Colin Kapp - The Survival Game

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CHAPTER ONE

Evening cupped blood-red hands around the city of Tenarensor. The

quaint towers of the capital of Ortel became less distinct as the yellow sky

darkened through maroon to a deep crimson, shot with the bright stars of

the Hub. In mounting chorus the bright horns called over the rooftops,

summoning the faithful to give thanks to the gods and call blessings on

Oontara, the star king, whose imperious grip on more than a hundred

habitable worlds kept the trade lanes free around the Hub and assured the

vast fortunes of the empire.

Inside the palace, the twirling shadows of the triple suns at last found

rest in the motionless crimson of night. A capricious breeze dallied with

the ornate drapes, penetrating the window frets and disturbing the

priceless fabrics around the gaming table. Star King Oontara watched the

result of its antics, a little surprised, and turned to his guest.

"My Lord Xzan is cold, perhaps?"

Seated at the gaming table between two windows, each of which

contributed its fiery glow to the villainous outline of his face, the visiting

star lord could adequately have personified the principal of some ancient

demonolatry.

"My dear Oontara, you grow soft on this torrid world of yours. I've said

so before. I mind when you could wage great battles with the blood cold as

ice in your veins. Yet now you're disturbed by the merest draft."

"I was thinking only of your comfort, Xzan. I welcome a breath of fresh

air."

"Maybe. But I repeat, you're going soft What use is it for a star king to

ply trade with Terra?"

"Oh, so that's what's been on your mind all evening!" Oontara set about

stacking new tokens on the gaming table. "And I thought you'd tried too

much of the wine, or too few of the women. We sadly misjudge each other,

old comrade."

"We used not. We were a fair match in cunning and guessing."

"Nothing's changed. There's still no matter in which I can't equal or

better you. As for your opinions of Terra, they're born of ignorance."

With a deft movement of his hand, Oontara spread the gaming tokens

across the board, each one falling with mathematical precision. The

gesture was not lost on Xzan, who attempted to follow suit but failed.

"Is this what Terran influence has reduced you to—a gamesmaster?"

asked Xzan critically. "Those who consort with the weak themselves

become weaker."

"You think Terra's weak?"

"The Terrans are a race of weaklings. There's scarcely one I couldn't

destroy with a single hand. And none I couldn't tear apart with two."

"Physically that may be true, but you've forgotten the strength of their

technology. If you want to see controlled power in action, you should see

my Terran-built bark. It's the most singular ship in space."

"I've heard of your ingenious toy. History proves innovators count for

little when faced with trained arms. Come, Oontara! You and I have the

empires to prove it. Would you pit a Terran expeditionary force against a

legion of hereditary star warriors? Of course not."

"Since you answer your own questions, you presumably don't want to

hear my views," said Oontara silkily.

"Heh! It was the ransad, the old knowledge, which carved the parsecs

off the galaxy and made the star empires possible. That was a thousand

years before the infant Terrans even discovered the wheel. All their

technology's won for them is eight habitable planets—all of them

self-governed. They don't even have the strength to rule what they've

gained. I give such playthings to favored concubines."

"You're trying to make me angry, Xzan." Oontara bent low over the

table, examining the geometrical de-signs. "You'll not succeed. You've

already shown your hand."

"I have?" Xzan's evil visage scanned the game and found nothing amiss,

then looked up to meet Oontara's crafty smile.

"Yes. You thought Oontara's flirtation with Terra so unlikely, you had

to come in person to find out what the star fox was up to. You felt

impelled to know what advantage Oontara could gain from Terra which

might be to your detriment. Aren't I right?"

"I admit a certain curiosity."

"Had you asked me direct, I'd have told you. I've seen the light."

"The light?" Xzan's hand faltered on the board, and he misplaced a

minor token, but dared not withdraw.

"Certainly!" Oontara saw the false move and was heartened by it. "We

were taught that the ransad was absolute—that nothing further could ever

be known. The Terrans have proved that knowledge is unending. Whatever

you know is only a steppingstone to the infinite possibilities of what could

be known. Already they can step a tenth of the way to the next galaxy.

Why be limited to this one alone when the universe contains more galaxies

than the Milky Way does stars?"

Xzan was dubious. "You haven't mentioned price. What do these

wonders cost?"

"Merely the promise to assume membership in the Galactic

Federation."

