“Now, Uncle!” Fleta called.
Clip, hovering nervously near, was more than ready. He flitted to the ground, converting to his natural form and landing squarely on four feet. He saw the hummingbird sail up out of harm’s way; then he rammed horn-first into the bulk of the ogre tangled in the foliage.
His first strike caught the monster from behind. His horn sank in half its length before he jerked it out, but the brute had not received a mortal wound. The ogre wrenched around, a hamfist striking out. It smashed into a large branch, snapping it off—and Clip’s second strike drove in under the ogre’s massive arm, seeking the heart.
But the angle was wrong, and he only punctured a gross lung. He jerked back, and the ogre reached for him with both arms, catching at his head. Unable to get away, Clip launched forward, his horn driving up the ogre’s flaring nose.
This time the stroke was true: the tip of the horn punctured the creature’s small brain. The ogre made a gasp of irritation, and collapsed.
Clip backed out of the foliage, assuming manform. The ogre was entirely out of sight; only the broken branches and scuff-marks on the ground showed where he had gone. “Cover the traces so he can’t be found,” Fleta said. She drew from her pocket a bright blue flag.
Clip was appalled. “Thou hast our flag? We dare not touch it, lest we be disqualified!”
“Nay, this be not our flag,” she said brightly. “See, it be brighter, and not quite the right shape; it were the best we could do on the spur.”
“But—”
“I shall just put this fake flag up where ours was,” she explained.
“But all they have to do is take the real one, which they can readily do—”
“An they see it, aye,” she agreed. “Thou must make sure they do not.” She ran back toward the original flag location.
Clip went back to look at the dead ogre. Sure enough, the original flag was still stuffed in its ear. He fetched a broken bough and used it to sweep the ground, masking the traces.
Then he set it on the ogre, further concealing him. Only a person who knew where to look would find either ogre or flag.
Yet wasn’t this merely delaying the inevitable? If the ogres were stupid enough to take the fake flag back, they would realize that it was fake when the authorities checked it. Then they would return to make a thorough search, and find the real one.
Unless—
Suddenly the full nature of Fleta’s ploy came clear to him! Beautiful! He changed to hawkform and flew back toward the other end of the arena, where the red flag still flew.
He encountered other unicorns, in their several forms, harassing the advancing ogres. He stopped a moment with each, quickly explaining what was to occur, and how each should react. He found distressingly few; the ogres had been striking back with increasing effectiveness, and taken a heavy toll of the defenders.
He reached the vicinity of the red flag. A number of ogres were clustered at the base of its tree, ready to defend it against any enemy intrusion. At this stage, no such intrusion was likely; the ranks of the unicorns had been too drastically depleted. It was obvious that the ogres were going to win the siege.
But Clip went from ‘corn to ‘corn, explaining. Some were incredulous, but it was the only hope remaining, and they agreed to do what he asked. He knew that Fleta was doing the same, back near the blue flag.
There was a roar from the distance: the ogres had broken through to the flag! The ground shook as they charged back in a mass, and soon the lead ogre appeared, taking a swatch of blue.
A firefly flew up to Clip. He knew it was Neysa, giving up on the red flag; she was too small in this form, and too vulnerable in her womanform. “It be all right,” he said to her, quietly so that no ogre would overhear. “Just follow my lead!”
She reverted to natural form, showing doubt in every mannerism. How could he stop the ogres now?
All around were unicorns, looking similarly dejected. Some few tried to balk the ogres, but these were quickly dispatched. It was obviously a lost cause.
The ogre with the blue flag charged up to the tree and climbed it. When he got high up on it, the thing bent and swayed, but he got far enough to reach the red flag. He jammed the two together. A unicorn with a percussion horn made a loud sound very like a gong. Two sides could play the game of special noises! There was a roaring cheer from the other ogres.
Clip assumed stallion form and blew a sad note. The other unicorns walked slowly toward him. None looked happy.
The ogres, gruffly cheerful, punched each other roughly on the shoulders and tramped away. They would have a monstrous celebration tonight! The unicorns watched them go without comment.
When the last ogre had departed, Clip assumed hawkform and flew up to the set of flags. Several sharp pecks with his beak loosened the red one. He hauled it clear, and flew with it toward the region of the other flag. The other unicorns followed, making no exclamations, watching for any ogres who might be lagging behind. The ogres had been too stupid to realize that the game had not yet finished, because the dead had not yet returned to life. The Adepts of course would know, but were barred from interfering; they could only watch and grind their teeth. They could not cry warning, because this would be so obvious a foul that their side would forfeit.
Soon Clip reached the spruce tree where the dead ogre lay. He plunged into the foliage and set the red flag at the ogre’s ear with the blue one.
The two flags touched. There was the sound of a gong. The casualties came back to life, unicorn and ogre alike. This time the siege really was over, and the unicorns were the victor.
“That be our point!” Neysa exclaimed. “Unicorn point!”
Indeed it was. They had done it for Stile.
Chapter 14
Agape
I hate this!” she protested.
“There be no other way,” Bane reminded her. “For the first game, each side chose its own champion. For the second, each chose the champion o’ the other. For this third, each had to compromise. We vetoed their first and second choices, so they vetoed ours; thus thou must bear our standard.”
