Second by stretched second, the fight was a blur of continuous buffets in which her own blows seemed ineffective, while her opponent was expert. Desperately, Maia grappled close but was soon thrown back, giving the reaver room to swing her trepp. Dazzles of exquisite pain swept Maia's left side. Another lancing coup ripped just below her knee.
Dimly, Maia was aware of figures nearby. Haggard men clutched outward, reaching to help, but were bound by chains to rows of benches lining the sloping walls. Meanwhile, the pirate's hot breath seared Maia's face with onion pungency, spraying her with spittle as they wrestled over the trepp. I can't hold on, she realized despairingly.
Suddenly, another set of hands appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around the reaver's throat. With a howl, Maia's foe flung her away. The sharp bill barely missed in a frenzied swing, then flew off as the bandit let go to claw at her new assailant, a much smaller woman who clung to her back like a wild cat. Though her drained body tried to refuse, Maia forced one final effort. Sobbing with fatigue, she launched herself forward, and in a series of fierce yanks, she and her ally finally brought the thrashing, heaving guard within reach of Captain Poulandres and his men.
When it was over, they lay together on the ground, wheezing. Finally, Maia's sister took her hand and squeezed.
"Okay . . ." Leie said between gasps, the expression on her face more contrite than Maia had seen in all their years growing up together. "… I guess my plan didn't . . . work so good. Let's hear yours."
The nearby corner from which Maia had spied on Baltha and Togay would prove a handy enfilade looking the other way. Still, at first Poulandres was reluctant. He and his men were brave, angry, and fully aware of their fate should they be recaptured. Yet not one of them wanted to touch the automatic rifle.
"Look, it's simple enough. I've seen the type before. You just slide this lever"
"I can see how it operates," Poulandres snapped. Then he shook his head and lifted a hand placatingly. "Look, I'm grateful. . . . We'll help any way we can. But can't one of you two operate the thing?" Revolted, he looked away from the metal machine.
Before she had met Renna, Maia might have reacted differently to this display — with incomprehension, or contempt. Now she knew how patterns established by Lysos had been reinforced over thousands of years, partly through myth and conditioning, as well as deep within their genes and viscera, all so that men would tend to loathe violence against women.
Still, humans are flexible beings. The warrior essence wasn't excised, only suppressed, patterned, controlled. It would take strong motivation to persuade a decent man like Poulandres to kill, but Maia had no doubt it could be done.
Nearby, the rest of the male crew rubbed their ankles, where chains had bound them to rank after rank of stone benches, arrayed in a bowl-shaped, enclosed arena. Three groggy, half-conscious women now languished in their place, mouths gagged. A few of the men were picking distastefully at one of the spilled buckets. Someone ought to get to work conserving the stuff, Maia thought. They might be in for a long seige.
Other matters came first. "I haven't time for this," she told Leie. "You explain it to him. And don't forget to look for other stairs leading to this level! We don't want to be flanked."
"All right, Maia," Leie answered, acquiescent. There hadn't been time for more than a moment of reunion, while recovering from the fight. Nor was Maia ready for complete reconciliation. Too much had happened since that long-ago storm separated a pair of dreamy-eyed summer kids. In time, she might consider trusting Leie again, providing her sister earned it.
Gingerly toting the horrible firearm, Leie escorted Poulandres and several crewmen down the hall. Maia, too, had an errand. But as she started to go, she was halted by a curt tug at her leg.
"Just a minim!" the ship's physician commanded as he finished tying strips of torn cloth around her gashed knee. "There, that's the worst of it. As for the rest o' your dings …"
"They'll have to wait," Maia peremptorily finished the sentence, shaking her head in a way that cut short protest. "Thanks, Doc," she finished, and hurried, limping, out of the arena-prison. At the doorway, she turned left toward the second large room, where she had earlier glimpsed Baltha and the other reaver commanders, arguing. One male accompanied her — the cabin boy who had been part of the opposing Game of Life team, back on the Manitou. It was his self-chosen job to bring Maia up to date on what had happened since she was marooned with Naroin and the women crew, on Grimke Island.
