Pawn’s Gambit (44 page)

The last thing Kelly wanted at the moment was the alien's charity. “I'm all right,” he said irritably.

Achranae's eyes were unblinking. “In that case, I would like to take a few minutes of rest myself. Is this permissible?”

Kelly stared back as understanding slowly came. Clearly, Achranae didn't need a break; he was a game and a half toward going home. Besides which, Kelly
knew
what an upset Olyt looked like, and Achranae showed none of the symptoms. No, giving Kelly the chance to calm down could only benefit the human … and as he gazed at the alien's face, Kelly knew the Olyt was perfectly aware of that.

“Yes,” Kelly said at last. “Let's take a break. How about returning in a half-hour or so?”

“Acceptable.” Achranae stood and crossed his wrists. “I shall be ready whenever you also are.”

The ceiling over Kelly's bed was perfectly flat, without even so much as a ripple to mar it. Nonetheless, it reflected images far more poorly than Kelly would have expected. He wondered about it, but not very hard. There were more important things to worry about.

Pulling his left arm from behind his head; he checked the time. Five more minutes and Slaich would sound the little bell that would call them back to the arena. Kelly sighed.

What was he going to
do
?

Strangely enough, the chess game was no longer his major concern. True, he was still in trouble there, but the rest period had done wonders for his composure, and he had already come up with two or three promising lines of attack. As long as he kept his wits around him, he had a fair chance of pulling a win out of his current position. And that was Kelly's real problem … because if he did, in fact, win, there, would have to be a third game. A game either he or Achranae would have to lose.

Kelly didn't want to die. He had lots of high-sounding reasons why he ought to stay alive—at least one of which, the fact that no one else on Earth knew of the threat lurking behind these “games,” was actually valid—but the plain fact was that he simply didn't
want
to die. Whatever the third game was chosen to be, he knew he would play just as hard and as well as he possibly could.

And yet …

Kelly squirmed uncomfortably. Achranae didn't deserve to die, either. Not only was he also an unwilling participant in this crazy arena, but he had deliberately thrown away his best chance to win the contest. Perhaps it was less a spirit of fairness than one of obedience to a rigid code of honor that had kept him from capitalizing on his opponent's momentary panic; Kelly would probably never know one way or the other. But it really didn't matter. If Kelly went on to win the chess game he would owe his victory to Achranae.

The third game …

What would be the fairest way to do it? Invent a game together that neither had played before? That would pit Kelly's natural tactical abilities against Achranae's trained ones and would probably be pretty fair. On the other hand, it would give the Stryfkar another chance to study them in action, and Kelly was in no mood to cooperate with his captors any more than necessary. Achranae, Kelly had already decided, seemed to feel the same way. He wondered fleetingly how long the Stryfkar had been snatching Achranae's people, and why they hadn't retaliated. Probably had no idea where this game studies center was, he decided; the Transphere's operations would, by design, be difficult to trace. But if he and Achranae didn't want to give the Stryfkar any more data, their only alternative was to make the rubber game one of pure chance, and Kelly rebelled against staking his life on the toss of a coin.

The tone, expected though it was, startled him. “It is time,” Slaich's flat voice announced. “You will return to the test chamber.”

Grimacing, Kelly got to his feet and headed for the door. Maybe Achranae would have some ideas.

“Are you better prepared to play now?” the Olyt asked when they again faced each other over the board.

“Yes,” Kelly nodded. “Thanks for suggesting a break. I really
did
need it.”

“I sensed that your honor did not permit you to make the request.” The alien gestured at the board. “I believe it is your move.”

Sure enough, now that his nerves were under control, Kelly began to chip away at Achranae's position, gradually making up his losses and taking the offensive once more. Gambling on the excessive value the Olyt seemed to place in his queen, Kelly laid a trap, with his own queen as the bait. Achranae bit … and five moves later Kelly had won.

“Excellent play,” the Olyt said, with what Kelly took to be admiration. “I was completely unprepared for that attack. I was not wrong; you have an uncanny tactical ability. Your race will indeed be glorious starfarers someday.”

