Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (33 page)

Then there was Arkan9 unexpectedly reappearing after 25 years, seeing Brandon for only an hour, and then abruptly leaving again. Hardly a day went by when Brandon didn’t think on some teaching of Arkan9’s. Would the few words he had spoken two days ago be sufficient meditation fodder for the next quarter-century? They may indeed, but this was ridiculous. Brandon needed to take action to visit his important friends. How could such long intervals of time be allowed to elapse? What had he been doing all this time that was so important he ignored friendships, the most valuable gift in life?

The universe. It was not a definable entity. Alan and Madkin5 were right. How could sentient beings exist inside something that didn’t even stay in place? How could we find each other from day to day, when objects themselves are further displaced with every passing second?

Jumper and the game. The game was the instrument of an evil force. The Sheen recognized this and avoided it. So how was it that these new Belle Sheen advocated it, even to the point of promotion? Why was Belle-ub overseeing his new council from such a lofty position when Erob law taught humility and balance?

All these different alien races, all smitten with the game, all here. A new enemy had come, too. One with powerful and unique weapons. An unknown enemy. An enemy who was difficult to see. The game was a known enemy. The unknown enemy had arrived at the same time the known enemy was making its grandest public appearance. Only a fool would consider that a chance occurrence. Olut6 was wise in his suspicions.

Jumper shouldn’t play the game, but Brandon understood why he wanted to. Brandon’s own addiction to games was a sobering reminder that balance was sometimes achieved through keeping aware of the undesirable elements in your environment. One cannot live in a perpetual state of bliss. It simply wasn’t obtainable—and even if it was, that would be a woefully unbalanced position from which to navigate life. Truth be told, Brandon felt a tug himself when he saw that giant frame unveiled. He would never allow himself to play it. He knew what it was, and had seen what it does. But Jumper was a new generation, and part of every man’s education was touching a hot stove for the first time. A parent can warn their children to their heart’s content, but eventually that child needs to touch that hot stove themselves. It was an essential part of life’s education.

When all was said and done, if Jumper was dead set on playing in that tournament, Brandon was rooting for him to win.

*

There were no forfeited first-round matches. The competitors were all in their assigned seats early. Eleven of the twelve “regular” game sets on the lower field were occupied as all 22 players prepared for the first round battle.

The enticing final game contraption towered above them in the center of the field. The Latian champion sitting across the table from Jumper looked so relaxed he almost seemed disinterested. Jumper didn’t think cool-headedness was their natural disposition after witnessing the Latian leader in the council yesterday. It was more likely a deliberate game face. Jumper wasn’t about to let it affect him. Not after having played in the Sinlo Mountains.

Speaking of which, the Sinlo Mountain champion was at the table next to Jumper’s. When Jumper first noticed him there, they exchanged nods. Jumper was glad for him, despite the personal trouble he had with the mountain dwellers. When he saw him progressing in the playoffs yesterday, Jumper had privately been pulling for him. He was, after all, the only player Jumper knew. Now look at him. He had beaten everyone, and was playing today as the representative champion for all the Torian natives. He would, no doubt, have a significant cheering section. Jumper, not so much.

An impressive crowd of more than twenty different races filled the stadium seats. They were noisy until Belle-ub quieted them down with a speech in the final minutes before the event was scheduled to start. He welcomed all the players and spectators, preached about galactic peace for a minute or two, and then explained the structure of the tournament.

There was a time incentive for the first two rounds. This was devised in order to neatly reduce the field to four for the semi-finals. The first three winners declared in the first round would get to skip the second round and move directly to the third round. The first winner declared in the second round would get to skip the third round and move directly to the semi-finals. Jumper wasn’t sure which time incentive was better, being as there would only be four games in the second round. Either way, those procuring the time awards only needed to win two games to make the semi-finals. Anyone else would need to win three.

