The Blood Red Game

FOURTEEN

The Game Ship was bigger than a large battlewagon, even more functional-looking, a little barer of comforts. Yet it did not seem prepared for battle. There was an atmosphere of hushed silence aboard and their boots clanged loudly along the corridor which led to Lord Mordan's cabin. A sign on the door read: Deputy Game Master, Lord Mordan. Strictly Private. The letters were heavy black on the white door.

The Geepee accompanying Roffrey knocked on the door.

'Enter!'

They went through into a cabin cluttered with instruments.

There were some Roffrey recognised - an encephalograph, an optigraph-projector - machines for measuring the power of the brain, equipment for testing visualising capacity, for measuring I.Q. potential, and so on.

Talfryn was sitting in a comfortable chair on the other side of Mordan's desk. Both men had their hands clenched before them - Talfryn's in his lap, Mordan's stretched out across the empty desk.

'Sit down, Roffrey,' said Lord Mordan. He made no reference to Roffrey's defiance of orders. He seemed perfectly controlled. Perhaps over-controlled, thought Roffrey. For a moment he sympathised - wasn't that his own condition?'

He sat down as the Geepee guard left.

'Okay,' he said curtly. 'Get on with it.'

'I've been explaining to Talfryn how important you both are to this project,' Mordan said crisply. 'Are you prepared to go along with us on the first stage of our tests?'

'Yes.' He was almost responding to the decisive mood.

'Good. We've got to find out exactly what qualities you possessed which made defeat of that alien fleet possible. There is a chance, of course, that you were lucky or that being unprepared for the sense-impression attack on you and having no understanding of its origin, you were psychologically better prepared to meet the attack. We'll know the answers later. Let me recap on recent events first.'

Mordan spoke rapidly:

'As you know, we entered this universe several weeks ago and encountered its inhabitants shortly after entry. These people are non-human, as might be expected, and regard us as invaders. That's fair enough, since we should think the same in their position. But they made no attempt to assess our potential strength, to parley or order us away. They attacked. We have no idea even what they look like, these aliens. You saw how quickly they had mobilised an attack on our fleet, well before we had a chance to talk and tell them why we are here.'

'What happened after the first battle - the one I saw?'

'There were several others. We lost a lot of ships of all kinds. Finally, Asquiol contacted them by his own methods, and intimated that we were quite prepared to settle on planets unsuitable for them and live in friendly co-operation with them. But they wouldn't accept this. However, they came up with an alternative to open warfare.' He sighed and waved his hand to indicate the massed equipment

'We did not reckon with the predominant society existing here. It is based on a Code of Behaviour which we find, in parts, very difficult to grasp.

'In our terms it means that the status of a particular individual or group is decided by its ability to playa warlike game which has been played in this galaxy for centuries. We call it the Blood Red Game, since one of their prime "weapons" is the ability to addle our sense-impressions so that we get a total sensory experience of the colour red. You already know this, I believe.'

Roffrey agreed. 'But what, apart from confusing us, is it meant to do? And how does it work?'

'We believe that the aliens have come to rely, when disputes break out among themselves, on more subtle weapons than energy-cannon or anything similar. If we wished, we might continue to use our familiar weapons to fight them, as we did at first. But we should have only a slight chance of winning. Their weapons make you better than dead, in their view. They turn you insane. If you were dead you'd be out of the way. But since you're alive but useless as a fighter, you drain our resources and slow us down in many ways. But that's only part of it. There are rigid, complicated rules which we are having to learn as we go along.' 'What are the stakes?' Roffrey asked. 'If we win so many rounds of the Game without relying on our ordinary armaments, the aliens will concede us the right to rule, as absolute monarchs, their galaxy! Big stakes, Captain Roffrey. We lose our lives, they lose their power.' 'They must be confident of winning.' 'Not according to Asquiol. The fact that they are winning at the moment is obvious, but their love of playing this Game is so ingrained that they welcome any new variety. You see, both sides have got to do more than simply play the Game, they have the added difficulty of not understanding the opponent's capabilities, susceptibilities, psychology and so forth. In that, we're even. In other things, such as experience of playing the Game, they have the advantage.'

'Where do we come into this?'

'We're hoping that you are the aces we need in order to win. Your ship was the only human ship which has ever succeeded in beating the fantastic odds. Somehow, you have something we need to beat the aliens!'

'And you don't know what it is?'

'Right.'

'Do we possess it jointly - or does only one of us possess this protective "shield-attack" quality, whatever it is?'

'We're going to find that out, Captain Roffrey. That's why we're testing you both. Although you were actually at the controls of your ship, Talfryn, I understand, was beside you.'

Talfryn spoke slowly: 'What we have to seek, I gather, is a moral advantage over the aliens. It is not a question of numbers but prestige. If we win, we gain sufficient status for them to accept our dominance. If we lose… what?'