“But against Citizen Tan!” Agape said. “He hates me!”
“Aye, and with reason,” he said, smiling. “Was thy body the mare used to tweak his hardware. But this be a game; thou hast merely to play the grid properly, and he can do naught ‘gainst thee.”
“Oh, Bane, I am afraid!”
He held her, but could not console her. “I would free thee o’ this duty an I could, but it be set. The games be e’en; thou must win this one for Blue!”
“I am afraid I will lose!”
“Just remember the strategy: keep it in Mental an thou canst, and in Machine if that be thine option. Then he can not get at thee directly.”
“He will find a way!” she said with dire premonition. “Oh, I could just melt!”
“Later, after thou has won the game,” he said, smiling. But she was not reassured. She felt singularly inadequate to the occasion. How could she, an alien creature, hope to prevail against a hard-driving malignant Citizen? She wished most ardently that she had never had to return from Moeba, once she had escaped Proton. But that would have meant continued separation from Bane, and from Nepe, and that, too, was intolerable.
All too soon it was time. In the morning she approached the designated console. Citizen Tan was already there, staring at her fixedly. She knew that he did not choose to distinguish between herself and Fleta, and well remembered his pain of the body and pride, years ago, and he had never forgiven those injuries. He was a man bent on vengeance.
“So the amoeba slides in,” he said, unsmiling.
She did not answer. She took her place at the console and tried not to shrink too visibly from his gaze.
The screen lighted. She almost dissolved with relief: she had the numbers!
She moved her hand carefully, so as to make no foolish error. She touched one finger to 2. MENTAL. There, she had done it! There could be no physical
contact between them. She felt as if she had won a significant encounter already. She could not have asked for a better break.
Tan made his selection, as if it were a matter of indifference, and the screen blinked and displayed the secondary grid: 2D. ANIMAL-ASSISTED MENTAL. This meant that they would be playing through animals, commanding them or sending their directives to them by other means. Agape was surprised; she had not thought Citizen Tan to have any interest whatever in animals.
Then she suffered a wash of apprehension: surely he was up to something malignant! Somehow he hoped to get at her physically through those animals. Yet how could he, in the mental category?
Alas, that became all too quickly evident. The definition of “animal” included not only the conventional dogs, cats, horses and such, but also androids of all types, and also the human animal. Thus she found herself playing the primary grid again, this time for the nature of the animal encounter.
Bemused, she made what she feared were bad choices, and found herself in the very category she most wanted to avoid: NAKED PHYSICAL, HUMAN ANIMAL. This was a trap of MENTAL that she had somehow overlooked: it reopened everything else. She played the tertiary grid in a blur, certain that disaster was upon her.
Abruptly it ended: they were in Flat Surface Interactive, Human Animal-Assisted, Naked Physical-Surrogate Sex.
“Do each of you understand the nature of the selected game?” the voice of the Game Computer inquired.
“Naturally,” Tan snapped.
“N-no,” Agape confessed. She only knew it was trouble. How could she have let the Citizen stampede her into this?
“I will explain for the benefit of the one who pleads ignorance,” the voice said. “Each player will select an actor of the same sex from the available menu. The actors will be attuned to thoughts sent by their players, and will be responsive to such thoughts if they are not in conflict with the actors’ natural inclinations. One player will be designated the initiator, the other the receiver; these designations will reverse at three-hour intervals. The initiator will within the period seduce the receiver—”
“What?” Agape cried faintly.
“And be adjudged the winner of the fall,” the machine continued blithely. “If the initiator fails in that period, the receiver wins the fall. Then the receiver will become the initiator and will seduce the new receiver, with the fall similarly determined. For the final period the roles will reverse again. The strictures against force will be relaxed in the final period, so as to ensure a decision. If the initiator does not succeed, the victory will go to the receiver, as the winner of two of three falls.”
“What am I to do?” Agape cried in despair.
Citizen Tan said something impolite and very much to the point. He, of course, was enjoying this. He had succeeded after all in bringing her to a sexual encounter, and he intended to have his measure of flesh.
“The setting will be the Commons,” the Game Computer said. “Neither actor will be allowed to leave it until the game is concluded, on pain of default. Interference by others will not be tolerated. You will now select your actors, who will be routed to the Commons without being advised of their roles.”
“But do you mean real people?” Agape cried. “How can we—”
“A further explanation,” the machine said patiently. “The actors will be selected from a pool formed by volunteers that is maintained at a constant level. Each volunteer has been examined and approved, then awareness of this process has been deleted. Only after the game is complete will they understand that they have played their parts. They will be compensated, and of course they will have a certain notoriety because of the significance of this particular game. No onus attaches to them for what occurs. They are real people, but they understood the range of parts available when they volunteered.”
“Oh.” It was all she could manage at the moment.
“Now you will make your selections. Touch the screen to enlarge a card, and touch SELECT when the card is the one you choose.” A pattern of pictures and very fine text appeared on the screen.
Agape nerved herself to glance at Citizen Tan. He was looking at his own screen. It was evident that he was having absolutely no trouble with this. He had probably played this game before. But how could she try to seduce him, or his agent—his actor? Even with her actress? What would Bane think?
