Alien Chronicles 2 - The Crimson Claw

From the company that brought you
Star Wars
and the
Indiana Jones
series comes a bold new story . . .

LUCASFILM’S
ALIEN
CHRONICLES

Set in a completely new fictional universe,
Alien Chronicles
is a saga that spans several generations of a master reptilian race and the slave race it rules. It is a tale of a crumbling civilization and a heroic struggle for freedom, with an all-alien cast of characters and a heartfelt, deeply personal point of view . . .

THE CRIMSON CLAW

Ampris has begun her exile, aided by her companion Elrabin, the Kelth. She has learned the archival history of the Viis empire, its languages, its weaknesses. Now she will learn to harness the innate savagery of her race in the gladiatorial arena. Fighting for sport. Fighting for life. Fighting for the chance to lead a desperate battle for the future of the slave races . . .

Meanwhile, Israi, the Viis princess, is coming of age as well. The childhood friend of Ampris is about to become queen of the Viis empire . . . and Ampris’s mortal enemy.

THE ALIENS OF

LUCASFILM’S
ALIEN
CHRONICLES

THE VIIS . . .
a race of seven-foot tall, beautifully reptilian creatures. Their physical attractiveness has convinced the Viis that they are the most important, godlike creatures in the universe. This has led to an underground race of the “uglies”—Viis that were cast off as unacceptable, worthless spawn . . .

THE AAROUN . . .
The race of Ampris are powerful, golden-furred creatures with sharp teeth. They have long been kept by the Viis as slaves, or as in the case of Ampris, pets.

THE KELTH . . .
a submissive, doglike race with stiff, bristly coats and simian hands. Because they are so easily intimidated, Kelth are considered unreliable to handle important tasks. They are not to be trusted . . .

THE MYAL . . .
Renowned for their insight and memories. Myal stand barely three feet tall and are usually poets, musicians, and historians. They control the archives of the Viis empire.

THE ZRHELI . . .
They are filthy, noisy, foul-smelling, and socially repulsive creatures. Yet they are unequaled at maintaining and repairing quantum hardware (the only reason to tolerate them).

THE SKEK . . .
Less than two feet high, furry, multilimbed, and quick, the Skek live like rats in the ducts and garbage of the Viis. It’s a common slave belief that if you dropped one Skek in a barrel, the barrel would explode with Skek offspring within a day.

THE TOTHS . . .
Big, stupid, and brutal, Toths roam the ghetto streets as thugs, but they are also used by their Viis masters as hired enforcers and brownshirts. Nearly as tall as the Viis, they have massive heads covered with thick mats of dirty, curly brown hair. Flies usually buzz around their long, floppy ears. Their faces are broad and flat, with wide nostrils, and their eyes are small and cruel.

THE GORLICANS . . .
Merchants, shopkeepers, traders, the Gorlicans are a steady, hardworking, nonviolent race allied to the Viis. A heavy shell encases their torsos, rendering their balance sometimes percarious, and their arms and legs are covered with thick gray scales instead of skin. Their faces are ugly, with a prominent horned beak for an upper lip, and they have orange or yellow eyes. They must wear masks in public to avoid offending the Viis.

THE PHIVEANS . . .
They are cephalopods and have thick, elongated bodies supported on four stout legs. Their tails are flat and spade-shaped. Smooth-skinned and entirely hairless, male Phiveans are olive-green in color. Females are a yellowish pink. They have numerous tentacles lining their bodies on either side. The two front tentacles are longer than the others and have pod-shaped tips of considerable dexterity. Their heads are bulbous, with two knobby, prominent eyes. Their mouth is a round opening lined with waving cilia. Phiveans are never completely still. Either their tentacles, eyes, or mouth cilia are constantly moving.

