Pawn’s Gambit

To: Office of Director Rodau 248700, Alien Research Bureau, Clars

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

Subject: 30th annual report, submitted 12 Tai 3829.

Date: 4 Mras 3829

Dear Rodau,

I know how you hate getting addenda after a report has been processed, but I hope you will make an exception in this case. Our most recently discovered race—the Humans—was mentioned only briefly in our last annual report, but I feel that the data we have since obtained is important enough to bring to your attention right away.

The complete results are given in the enclosed film, but the crux of the problem is a disturbing lack of con­sistency with standard patterns. In many ways they are un­sophisticated, even primitive; most of the subjects reacted with terror and even hysteria when first brought here via Transphere. And yet, unlike most primitives, there is a mental and emotional resilience to the species which frankly surprises me. Nearly all of them re­covered from their fear and went on to play the Stage-I game against their fellows. And the imagination, skill, and sheer aggressive­ness used in the playing have been inordinately high for such a young species, prompting more than one off-the-record comparison between Humans and the Chanis. I suppose it’s that, more than anything else, that made me unwilling to let this data ride until our next report. Confined as they are to their home planet, the Humans are certainly no threat now; but if they prove to be even a twelfth as dangerous as the Chanis they will need to be dealt with swiftly.

Accordingly, I am asking permission to take the extraordinary step of moving immediately to Phase III (the complete proposal is attached to my report). I know this is generally forbidden with non-spacing races, but I feel it is vital that we test Humans against races of es­tablished ability. Please give me a decision on this as soon as possible.

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 with 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 his 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?”

“In approximately twenty hours. The Transphere must be reset after the Olyt is returned to his world.”

Kelly had been about to step into his rest chamber. “Twenty hours?” he echoed, stopping. “Just a second.” He turned toward the alcove where his desk was sitting—but had barely taken two steps when a flash of red light burst in front of him. “Hey! he yelped, jumping backwards as heat from the blast washed over him. “What was that for?”

“You may not approach the Transphere apparatus.” Slaich’s voice had abruptly taken on a whiplash bite.

“Nuts! If I’m being left to twiddle my thumbs for a day I want the books that are in my desk.”

There was a momentary silence, and when Slaich spoke again his tone had moderated. “I see. I suppose that is all right. You may proceed.”

Kelly snorted and walked forward warily. No more bursts of light came. Squeezing around to the front of his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and extracted three paperbacks, normally kept there for idle moments. From another drawer came a half-dozen journals that he’d been meaning to read; and finally, as an afterthought, he scooped up a couple of pens and a yellow legal pad. Stepping back to the center of the room, he held out his booty. “See? Perfectly harmless. Not a single neutron bomb in the lot.”

“Return to your rest chamber.” Slaich did not sound amused.

With the concentration needed during the game, Kelly had temporarily forgotten he’d missed both lunch and dinner. Now, though, his growling stomach was demanding attention. Following Slaich’s instructions, he requested and obtained a meal from the automat-type slots in one wall of his cubicle. The food was bland but comfortably filling, and Kelly felt his spirits rising as he ate. Afterwards, he chose one of his paperbacks and stretched out on the bed. But instead of immediately beginning to read, he stared at the ceiling and thought.

Obviously, there could be no further question that what was happening to him was real. Similarly, there was no reasonable hope that he could escape his captors. There were no apparent exits from the small complex of rooms except via the Transphere, whose machinery was hidden behind metal walls and was probably incomprehensible anyway. He had only Slaich’s word that the Stryfkar intended to send him home, but since they apparently had made—and kept—similar promises to other humans, he had no real reason to doubt them. True, the game rules this time seemed to be different, but Tlaymasy had implied the Stryfkar had pulled this on several of his own race and had released them on schedule. So the big question, then, was whether or not Kelly could win the next game he would have to play.

He frowned. He’d never been any great shakes as a games player, winning frequently at chess but only occasionally at the other games in his limited repertoire. And yet, he’d come surprisingly close today to beating an alien in his own game. An alien, be it noted, whose race held an empire of eight worlds. The near-victory could be meaningless, of course—Tlaymasy might have been the equivalent of a fourth-grader playing chess, for instance. But the Olyt would have had to be a complete idiot to suggest a game he wasn’t good at. And there was also Slaich’s reaction after the game; it was pretty clear the Stryf hadn’t expected Kelly to do that well. Did that mean that Kelly, average strategist that he was, was still better than the run-of-the-mill alien?

If that was true, his problems were essentially over. Whoever his next opponent was, it should be relatively easy to beat him, especially if they picked a game neither player had had much experience with. Four-Ply might be a good choice if the new tester wasn’t another Olyt; the game was an interesting one and easy enough to learn, at least superficially. As a matter of fact, it might be worth his while to try marketing it when he got home. The game market was booming these days, and while Four-Ply wasn’t likely to make him rich, it could conceivably bring in a little pocket change.

On the other hand … what was his hurry?

Kelly squirmed slightly on the bed as a rather audacious idea struck him. If he really was better than most other aliens, then it followed that he could go home most any time he wanted, simply by winning whichever game he was on at the moment. And if that were true, why not stick around for another week or so and learn a few more alien games?