She knew the answer to the last question. Bane wanted her to win this game and the tourney, so that Citizen Blue would prevail. Bane loved her, but he was a realist. He would tell her to do what she had to do.
But could she? The very notion of seeking a sexual encounter with another man, even via a surrogate, appalled her. All she knew of this subject she had learned with Bane. Granted the necessity, still she doubted she could do it.
Then she thought of Nepe, captive of the Citizens. Her child. A victory here would bring her back. Now Agape knew that she would do it.
She touched a picture. Immediately it expanded to fill the screen. It showed a beautiful young woman with an expansive halo of black hair, dramatically erect and full breasts, and a confident expression. The text said: NAME: Milda. SEX: Female. AGE: 23 Earth Years. EMPLOYER: Citizen Bliven. ASSIGNMENT: On Call.
Agape read no further. No wonder the woman was beautiful; she was the Citizen’s mistress! She was apt to be an easy mark for an amorous serf, because Citizen sex, by most accounts, was demanding and not particularly pleasant for the serf, male or female. The Citizen had to be pleased, at all costs; the penalty for failure was to be fired, and that was bad news on Proton. Thus if a man came who sought sex on an equal basis, the woman should be flattered.
She touched the picture again, and it condensed back to its prior place, surrounded by others. Agape touched a new one.
This showed a relatively homely woman. There was nothing wrong with her appearance; she just was not anything a man would choose to pursue. This one might therefore diminish the male actor’s ardor.
Agape realized immediately that her notion was flawed. Suppose a handsome man pursued and flattered such a woman? Unaccustomed to such attention, she might welcome it, and do whatever the man asked in an effort to please him. Agape, as the player, could tell her no, but that might not carry much weight, being contrary to her natural inclinations. She touched the picture again, and it diminished.
The third picture seemed about right: a pretty but slightly older woman with brown hair and brown eyes. She would surely be quite fetching when she smiled, and less attractive otherwise. The legend said: NAME: Deerie. SEX: Female. AGE: 30 Earth Years. EMPLOYER: Citizen Tosme. ASSIGNMENT: Foot Massager. INTELLIGENCE: 1.15. CREATIVITY: 0.95 STABILITY: 1.21.
Agape nodded. This looked very good. Deerie was old enough to know her mind, especially with a stability quotient twenty-one per cent above the norm. She had a simple menial job which might be a cover for “on call” and probably would accede to whatever demand the Citizen might make, but would be no easy mark for anyone else. Female serfs did not even count Citizen seductions as sex; it was just an involuntary necessity. This was a reasonably smart, unimaginative woman perhaps halfway through her Proton tenure; she would want to get all the way through without problems, and take her pay to her home world. Serfs who made it through could retire quite comfortably elsewhere; the system made it worth their while to undergo this servitude.
But how would this one be if she had to seduce a strange man? Here that lower creativity score should help: she would accept Agape’s bright notions as her own, not thinking to question them or to develop other options. Would her age count against her in this respect? Perhaps not, for she possessed quite comely features and was well proportioned throughout. Probably she exercised, because she looked physically fit. That could help if it came to violence—as, unfortunately, it could.
Agape touched SELECT. She would take Deerie as her actress. Citizen Tan, naturally, had long since chosen.
“Go to the two privacy booths indicated,” the Game Computer said. A line appeared on
the floor, leading away.
She followed her line, glad that it did not go in the same direction as Citizen Tan’s line. At least she would be away from him physically.
The line led to a glassed-in booth. She entered and closed the door. There was a comfortable chair. That was all.
She sat in the chair. Immediately the wall before it became a picture: the Commons, the region of relaxation for serfs when they were not working for their Citizens. It had many couches and beds, food machines, pools, and screens on which recorded entertainments could be evoked. It was a pleasant place; she had visited it many times with Bane, and many more times without him, during his absences in Phaze. She had brought Nepe here, in the early years before Nepe disappeared; the child had proved to be precocious with the entertainments. The rule was that serfs were free to do whatever they wished, here, provided it did not directly interfere with the pleasures of others. They could indeed indulge in sexual activity here, in full view; those who did not want to watch were free to look elsewhere. Thus this was the proper setting for a game such as this.
“Your opponent has the onus,” the Game Computer said. “He has therefore been advised of the identity of your actress. Speak cautiously; from this moment all that you say will be conveyed to your actress as soundless thought.”
“But—” Agape started.
The picture on the wall jumped, as if someone had reacted. Agape realized that her word had been relayed, and that Deerie had heard in her mind But—! Naturally she had jumped; she didn’t understand why such a thought had come into her head.
She kept quiet and watched, and after a moment Deerie resumed her motion. Agape realized that the wall-picture she saw was what the actress saw; it moved as her vision did. How this effect was achieved Agape wasn’t certain; she had never played this particular game before and never explored this effect. Perhaps cameras on the woman relayed their pictures, and the Game Computer assembled these into a holographic image that duplicated what the woman should be seeing. For it was three-dimensional; it seemed that the wall was glass, and that she was seeing through it into the Commons.