"Federation!" Xzan's scorn was terrible. "Once there were no laws

around the Hub but my word and your word, my whim and your whim.

That has been the way of star kings since time began. Yet you seek an

alliance with upstart weaklings, and talk of federation. I can hear the gods

laughing from here."

"The alliance serves me well. I've access to technology the ransad said

couldn't exist. And if the promise of my plans is fulfilled, I'll one day

control a million worlds where now I've but a hundred. Even Kam Kanizar,

the King of Kings, will sit at my feet."

Xzan spat expressively at the immaculate drapes. "In a federation you'll

control nothing. In return, you'll have lost your warrior's soul. You're

selling your birthright for a handful of platitudes and a headful of ideas."

"You speak as if there were a choice in the matter. There isn't, Xzan.

Our way of life became extinct the day Terra independently discovered

hyperdrive."

"What sort of heresy is this?"

"No heresy—a revelation. We've been worshipping false gods."

"Mine are the gods of strength and terrible vengeance. Show me

anything in the universe stronger than these."

"I intend to. He's a little, fat Terran by the name of Hilary

Rounding—Commissioner for Terran Outspace Technical Aid. Neither you

nor your gods stand a chance against him."

Oontara reached for a golden tassel, which evoked a distant, soulful

bell. A servant appeared, approaching with the deep, obsequious bows

which the presence of star nobility demanded.

"Tell the Commissioner well be pleased to see him now."

The man who entered made no attempt to follow protocol. He strode

into the room with a broad smile and a hand ready for shaking. Oontara

had described him as a little, fat Terran. He could have added that

Rounding was bald, suntanned, and seemingly unaware of the awe in

which star nobility was held.

Xzan regarded the white-clad dumpling with much surprise, and shook

the proffered hand before he had time to consider what the salutation

meant. His reaction to the soft, fleshy skin was one of considerable

distaste. He looked at Oontara appealingly. If this was the star king's idea

of someone who could depose the ancient gods and draw the teeth of

hereditary legions, then Oontara had indeed gone soft.

"Lord Oontara, Lord Xzan," the jovial Terran was saying, "I'd like to

introduce a colleague of mine— Colonel Bogaert, known to the rest of the

universe as Colonel Bogey." He waved his hand toward the door, and a

second Terran entered. "Bogey's my technical and military aide. You

warlike chaps should find a lot in common."

While Rounding had been speaking, his eyes had been active, noting

the devillike scowl of Xzan with a questing interest. Xzan had the

uncomfortable feeling that the fat Terran was reading a lot more from his

face than the star lord wanted him to know. The arrival of the second

Terran served to divert the unwelcome attention.

Colonel Bogaert was as unlike his superior as could be imagined. He

was tall and lean, with muscles hard from a lifetime in the Space Service.

The spring in his step hinted at an internal confidence not explained

entirely by his fitness as a military man. Like most Terran Service

technicians, he was quiet-spoken, yet there was an edge of command at

the back of his voice which gave his casual words more than ordinary

force. Xzan sensed that here was a man who held a great deal in reserve.

Even so, Colonel Bogey was not to Xzan's liking. He had neither the

swaggering superiority of a hereditary warrior nor the desperate cunning

of the professional survivor. Xzan summed him up as a "painted

warrior,"—a derogatory term used around the Hub to describe those who

used a show of arms without true appreciation of the realities of battle.

Oontara read his guest's disapproval with shrewd eyes, and turned to

the Colonel.

"As a military man, Colonel Bogaert, you've surely acquired knowledge

of our war game. Have a look at our play, and tell me what you think of

Xzan's position."

Bogaert gave the board a few minutes' deep consideration.

"Indefensible, of course. My Lord Xzan would be advised to surrender

before his losses became insupportable."

"What!" Xzan rose swiftly to the defense. "My vocabulary admits no

such word as 'surrender.' "

"Does it have a term for complete annihilation?" asked Bogaert quietly.

"The concept exists—for application to enemies and weaklings."

"But not for yourselves?"

"You're bluffing, Colonel. The game's still open."

"Yet can be won by a single move."

"What's that?" Oontara crossed to the board with some surprise. "If I've

victory, I've yet to see its form."

"You don't have victory. But there's a move that could assure it."

"Which?"

Bogaert turned from the board with a slightly apologetic smile. "I fear

to spoil the game for my Lords."

"I'll risk it—if Xzan will also."

