by Tony Healey
"I'm sorry, Uncle," Max said. "I messed up."
Kort exhaled a long breath out his nose. "It's okay, kid. We'll figure it out."
"What should we do?" Max asked. "Officer Wils said he doesn't know where Delta is."
"Yeah, well, what he said and what he knows aren't necessarily the same thing." Kort checked the time on his holographic watch. "And we've got about twenty-two hours and change to settle this, or we're hitchhiking to the Alna System."
"I did detect uneven fluctuations in his speech pattern. He could be hiding something," K1R-B posited.
"He wouldn't be a very good Union officer if he wasn't." Kort ran his fingers through his hair. "We're on his turf, so he has the advantage. We need to come up with a game plan if we're going to get to Delta first."
"If I may," K1R-B interjected. "According to my geographical readouts, there's a drinking establishment near here called The Arctic Spire."
"Hmm . . ." Kort tapped a finger against his lips. "Yeah, that could work. Press the locals; grease a few palms; see if anyone's willing to talk."
"Nice one, Kirby!" Max high-fived the droid.
The crew bundled up and made their way toward the station exit. Kort waved to Annae on the way out. She returned his friendly gesture with a smile, which faded as soon as the group cleared the door. Annae placed a wireless device in her ear and pressed a button.
"They're gone, sir," she said. "Yes, just now . . . Are you sure about this?" Annae swiped a security card through a reader on her computer. "Okay, it's done."
___***___
A whole new level of freezing consumed Max. The snow reached halfway up his shin. His limbs grew numb and weak after a little exertion, and his breathing stuttered. He steadied himself with a hand on K1R-B's shoulder, pausing for a moment to rest.
Kort looked back to find Max at a full stop. He backtracked to his nephew and leaned in toward Max's ear. "I know it's difficult, kid, but you've got to keep moving. Hypothermia can set in quickly out here, so you have to keep the blood flowing."
"I'm so tired," Max said.
"I know. Try this." Kort bounced around on both legs, shaking his arms. "I look ridiculous don't I?"
Max laughed.
"Now you try it," Kort said.
Max released his grip on K1R-B and mimicked his uncle's movements.
"There you go!" Kort picked up the speed. "How's that feel?"
"Warm," Max replied, surprised.
"If the cold overwhelms you at any point, just start flailing," Kort said. "Got it?"
Max twisted side to side, his arms flopping around. "I feel stupid."
"But you're alive, aren't you?" Kort said.
"Look!" K1R-B pointed ahead. "The Arctic Spire is straight on."
A domed building came into view through the blustering gale and heavy snow. A smokestack at the top burped dark vapors into the air. THE ARCTIC SPIRE glowed in neon pink light. The "E" flickered off and on, unable to stay lit for an extended period of time. Max caught a whiff of barbequed meat of some kind, causing his belly to rumble.
"Can you make it?" Kort asked.
Max trudged through the snow toward the pub. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Wait." Kort put his arm out to stop Max. "Before we get in there, we should take precautions . . . in case things go south." He opened his jacket to reveal his concealed blaster. "Did you . . .?"
Max nodded.
"Good," Kort said. "Let's hope we don't have to use them." He reached for the door handle.
"Hey, Uncle Kort?" Max said. "Back there with Officer Wils, what did he mean when he said ‘your unregistered droid?' I filed all the required permits. I remember because they cost me several months of allowance."
"And what a bargain!" K1R-B said.
"Not sure, kid. Could've been a bluff just to rattle our cages." Kort opened the door. "Then again, we don't know anything about Kirby's past. His memory core had been wiped by the time I found his mangled frame drifting through space. Maybe Kirby's previous owner failed to register him. I wouldn't worry about it."
___***___
Every head at the bar turned to look as soon as the door creaked open. A snow flurry swept in along with them. Moisture dripped from their coats onto the bearskin entryway. The trio didn't hold the patrons' attention long, and within moments, the clanking of glasses resumed.
