Robot Adept

Chapter 10 Filly?

Mach felt the change, and knew it was now Agape he held. She had returned to her proper frame, and could return also to her own world of Moeba.

He disengaged. “I had better acquaint you with recent events here,” he said.

“Aye,” she agreed.

He looked at her, startled.

She laughed. “No, I am Agape. I have a story of my own to tell.” She looked around the chamber. “But is it safe to talk?”

“It’s supposed to be.” But now he remembered how Citizen Purple had caught on to Fleta’s identity. Had it been a good guess, or had information leaked from this chamber? The Game Computer could overhear everything, of course; Mach had trusted its discretion, but Citizens did have extraordinary powers.

She read his doubt. Then she hugged him. “Let us whisper, in that case. I have learned things about enmity.”

“You are in the Tourney,” he whispered in her ear.

She drew back her head and looked at him again, startled.

“It was the only way to protect Fleta from the Contrary Citizens—and even then, it was close. But you need not worry; you can lose and be shipped home to Moeba. You know the planet better than she does.”

She smiled, agreeing.

There was a knock on the entry panel. Both of them glanced at it, startled. Who would knock, instead of using the screen to communicate?

Mach went to the panel and opened it. There stood a cleaning machine. Since when did such service devices knock?

The machine’s speaker murmured a code. Then Mach understood: this was a self-willed machine masquerading as a mindless one. It extended a tiny package.

Mach took the package and folded it into his palm. Then the machine rolled on down the hall, and Mach closed the panel and turned to face Agape, making a small gesture toward his lips with a finger: silence.

She understood. She shrugged, and went to the food dispenser. He quickly opened the package, removed the electronic chip inside, and slid it into an aperture that opened under his left arm.

The message was stark: CONTRARY CITIZENS WILL CHALLENGE AGAPE AS FALSE ENTRY, DISQUALIFY HER, TAKE HER INTO THEIR CUSTODY. SHE MUST DEMONSTRATE SHE IS FLETA. TAPES OF THE CHAMBER TO BE REQUISITIONED AS EVIDENCE FOR HEARING. ACT ACCORDINGLY.

Assimilation took only an instant. Now he understood why the contact had been physical and masked: a communication through the screen would have become part of the requisitioned evidence. The Contrary Citizens were still after Agape, and would not let her get to her home planet, now that he had nullified their trap there.

She had to prove she was Fleta? Evidently the Citizens had caught on, but did not know that the girls had exchanged back. He trusted the judgment of his kind; he would do as they recommended.

Meanwhile, Agape was about to operate the food controls. He hurried over. “Fleta, you should know better than to try to work that thing yourself; you’ll foul it up. Let me do it. What would you like?”

She masked her surprise. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently urged her to the side. As he let go, he tapped the spot under his arm where he had inserted the message chip. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Fleta might have been confused, but Agape understood his machine nature.

“The usual,” she said. “I thank thee.”

She was cooperating quickly and well! His experience on Moeba had increased his understanding and appreciation of her kind, and now he saw things about her that made him see how his other self could have come to love her. The tiny amoeba in the laboratories of Proton were far from intelligent, but those of Moeba were advanced, and every bit as clever as multicellular life. To think of a microscopic amoeba as the model for Agape was about as accurate as thinking of a single on/off switch as the model for Mach.

He fixed her the usual: a bowl of nutritious mush, that she could digest with her feet. He reminded her of this matter-of-factly, as if bored by it, but the information was important. Agape would not otherwise have known how Fleta had adapted to the amoeboid body.

After she had eaten, he guided her to the bed and lay down with her. Her look of uncertainty was only fleeting; she knew he had reason. He hugged her, and spoke quietly into her ear.

“Message chip. They mean to challenge your legitimacy as a Tourney participant. You must prove you are Fleta.”

“But I don’t know how she played, or anything!” she protested.

“Evidently my kind believes you can authenticate it. But the tapes of this chamber will be requisitioned as evidence. That means—”

“Aye, I know what it means,” she replied.

