by Timothy Zahn
Regards,
Eftis
To: Office of Director Eftis 379214, Game Studies, Var-4
From: Office of Director Rodau 248700, A.R.B., Clars
Subject: Addendum to 30th annual report.
Date: 34 Forma 3829
Dear Eftis,
Thank you for your recent addenda. You were quite right to bring these Humans to our attention; that is, after all, what you’re out there for.
I find myself, as do you, both interested and alarmed by this race, and I agree totally with your proposal to initiate Phase III. As usual, the authorization tapes will be a few more weeks in coming, but—unofficially—I’m giving you the go-ahead to start your preparations. I also agree with your suggestion that a star-going race be pitted against your Human: an Olyt or Fiwalic, perhaps. I see by your reports that the Olyts are beginning to resent our testing, but don’t let that bother you; your results clearly show they are no threat to us.
Do keep us informed, especially if you uncover more evidence of Chani-like qualities in these aliens.
Sincerely,
Rodau
The glowing, impenetrable sphere of white mist that had surrounded him for the last five minutes dissolved as suddenly as it had formed, and Kelly McClain found himself in a room he had never seen in his life.
Slowly, carefully, he looked around him, heart pounding painfully in his ears. He’d screamed most of the panic out of his system within the first three minutes of his imprisonment, but he could feel the terror welling up into his throat again. He forced it down as best he could. He was clearly no longer in his office at the university’s reactor lab, but losing his head wasn’t going to get him back again.
He was sitting in a semicircular alcove facing into a small room, his chair and about three-quarters of his desk having made the trip with him. The room’s walls, ceiling, and floor were made of a bronze-colored metal and were devoid of any ornamentation. At the right and left ends of the room he could see panels that looked like sliding doors.
There didn’t seem to be a lot to be gained by sitting quietly and hoping everything out there would go away. His legs felt like they might be ready to hold him up again, so he stood up and squeezed his way through the six-inch gap between his desk and the alcove wall. The desk, he noted, had been sheared smoothly, presumably by the white mist or something in it. He went first to the panel in the right-hand wall; but if it was, in fact, a door, he could find no way to open it. The left-hand panel yielded identical results. “Hello?” he called tentatively into the air around him. “Can anyone hear me?”
The flat voice came back at him so suddenly it made him jump. “Good day to you, Human,” it said. “Welcome to the Stryfkar Game Studies Center on Var-4. I trust you suffered no ill effects from your journey?”
A game studies center?
Memories flashed across Kelly’s mind, bits of articles he’d seen in various magazines and tabloids over the past few months telling of people kidnapped to a game center by extraterrestrial beings. He’d skimmed some of them for amusement, and had noted the similarity between the stories; humans taken two at a time and made to play a strange board game against one another before being sent home. Typical tabloid tripe, Kelly had thought at the time.
Which made this an elaborate practical joke, obviously.
So how had they made that white mist?
For the moment, it seemed best to play along. “Oh, the trip was fine. A little boring, though.”
“You have adjusted to your situation very quickly,” the voice said, and Kelly thought he could detect a touch of surprise in it. “My name is Slaich; what is yours?”
“Kelly McClain. You speak English pretty well for an alien—what kind are you, again?’
“I am a Stryf. Our computer-translator is very efficient, and we have had data from several of your fellow Humans.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about them. How come you drag them all the way out here—wherever here is—just to play games? Or is it a state secret?”
“Not really. We wish to learn about your race. Games are one of the psychological tools we use.”
“Why can’t you just talk to us? Or, better still, why not drop in for a visit?” Much as he still wanted to believe this was a practical joke, Kelly was finding that theory harder and harder to support. That voice—like no computer speech he’d ever heard, but nothing like a human voice, either—had an uncomfortable ring of casual truth to it. He could feel sweat gathering on his forehead.
“Talking is inefficient for the factors we wish to study,” Slaich explained offhandedly. “As to visiting Earth, the Transphere has only limited capacity and we have no long-range ships at our disposal. I would not like to go to Earth alone.”
“Why not?” The tension had risen within Kelly to the breaking point, generating a reckless courage. “You can’t look that bad. Show yourself to me—right now.”
There was no hesitation. “Very well, the voice said, and a section of the shiny wall in front of Kelly faded to black. Abruptly, a three-dimensional image appeared in front of it—an image of a two-legged, two-armed nightmare. Kelly gasped, head spinning, as the misshapen head turned to face him. An x-shaped opening began to move. “What do you think, Kelly? Would I pass as a Human?”
“I—I—I—” Kelly was stuttering, but he couldn’t help it; all his strength was going to control his suddenly rebellious stomach. The creature before him was real—no make-up job in the world could turn a man into that. And multicolor hologram movies of such size and clarity were years or decades away … on Earth.
“I am sorry; I seem to have startled you,” Slaich said, reaching for a small control panel Kelly hadn’t noticed. The muscles moved visibly under his six-fingered hand as he touched a button. The image vanished and the wall regained its color. “Perhaps you would like to rest and eat,” the flat voice went on. The door at Kelly’s left slid open, revealing a furnished room about the size of an efficiency apartment. “It will be several hours before we will be ready to begin. You will be called.”