Kort removed his hood, goggles, and thermal liner. "Stay close, and no matter what, don't make eye contact with anyone," he said in hushed tone. "Leave everything to me."
Kort led the way toward an open booth near the front of the pub. Along the way, Max counted at least seven different alien races – some of which he'd only read about – and four droids. Heeding his uncle's advice, he kept his eyes trained on his feet, observing as much as he could through peripheral vision. He, too, removed his protective gear, feeling the pub's glorious warmth on his face.
A raucous crowd gathered around a Twiz tournament in progress at the back of the pub. Flat panel monitors evenly spaced along the walls televised a selection of sports, and adult entertainment.
"Eyes back on the floor, kid," Kort said.
Max blushed. The smell of barbequed meat outside intensified. A droid server passed in front of them, carrying a tray of thick, sizzling chunks on skewers. Drool spilled over Max's bottom lip.
Whatever that is, I want several plates all to myself!
K1R-B scooted in to the middle of a crescent-shaped booth, with Max and Kort taking a seat on either side. Not long after, a bald, green-skinned female with almond-colored eyes, wearing a scoop-necked top approached them at the table.
"What's it gonna be, boys?" she asked.
Kort searched the empty table. "Do you have any menus?"
The server laughed. "New to these parts, I take it?"
"Visiting a friend," Kort said. "Two waters will be great for now."
"Water?" The server rolled her eyes. "Okay, but don't think this gets you out of leaving me a nice tip, pal." She turned and walked away with her nose in the air.
Max frowned, thinking about the delicious-smelling plate of mystery meat he wouldn't get to enjoy.
Kort calculated quick glances around the room, never looking at the same place for too long. He made eye contact with Max and shook his head. No sign of Delta.
Where are you? he wondered.
The server returned with a tray of ice water in clear glasses dribbling with condensation. She set them down in front of the men, and dried her hand on her top. "Anything for the droid?" She smirked.
Kort chuckled. "No, thank you. We've got him on a strict diet."
"You're sharp, old man," she said. "I like that in a human."
"Say, we've only just arrived after a long trip." Kort rested his arm on the low booth wall. "What's new and exciting on Quaris?"
The server scratched her temple. "Honey, if you're looking for new and exciting, you've come to the wrong dump."
"We heard about some funny business with a rogue starship while checking in at the outpost," Kort said. "In your line of work, I thought you might have the juicier details."
"Oh, yeah?" The server held the tray flat against her abdomen. "So what if I did? What's it to you?"
Kort put his hands up. "Simply piqued by curiosity, nothing more."
"Uh huh," she said. "Look, I can tell you which cooks scratch themselves before preparing the food, and which waitresses spit in the drinks – your water is fine – but beyond that, I ain't much good for gossip. Now, can I get you anything else?"
"I think we're all set here," Kort said.
The server bowed her head, and moved to the next table. She looked back at Kort, pointed to a customer's drink, and held a finger to her lips. Kort's face contorted as he stifled a laugh.
What did I miss? Max thought.
Two humanoid figures in matching purple, tech-armored combat suits walked by. Helmets with dark-tinted visors covered their faces. The one on the left stumbled and bumped the table. Max looked up, an involuntary act
ion, and locked eyes with the culprit. He disengaged immediately, but the damage had been done.
"What are you looking at?" a male voice asked.
Kort swooped in to defuse the situation. "Apologies, but the boy . . . well, he has a mental condition." He cupped a hand around his mouth. "He's a bit slow."
"He looks just fine to me," the male said. "Ain't that right, boy?"
Max stared at his hands on the table, trying his best to conceal his panic.
"I believe what we have here is a misunderstanding." Kort reached into his pocket for a credit chit. "I'm sure we can work this out."
The male smacked the chit from Kort's hand onto the table. "I'm not interested in your credits, old timer."
"We heard you asking about a starship," a female voice said. "Perhaps you shouldn't be poking your nose into business that doesn't concern you."
"Let's make this interesting." The male shoved Kort. "You've got a credit chit, so you must be a gambling man."