“I’m not sure you do. You see—”

“A moment, Mach, while I change into something more comfortable,” she said.

He waited, not sure what she had in mind. What he had been trying to tell her was that Mach would have made love to Fleta, and if she was to prove she was Fleta, now, when supposedly unobserved, this was a necessary step. As a robot, he could do what was necessary, without compromising his love for the real Fleta. But could she—?

Her body was melting and changing. Her hair turned black, and a button appeared in her forehead. Her features—

“Fleta!” he exclaimed, amazed. For she was assuming the exact likeness of the unicorn girl, in her human form.

How could she have known that form? Then he chided himself for his doubt: Agape had just spent a good session in Fleta’s body. Of course she had come to know it!

It was evident she also understood the rest of it. Agape loved Bane—but she had just been with Bane, and knew his plan to spy on the Adverse Adepts. She knew that Bane would have to treat Fleta as Mach would have treated her. Now she was ready to emulate that action here: Mach and Fleta, with the female being the pretense-identity, instead of the male. Perhaps there was a certain justice to it.

She smiled at him. “Come, my love. Do what thou must, and I will help thee. I would sleep soon, for I have a game on the morrow.”

She looked like Fleta. She sounded almost like her. She knew his body, because of Bane’s occupancy. She understood the rationale. She was a worthy person. But she was not Fleta, and he could not blank out that knowledge.

Could not? What was he thinking of! He could do just that, with a little spot reprogramming. He did it now, setting up a bypass so that for the next hour he would believe that what he saw was genuine. As a machine he could do that deliberately; he knew that living creatures could sometimes do it unconsciously, blanking out portions of their memory or instilling delusions that seemed real.

“Fleta,” he said, accepting the presence of his love in this frame. He remembered the delight he had had of her in Phaze, after she had learned to accommodate his kind of love-making. He remembered his oath of love to her.

After that, it was easy.

Next day the challenge came: Citizen Purple levied it against Agape. “I submit that this is not the creature from Planet Moeba, but another creature in her body,” he declared. “As such, she is not qualified to participate in the Tourney. Her apparent victory over me must be nulled, and she disqualified and turned over to me for compensation.”

Such a charge would have been dismissed as nonsensical, had a serf made it. A Citizen was another matter. Agape was required to report to a hearing chamber for a settlement with the Citizen.

“But the evil man will grab me!” she protested. “I know not the ways of thy frame, but I know the ways o’ the Adverse Adepts!”

Mach’s temporary circuit had been eliminated; he knew her identity. But how like Fleta she was acting! That time in Phaze had really prepared her.

“The Citizen cannot take you as long as the Game Computer retains authority,” he said. “All you have to do is demonstrate that you are properly entered in the Tourney.” But he was nervous, because he had not been with Fleta when she qualified; he had stayed clear, deliberately, and gone to Moeba. He trusted the word of the self-willed machines, but he had no idea how pretending that Agape was Fleta would get her through this challenge. He had rejoined her after she had qualified; he had told her, in the guise of routine reminding, of the four matches Fleta had won. But he hadn’t thought to look up the records on her qualifying matches—and in any event, it might have cast doubt on her authenticity if he had asked for those records.

They went to the prescribed chamber, following the line of the floor. Citizen Purple was there, glowering at Agape. “See—she doesn’t even try to conceal it any more!” Purple exclaimed. “She’s got the unicorn button!”

“Aye,” Agape said.

“Hearing as to the validity of the qualification of Fleta for the Tourney is now in progress,” the voice of the Game Computer said. “Challenger will present specifics.”

“It was supposed to be Agape of Moeba,” Purple said. “I want to verify the record of her qualification. What name is it under?”

“Record of subject’s first qualification game displayed,” the Game Computer said. A screen on the wall lighted. On it was printed:

PLAYER ONE: SHOCK OF KOLO

PLAYER TWO: FLETA OF UNI

The Citizen gaped. “She registered as a unicorn?”