THE SAMPARESE . . .
These creatures are tall with long, graceful bodies. Their heads are wedge-shaped with cold, cruel eyes, blunt muzzles with whiskers, and razor-sharp fangs. They have muscular, sinuous necks. Extremely graceful in motion, they are lithe, fluid fighters. Their fur is short and sleek, in the tawny range of colors. Their temperament is quite fierce. They are loners by nature. Intelligent but undomesticated, they are used only as gladiators by their Viis owners.

Lucasfilm’s Alien Chronicles™
by Deborah Chester

T
HE
G
OLDEN
O
NE
T
HE
C
RIMSON
C
LAW
T
HE
C
RYSTAL
E
YE

LUCASFILM’S ALIEN CHRONICLES™: THE CRIMSON CLAW

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with Lucasfilm Ltd.

PRINTING HISTORY
Ace edition / October 1998

All rights reserved.
Trademark and Copyright © 1998 by Lucasfilm Ltd.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York. New York 10014.

Cover artist Bob Eggleton
Alien artist Teryl Whitlatch

ISBN: 0-441-00565-9

ACE®
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CHAPTER
•ONE

The smell of blood, sweat, and aggression filled the arena—a hot, primitive smell that made the fur bristle around Ampris’s neck beneath her battle collar. Feeling anticipation coil tighter in her belly, she growled low in her throat. Soon, she promised herself as she watched the two Kelth opponents circling each other with sly hesitation on the kicked-up sand. A male and female, they were well-matched in size. Both gray-furred with slim, long muzzles and tall upright ears, they yipped insults at each other. The female darted at the male, stabbing with her glaudoon, the short sword of the gladiator games. The male yelped and stumbled back. Blood splattered on the sand, and the trainees in the stands roared with excitement.

Ampris panted. Soon she would be out there, fighting. She growled again, leaning forward inside her starting gate, her gaze intent on the combat.

In the other cramped gate next to hers, her opponent-to-be shifted restlessly, muttering and growling. Something thudded against the scarred wooden door that closed the back of her gate, and Ampris whirled around with a roar.

Rapid thumping and a yelp told her that more graduates were being loaded into the chute that fed into her gate. Ampris ignored the commotion and turned her attention back to the fighting in the arena. Boos came now from the crowd. The Kelths were still circling, neither willing to commit to close fighting unless victory was sure. A referrent strode up to them and cracked his whip across the male’s back.

Yelping, the Kelth male dropped to his knees. The referrent, encased in body shielding and closed helmet, mercilessly whipped the female, hitting her hard enough to make her stagger. “Fight, damn you!” he shouted.

The Kelths attacked each other with new vigor that set the crowd cheering again.

Backing her ears, Ampris snarled to herself with renewed determination. She would need no whipping to make her fight.

A hand snaked through the slats of her gate and claws raked at her arm. Ampris whipped her head around with a snap of her teeth, but quick as thought, the hand vanished back into the adjoining gate. Laughter rumbled from behind the slats, then a pair of hostile yellow eyes appeared.

Ampris recognized Sheir, her bunk-mate but no friend. They had been paired together since their first day of training. Never, in all the intervening months of rigorous drill and practice, had Ampris been able to relax her guard completely, knowing Sheir was just waiting for the chance to pounce. They were both Aaroun females, and of similar age and size—yet they had nothing in common, nothing except the desire to survive this hellhole that was Bizsi Mo’ad.

Beige-furred with an even sprinkling of tiny brown spots and a brown streak that ran up her nose and over the top of her skull, Sheir was no beauty. She had nicks and old scars that marred her hide, and she was missing one toe. But her stamina never gave out. She was heavy-boned, with plenty of powerful muscle. Sheir’s teeth were sharp; her claws were sharper. Quick and cunning, she never lost an opportunity to trip Ampris, to jostle her, to throw dust in her food, to mess up her bunk just before inspection.

In hand-to-hand fighting drills, she always volunteered to oppose Ampris. She was a dirty fighter, snapping at tender ears and trying to gouge eyes with her fingers. She never obeyed the
halt
command; the instructors always had to pull them apart. A ruthless cheat at everything, Sheir would probably enjoy a long, successful career as a gladiator.