Pawn’s Gambit (43 page)

Regards,

Eftis

The door slid back and Kelly stepped into the test chamber, looking across the room eagerly to see what sort of creature he'd be competing against this time. The dim red lights were back on in the room, indicating someone from a world with a red sun, and as Kelly's eyes adjusted to the relative darkness he saw another of the alligator-like Olyts approaching the table. “I greet you,” Kelly said, making the crossed-wrist gesture he'd seen at his first game here. “I am Kelly McClain of the human race.”

The Olyt repeated the salute. “I am
ulur
Achranae of the Olyt race.”

“Pleased to meet you. What does
ulur
mean?”

“It is a title of respect for my position. I command a war-force of seven spacecraft.”

Kelly swallowed. A trained military man. Good thing he wasn't in a hurry to win and go home. “Interesting. Well, shall we begin?”

Achranae sat down. “Let us make an end to this charade quickly.”

“What do you mean, ‘charade'?” Kelly asked cautiously as he took his seat. He was by no means an expert on Olyt expressions and emotions, but he could swear this one was angry.

“Do not deny your part,” the alien snapped. “I recognize your name from the reports, and know how you played this game for the Stryfkar against another of my people, studying him like a laboratory specimen before allowing him to win and depart. We do not appreciate the way you take our people like this—”

“Whoa! Wait a second; I'm not with them. They've been taking
my
people, too. It's some sort of psychology experiment, I guess.”

The Olyt glared at him in silence for a long moment. “If you truly believe that, you are a fool,” he said at last, sounding calmer. “Very well; let us begin.”

“Before you do so we must inform you of an important change in the rules,” Slaich's voice cut in. “You shall play
three
different games, instead of one, agreeing on the rules before beginning each. The one who wins two or more shall be returned home. The other will lose his life.”

It took a second for that to sink in. “
What
?”
Kelly yelped. “You can't do that!” Across the table Achranae gave a soft, untranslatable hiss. His claws, fully extended, scratched lightly on the game board.

“It is done,” Slaich said flatly. “You will proceed now.”

Kelly shot a frustrated glance at Achranae, looked up again. “We will not play for our lives. That sort of thing is barbarous, and we are both civilized beings.”

“Civilized.” Slaich's voice was thick with sudden contempt. “You, who can barely send craft outside your own atmosphere; you consider yourself
civilized
?
And your opponent is little better.”

We govern a sphere fifteen light-years across,” Achranae reminded Slaich calmly, his outburst of temper apparently over. For all their short fuses, Kelly decided, Olyts didn't seem to stay mad long.

“Your eight worlds are nothing against our forty.”

“It is said the Chanis had only five when they challenged you.”

The silence from the speaker was impressively ominous. “What are the Chanis?” Kelly asked, fighting the urge to whisper.

“It is rumored they were a numerically small but brutally aggressive race who nearly conquered the Stryfkar many generations ago. We have heard these stories from traders, but do not know how true they are.”

“True or not, you sure hit a nerve,” Kelly commented. “How about it, Slaich? Is he right?”

“You will proceed now,” Slaich ordered, ignoring Kelly's question.

Kelly glanced at Achranae, wishing he could read the other's face. Did Olyts understand the art of bluffing? “I said we wouldn't play for our lives.”

In answer a well-remembered flash of red light exploded inches from his face. Instinctively, he pushed hard on the table, toppling himself and his chair backwards. He hit hard enough to see stars, somersaulted out of the chair, and wound up lying on his stomach on the floor. Raising his head cautiously, he saw the red fireball wink out and, after a moment, got warily to his feet. Achranae, he noted, was also several feet back from the table, crouching in what Kelly decided was probably a fighting stance of some kind.

“If you do not play, both of you will lose your lives.” Slaich's voice was mild, almost emotionless, but it sent a shiver down Kelly's spine. Achranae had been right: this was no simple psychology experiment. The Stryfkar were searching for potential enemies—and somehow both humans and Olyts had made it onto their list. And there was
still
no way to escape. Looking across at Achranae, Kelly shrugged helplessly. “Doesn't look like we have much choice, does it?”

