The Game Players of Meridien Read online

  That did not seem entirely fair. “We’ve been working together for two years. Have I disappointed you, so far?” I asked.

  “No. You have been a most diligent student but your recent progress has been much slower than it was in the beginning of our association.” He shrugged. “The fault is not yours. I’ve reached the limit of what I’m able to teach by myself, and so I’ve enlisted a helper.” He smiled. Something about that smile made a little shudder run up my spine. “You will learn faster if you actually need the abilities that I am trying to teach you. So…”

  He pressed a button. The door opened and a figure entered. It was shaped like a man. I stared at it. A little taller than me, thin, made of what appeared to be black rubber, its head was smooth, a matte black globe without eyes, nose or mouth. It walked up to me and bowed.

  “A combat robot,” Master Chen said. “It’s a relic of the First Empire. There are very few of them left. This one is my school’s most prized possession.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “It can be programmed to any skill level and has twenty different settings for both speed and strength. I have far more skill than you but at this point in your training, you are able to beat me perhaps one time out of every three, simply because of your superior physical attributes. It is time to offer you a more serious challenge.”

  I could have beaten him at least one more time than that, if I had wanted to shock him into submission but if I did, he would only wear an insulated suit the next time. Better to keep some things to myself. “Very well,” I said, and sighed. “Let’s begin.”

  I received my first challenge when I was twenty-four.

  I was still very young but I was already running my own corporation. The business was going well, mostly the games division at that time, but I was already beginning to break out into residential construction and was making serious plans to import exotic building materials from the Northern continent and the Southern Islands. Oliver Enterprises was small but rapidly growing, well run and profitable.

  I clearly remember receiving the letter. It was on vellum and sealed with wax, very official, very important looking. I held it in my hand for a long time before opening it, just staring at it. I suspected I knew what this letter might be and my heart beat faster as I took it out of the envelope and spread it out on my desk. I was right. It read:

  Clarion Enterprises makes an offer of merger to Oliver Enterprises. We are prepared to exchange 1.2 shares of Clarion stock for each share of Oliver Enterprises. Please advise as soon as possible if this offer is acceptable.

  Details of the proposed re-organization followed. Basically, Oliver would wind up a wholly owned subsidiary of Clarion Enterprises. My own role was not spelled out but the implication was clear. I had none. The letter was signed Graham Reid, President, Chief Executive Officer and principal shareholder of Clarion Enterprises. I breathed out a long sigh and sat back to think. I knew Graham Reid. A member of Aureus, a medium sized but respected Guild. Reid was even younger than me, a supposed wunderkind in the business world. On the face of it, the offer was fair. At current prices, it represented a twelve percent premium on my corporation’s value.

  The offer, however, was not acceptable. It was not acceptable at all—not to me. I knew what would happen when I refused it. The rules are clear. My suppliers would be threatened, my customers bought off, my employees lured away with offers too good to be true, my stockholders offered obscene amounts to sell. Ultimately, if Graham Reid wanted to make a statement—and would-be tycoons determined to bull their way up through the ranks always want to make a statement—he would resort to actual violence against my holdings, my people and myself.

  All of this was entirely acceptable under Guild law, the only proviso being that the interests of the Guild itself must be respected and that no civilians be damaged (or if damaged, compensation must be paid) while we played our game. Also, of course, the members of one’s own Guild—our own chosen band of brothers and sisters, joined together by custom, law and blood—are immune to challenge.

  Graham Reid wanted to make a statement? Fine. I felt myself smiling. I could make a statement, as well.

  Clarion was primarily a shipping corporation, importing heavy vehicles and raw materials from overseas. Two days later, Clarion’s largest ship was boarded during transit. The crew was herded into the main cargo hold while persons unknown smashed the ship’s main navigation systems. Repairs took two days, not quite enough to incur a penalty for late delivery. The message was clear.

  One day later, Clarion’s corporate headquarters received letters canceling three of their largest orders.

  Sometimes, I reflected, taking a firm stand in the beginning will prevent misunderstandings in the future.

  Then I waited, as the rules require. I was giving Graham Reid a chance to see reason, which he did. Three days later, I received another letter, this one delivered in a plain white envelope, withdrawing Clarion’s offer.

  All’s well that ends well, I suppose. It could have been much worse. I could have killed the son of a bitch…or he could have killed me.

  I picked up Jen Mallett in the lobby of her building. She wore black pants, a ruffled red blouse, flat shoes that would be comfortable for walking in and just a dash of jasmine scented perfume. “You look beautiful,” I said. I meant it.

  She smiled serenely. “Where are we going?”

  “Have you ever been to the Seldon Botanical Gardens?”

  “No. I’ve heard of it, though.”

  “I think you’ll like it. They specialize in off-world flora. Some of it is quite exotic.”

  “What could be more exotic than off-world?”

  “Most of the weirder stuff is native to Illyria, actually.”