"An empty threat's no risk." Xzan was strong with contempt. "I'll treble

the stake—no, raise it tenfold."

"A hundredfold?" queried Oontara.

"Done! Come on, painted warrior! Show our vacillating star king how

empty the words of his champions are."

Bogaert glanced at Rounding. The Commissioner nodded almost

imperceptibly. With one finger, the Colonel moved a small blue token one

square.

Xzan's first expression of jubilation faded as he attempted to complete

his play. Whichever way he turned, his losses mounted exponentially. His

greatest strengths became his overwhelming liabilities. Even the structure

of numbers seemed to join in a conspiracy against him. Finally, he had to

admit a defeat more crushing than any he had ever before suffered on the

gaming board. He turned to Bogaert, and there was a new line of

speculation across his evil brow.

"Only once in a million games could such a sequence happen. You,

Colonel Bogey, were incredibly lucky."

"I'll not deny it. But had that piece of luck not been available, I'd never

have played."

"He's telling you, in his devious Terran way," interjected Oontara, "that

there's absolutely no route by which he could have lost. It's the new logic,

Xzan. You don't see it coming. Before you can find out what's happening,

you're presented with an accomplished fact. That's how I know

federation's inevitable."

"I'm glad you mentioned that," said Rounding. "It explains the purpose

of our visit. Knowing my Lord Xzan was visiting, we came to make a

preliminary approach regarding the advantages of membership in the

Galactic Federation."

"My answer's plain," said Xzan. "You appear to have softened Oontara's

skull, but you'll find me a tougher proposition. Small though my star

holdings are, I still control twelve times the number of planets in your

entire Federation. You're the flea that clings to the hairs of my ferocious

animal. Don't bite too deeply, else my claws'll scratch you out."

"Well spoken!" said Rounding with warm approval. "But you've missed

the point. A colonized planet subject to star rule has a support potential of

less than one ten-thousandth of that of a self-determined, federated

planet. A star colony has no incentive for self-development, since this only

invites further tithes and plunder. When you consider how Terra, unaided

and alone, came to join you lords and kings among the stars, you'll see

how much can be achieved by the right philosophy."

"And what about the divine right of being stronger? This built star

empires beyond your wildest dreams."

"I don't dream of empires, Lord Xzan. I have enough trouble just

running my own department. Come, Bogey, we've taken up too much of

the Lords' time. But I hope we've left Lord Xzan something to think

about."

CHAPTER TWO

The Field of Perfection on Meon was a broad tract of rare, lush grasses

maintained in such flawless condition that the name could never be

doubted. Heading the slope, the unpenetrable purple mountains stretched,

so the legend had it, continuously up to support the arched back of the

sky. Flanking the field, the walls and block towers of the twin fortress

towns Andor and Ute formed a natural continuation of the mountain

barrier and drew together at the foot of the slope where stood the great

palace of Kam Kanizar, the King of Kings, the greatest star monarch of

them all.

The children playing in the field were aware of the great tensions which

beset their home world. Arma, nine Earth years old, rocked her playthings

in a little cradle, and sang them an ancient hymn, as her mother might do

to ease the stress. Zim was a few years older. He had a long-knife and a

gimbal bow, and stalked imaginary goblins and won imaginary battles

against overwhelming odds. One day he would follow his father, the

mighty Kanizar, to fight the demons who dwelled among the stars; for the

moment, however, not really understanding the situation, he was excited

by the promise of change. The whole routine of the palace had been

disturbed. Although they should have been at lessons, the children had

today been awarded an unofficial holiday. Even their personal guards

stood clustered in despondent discussion.

It was nearly dark before the young ones' mother, Miram, the Empress

Kanizar, came to the field to fetch them. This in itself was unusual,

because normally armed guardsmen would have been at her side—but this

evening she came alone, as if the occasion were too personal to permit the

presence of others. Tall and slender, seemingly fragile as a reed, with

honey-gray hair and an air of eternal calm, she bent only slightly as she

answered her children's questions.

"We mustn't be afraid, little ones. We've to be strong. Camin Sher, who

pretends to your father's throne, sends many ships toward Meon. We

think he means to attack us. Messengers have gone to your father, but

even if he knew at this moment, he couldn't be back in time to save us."

"Then we must fight Sher ourselves."