“Transcript of dialogue at console,” the Game Computer said. On the screen appeared:

“HI! I’M SHOCK. MY HAIR, YOU KNOW.”

“HI. I’M FLETA.”

“WELCOME TO THE LEFTOVER LADDER. I’M SECOND FROM THE BOTTOM. I LOVE THE GAME, BUT I’M NO GOOD AT IT, SO I’M EASY TO BEAT.”

“LADDER?”

“OH, YOU NEW HERE? FROM ANOTHER WORLD?”

“NEW. FROM ANOTHER WORLD.”

“SAY, THAT’S GREAT! I’M A KOLOFORM MYSELF. WELL, I MEAN MY FOLKS CAME FROM KOLO, SO IT’S MY BLOOD. I WAS BORN HERE, BUT I CAN ONLY STAY TILL I’M TWENTY-ONE, NEXT YEAR, YOU KNOW. THEN I’M EITHER A SERF, OR I HAVE TO GO TO KOLO. WHAT’RE YOU?”

“A UNICORN.”

So that was it! Fleta had indeed registered as Fleta the Unicorn. Mach knew what had happened: she had automatically given her correct identity when talking with the other player, and the Game Computer had picked that up and made it official. She had proceeded to qualify for the Tourney under that identity. She was legitimately entered.

Citizen Purple hesitated, and Mach was sure he was going to demand to see the tapes of their chamber. But evidently the man changed his mind, knowing that they were on to his ploy and that nothing in those tapes would prove she was not Fleta. Certainly the tapes from before the exchange would not; then she had indeed been Fleta. The Citizen had challenged her as being an impostor for Agape, assuming that she would have been registered as Agape or under a phony name. Had he been able to requisition the records before making the formal challenge, he would have discovered his error, but all qualification records were sealed during a Tourney, to prevent cheating.

Citizen Purple strode out without further comment. He had lost—again. But Mach knew that they would have to maintain the pretense that she was Fleta until she was safely out of the Tourney and offplanet, lest she be disqualified for not being Fleta the Unicorn. The message of the self-willed machines had been timely!

That afternoon her next match came up. This was for Round Five, relatively rarefied territory for the Tourney. Fleta had done amazingly well, turning out to be a natural games-creature; Agape would not be able to match that level.

But he had, in the guise of a few private caresses, advised her: she could afford to lose, now, but she had to play in the manner of Fleta. A win in the manner of Agape would lead to the pouncing of the Citizens, and disqualification would put her into their hands. A loss in the manner of Fleta would enable her to be deported to Moeba safely. For the Tourney she was Fleta, but legally she remained Agape.

Mach could not join her at the console, of course. He watched her from their chamber, on the screen, as he had when Fleta played.

Her opponent was someone he knew: a man in his twenties who was a veteran player. His name was Sharp, and he was especially skilled at physical combat with sharp things: swords, knives, needles. He was not as good at intellectual things, and that was fortunate, because if Agape had the numbers she would put it into the mental category. If she had the letters, she would go for Machine-Assisted, avoiding the chance of direct physical competition. That was the strategy they thought Fleta would go for, avoiding animals because others would be expecting her to go for animals.

Evidently she did get the numbers, because the first selection on the grid was 2B, Tool-Assisted Mental.

The second grid was 5G, Separate and General: obviously she had had the numbers again, and chose to keep the two of them apart, as an uncertain unicorn would. This category contained such things as origami (paper-folding), crosswords, cryptograms and other noninteractive paper games. The assisting tools were pencil or paper or both, nominally; actually it was all done on the console screen.

The final determination was Cryptogram: the interpretation of a set of symbols that represented a quotation in English. Mach didn’t like this; Agape could handle it, but Fleta would have real trouble. Unicorns had no literary education to draw upon, and indeed, it was sheer luck that Fleta was even literate; xnost did not go to that extreme when adapting to the human form. The danger was that Agape would play too well, and reveal her nonunicorn nature.