  She raised a brow but didn’t seem impelled to say anything. I liked that. The drive took twenty minutes. Jen looked at the buildings and shops with evident interest while I drove. We passed parks, playing fields and residential neighborhoods, crossed a bridge over the River Hastings and soon after turned through a metal gate which led to a paved garage. A short walk took us to the administration building, where we signed our names in a registry. I took a moment to photograph the last few pages of the registry with my interface.

  One of my men looked at a video played in a small booth in the lobby, recounting the history of the Gardens. We pretended not to know each other. Curtis had stationed ten of them around the grounds. Hopefully, their presence would not be needed. Jennifer, though I had told her nothing of recent events, pondered my man, then gave me a speculative glance, which I ignored.

  Beyond the booth, another door led outside. I picked up a brochure. “If you’re interested, this gives the same information as the video.”

  She tucked it into her bag. “I’ll look at it later. Right now, why don’t you show me around?”

  “This way, then.”

  The first garden filled a large greenhouse. It was hot and dry, covered with a layer of sand and dotted with cacti and succulents. The plants were neatly labeled. A few sprouted flowers. Plants similar to these could be found all over Illyria in hot, dry environments, all of them originally from Earth, or so it is said.

  None of these were particularly strange or exotic, though their flowers were attractive, and we wandered through quickly, not saying much, following the path to a door, which opened into another greenhouse, this one hot and wet. A small stream flowed in a meandering circle and we followed it along as it wound through the building.

  Orchids and bromeliads in bright shades of pink and red hung from vine covered tress. The path opened onto a small clearing. In the center sat a tuberous, orange growth perhaps two meters in height, with a metal railing around it. I sniffed. A spicy aroma filled the air. “This one is native to our own jungles. If you ever happen to encounter it in the wild, stay away from it. The perfume attracts insects. It secretes an enzyme that dissolves flesh.”

  Jen frowned at it. “Lovely.”

  “Simple but effective,”
I said.

  She nodded. “Lead on.”

  Greenhouse followed greenhouse, each one containing flora unique to its own micro-environment. One held an assortment of carnivorous plants within glass cages. The tags said that they were native to the tropical jungles of Illyria, but were now in danger of extinction. Only one was large enough to pose a threat to humans, a tall, coniferous thing with needle like spikes. “Wasp tree,” Jen read. “What’s a ‘wasp’?”

  “No idea. Something unpleasant, I suppose.”

  “Presumably, the Empire left them behind on whatever world they came from.” Jen shook her head. “They did whatever they wanted to, didn’t they? The Empire, I mean.”

  I nodded. “They ruled this part of the galaxy for over four thousand years. It’s probably just as well that they’re no longer around.”

  “Is the Second Empire any better?” she asked.

  “We only know what they tell us. They say that they are.”

  “I’ve seen just a few of them since I moved to Aphelion.”

  “The Empire maintains a consulate here in Aphelion. What about Octavia?”

  Over a thousand years ago, the Eastern continent had been devastated by an asteroid strike. The few survivors migrated away and the continent remained a bubbling, volcanic cauldron for over a century. The continent is still largely a wasteland but the Second Empire, used to terraforming hostile terrain, had been happy to move in. It was real estate that nobody else wanted.

  “They’re a little smaller than most of us but otherwise look the same. If they wore Octavian dress, I might have seen them and didn’t realize it. Not much happens in Octavia, though. I don’t think they would have found the place very interesting.”

  No, I thought, sheep are usually boring.

  “Have you ever seen a Rigellian?” Jennifer asked. “Or a Tauran?”

  “Can’t say that I have. I’ve seen a couple of Capellans. They’re tripedal and covered with blue filaments that are light sensitive and absorb water from the atmosphere. Very strange.”

  “I can imagine.” Jen nodded. “What else is there to see, here?”

  “This way.” Outside of the last greenhouse, the path led for about two kilometers in a rough circle, with different themed gardens every hundred meters or so. We passed a couple of my people, pretending to be tourists. I ignored them.

  We rounded a path lined with large conifers, which led to a wide grass covered field, in the center of which stood a giant Sequoia, over eighty meters tall. Jen stared up at its spreading branches in awe. “I’ve heard of this tree. It’s hard to imagine how big it is,” she finally said.

  “Over two-thousand years old,” I said. “It’s why they located the gardens here. It’s the oldest and largest tree on Illyria.” Near the tree, surrounded by a low metal railing, stood a weathered boulder with letters carved into its surface. The letters had been worn down by centuries of rain and snow and wind and were no longer legible, but inside a glass case next to the stone stood a paper transcription of what they had once said:

  Our nation is now at war with those who would enslave our people, and along with our comrades we shall fulfill the responsibility that the Imperator has placed upon us. Our ship joins the fleet tomorrow. If God wills, we shall return, but if that day never comes then let this tree stand as a monument both to our memories and to the eternal spirit of humanity united on this world and beyond.

  Nathan Gerardi, Captain: HMS Lodestar

  Jessica Oliveros, First Mate: HMS Lodestar

  Hector Cortez, Second Mate: HMS Lodestar

  “They never did return, did they?” Jennifer asked.