"Easy now," Kort said. "We don't want any trouble."
"There's an open Twiz table back there." The male pointed to the rear of the pub. "If your ‘slow' boy can beat me, I'll tell you what I know about the ship."
"Please, we've apologized," Kort said. "We'll just be on our way."
The female drew her blaster and pointed it at Max's head. "Or I could just kill him right now if you'd prefer."
Kort put his hands up. "What do you want from us?"
"I already told you," the male said. "The pipsqueak plays me in a game of Twiz. He wins, I talk. He loses . . . well, my partner here may have a few ideas."
The female waved her blaster.
"You can't be serious," Kort said. "He's just a boy."
"I'll do it," Max said.
The male slammed his fist on the table. "Atta boy!"
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Kort shouted.
"Doesn't seem we have much choice, Uncle."
The female moved behind Kort and dug her blaster into his back. "And to make sure you don't get any wild ideas, you're going to keep me company while they play."
"Max, listen to me." Kort grimaced. "You don't know what you're getting into. The stakes are too high!"
Max raised the corner of his mouth. "Guess I'd better win."
7
The male humanoid sat down in an empty chair at the table. The Twiz board lit up with bright white LEDs. He grabbed a stack of black-backed playing cards and shuffled them. Max took a seat across the table from him. The female humanoid kept her blaster out of sight against Kort's back, and guided him to the rear of the pub to watch. K1R-B followed them.
"You." The female looked at K1R-B and nodded toward a corner. "Get over there and stay put. If I see you do anything I don't like, I'm going to put a crater-sized hole in your pal here. Got it?"
"Y-y-yes," K1R-B replied. It moved to the corner as requested, a few feet away from the table.
"I'll assume you're familiar with the rules," the male said.
"Yeah," Max answered.
"Good." He slid the deck of cards in front of Max. "You're going to lose no matter what, but I'd be disappointed if you didn't at least make it interesting."
Max cut the deck, splitting it right down the middle, give or take a card or two. The male scooped up both stacks, combined them, and reshuffled.
"So, are you at least going to tell me your name before we play?" Max asked.
"What does it matter?"
Max wiped crumbs off the table. "It's just common courtesy between competitors, wouldn't you say?"
"Sportsmanship, eh?" The male leaned back in his chair. "I respect that. Name's Sice. The old man, he called you ‘Max,' was it?"
"Maximillian, technically, but no one calls me that."
Sice chortled. "You've got spunk, pipsqueak. I'll give you that."
Max looked back at the female. "And you are?"
"Who I am is of no concern to you," she said. "Best focus on the game, considering it's your life that's at stake."
Max bit his lip and returned to the game.
Twiz is a grid-based card game that combines a player's skill and luck, often compared to an ancient strategy game humans invented called Othello. The grid is 4 x 4, totaling sixteen squares, and programmed with the game's rules. It reads thin microchips inside the cards to maintain the board, provide accurate scorekeeping, and prevent usage of counterfeit cards – a growing problem within the sport.
Each player wields a hand of five cards, and draws one after each turn until the deck has been depleted. In addition to standard numbered cards – 2 through Ace, with Ace being high – Twiz features bonus cards specific to the game called ‘Foils,' each with unique attributes. These foils are powerful, but rare – only two per deck. When used at just the right time, a savvy player can shift the tide of the match in their favor. If played too early, the opponent has time to formulate a proper defense strategy, rendering the card useless.
A player uses their turn to place a card in any unoccupied square. The object is to ‘trap' your opponent's card between two or more of yours that equal a number higher than your opponent's. If successful, the player captures their opponent's card, which is then removed from the board, and is awarded a point. If a player claims an entire row – horizontal, vertical, or diagonal – the player is awarded a ‘Gozot.'
Winning a game of Twiz can be achieved through myriad ways:
Points – The game ends once each player's hand is empty. Each card claimed from an opponent during a match is worth one point. The player with the highest point total is declared the winner.