RULES: the screen said, for the contestants and for the private viewers, such as Mach. EACH NUMBER STANDS FOR ONE LETTER OF THE ALPHABET. SPACING AND PUNCTUATION ARE NORMAL. TO PLACE LETTERS, TOUCH NUMBER AND LETTER SIMULTANEOUSLY; TO MAKE CORRECTION, TOUCH AGAIN. A FULL LIST OF QUOTATION AUTHORS IS AVAILABLE, OR AN AUTHOR MAY BE REQUESTED BY DESCRIPTION. CONTESTANTS WILL WORK INDEPENDENTLY ON IDENTICAL QUOTATIONS. WINNER IS FIRST TO COMPLETE QUOTATION AND AUTHOR CORRECTLY. PLAY COMMENCES WHEN BOTH PLAYERS SIGNIFY READINESS BY TOUCHING “READY” SQUARE.

In a moment, the screens appeared on Mach’s screen: Agape’s on the left. Sharp’s on the right. The players would not know who was doing better, but the watchers could see it plainly. There was a row of letters across the top, and other directives at the bottom. Each screen looked like this:

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

123456!-4758-975830’94

(11)(12)-32(13)26(14)-(15)4-4729-758(16):

(18)2332(15)1-(18)5(16)09(18)5(16)47

LETTERS NUMBERED FROM 1 TO (18) AUTHORS: LIST DESCRIPTION

Mach was experienced as a gamesman, and would have been happy to tackle this challenge. He would have started by touching AUTHORS and DESCRIPTION and requesting a selection of authors with first names of seven letters and last names of ten; that could have given him an immediate break, though the computer tried to foil that approach by having a number of authors for every such combination, sometimes too many to make it feasible. But neither contestant tried that.

Sharp knew some of the basics. He counted, and discovered that there were eight 7’s, more than any other letter. He knew that E was the most common letter used in English, so he filled in E’s above the 7’s. That gave him a quick start, but Mach wasn’t sure; in short quotations like this, distribution could be atypical, and Mach noticed that five of those 7’s were preceded by 4’s. Why were so many locked together like that? It was certainly possible, but not usual.

Agape, trying to think like a unicorn, was having more trouble. She did not count letters, she just pondered the whole, biting her lip. (He assumed that last detail; she was not shown on the screen.)

Sharp, buoyed by his success with E, pondered the doubled 12’s near the end. He tried MESS for the last word, but that gave him -SS- for the third one from the end, and he didn’t like that. So he changed the last to TELL, and that gave him -LL- for the other. He struggled with that, and was in the process of coming to the conclusion that he could not make it with that E; but he obviously did not want to give it up.

Agape, meanwhile, in a fit of inspiration calculated to convince everyone that she was Fleta, however badly she might lose the game, suddenly touched letters rapidly and filled in that last word as THEE. Mach had to applaud the genius of that; of course that was the way a creature from Phaze would see it!

Now she filled in her E’s, T’s, and H’s, and suddenly she had a lot of notions to pursue. She found the second word beginning with TH and immediately filled in THOU, as Fleta would, and followed through with the 0’s and U’s elsewhere in the sample. The word following THOU was -HOU—‘-T; she had no hesitation about completing it as SHOULD’ST and filling in its other letters elsewhere. Her display now looked like this:

_ _ L T O _!—T H O U—S H O U L D ‘S T

1 2 3 4 5 6!—4 7 5 8—9 7 5 8 3 0 ‘9 4

_ E—L _ _ _ _ _—_ T—T H _ S—H O U _:

(11)(12)-32(13)26(14)-(15)4-4729-758(16):

E _ _ L _ _ D—H _ T H—_ E E D—0 _—T H E E!

(12)6(14)3(15)60-7(15)47-6(12)(12)0-5(17)-47(12)(12)!

_ _ LL _ _ _—_ O _ D S _ O _ T H

(18)2332(15)1—(18)5(16)09(18)5(16)47

Mach stared at it. Could she actually be on the right track? This certainly seemed to have possibilities! Sharp, meanwhile, was still agonizing over the loss of his easy E. That was a mistake; he was wasting time, being emotionally committed to an approach that wasn’t working.

