake; I had completely forgotten it. "Oh, thank you," I try to make my voice portray earnestness.
"You're welcome, dear girl," Chrona beams. "Carry that with pride. If it makes any difference, between you and Perrin, I'm rooting for you."
"Me too," I say, and allow him to give me an awkward hug.
There is a room beyond this one, where a pod, almost like a small lift, is set into the wall. The door hisses open. I step in without another word. The hatch slides shut, I settle back against the soft upholstery. It smells like soap.
Through the window, I see the Imperial technicians making a last check on their instruments. Chrona gives me a little wave goodbye. They press the button.
My stomach drops. The room disappears, as I am propelled into space.
Beyond my window, my world becomes black and filled with stares. I am weightless, motionless yet spinning. The stars move around me. The Star Destroyer flashes past above me. A pale green orb dominates my vision. It's getting bigger.
My pod heats up, regardless of climate controls, as I plunge through the planet's atmosphere. The soft lining inflates, enveloping me in a protective cocoon. Clouds rush past. Below I see a green bed, and then I'm through it, smashing and tearing through trees, till I finally land. My parachute falls gently to the earth somewhere behind my pod
This is a forest planet. Trees dominate the surroundings, huge trees, and grass and plants decorate rich brown earth. It could be worse.
At least I'm right side up, which is more than I can say for most of the pods nearby. They form a rough circle around the clearing. At the center of the clearing is a metal structure, almost like a huge horn. In, atop, and around it are heaped boxes and bags. We can't tell what's inside, but the racks of weapons are easily recognizable, silver blades glittering in the sunlight.
"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."
An emotionless recording fills my pod. The seventy-fourth Force Games are beginning. My head is still reeling from the descent. I try to steady myself, focus.
"Thirty five. Thirty four."
I can't see anyone else through their pods, I wonder if they're in better or worse shape than I. I don't count the pods, but I am sure there are fifty altogether, mine included.
"Seventeen. Sixteen."
I'm going to run, I tell myself. Don't hesitate. Just get out of here. Just like Vaynich said. But the horn is so tempting. The packs of food and bottled water. The glimmering knives each look like my new best friend.
"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
The front door of the pod pops off with a hiss of compressed air, falling to the dirt in front of me. The scent of trees and their needles fills my nostrils.
No time to hesitate, we've begun. I vault out of my metal pod. Twigs snap beneath my boots. I have time, I can make it, I can grab myself a knife. But suddenly I realize they're all around me. The tributes. It's chaos.
There is running and the screaming of fifty kids, children really, from all across the galaxy. Some bound off into the woods, while others go for the Horn. Fen is among the first, he goes for the weapons rack. He spins, and somebody's head goes flying. First casualty.
I've taken too long. The massacre has begun. I loop around toward the woods, but the shiny silver boxes are so tempting, so close to reach. In front of me, a tubby Gamorrean brings his axe down on a little Bothan. Blood splatters the ground.
A lanky Correllian boy loops past me, toting a backpack. He slices at me with his knife; I jump back out of his way. Suddenly the shaft of a metal arrow goes through his eye, the red tip forcing its way out the back of his head. He sprawls in the dirt.
I snatch up his pack and knife, as ahead of me the tall Wookie male snaps a kid's back over his knee. He roars at me, and I retreat for the forest. I glimpse Perrin, he meets my eyes from the other side of the clearing, then he disappears into the foliage of the tree line.
As I pass a pod, a four-armed alien comes at me with a sort of cleaver. I block it's trajectory with a swing of my backpack, and lash out with my knife, slicing deep into one of his arms. I kick out, my leg is long and strong, and his egg-like body rebounds off the metal pods exterior, as my knife leaves my hand. The blade goes in right between his eyes.
I wrench it out as I look back. Fen and a human girl are choking the life out of the male Twi'lek. His lekku lay severed in the dirt, blood pumps from his head.
The cleaver is lost in the dirt. I don't waste time looking for it, it's definitely time for me to escape. I take up my knife, and run, slipping my pack onto my back.
The trees blur past. I jump many a large root. Somebody rustles the underbrush up ahead, and I careen to a stop against a nearby tree. It's a little human boy, around twelve. He's got a thermos. No idea how he got that. He screams and makes to leave.
I take a running jump, and land on his back, slamming him into the dirt. Blood spurts out onto my hands and sleeves, as I ram my knife into the side of his neck.
Two down. I must've seen four or five more killed by the other tributes.
Climbing off the boy, I pick up his water bottle. It's empty. It goes into my pack. My knife goes into my boot. My hands are all sticky now. I wish I had a way to wash them.
I'm still too close to the horn and the other tributes for my liking. I begin to jog.