“Assuming we ever get off our own world, of course,” Kelly said as he cleared the board. “At the moment we're more like pawns ourselves in this game.”

“You have each won once,” Slaich spoke up. “It is time now to choose the rules for the final game.”

Kelly swallowed and looked up to find Achranae looking back at him. “Any idea?” he asked.

“None that is useful. A game of chance would perhaps be fastest. Beyond that, I have not determined what my duty requires.”

“What are the possibilities?”

“That I should survive in order to return to my people, or that I should not, to allow you that privilege.”

“A pity we can't individually challenge the Stryfkar to duels,” Kelly said wryly.

“That would be satisfying,” Achranae agreed. “But I do not expect they would accept.”

There was a long silence … and an idea popped into Kelly's mind, practically full-blown. A risky idea—one that could conceivably get them
both
killed. But it might just work … and otherwise one of them would certainly die. Gritting his teeth, Kelly took the plunge. “Achranae,” he said carefully, “I believe I have a game we can play. Will you trust me enough to accept it
now,
before I explain the rules, and to play it without a practice game?”

The Olyt's snout quivered slightly as he stared across the table in silence. For a long moment the only sound Kelly could hear was his own heartbeat. Then, slowly, Achranae cocked his head to the right. “Very well. I believe you to be honorable. I will agree to your conditions.”

“Slaich? You still holding to the rules you set up?” Kelly called.

“Of course.”

“Okay.” Kelly took a deep breath. “This game involves two rival kingdoms and a fire-breathing creature who harasses them both. Here's the creature's underground chamber.” He placed a black marker on the playing board, then picked up three of the transparent plates and their supports and set them up. “The two kingdoms are called the Mountain Kingdom and the Land City. The Mountain Kingdom is bigger; here's its center and edge.” He placed a large red marker on the top plate and added a ring of six smaller ones around it, two squares away. Moving the black marker slightly so that it was directly under one edge of the ring, he picked up a large yellow marker. “This is the Land City,” he identified it, moving it slowly over the middle transparency as his eyes flickered over the board. Ten centimeters between levels, approximately; four per square … he put the yellow marker eight squares from the red one and four squares to one side. It wasn't perfect, but it was close and would have to do. “Finally, here are our forces.” He scattered a dozen each red and yellow butterfly-shaped pieces in the space between the two kingdoms. “The conditions for victory are twofold: the creature must be dead, and there can be no forces from the opposing side threatening your kingdom. Okay?”

“Very well,” Achranae said slowly, studying the board carefully. Once again Kelly wished he had a better grasp of Olyt expressions. “How are combat results decided?”

“By the number of forces involved plus a throw of the die.” Making up the rules as he went along, Kelly set up a system that allowed combat between any two of the three sides—and that would require nearly all of both kingdoms' forces combined to defeat the creature with any certainty. “Movement is two squares or one level per turn, and you can move all your forces each turn,” he concluded. “Any questions?”

Achranae's eyes bored unblinkingly into his, as if trying to read Kelly's mind. “No. Which of us moves first?”

“I will, if you don't mind.” Starting with the pieces closest to the Olyt's kingdom, Kelly began moving them away from the red marker and toward the black one. Achranae hesitated somewhat when it was his turn, but he followed Kelly's example in moving his forces downward. Two of them landed within striking range of some of Kelly's; but the human ignored them, continuing onward instead. Within a few more moves the yellow and red pieces had formed a single mass converging on the black marker.

The fire-breathing creature never had a chance.

“And now … ?” Achranae sat stiffly in his chair, his claws about halfway out of their sheaths. The creature had been eliminated on the Olyt's turn, making it Kelly's move … and Achranae's forces were still intermixed with the human's. A more vulnerable position was hard to imagine, and Achranae clearly knew it.

Kelly gave him a tight smile and leaned back in his seat. “Well, the creature's dead—and in their present positions none of your forces can threaten my kingdom. So I guess I've won.”