Fleta—no, Agape, he corrected himself—filled in the a for HATH, which also gave her AT. This was definitely falling into place!

She filled in F for FEED. Unicorns were always interested in that. But that made the first word—LTOF, which was awkward.

Then she stalled.

Mach agonized as she pondered, while Sharp tried one thing after another. Sharp would find the key, if she didn’t do something!

Then Mach reminded himself that her objective was not to win, but to play like a unicorn. That she was accomplishing!

Then she evidently reread the options at the bottom of the screen. She touched AUTHORS: DESCRIPTION.

TYPE DESCRIPTION, the screen printed, and displayed a keyboard.

She went at it hunt and peck: AUTHORS ENDING IN (TH).

Stroke of genius! In a moment she had WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. The letters checked, and she had a number of new ones—and she hadn’t had to draw from her memory a name Fleta would not have known. Now her cryptogram looked like this:

M I L T O F!—T H O U—S H O U L D ‘S T

1 2 3 4 5 6!—4 7 5 8—9 7 5 8 3 0 ‘9 4

_ E—L I _ I F _—A T—T H I S—H O U R:

(11)(12)-32(13)26(14)-(15)4-4729-758(16):

E F _ L A F D—H A T H—F E E D—0 _—T H E E!

(12)6(14)3(15)60-7(15)47-6(12)(12)0-5(17)-47(12)(12)!

W I L L I A M—W O R D S W O R T H

(18)2332(15)1--(18)5(16)09(18)5(16)47

She pondered, then filled in B above (11) for BE. Then she put N over (17), making ON.

FEED ON THEE? Mach doubted it, and so, evidently, did Fleta. (He knew it wasn’t her, but she was playing the role so well, he kept slipping.) She pondered, then in another fit of brilliance reversed F and N, making it NEED OF THEE! She corrected her bad F’s elsewhere, and now the quotation was almost complete:

MILTON! THOU SHOULD’ST BE LI-IN- AT THIS HOUR: EN-LAND HATH NEED OF THEE! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Sharp, meanwhile was starting to get on track; he had asked for the AUTHORS list, and after a tedious search from A to W had spotted Wordsworth. Had he chanced to start from the other end of the list, he would have been there much faster. He had no trouble with MILTON, but couldn’t make sense of THOU and THEE.

Fleta filled in LIVING, and suddenly, to her surprise, she had won. She had no notion what kind of creature ENGLAND was, but that wasn’t necessary. What a perfect portrayal of the unicorn!

Then it occurred to Mach that Agape probably didn’t know England either; it was not part of her heritage. Neither was Wordsworth, or Milton. She might have proven herself to be Fleta—by being herself.

Next day she was up against a young serf woman of about her own apparent age. Agape got the letters, so chose C. MACHINE. The other woman chose 3. CHANCE. They wound up with the game of number bracketing. This required three players, but the Game Computer simply generated random numbers for the third person.

The object was to choose a number from 1 to 100 that was between the two numbers chosen by the others, or, if two numbers matched, to be the odd one out, the one that didn’t match. It was a very simple game, but a nervous one nevertheless. Obviously the best strategy was to go for the center, because the fringes were losers—but every player had the same notion. Thus it might be better to choose one near the edge, and let the other two jam up in the center, perhaps duplicating their numbers and yielding the victory. But every player would reason that way, too. What was the better strategy?

But it wasn’t Mach’s decision to make. He did not like games of chance, as was the case with most competent players; chance was the refuge of incompetence. At least there was no problem about unicorn strategy here; the game was too simple.

Agape chose 1, and the other player chose 50. The random number was 22, making it the winner. Therefore they played again.

This time Agape chose the other player’s prior number, 50, while the other took 75. The random number was 63. Again they had no decision.

The third time Agape went for 75, taking her opponent’s last number again. The other, gambling that she would do just this, took 74, bracketing her toward the edge. But the random number was 90, and Agape won. It was of course sheer luck—but the other woman had elected to win or lose by chance, and had paid the price, when she might have won by skill.