'If we lose, we'll be beyond caring. Our supplies are so short we can't risk phasing into a new universe at this late stage.' Lord Mordan turned his attention back to Roffrey. 'Do you see that, captain? Your wife is only one of a few victims of insanity in the fleet at the moment. But if we don't win the Game, we'll all be mad - or dead.'

Roffrey understood the logic. But he was still suspicious of it.

'Let's get these tests over with,' he said. 'Then maybe we'll know where we're going. I'll make up my mind afterwards.'

Mordan tightened his lips, nodding a trifle. 'As you like,' he said. He spoke towards his desk. 'Ask the testing team to come here.'

Three men entered Mordan's cluttered cabin.

Mordan stood up to introduce them.

'This is Professor Selinsky,' he said. The tallest of the group detached himself and walked over to Roffrey and Talfryn. He stretched out his fat hand and smiled warmly.

'Glad you're here,' he said. 'It looks as if you and your friend may be able to help us out of our present difficulties.'

He shook hands with them and said: 'These are my assistants. Doctor Zung' - a small, gloomy man of Mongolian appearance - 'and Doctor Mann' - a young, blond-headed man who looked like an adventure-fiction hero.

'I've heard of you, professor,' said Talfryn. 'You used to hold the Chair of Physiology at Earth.'

'That's right,' Selinsky nodded. Then he said. 'We'll give you an ordinary test with the electro-encephalograph first. Then we'll put you to sleep and see if we can get at the subconscious. You're prepared to accept all our tests, I presume.' He looked at Mordan who made no reply.

Roffrey said: 'Yes. As long as it doesn't involve brainwashing.'

Selinsky said sternly: 'This is the fifth century, you know - not the fifth century pre-war.'

'I thought Asquiol and Lord Mordan's motto had become "Needs Must When The Devil Drives," Roffrey said as he sat in the seat which Doctor Zung had prepared for him.

But the reference made no impression on Mordan who had probably never heard it. Roffrey was given to obscure quotations - it was all part of his atavistic outlook. Mary had once accused him of being deliberately obscurist in his references, of reading old books merely in order to pick up unfamiliar quotations to fling at people he despised or disliked. He had agreed. Part of her attraction, he had added, was that she, at least, knew what he was talking about.

A small, glass-alloy helmet was now being fitted over his scalp. He hated such devices. He hated it all. As soon as this is over, he promised himself, I'll show them what independence really means.

Such thoughts and emotions gave the scientists some interesting, if hardly usable, findings.

Professor Selinsky appeared calm as he checked over the material so far gained from the sleeping men.

'All this will require careful analysis, of course,' he said. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

'What have you found out?' Mordan said.

'Frankly, I can't find any clue at first sight as to what they've got that men we're using haven't already got. They're both intelligent - Roffrey quite superlatively so, but there's only a grain of something out of the ordinary. Naturally, this quality would be subtle - we expected that - but Roffrey isn't the only psychopath in the human race and he isn't the only one with a high I.Q.' He sighed.

'But their memories for sensory-experiences are very good,' Doctor Mann said eagerly. 'In any event they will help swell the Gambling strength.'

'A poor second,' said Zung disgustedly as he uncoupled electrodes and neatly placed his personal equipment in its cases. 'I'll agree that we need all the Gamblers we can recruit - but these men were going to give us the answer to the problem of defeating the aliens. That's what we hoped, didn't we, professor?'

Selinsky said: 'This project is wearing us all down, Zung. There's not a scrap of reason for your defeatest tone - nor yours, Mann. We have a lot of work to do before we can analyse our findings. Meanwhile' - he turned to Mordan who had been sitting in his chair with a look of studied indifference on his seamed, bloodhound's face - 'I suggest we put these men on our regular strength. No need to waste them while we study their results. Let them be trained.'

'You're sure they'll work all right with the rest?' Mordan said, getting up.

'Why shouldn't they?' Selinsky pointed his thumb towards the door. 'You know what the atmosphere in there's like, with O'Hara and everything… None of them are what you would call "normal." Our Gamblers are all neurotics these days, by definition. Normal people couldn't stand the strain - normal people couldn't hit back. We count on unusual physiological and psychological patterns to play the Game.'

'I trust Talfryn,' Mordan said, 'he's much more susceptible to persuasion. But Roffrey's a born troublemaker. I know - I've dealt with him more than once.'

'Give him something important to handle, in that case.' Selinsky swung the arm of the optigraph away from Roffrey's chair. The man stirred but didn't wake. 'He's the kind who needs to be kept active - who needs to feel that every action he makes is personally inspired.'

'There never was such a thing,' said Mordan, walking over and staring down at his old enemy.