The Olyt straightened up slowly. “For the moment, no.”

“Since this contest is so important to both of us,” Kelly said when they were seated again, “I suggest that you choose the first game, allowing me to offer changes that will take away some of your advantage—changes we both have to agree on, of course. I'll choose the second game; you'll suggest changes on that one.”

“That seems honorable. And the third?”

“I don't know. Let's discuss that one when we get there, okay?”

It took nearly an hour for the first game, plus amendments, to be agreed upon. Achranae used three of the extra transparencies and their supports to create a three-dimensional playing area; the game itself was a sort of 3-D “Battleship,” but with elements of chess, Monopoly, and even poker mixed in. Surprisingly enough, the mixture worked, and if the stakes hadn't been so high Kelly thought he would have enjoyed playing it. His own contributions to the rules were a slight adjustment to the shape of the playing region—which Kelly guessed would change the usual positional strategies—and the introduction of a “wild card” concept to the play. “I also suggest a practice game before we play for keeps,” he told Achranae.

The Olyt's dark eyes bored into his. “Why?”

“Why not? I've never played this before, and you've never played with these rules. It would make the actual game fairer. More honorable. We'll do the same with the second and third games.”

“Ah—it is a point of honor?” The alien cocked his head to the right. A nod? “Very well. Let us begin.”

Even with the changes, the game—Skymarch, Achranae called it—was still very much an Olyt one, and Achranae won the practice game handily. Kelly strongly suspected Skymarch was a required course of the aliens' space academy; it looked too much like space warfare to be anything else.

“Did the Stryf speak the truth when he said you were not starfarers?” Achranae asked as they set up the board again.

“Hm? Oh, yes.” Kelly replied distractedly, his mind on strategy for the coming game. “We've hardly even got simple spacecraft yet.”

“Surprising, since you learn space warfare tactics so quickly.” He waved his sheathed claws over the board. “A pity, too, since you will
not
be able to resist if the Stryfkar decide to destroy you.”

“I suppose not, but why would they want to? We can't be any threat to them.”

Again Achranae indicated the playing board. “If you are representative, your race is unusually gifted with both tactical skill and aggressiveness. Such abilities would make you valuable allies or dangerous adversaries to my starfaring race.”

Kelly shrugged. “You'd think they'd try to recruit us, then.”

“Unlikely. The Stryfkar are reputed to be a proud race who have little use for allies. This harassment of both our peoples should indicate their attitude toward other races.”

The Olyt seemed to be on the verge of getting angry again, Kelly noted uneasily. A change in subject seemed in order. “Uh, yes. Shall we begin our game?”

Achranae let out a long hiss. “Very well.”

From the very beginning it was no contest. Kelly did his best, but it was clear that the Olyt was able to
think
three-dimensionally better than he could. Several times he lost a piece simply because he missed some perfectly obvious move it could have made. Sweating, he tried to make himself slow down, to spend more time on each move. But it did no good. Inexorably, Achranae tightened the noose; and, too quickly, it was all over.

Kelly leaned back in his chair, expelling a long breath. It was all right, he told himself—he had to expect to lose a game where the alien had all the advantages. The next game would be different, though; Kelly would be on his own turf, with
his
choice of weapons—

“Have you chosen the game we shall play next?” Achranae asked, interrupting Kelly's thoughts.

“Idle down, will you?” Kelly snapped, glaring at the alien. “Give me a minute to think.”

It wasn't an easy question. Chess was far and away Kelly's best game, but Achranae had already showed himself a skilled strategist, at least with warfare-type games. That probably made chess a somewhat risky bet. Card games involved too much in the way of chance, for this second game Kelly needed as much advantage as he could get. Word games like Scrabble were obviously out. Checkers or Dots were too simple. Backgammon? That was a pretty nonmilitary game, but Kelly was a virtual novice at it himself. How about—

How about a
physical
game?