Agape had now won the sixth round, and would compete next in the seventh—one of only sixteen survivors in the Tourney. Mach was amazed: how far would this go? Suppose—just suppose—that her luck continued? Four more victories would make her the winner of the Tourney, and she would become the first unicorn Citizen. What then?

Her Round Seven match was against another Citizen; not one of the Contraries, just a game buff who enjoyed the challenge and the privilege of dashing the hopes of serfs. He was a healthy man in his forties who was the most dangerous of players: the kind who truly understood the Game. He would make no mistakes and would have no mercy. Mach, watching from his chamber, felt the dread of likely loss; Agape was about to be put out of the Tourney.

She got the letters and chose TOOL, following her set strategy. He chose PHYSICAL, craving the greatest immediacy. In the subgrid she chose COOPERATIVE, while he went again for immediacy and challenge; FIRE, or variable surface.

They settled on a “team” sport—that was how COOPERATIVE translated here. In this case it was a variant of mountain climbing, with five-person teams roped together, descending into the rumbling crater of a volcano.

Well, he thought, Fleta was fleet of foot. She could navigate any slope with confidence. Except that this wasn’t really Fleta, and she wasn’t alone. She had four android teammates who were “neutral”: neither apt nor clumsy. What would count was teamwork: how well she organized and directed them for the descent into evermore-challenging territory. The victory would go to the player who brought his party safely to the bottom first. If any teammates were lost, that was a liability but not necessarily defeat, depending on the state of the other team.

The screen showed the crater: a truly impressive setting. The walls of the upper inner rim were almost vertical, the slope modifying below and finally becoming level. But there were ridges and irregularities, and vents issuing smoke and steam, and sometimes lava. The whole thing shuddered at irregular intervals, and there were occasional mini-eruptions of rocks and dust and gas. Verisimilitude was excellent; on the screen, it really did seem like a living volcano crater.

There were four established paths of descent: north, south, east and west. These varied in detail, but had similar hazards, and had been established as equivalent in difficulty. Lot determined the assignments. The Citizen’s team was given the north slope, and Agape had the south. Mach’s screen could be set up to watch the whole crater, with the tiny figures at either side, or to watch one at close range, or split to watch both parties at intermediate range. He checked the AUDIENCE indicator, and discovered without surprise that it was huge. There were relatively few games being played now, and the unicorn had captured the public fancy; also, the volcano was always popular.

Mach knew that the Citizen would have played this course before, many times, and would have every path memorized. The Game Computer changed details with each game, to prevent this kind of advantage, but there was only so much it could do. The advantage of knowledge of the course was definitely with the Citizen.

Agape looked down her path, then took a daring and most unicornlike step: she detached herself from the safety rope. A unicorn, of course, would prefer to climb alone, regarding the other members of the team as a liability rather than an asset.

She started down, using chinks in the rim-wall for handholds, until she could stand on the less formidable slope below. She found a safe-seeming vantage by a projection of solidified lava, and called directions back to her remaining team. She had to get them down safely too; she could not leave them behind. They followed her route, descending in order, until they rejoined her. It was a decent start.

Meanwhile the Citizen was proceeding conventionally and efficiently. He too led his party, not trusting the androids to be good judges of the route. He barked orders to each, moving them along. His team made the first “landing” before Agape’s did.

Then the first shudder came. The rocks shook, and several fragments of rock became dislodged and slid down. No damage was done to either party; it was merely a warning.

Agape went ahead again, spying out the best descent. She had a choice at this stage: one reasonably safe but long path, and one short but treacherous one. She gambled as a unicorn would, taking the shorter one. The Citizen took the safe one. That made Mach nervous; the Citizen surely had reason.

That reason soon manifested: there was another tremor, worse than the first. Gas hissed up from vents—and there were more such vents along Agape’s fast path than along the Citizen’s slow one. But Agape had had her team wait again while she explored, and she was watching; she lay flat as the vents expressed themselves, and had no trouble. Then she jumped across a minor crevasse, found another staging point, and brought her team down. She was now ahead of the Citizen.