Jumper and his human friends back at the colony had tried introducing time elements to the game in the past. Some of the guys affectionately referred to it as
speed polwar
. It didn’t work out all that well, and, in Jumper’s opinion, took something vital away from the game. The victors found they were robbed of the intense euphoria that came with an unforced game victory, and the losers were not so overwhelmed with complete dejection. Some of the guys liked it that way, especially the weaker players.

Not Jumper. He doubted the game would have achieved a fraction of its popularity if it were kept on a forced timer. So he wasn’t particularly motivated by the time incentives. But his opponents might be. How could he use that to his advantage?

“Finally,” Belle-ub said, “I will remind the audience to keep their cheering subdued most of the time. When you see the video screens light up in red it means quiet down! Good luck to all the champion players. The game frames will light automatically in a few moments, and then you may begin.”

Many of the players could be seen hunched over in anticipation, obviously wanting to get a jump on trying for a time award. They stayed in that position an uncomfortably long time, though, as the game frames did not turn on.

Jumper heard a loud noise growing. At first he thought it was the crowd lifting a roar for the opening moves, but then he realized it was coming from the sky. Jumper looked up.

Twelve spaceships came into view overhead in a tight formation. None of them were Torian. They were all different from another, each from a different world, a dozen unique spacecraft all flying together as a squadron. They buzzed the stadium so close their passing thunder rattled the game frames. Then the crowd noise came, replacing the roar of the planes with an upheaval of their own.

The game frames lit up. The crowd noise continued for ten seconds or so until the big video screens turned red. It promptly quieted again.

Jumper had drawn the straight pieces so he moved second, which meant naturally starting from a defensive position. Most players considered the curved pieces to have a slight advantage, being given the opening momentum, but Jumper actually preferred the straight. His opponent, of course, didn’t know that.

The other players were moving and opening patterns filled the game frames all around them. But Jumper’s opponent only sat there, staring at Jumper. This guy was ice-blooded. Jumper soon realized he could kiss the first-round time award goodbye. He didn’t care much about that anyway. But of course, his opponent didn’t know that.

Finally, the Latian placed his first piece in the frame. It was a standard opening move, albeit one of the less popular. Jumper reacted instantly. He wanted him to think he cared about the time incentive. The Latian moved his second piece in slowly as well, to the standard place. Jumper reacted quickly again, and leaned forward, feigning a desire for speed.

Jumper’s move completed the standard pattern for this particular opening. It was one of the more cavalier openings, which incurred a lot of early risk on both sides. This was the point where the curved-piece player needed to break in one direction or another to dictate the angle of further developments and resulting tempo of play. There were several conservative ways to go from here, or a couple of wilder ones.

The Latian chose one of the wilder ones. He placed a new piece away from the rest in an open area, but within bridging distance from both his first two moves. Most players, in Jumper’s experience, would shy away from this course. It was dangerous, and even skilled players could be blindsided early on by connections they didn’t see coming. As it so happened, this variation was one of Jumper’s and Alan’s favorites to play around with. They had explored it well and were familiar with most of its traps. Of course, the Latian didn’t know that.

*

“You know the primary Erob principles?” Madkin5 asked.

“We learned the Erob Principles in school,” Alan replied, never taking his eyes off the pillar. “Jumper and I studied them on our own, too, to see if we could master them, because we knew Brandon highly regarded them. Jumper always wanted to be like Brandon, even though Jumper doesn’t believe in prophets.”

Brandon wasn’t sure whether he liked hearing that or not.

“Did you master them?” Madkin5 asked.

Alan shrugged. “Who can say? Good enough for us, I guess. It all seemed obvious to me, anyway. I don’t have them memorized anymore, and I don’t think Jumper does, either. But I do remember they were all about the way intelligent beings should treat each other. That’s what made it so easy. They’re about taming our pride, and, in particular, not holding ourselves in higher esteem than we hold others. Honestly, what I got out of it all was to consider the priorities of others and give them equal weight with my own.”

Madkin5 shot Brandon a look that showed both surprise and appreciation. “This is impressive,” he said. “Tell me, Alan, do you think you have generally obeyed this advice, in all your dealings with others?”