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. True, there was an element of risk involved, but that was true of any money-making scheme. And it couldn’t be that risky—this was a psychology experiment, for crying out loud! “Slaich?” he called at the metallic ceiling.

“Yes?”

“If I lose my next game, what happens?”

“You will remain here until you have won or until the test is over.”

So it didn’t sound like he got punished or anything if he kept losing. The Stryfkar had set up a pretty simple-minded experiment here, to his way or thinking. Human psychologists would probably have put together something more complicated. Did that imply humans were better strategists than even the Stryfkar?

An interesting question, but for the moment Kelly didn’t care. He’d found a tiny bit of maneuvering space in the controlled environment they’d set up, and it felt very satisfying. Rules like these, in his book, were made to be bent.

And speaking of rules … Putting aside his paperback, Kelly rolled off the bed and went over to the cubicle’s folding table. Business before pleasure, he told himself firmly. Picking up a pen and his legal pad, he began to sketch the Four-Ply playing board and to list the game’s rules.

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

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

Subject: Studies of Humans

Date: 3 Lysmo 3829

Dear Rodau,

The Human problem is taking on some frightening aspects, and we are increasingly convinced that we have stumbled upon another race of Chanis. Details will be transmitted when all analyses are complete, but I wanted to send you this note first to give you as much time as possible to recommend an assault force, should you deem this necessary.

As authorized, we initiated a Phase III study eight days ago. Our Human has played games against members of four races: an Olyt, a Fiwalic, a Spromsa, and a Thim-fra-chee. In each case the game agreed upon has been one from the non-Human player’s world, with slight modifications suggested by the Human. As would be expected, the Human has consistently lost—but in each case he has clearly been winning until the last few moves. Our contact specialist, Slaich 898661, suggested early on that the Human might be deliberately losing; but with both his honor and his freedom at stake Slaich could offer no motive for such behavior. However, in a conversation of 1 Lysmo (tape enclosed) the Human freely confirmed our suspicions and indicated the motive was material gain. He is using the testing sessions to study his opponents’ games, expecting to introduce them for profit on returning to his world.

I’m sure you will notice the similarities to Chani psychology: the desire for profit, even at the casual risk of his safety, and the implicit belief that his skills are adequate to bring release whenever he wishes. History shows us that, along with their basic tactical skills, it was just these characteristics that drove the Chanis in their most unlikely conquests. It must also be emphasized that the Human shows no signs of military or other tactical training and must therefore be considered representative of his race.

Unless further study uncovers flaws in their character which would preclude an eventual Chani-like expansion, I personally feel we must consider annihilation for this race as soon as possible. Since we obviously need to discover the race’s full strategic capabilities—and since our subject refuses to cooperate—we are being forced to provide a stronger incentive. The results should be enlightening, and will be sent as soon as they are available.

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.

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?”

Kelly’s ears popped again as his three rescuers tipped him onto his back and carried him carefully toward the ruined door. “I’m fine,” he said toward the box. “Is that you, Achranae?”

It was almost fifteen seconds before the voice spoke again; clearly, the Olyt’s translator wasn’t as good as the Stryfkar’s. “Yes. I am pleased you are still alive.”

Kelly’s grin was wide enough to hurt, and was probably even visible through his beard. “Me too. Damn, but I’m glad you got my message. I wasn’t at all sure you’d caught it.”

They were out in the Transphere chamber before the response came, and Kelly had a chance to look around. In the ceiling, stretching upwards through at least two stories’ worth of rock, was a jagged hole. Moving purposefully through the chamber itself were a dozen more Olyts in the white, armor-like suits. “It was ingenious. I feared that I would not be allowed to leave, though, once I had seen the board.”

“Me too—but it looks like we had nothing to worry about.” Kelly grinned again—it was so good to talk to a friend again! “I’ll lay you any odds that the Stryfkar haven’t yet noticed what I did. It’s the old can’t-see-the-forest-for-the-trees problem; they’d seen that four-tiered board used for so many different games that it never occurred to them that you and I would automatically associate it with Skymarch, the only game we’d ever played on it. So while they took my kingdoms-and-dragon setup at face value, you were able to see the markers as a group of objects in space. I gambled that you’d realize they represented our home worlds and this one, and that you’d take note of the relative distances I’d laid out. I guess the gamble paid off.”

Kelly was beneath the ceiling hole now, and a pair of dangling cables were being attached to his balloon’s upper handholds. “We shall hope that winning such risks is characteristic of your race,” Achranae said. “We have destroyed the Stryfkar base and have captured records that show a large force will soon be coming here. We have opened communication with your race, but they have not yet agreed to a tactical alliance. Perhaps your testimony will help persuade them. It is hoped that you, at least, will agree to aid us in our tactical planning.”

The ropes pulled taut and Kelly began moving upward. “I’m almost certain we can find some extra help on Earth,” Kelly told the Olyt grimly. “And as for me, it’ll be a pleasure. The Stryfkar have a lot to learn about us pawns.”