"It isn't as easy as that, Zim. Your father has the main and both

auxiliary fleets with him. We have nothing but a dozen patrol craft of the

home fleet and a few supply ships. That's nowhere near enough to

withstand Sher's battle fleet."

"What will we do then, Mother?"

"The Council is meeting now. Old Sashu will advise us. We think Sher's

not much concerned with our garrison or installations, but that he'd like

to harm you, my children. While you live, there's no substance to his

Pretender's claim. Therefore, it's your safety the Council will consider

most important. Whatever they say we must do without question. For

your father's sake as well as your own."

She turned and led the way back across the flawless turf, with Anna

holding her hand. Zim followed regretfully. Something about his mother's

attitude suggested that he might never again have the chance to play

under the purple mountains. Yet there was also the excitement of

promised change, a break from his cloistered life. Not for one moment did

he imagine that old Sashu would fail to find them safe harbor. After all,

old Sashu advised Kanizar himself, and was not Kanizar the king of all the

kings?

Leaving her children in the care of a trusted retainer, Miram returned

to her chambers and spent some time examining her treasures, mainly

gifts Kam Kanizar had brought her from the most exotic places in the

galaxy. She knew that with the coming of Camin Sher these things must

pass from her possession. Such loss would fill her with regret, but it was a

pain which could be tolerated. Her children, however, were different No

matter what the hardship or personal cost, they must be brought to safety.

This was not only political expediency, but also a necessity of the heart.

Night enveloped her as she sat and made her silent dedication.

A whisper of drapes heralded the arrival of old Sashu, who was older

and more wise in the affairs of the galaxy and of men than anyone else

Miram had ever met. His creased and wizened face held a sympathetic

understanding of her mood, yet his eyes were steady with his customary

resolve.

"Is the Council decided?" asked Miram. Her voice sounded tired,

reflecting the strains of the day.

"I've decided, my Lady, and the Council doesn't disagree. For the safety

of yourself and the Kanizar line, you. and the children must leave Meon

within the hour. You'll travel incognito on a freighter already charted for

Ortel. To cover your departure, our entire fleet, such as it is, will mount an

attack on Sher's war fleet The Pretender will certainly win, but it should

buy us the time we need to get the freighter out unobserved."

Miram considered the prospect and its consequences. She felt numb.

"Such loss of life. Is there no other way?"

"My Lady"—Sashu's voice was infinitely soft— "every man in the fleet

was born for this moment Though it means certain death, there'll not be

one dissenter. Further discussion is useless. We've none of us any choice."

"Forgive me, Sashu. I wasn't questioning your judgment, only

regretting a terrible waste. When we reach Ortel, do we throw ourselves on

the mercy of Oontara?"

"I fear not, my Lady. Since Oontara's infatuation with the Federation,

his whole court has become riddled with spies. Rumor has it that Lord

Xzan even now is his guest, and we know how Xzan favors the Pretender.

No, you must remain incognito and strive to contact Manu Kan. He's a

worthy kinsman of ours, and a merchant of considerable influence in

Tenarensor. He's Kanizar's man, and hell guard you well. Entreat him to

smuggle you to Terra, where you'll be safe. Not even the Pretender would

dare raise a finger against those 'terrible infants' of the galaxy."

"But why should the Terrans protect us? They've no treaty with

Kanizar."

"It's what's known as the new logic. They'll protect you not because you

bring Kanizar's heirs, but because you're a mother in distress."

She nodded dully, not relishing the idea of the days ahead. "What

retinue is coming with me?"

"None, my Lady. It's safer for the three of you to travel alone. Guards

and attendants can't fail to attract attention, and Tenarensor has more

spies than inhabitants. You'll carry no jewels or treasures. You'll be

dressed in very simple clothes. Even your beauty will be a danger to you.

Once off the ship, you must wear a widow's cowl at all times. Do you

understand?"

"I hear you, faithful Sashu. I'll take your advice, just as my Lord Kanizar

has always done. My regret is that you'll not be there to share the safety we

attain."

"Have no concern for old Sashu. It is you who carry the burden. Prince

Zim is the most valuable child in the galaxy. With respect, my Lady, you've

known little of life outside the courts and palaces of kings. Thus, the

journey will fall infinitely harder on you than it would on a serving woman.

If I didn't know your inner strengths, I'd be mortally afraid. As it is, I've

complete confidence that the heirs of Kanizar are in safe hands."

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Colin Kapp - The Survival Game

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