Kelly nodded, not trusting his voice, and walked into the room. The door closed behind him. A normal-looking bed sat next to the wall halfway across the room, and Kelly managed to get there before his knees gave out.
He lay face-downward for a long time, his whole body trembling as he cried silently into his pillow. The emotional outburst was embarrassing—he’d always tried to be the strong, unflappable type—but efforts to choke off the display only made it worse. Eventually, he gave up and let it run its course.
By and by, the sobs stopped coming and he found himself more or less rational once more. Rolling onto his side, unconsciously curling into a fetal position, he stared at the bronze wall and tried to think.
For the moment, at least, he seemed to be in no immediate physical danger. From what he remembered of the tabloid articles, the aliens here seemed truly intent on simply doing their psychological study and then sending the participants home. Everything they’d done so far could certainly be seen in that light; no doubt they had monitored his reactions to both their words and Slaich’s abrupt appearance. He shuddered at the memory of that alien face, feeling a touch of anger. Psychological test or not, he wasn’t going to forgive Slaich very quickly for not giving him some kind of warning before showing himself like that.
The important thing, then, was for him to stay calm and be a good little test subject so he could get home with a minimum of trouble. And if he could do it with a little dignity, so much the better.
He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a soft tone startled him awake. “Yes?”
“It is time,” the computerized voice told him. “Please leave your rest chamber and proceed to the test chamber.”
Kelly sat up, glancing around him. The room’s only door was the one he’d entered by; the test chamber must be out the other door of the room wit
h the alcove. “Where’s the other player from?” he asked, swinging his feet onto the floor and heading for the exit. “Or do you just snatch people from Earth at random?”
“We generally set the Transphere to take from the vicinity of concentrated energy sources, preferably fission or fusion reactors when such exist,” Slaich said. “However, you have made one false assumption. Your opponent is not a Human.”
Kelly’s feet froze halfway through the door, and he had to grab the jamb to keep his balance. This was a new twist. “I see. Thanks for the warning, anyway. Uh … what is he?”
“An Olyt. His race is somewhat more advanced than yours; the Olyts have already built an empire of eight planets in seven stellar systems. They have been studied extensively by us, though their closest world is nearly thirty light-years from here.”
Kelly forced his legs to start walking again. “Does that make us neighbors? You never said how far Earth is from here.”
“You are approximately forty-eight light-years from here and thirty-six from the Olyt home world. Not very far, as distances go.”
The door on the far side of the room opened as Kelly approached. Getting a firm grip on his nerves, he stepped through.
The game room was small and relatively dark, the only illumination coming from a set of dimly glowing red panels. In the center of the room, and taking up a good deal of its floor space, was a complex-looking gameboard on a table. Two chairs—one strangely contoured—completed the furnishings. Across the room was another door, and standing in front of it was an alien.
Kelly was better prepared for the shock this time, and as he stepped toward the table he found his predominant feeling was curiosity. The Olyt was half a head shorter than he, his slender body covered by what looked like large white scales. He was bipedal with two arms, each of his limbs ending in four clawed digits. His snout was long and seemed to have lots of teeth; his eyes were black and set back in a bettle-browed skull. Picture a tailless albino alligator wearing a wide sporran, Sam Browne belt, and a beret. …
Kelly and the Olyt reached their respective sides of the game table at about the same time. The board was smaller than it had first looked; the alien was little more than a double arm-length away: Carefully, Kelly raised his open hand, hoping the gesture would be properly interpreted. “Hello. I’m Kelly McClain; human.”
The alien didn’t flinch or dive down Kelly’s throat. He extended both arms, crossed at the wrists, and Kelly discovered the claws were retractable. His mouth moved, generating strange noises; seconds later the computer’s translation came over an invisible speaker. “I greet you. I am Tlaymasy of the Olyt race.”
“Please sit down,” Slaich’s disembodied voice instructed. “You may begin when you have decided on the rules.”
Kelly blinked. “How’s that?”
“This game has no fixed rules. You must decide between you as to the objective and method of play before you begin.”
Tlaymasy was speaking again. “What is the purpose of this?”
“The purpose is to study an interaction between Olyt and Human,” Slaich said. “Surely you have heard of this experiment from others of your race.”
Kelly frowned across the table. “You’ve been through this before?”
“Over one hundred twenty-eight members of my race have been temporarily taken over the last sixteen years,” the Olyt said. Kelly wished he could read the alien’s expression. The computer’s tone was neutral, but the words themselves sounded a little resentful. “Some have spoken of this game with no rules. However, my question referred to the stakes.”
“Oh. They are as usual for this study: the winner is allowed to return home.”
Kelly’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait a minute. Where did that rule come from?”
“The rules and stakes are chosen by us,” Slaich said flatly.
“Yes, but … What happens to the loser?”
“He remains to play against a new opponent.”
“What if I refuse to play at all?”
“That is equivalent to losing.”