“Slaich? Could I get some extra equipment in here? I'd like a longer table, a couple of paddles, a sort of light, bouncy ball—”

“Games requiring specific physical talents are by their nature unfair for such a competition as this,” Slaich said. “They are not permitted.”

“I do not object,” Achranae spoke up unexpectedly, and Kelly looked at him in surprise. “You stated we could choose the games and the rules, and it is Kelly McClain's choice this time.”

“We are concerned with psychological studies,” Slaich said. “We are not interested in the relative abilities of your joints and muscles. You will choose a game that can be played with the equipment provided.”

“It is dishonorable—”

“No, it's okay, Achranae,” Kelly interrupted, ashamed at himself for even suggesting such a thing. “Slaich is right; it would've been completely unfair. It was dishonorable for me to suggest it. Please accept my apology.”

“You are blameless,” the Olyt said. “The dishonor is in those who brought us here.”

“Yes,” Kelly agreed, glancing balefully at the ceiling. The point was well taken. Achranae wasn't Kelly's enemy; merely his opponent. The Stryfkar were the real enemy.

For all the good that knowledge did him.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, Achranae, I guess I'm ready. This game's called
chess.
…”

The Olyt picked up the rules and movements quickly, enough so that Kelly wondered if the aliens had a similar game on their own world. Fortunately, the knight's move seemed to be a new one on him, and Kelly hoped it would offset the other's tactical training. As his contribution, Achranae suggested the pawns be allowed to move backwards as well as forwards. Kelly agreed, and they settled into their practice game.

It was far harder than Kelly had expected. The “reversible pawn” rule caused him tremendous trouble, mainly because his logic center kept editing it out of his strategy. Within fifteen moves he'd lost both bishops and one of his precious knights, and Achranae's queen was breathing down his neck.

“An interesting game,” the
Olyt commented a few moves later, after Kelly had managed to get out from under a powerful attack. “Have you had training in its technique?”

“Not really,” Kelly said, glad to take a breather. “I just play for enjoyment with my friends. Why?”

“The test of skill at a game is the ability to escape what appears to be certain defeat. By that criterion you have a great deal of skill.”

Kelly shrugged. “Just native ability, I guess.”

“Interesting. On my world such skills must be learned over a long period of time.” Achranae indicated the board. “We have a game similar in some ways to this one; if I had not studied it I would have lost to you within a few moves.”

“Yeah,” Kelly muttered. He'd been pretty sure Achranae wasn't running on beginner's luck, but he'd sort of hoped he was wrong. “Let's get back to the game, huh?”

In the end Kelly won, but only because Achranae lost his queen to Kelly's remaining knight and Kelly managed to take advantage of the error without any major goofs of his own.

“Are you ready to begin the actual game?” Achranae asked when the board had been cleared.

Kelly nodded, feeling a tightness in his throat. This was for all the marbles. “I suppose so. Let's get it over with.”

Using one of the multifaced dice they determined the Olyt would have the white pieces. Achranae opened with his king's pawn, and Kelly responded with something he dimly remembered being called a Sicilian defense. Both played cautiously and defensively; only two pawns were taken in the first twenty moves. Sweating even in the air-conditioned room, Kelly watched his opponent gradually bring his pieces into attacking positions as he himself set his defense as best he could.

When the assault came it was devastating in its slaughter. By the time the captures and recaptures were done, eight more pieces were gone … and Kelly was a rook down.

Brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes with a trembling hand, Kelly swallowed hard as he studied the board. Without a doubt, he was in trouble. Achranae controlled the center of the board now and his king was better defended than Kelly's. Worse yet, he seemed to have mastered the knights move, while Kelly was still having trouble with his pawns. And if the Olyt won this one …

“Are you distressed?”

Kelly started, looked up at his opponent. “Just a—” His voice cracked and he tried again. “Just nervous.”

“Perhaps we should cease play for a time, until you are better able to concentrate,” Achranae suggested.