'Then don't tell him.' Selinsky smiled faintly. 'It's egocentricity of that order which has pushed humanity up the scale. Renark and Asquiol were the same - they may sometimes have the wrong information, but they get better results than we do.'

'Of a kind,' Mordan agreed reluctantly.

'It's the kind we need right now,' Selinsky told him as he and his assistants bustled out of the cabin. 'We'll send a couple of attendants to take care of them.'

'You'll need the whole damn police force to take care of Roffrey once he starts getting stubborn,' Mordan said fatalistically. He liked Roffrey, but he knew Roffrey didn't like him. He'd come to the somewhat comforting conclusion that Roffrey didn't really like anyone - apart from his wife. It was a great pity that he'd found her, Mordan reflected.

Selinsky and his assistants pored over their findings. Mann, although a good and clever scientist, was beginning to tire of the routine work. As they paused for coffee, he said to Selinsky:

'Something occurred to me, professor, which may mean nothing, but it's worth throwing out for discussion, I think.'

Selinsky, who disapproved of Mann's weakness for theorising while on the job, said impatiently: 'What is?'

'Well, in the history we got from records, both Talfryn and Roffrey were on that planet they call Roth - in the Sundered Worlds - the "lattice planet." Parts of it exist in different continua, rather like Asquiol is supposed to do. Could this planet have exerted some kind of influence on them? Or perhaps if they stood the test of staying sane on Roth - it turned Roffrey's wife mad, remember they are therefore better fitted for fighting the aliens?'

Selinsky drained his coffee cup and ran a finger across his wet lips.

'There may be something there,' he said. 'Look, I'll tell you what. Work something out properly, in your spare time, and show me your ideas in a report.'

'Spare time!' Mann said explosively, though he was pleased at Selinsky's encouragement - a rare thing in itself.

'Well, you can't sleep all of those six hours,' said Zung quietly, grinning to himself as he went back to his work.

Willow Kovacs felt more resigned now. Roffrey had been away too long for there to be much chance of his coming back soon. She calmly filled the hypo and gave Mary another sedative, but she didn't, after all, take one herself. In this calmer frame of mind her thoughts had again turned to Asquiol. She must contact him, she felt. At least she would have a clearer idea of how to act after she had seen him - whatever happened.

She experienced some difficulty in getting Roffrey's communications equipment to work, but finally she contacted Mordan.

The Gee-lord's sagging face appeared on the screen. He was hunched over his desk apparently doing nothing. He looked incredibly tired. Willow decided he must be keeping himself awake with stimulants.

He gave her a nod of recognition and said: 'Miss Kovacs, if you're worried about Roffrey and Talfryn, there's no need. They have been recruited as Gamblers and will no doubt be getting in touch with you during a rest period.'

'Thanks,' she said, 'but there was something else.'

'How important is it, Miss Kovacs? You understand that I'm very…'

'I wish to contact Asquiol directly.'

"That's impossible now. And, anyway, you wouldn't find it desirable if you realised what he looks like. What do you want to say to him?'

'I can't deal through someone else - it's a purely personal matter.'

'Personal? I remember - you had some emotional relationship…'

'We were very close on Migaa and on the Shifter worlds. I'm sure he would want to see me.' She didn't sound as if she particularly believed her own words.

'Next time I report to him I'll pass your message on. That's all I can do, I'm afraid.' Mordan stared curiously at her but said nothing more.

'Will he contact me if he gets your message?'

'If he wants to that's exactly what he will do. I'll tell him what you've said - I promise.'

The screen shimmered and was empty again. Willow turned it off and walked slowly back to where Mary was sleeping.

'What's going to happen to you in all this?' she said.

There was in Willow a large capacity for sympathy with those in distress. Even now, with troubles of her own which she hadn't counted on before she'd reached the fleet, she could turn her attention to Mary.

But what had at first been a detached emotion of sympathy such as she could feel towards anyone in an unpleasant predicament, was fast running into a less healthy feeling. She was beginning to sense a kinship with Mary. They were both very lonely women - the one lacking any contact with her fellows, trapped inside her disturbed and jumbled mind, veering between near-sanity and complete madness; the other with a growing conviction that, in her moment of need, she had been deserted - not only by Asquiol, but by Talfryn and Roffrey too.

She sat by the screen, waiting for Asquiol to contact her. She sat stiffly. The cabin was silent, as silent as the space through which the fleet moved. She shared with the rest of humanity a demoralised, disillusioned sense of loss, of unknowing, of confusion. And as in the rest of them, these feelings were crystallising into fear.

Only the certain knowledge that loss of control at this time would bring certain destruction of mind or body allowed them to keep going.

Kept active by drugs, sent to sleep by sedatives, driven by the uncompromising will of Asquiol and his tool Mordan, the Gamblers prepared for another round of the Game.