Kelly snorted, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. With dignity, he thought dryly, and began to study the game board.
It looked like it had been designed to handle at least a dozen widely differing games. It was square, with two five-color bands of squares running along its edge; one with a repeating pattern, the other apparently random. Inside this was a checkerboard-type design with sets of concentric circles and radial lines superimposed on it. To one side of the board itself sat a stack of transparent plates, similarly marked, and a set of supporting legs for them; to the other side were various sizes, shapes, and colors of playing pieces, plus cards, multisided dice, and a gadget with a small display screen. “Looks like we’re well equipped,” he remarked to the Olyt, who seemed also to be studying their equipment. “I guess we could start by choosing which set of spaces to use. I suggest the red and—is that color blue?—the square ones. He indicated the checkerboard.
“Very well,” Tlaymasy said. “Now we must decide on a game. Are you familiar with Four-Ply?”
“I doubt it, but my people may have something similar. Describe the rules.”
Tlaymasy proceeded to do so. It sounded a little like go, but with the added feature of limited mobility for the pieces once on the board. “Sounds like something I’d have a shot at,” Kelly said after the alien had demonstrated some of the moves with a butterfly-shaped playing piece. “Of course, you’ve got a big advantage, since you’ve played it before. I’ll go along on two conditions: first, that a third-level or fourth-level attack must be announced one move before the attack is actually launched.”
“That eliminates the possibility of surprise attacks,” Tlaymasy objected.
“Exactly. Come on, now, you know the game well enough to let me have that, don’t you?”
“Very well. Your second condition?”
“That we play a practice game first. In other words, the second game we play will determine who gets to go home. Is that permissible?” he added, looking up at one of the room’s corners.
“Whatever is decided between you is binding,” Slaich replied.
Kelly cocked an eyebrow at his opponent. “Tlaymasy?”
“Very well. Let us begin.”
It wasn’t such a hard game to learn, Kelly decided, though he got off to a bad start and spent most of their practice game on the defensive. The strategy Tlaymasy was using was not hard to pick up, and by the time they finished he found he could often anticipate the Olyt’s next move.
“An interesting game,” Kelly commented as they retrieved their playing pieces from the board and prepared to play again. “Is it popular on your world?”
“Somewhat. The ancients used it for training in logic. Are you ready to begin?”
“I guess so,” Kelly said. His mouth felt dry.
This time Kelly avoided the errors he’d made at the beginning of the practice game, and as the board filled up with pieces he found himself in a position nearly as strong as Tlaymasy’s. Hunching over the board, agonizing over each move, he fought to maintain his strength.
And then Tlaymasy made a major mistake, exposing an arm of his force to a twin attack. Kelly pounced, and when the dust of the next four moves settled he had taken six of his opponent’s pieces—a devastating blow.
A sudden, loud hiss made Kelly jump. He looked up, triumphant grin vanishing. The Olyt was staring at him, mouth open just enough to show rows of sharp teeth. Both hands were on the table, and Kelly could see the claws sliding in and out of their sheaths. “Uh … anything wrong?” he asked cautiously, muscles tensing for emergency action.
For a moment there was silence. Then Tlaymasy closed his mouth and his claws retracted completely. “I was upset by the stupidity of my play. It has passed. Let us continue.”
Kelly nodded and returned hi
s gaze to the board, but in a far more subdued state of mind. In the heat of the game, he had almost forgotten he was playing for a ticket home. Now, suddenly, it looked as if he might be playing for his life as well. Tlaymasy’s outburst had carried a not-so-subtle message: the Olyt did not intend to accept defeat graciously.
The play continued. Kelly did the best he could, but his concentration was shot all to hell. Within ten moves Tlaymasy had made up his earlier loss. Kelly sneaked glances at the alien as they played, wondering if that had been Tlaymasy’s plan all along. Surely he wouldn’t physically attack Kelly while he himself was a prisoner on an unknown world . . . would he? Suppose, for example, that honor was more important to him than even his own life, and that honor precluded losing to an alien?
A trickle of sweat ran down the middle of Kelly’s back. He had no evidence that Tlaymasy thought that way … but on the other hand he couldn’t come up with any reasons why it shouldn’t be possible. And that reaction had looked very unfriendly.
The decision was not difficult. Discretion being the better part and all that—and a few extra days here wouldn’t hurt him. Deliberately, he launched a bold assault against Tlaymasy’s forces, an attack which would require dumb luck to succeed.
Dumb luck, as usual, wasn’t with him. Seven moves later, Tlaymasy had won.
“The game is over,” Slaich’s voice boomed. “Tlaymasy, return to your Transphere chamber and prepare to leave. Kelly McClain, return to your rest chamber.”
The Olyt stood and again gave Kelly his crossed-wrists salute before turning and disappearing through his sliding door. Kelly sighed with relief and emotional fatigue and headed back toward his room. “You played well for a learner,” Slaich’s voice followed him.
“Thanks,” Kelly grunted. Now, with Tlaymasy’s teeth and claws no longer a few feet in front of him, he was starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have thrown the game. “When do I play next?”
