Chapter 8 Let the Games Begin

Bunyan immediately went into action after Andromeda's roping stunt, calculating that he would be able to pick up sponsors impressed by the act. He didn't even wait to see the interviews for 11 and 12; it was already clear that those tributes were losers. Time was limited, because the games would start at noon the next day. Fortunately hardly anybody slept the night before the games, except the tributes themselves. It was a night of partying, and Bunyan hoped to flit from party to party picking up pledges.

"But I've checked the odds, and they still seem to be mostly in Cashmere's favor." Cressida pointed out.

"Yes, but that is an advantage if you spin it right. Sponsors aren't just throwing out money; they invest the money because they have bet on a tribute and one to make sure that he or she wins. Collecting the bet will pay for the cost of sponsorship. Now, there isn't much return for betting on Cashmere. If she wins, the proceeds have to spread out over a lot of bettors. But betting on Andromeda is a long shot, paying five to one or better. So if you're confident that Andromeda will win with your help, you're willing to risk a lot of money as a sponsor."

"I've never thought through the money angle. Hunger Games functionaries aren't allowed to bet; it would be a conflict of interest. Can I watch you negotiate?"

"Sorry, no. Sponsors and gamblers are secretive; they have "A System" and they don't want others to figure it out. I have to deal one-on-one. Besides, you're involved with publicity; that's the last thing they want, somebody who might repeat their secrets."

Cressida thought of insisting that she was trustworthy, then decided not to bother. Bunyan might believe her, but the potential sponsors might not. If her presence might drive away sponsors who could help Andromeda, she might as well be absent.

Cressida was used to partying on the eve of the Hunger Games, but she would have to find a party. She couldn't accompany Bunyan. Nor could she meet with the friends from her office. Until the Hunger Games started tomorrow and the secret of the arena was out, she had to keep her distance.

Halfway between the Training Center and her own apartment, she heard sounds of a loud party from a nearby apartment house, and decided to crash it. That would be a dreadful faux pas on most occasions, but this was the eve of the Hunger Games, when wild behavior was expected. Besides, if the party was large enough, everybody would assume that she had come with somebody else.

For a few minutes she abandoned herself to sense impressions – the garish colours of the clothing, the frenzied music, the scents of all the food available. But eventually she started feeling like an outsider, alienated from the goings-on. Socially alienated, because she knew nobody here. But also emotionally alienated, because she simply could not share the wild pleasure that everybody was experiencing. She was too worried about Andromeda to enjoy herself.

After about half an hour, she walked out again, proceeded the rest of the way home, and threw herself into bed.

0-0-0-0

The next morning, the Capitol was eerily quiet. Everybody was sleeping off their self-indulgences from the previous night – parties, or maybe sexual encounters. The loudest sounds were the hovercrafts buzzing overhead, preparing to take the tributes to the arena. Cressida would not be going there. Traditionally the escorts and mentors were banned from the arena, lest they perform some sort of sabotage on behalf of their tributes. The tributes were escorted by lower-level functionaries, such as their stylists. Remembering that Andromeda had had an argument with her own stylist, she had asked Sam's stylist to switch places.

Bunyan and Cressida settled down in the rooms for District 10 in the Training Center to watch TV. The familiar rituals ensued. Some reruns of the best interviews with Caesar, some speculation from Claudius Templesmith on how the games might go. About five minutes before noon, they started moving the tributes up their tubes. A micro-camera was attached to one of the tributes' tokens, so that the audience would be able to get their first view of the arena, from the tributes' own point of view.

But something was odd this time. The elevators kept going up and up.

"What's happening?" asked Bunyan. "They should have reached the surface long ago." The mystery was getting on even his nerves.

"Dunno," muttered Cressida.

Finally the camera cleared the ground, and they had their first sight of the arena, and the solution of the mystery. The Cornucopia and the surrounding platforms were on a mountaintop. The immediate area was flat, probably artificially so, but one could see a drop-off in the distance, and kilometers of land beyond and below. The elevators had taken time because they had traversed much of the height of the mountain.

Bunyan swore. "Sam and Andie are used to flatlands. They'll be disoriented in a landscape like that. The very arena is rigged against them."

"Which tributes would be used to mountains?" Cressida asked.

"Districts 2 and 12. Though 12 never seems to reap the benefit of anything. They have one mentor and he seems to be a hopeless alcoholic. At least it's not blatantly rigged to favor Cashmere."

"Plutarch has told me it takes several years to design an arena. They wouldn't have known about Gloss and Cashmere when they started.

Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed out. He was an acquaintance of Cressida's, but at moment she loathed his complacent voice. "LET THE 63rd HUNGER GAMES BEGIN, AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1-"

The starting pistol went off, and the tributes stormed into action.

Bunyan swore again. "There's Sam dashing to the Cornucopia. He'll get caught in the melee. I warned him against that! Where's Andie?"

"I see her. Hiding behind a large rock, watching for whether it's better to charge the Cornucopia or flee."

Sam grabbed a large knapsack and started to flee. Two other tributes caught with him and knived him. He went down, but instead of grabbing the knapsack, the two attackers started slashing at each other, fighting over the trophy.

Then something utterly unexpected. The bleeding Sam struggled to his feet, did a powerful wind-up, and hurled the knapsack toward Andromeda. Then he collapsed on the ground and stopped moving. He had used the last of his strength to help his district partner.

Andromeda looked stunned, but she picked up the sack, made an odd salute in Sam's direction, and then ran off.

To the Gamesmakers managing the cameras, that was just a minor incident, They kept the cameras on the bloody melee. That was what Cressida would expect them to do, but she hated the choice anyway, because she could not see what was happening to Andromeda.

The 63rd Hunger Games had begun.

(NOTE: My original version of this chapter said Cashmere was from District 2, and a reviewer caught the error. I have fixed it)

TO BE CONTINUED