  “I don’t think so. The war dragged on for almost a century and by the time it was over, the First Empire had ceased to exist. We were abandoned.” All of us knew the history but still, being here, seeing this enormous tree and the stone and the plaque, reading the words of our long-vanished ancestors…it never failed to impress.

  Jennifer drew a deep breath and shook her head. “How sad.”

  Our assailants had stood almost where Jen was standing. One of them had looked down at the stone and the glass case and then walked up to the tree and pressed his hands on it. I understood the impulse. I had done the same thing years ago, when my parents first brought me here. Many people had carved their initials into the trunk, over many centuries. The bark was so thick that this activity could not possibly harm it. The oldest such carving that could still be read was now almost twenty meters high and over eight-hundred years old.

  “Let’s go on,” Jen said.

  The last garden contained plants native to the temperate forests of Illyria, again, now almost extinct. They were squat, dark brown and not very attractive. Most of these had signs warning people not to touch them, as they tended to cause allergic reactions in humans.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” Jen said. “I like this place.”

  “I’m glad. I thought you would.”

  She smiled at me. “What’s next?”

  I glanced at my watch, looking forward to the rest of the evening. “We have a reservation for dinner.”

  Chapter 5

  “A map of our world,” the teacher said, “from three thousand years ago. Can any of you see what has changed since that time?”

  Not the most fascinating lecture, when you are fourteen years old. I had begun to shoot up and for the first time in my life, I was not among the smallest in my class. There was a girl; her name was Annie, a little redhead with a knowing smile, who seemed to find me attractive.

  “Mr. Oliver?”

  “The shoreline,” I said.

  “Very good. And what is different about the shoreline?”

  “Parts of it are gone.”

  “And why is that?”

  “The last ice age was nearing an end. The seas have risen. This was almost two thousand years ago.”

  The teacher nodded. Annie, sitting three rows over, gave me a sly grin. She sat up straight in her chair and shifted her shoulders. I felt my palms begin to sweat. Annie had very large breasts, for a fourteen-year old.

  “And how about this?” Another map came up on the screen, a topographical map of the Western continent, from the same time period.

  Bryce Carver, a thin kid with pale blonde hair and freckles, raised his hand. “Some of the cities are different.”

  “True. Our world has been settled for a very long time. Cities tend to grow where there are resources to support them and where transport and communication is readily available, on the edge of rich farmlands, along rivers and bays, on easily defended ground, in places of placid weather and scenic beauty; but as Mr. Oliver has pointed out, the climate has changed since then. The topography is different as well. Many of the old cities were abandoned after the Empire left us, as the climate grew hotter and drier, and as the seas rose. Aphelion was founded more than three thousand years ago, but much of the old city is under water, now.” The teacher smiled and glanced at the clock hanging over the door. “Alright, that will be all for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Annie, beautiful little Annie. I met her later, in a copse of trees that overlooked the harbor. I think about little Annie now and then, always with a wistful sigh. I knew even then that I would never forget her. She taught me so many things.

  The First Empire, or so it was surmised, had lasted for almost four thousand years and had settled a large part of the spiral arm, with the ancestral world, Earth, at its center. It was unclear what had happened to them, beyond a stratified society, a war with an insectoid alien race called the Hirrill and a revolt of senior military personnel. Travel between the worlds had ceased for many centuries, but humanity had spread widely in the Galaxy and most of the settled worlds survived, though some did not.

  The Second Empire was less than five-hundred years old and had reached Illyria less than a century ago. They claimed to be more benevolent than their predecessor but I wondered at this. So far, at least, they seemed content to trade and otherwise lea
ve us alone.

  Still, the influence of the Empire, the Great Empire, the Empire that had planted humanity’s seed on this world and then abandoned us, and then vanished, was never entirely forgotten, though it was a subject of daily relevance only for historians.

  I thought about the Empire and the eleven people who had vandalized my warehouse as we drove to Arcadia, a very expensive restaurant not far from the Seldon Gardens. Eight out of the eleven had wandered through those gardens in the afternoon before doing the job that they had presumably been hired for. What else had they done? I thought that I knew. I thought they had gone to dinner and I thought I knew where.

  The host wore an expensive suit and greeted us with a smile. “Welcome,” he said, and he sounded as if he meant it. “Please follow me.”

  The restaurant had seating for over a hundred. It was dimly lit, with dark wood furniture, porcelain plates and solid, heavy silverware. The host showed us to a table by the window, overlooking a wooded park, and handed us menus. “Gary will be your server. He’ll be with you shortly.”

  I saw six of my people, three men and three women, scattered around the room, enjoying their dinners. Ready, just in case.

  We opened the menus. Jen looked down at it, her expression intent. “I don’t know what to order.”

  “Whatever you want,” I said.

  She pondered the opened page. “But what do I want? Most of it looks great, and the rest of it, I’ve never heard of.”