There was a soft hiss from the other side of the table, and Achranae's claws slid all the way out. Kelly held his breath and tensed himself to leap. Surely Achranae was smart enough to see it … and, abruptly, the claws disappeared. “But my kingdom is
also
not threatened,” the Olyt said. “Therefore I, too, have won.”

“Really?” Kelly pretended great amazement. “I'll be darned. You're
right.
Congratulations.” He looked at the ceiling. “Slaich? By a remarkable coincidence we've both won the third game, so I guess we both get to go home. Ready any time you are.”

“No.” The Stryf's flat voice was firm.

A golfball-sized lump rose into Kelly's throat. “Why not? You said anyone who won two games would be sent home. You set up that rule yourself?”

“Then the rule is changed. Only one of you can be allowed to leave. You will choose a new game.”

Slaich's words seemed to hang in the air like a death sentence … and Kelly felt his fingernails digging into his palms. He really hadn't expected the aliens to let him twist their rules to his advantage—he already knew this was no game to them. But he'd still hoped … and now he had no choice but to gamble his last card. “I won't play any more games,” he said bluntly. “I'm sick of being a pawn in this boogeyman hunt of yours. You can all just take a flying leap at yourselves.”

“If you do not play you will lose by forfeit,” Slaich reminded him.

“Big deal,” Kelly snorted. “You're going to wipe out earth eventually anyway, aren't you? What the hell difference does it make where I die?”

There was a short pause. “Very well. You yourself have chosen. Achranae, return to your Transphere chamber.”

Slowly, the alien rose to his feet. Kelly half expected him to speak up in protest, or to otherwise plead for the human's life. But he remained silent. For a moment he regarded Kelly through the transparent game boards, as Kelly held his breath. Then, still without a word, the alien crossed his wrists in salute and vanished behind the sliding door. “You will return to your rest chamber now,” Slaich ordered.

Letting out his breath in a long sigh, Kelly stood up and disassembled the playing board, storing the pieces and plates away in their proper places. So it had indeed come down to a toss of a coin, he thought, suddenly very tired. The coin was in the air, and there was nothing to do now but wait … and hope that Achranae had understood.

To:
Office of Director Rodau 248700, A.R.B.: Clars

From:
Office of Director Eftis 379214, Games Studies, Var-4

Date:
21 Lysmo 3829

XXXXX URGENT XXXXX

Dear Rodau,

It is even worse than we expected and I hereby make formal recommendation that the Humans be completely obliterated. The enclosed records should be studied carefully, particularly those concerning the third game that was played. By using his tactical skills to create a game he and his opponent could jointly win, the Human clearly demonstrated both the ability to cooperate with others, and also the rare trait of mercy. Although these characteristics gained him nothing in this particular instance—and, in fact, can be argued to have been liabilities—we cannot assume this will always be the case. The danger that their cooperative nature will lead the Humans into a successful alliance instead of betraying them to their destruction cannot be ignored. If the Chanis had been capable of building alliances they might well have never been stopped.

It is anticipated that a full psycho-physiological dissection of our Human subject will be necessary to facilitate the assault fleet's strategy. We request that the proper experts and equipment be sent as soon as they become available. Please do not delay overlong; I cannot guarantee our Human can be kept alive more than a year at the most.

Eftis

Kelly's first indication that the long wait had ended was a faint grinding sound transmitted through the metal walls of his rest chamber. It startled him from a deep sleep—but he hardly even had time to wonder about it before the room's door suddenly flashed white and collapsed outward. Instantly, there was a minor hurricane in the room, and Kelly's ears popped as the air pressure dropped drastically. But even as he tumbled off the bed three figures in long-snouted spacesuits fought their way in through the gale, and before he knew it he'd been stuffed in a giant ribbed balloon with a hissing tank at the bottom. “Kelly McClain?” a tinny, static-distorted voice came from a box by the air tank as the balloon inflated. “Are you safe?”