Was there an upset in the making? The Citizen, seeing himself behind, hurried his team—and one of his androids misstepped and fell. The safety rope prevented him from being lost, but he took an injury, and now was limping. That was another point for Agape: all her teammates were safe.

But as she explored for the third leg of her descent, a lava vent just behind her spewed out molten rock, splattering her body. It was not real lava, of course, but jellylike emulation. Nevertheless, she had received a direct strike on the torso, and was deemed to have been burned beyond the ability to continue. The Game Computer issued a STAY IN PLACE directive; Agape was not permitted to go on.

If the Citizen suffered a similar mishap, then points would be assessed and the winner determined. But he did not. Relieved of any need to hurry, he took his time, and brought his slightly incapacitated party safely to the bottom. Thus, anticlimactically, Agape lost the match, and was out of the Tourney.

Mach felt a pang of regret. He reminded himself that she had done it correctly, playing the way a unicorn would; moving alone, gambling with her own safety rather than that of her teammates. Had she sent an android ahead, and had the android taken the incapacitating lava-splat, she would have been allowed to continue. The Citizen might have taken a greater loss of personnel, giving the victory to her. But she had done it Fleta’s way, and lost, and that was the right way to lose.

Still, Mach wished she had won. He knew that the great majority of the audience felt the same.

Agape was returned to her planet, banned from Proton because of her loss in the Tourney. She had made it safely, and Mach knew the Contrary Citizens had no trap remaining there. The administration of the Tourney seemed to have no concern for the fact that if she really had been Fleta, as she had “proved” herself to be for her qualification as a player, this exile would have been inappropriate at best. But what of her relation to Bane?

He had no acceptable answer for that. In order to communicate or exchange with Bane, Mach had to overlap him geographically, and as far as he knew, that could only be done on this planet. If Agape was forever exiled from Proton, how could Bane get together with her?

There were two answers, as he saw it. Either Bane would have to make frequent trips to Planet Moeba, or Agape would have to be allowed to return. Suppose they worked out a compromise: cooperation with the Contrary Citizens, in exchange for this exception to the law of Proton. Would Bane go for that? He wasn’t sure.

Now, belatedly, he realized that the Contrary Citizens had never challenged Fleta’s identity, after challenging her registry in the Tourney. That meant that the tapes of the chamber had never been requisitioned. Now she was safely back on her own planet, and it no longer mattered. He had not had to make love to her, to preserve the pretense.

Still, Agape had done such a good job of imitating Fleta that he was satisfied to leave the recent past as it was. For an hour he had just about been with the filly. What others might think of the situation he wasn’t sure, and didn’t care.

The Tourney proceeded, and a serf woman won it, becoming a Citizen. How nice for her, Mach thought. But what of Agape? Neither she nor Bane deserved this enforced separation.

He spent his time doing research in the computerized Proton Library. Could a machine breed with an amoeba? Suppose a genetic pattern were crafted in the laboratory, living tissue modified to fit the attributes of a living man who occupied the body of a robot…

But why do that, when Bane had his own genetic pattern? What was needed was to send Agape back to Phaze to—

No, for then she would be in Fleta’s body. There seemed to be no way to get the physical Agape together with the physical Bane. Or the physical Mach together with the physical Fleta. No way except magic.

No way except magic. And that existed only in Phaze, while one partner in each couple was physically locked here in Proton. There was the intractable problem.

Then, abruptly, Bane contacted him. The touch was fleeting, but he got the gist: do not exchange yet. Bane was trying to spring a trap, and needed just a little more time.

Mach waited, wondering what was happening. Then Bane contacted him again, with news of a new truce. The picture had changed significantly in Phaze. If the rival factions of Proton agreed, they would have a way to settle this matter, and the two couples could be together regardless of the way it went.

That appealed to him. He agreed without hesitation. He knew Agape would feel the same.