Gozots – A player can win the game by accumulating a total of ten gozots during play.
Blackout – If at any point a player claims all sixteen squares on the grid, the games ends, and they are awarded the match, even if trailing in points.
"Last chance to back out, squirt," Sice said. "No sense getting humiliated before you die."
"What's the matter?" Max said. "You worried about losing to a kid?"
The female laughed. "Watch yourself, Sice. This one's a real booster rocket."
"Yeah, well, let's see if your skills back-up your arrogance." Sice's hand hovered above the stack of cards. "I'll even let you do the honors of getting this underway."
Max's moved his finger to the START button, and let it hang there for a moment.
"Second thoughts?" Sice asked.
Max narrowed his eyes and slammed his finger on the button. A short audio clip of generic space metal music played, followed by a male announcer's voice welcoming the competitors to the game.
"Ladies and gentlemen; boys and girls; things with fins, claws, horns, and numerous eyeballs; welcome to Twiz: Tournament Edition!"
[Canned applause]
"As a reminder to our players, cheating in any form will not be tolerated, and violators will be subjected to penalty, up to and including public flogging. Okay, maybe not, but just don't cheat. Keep it clean!"
[Canned laughter]
"Now without any further ado, put the kids to bed, crank up the noise, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, because it's Twiz night!"
[Canned crowd noise]
A digital arrow appeared on the scoreboard, flipping back and forth between Max and Sice at a frantic speed. Seconds later, the arrow slowed until coming to a full stop on Sice.
[Canned groans]
"Lady Luck has smiled upon player one, but don't worry, folks, she can be fickle. It's anyone's game! Let's see who comes out on top in this exciting match-up."
"You feel that energy?" Sice rubbed his arms. "Lightning in your veins." He dealt the first five cards each to himself and Max, and then placed the remainder in a stack beside the grid.
Max inspected his cards, disappointed by the draw.
Dang. No foils.
"Not a great Twiz face, pipsqueak." Sice arranged his cards, and played a three of clubs in row two, square one. The LEDs changed from white to red. "Guess you didn't get the hand you wanted."
Shoot, Max thought. I need to be more careful. I can't let him read me.
"How about you take off the helmet of yours and make this fair?" Max said.
Sice laughed. "Nah, I'm good."
Max played a six of spades in row one, square one. The LEDs turned blue around it.
Sice played a five of diamonds in row one, square two. The LEDs blinked red momentarily, and turned solid. Sice captured his first card, earning a 1-0 lead on the scoreboard. "Well, well. Would you look at that?" he said. "Better get used to it, runt. You're in for a long night."
Kort lowered his head.
___***___
Onlookers crowded around the Twiz table to cheer on the match. Max tried to block out the pungent combination of raw fish and honey-roasted peanuts on someone's breath.
Focus, Max, he thought. It's not over yet.
Despite Max's best efforts, Sice held a commanding 20-13 lead, thanks in large part to the red dwarf foil he'd played early in the match. Sice also had six gozots to Max's four. With only five cards left in the deck, Max knew the game was nearing its conclusion, and what losing would mean. He needed a strong finish to bounce back and claim victory, but felt his optimism fading.
Max played a ten of hearts on square three, row three, claiming one of Sice's cards.
Every little bit helps, but it's still 20-14.
Max drew his next card: the supernova foil. A warm sensation rushed through his body. With Sice watching his every move, he managed to hold his elation in check, careful not to exhibit any revealing body language.
Sice played a Jack of hearts on square three, row one. Although not high enough to claim Max's Ace of spades beside it, it blocked Max from the horizontal gozot he'd been building toward. Sice drew his next card and added it to his hand.
"Aww," Sice mocked. "I'm afraid that's going to be your death knell, pipsqueak."
Things looked grim, but Max had a secret weapon in his hand. He scrutinized the grid, analyzing each potential play, and then he saw it. The opening he needed presented itself.
Unless my calculations are off, his cards are spaced far enough apart for me to . . .