Alan thought for a second. He still refused to look away from the rock. It was good to see him behaving so much more coherently than he had been earlier at the shuttle.

Finally, Alan said, “I guess not. I don’t know. Not all the time. It’s hard to do when you haven’t been thinking about it lately.”

“Excellent,” Madkin5 said. “You see the problem, don’t you? I commend you for internalizing the law, and for having done so from your own initiative. But it cannot be left to die within you, as you have correctly surmised. It must be kept alive.”

Madkin5 stood up. “Fortunately, the law only requires a small amount of nurturing once it has been internalized.” He placed his hand on Alan’s shoulder, a gesture that Brandon interpreted to be from genuine affection.

But it startled Alan, whose focus had been on the pillar this whole time. He stumbled and fell forward. Fortunately, he had the instincts to put his arm out in front of him to break his fall, which kept his head from hitting the pillar. But he fell into the planter which surrounded it.

Brandon and Madkin5 rushed to his side, grabbed ahold of him, and lifted him back to his feet.

“Sorry,” Madkin5 said. “In my enchantment, I forgot that you are not yet stable.”

Alan appeared dazed. He glanced all about him, acting like person who had just awoken from a dream and didn’t remember where he was yet. Then he looked down at his hand, which was closed. He opened it. A piece of black rock was in his palm.

Brandon and Madkin5 both looked back to the pillar. A small piece of it had been chipped away; a piece that was now sitting in Alan’s open hand. The other two Sheen also saw it, and murmured in astonishment.

Madkin5 chortled with delight. “Alan, you like the law so much, you have chosen to take a piece of it with you. Or, to be more accurate, a piece of it has chosen to go with you. See now, you have discovered your own cure, and it could not be denied you.”

“What do you mean?” Brandon asked.

Madkin5 smiled broadly at him. “Do you not know? Have you never attempted to break a quarner stone? It cannot be broken, nor chipped, not by any force we know, not by those who would seek to break or mold it. It can only be broken of its own will.”

Alan’s hair had some brush in it, and one side of his face was muddy. Madkin5 picked a shrub branch off his head and tossed it back into the planter. He then seemed to notice something else, and held Alan’s head in place while he bent his ear forward.

“Is this a normal human skin condition?” he asked Brandon.

“Let me see.” Brandon came over to that side and peered at the crevice behind Alan’s ear.

“No. That looks like a herniated blood vessel.” But then Brandon saw the end of the blood vessel moving, wiggling about just outside the skin.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “It’s a worm or something.” He pinched the exposed end between his fingers and pulled. Slowly, with steady pressure, it eventually came out. A trickle of blood ran down Alan’s neck.

Brandon held the worm out in front of him. It was several inches long and very thin. It kept curling itself up then expanding again.

“A parasite,” Brandon said.

Madkin5 cocked his head. “That word translated to a term from ancient times, before the Erob coalition, prior to the industrial era, during the communal ages of Amulen. It was not associated with animal life, however—it referred to able-bodied adults who became content to live off the efforts of others, while offering very little production from themselves.”

“I’ve never heard any reports of parasites in Tora before,” Brandon said. “This is something I remember from Earth. Certain small insects, worms, and microorganisms feed on the blood of animals and humans. They attach themselves to a live host, and often cause infection or spread disease.”

Madkin5 looked horrified and extended his hand. Brandon gave him the worm. He studied it for a moment, then turned, gave it to one of his cohorts, and mumbled some instructions. The other Sheen nodded and hurried away, holding the worm out front of him.

“One of our residents makes a rather passionate hobby of botany and entomology,” Madkin5 said. “We’ll have him analyze it. This should make his day.”

Alan rubbed the spot behind his ear.

“Does it hurt?” Brandon asked.

“A little,” Alan said. “But the pain is good. Something real that I can focus on.”

“Do you still wish to go walking?” Madkin5 asked Alan.