Phaze Doubt

Lysander’s mind reflected on the name, Hectare. This was actually a translation of a concept obscure to aliens. There was a human geographic measure termed the “meter,” which was about one man’s pace. In two dimensions, this became a square meter. One hundred square meters were an “are,” and a hundred ares constituted a “hektare” or “hect-are,” or ten thousand square meters. One BEM eye facet could track approximately one square meter at a distance, and the full eye complex could track, individually, approximately ten thousand such units. The massive brain could integrate that information and coordinate response, limited only by physical factors. Since there were not ten thousand tentacles capable of firing ten thousand laser beams simultaneously, this was a limit; with computer assistance, such coordination was feasible, and a BEM in a spaceship could indeed fire at ten thousand enemies and score on each. So the name seemed appropriate as an indication of the capacity of the species. The natives of this planet had seen only a fraction of the BEM potential. That was why the guard had no concern about the visitors to the West Pole; it was aware that they might lack the protocols of honor, but it could laser all of them well before any one of them could pull the trigger on a hand weapon. Lysander had spoken truly, as he had to, when he advised them that gaming was the only way past this guard.

There was a stir, and the bat and wolf appeared. They preferred to forage at night, and perhaps more; it was obvious that the two were quite taken with each other in their human forms. They were each twelve now, having aged three years under the Pole, and had evidently come to know each other well there. Flach, once interested in Sirel, seemed to be so no longer, though she was blossoming into an attractive young woman. They no longer spoke of their Promise.

Meanwhile, the two old unicorn mares grazed nearby, taking turns napping as they did. He had apologized to Belle for his part in her branding; had she not tried to help him escape, the first time, she would not have suffered that. But Flach had made minor magic and smoothed out that brand, and Lysander suspected that the Robot Adept had managed to eliminate the record of the brand number from the planetary listing, before sacrificing himself to help Lysander again. The Hectare was formidable, but so was the enemy, in its devious way. Which, once again, was vindication of the importance of Lysander’s own mission: to discover just how formidable the enemy was. The Hectare, long experienced in alien relations (i.e., conquest), knew better than to assume that a quick capitulation was final.

These were all enemy creatures, here by the Pole, yet he found them compatible. It would be a pleasure to be a part of their magical society. Perhaps this, too, was an aspect of their plan: to instill in him a sense of their values and pleasures, so that he would identify with them and choose to join them. But as with the love, it was only partly effective: it gave him desire, but would not subvert his loyalty to his mission.

It was a shame that all this would have to be destroyed, in the interests of the larger initiatives of the galaxy. But it was not his business to consider shame, only his mission.

Lysander relaxed and slept.

Abruptly the lid lifted and two bats flew out. They came to land beside the little group playing a game of poker with the Hectare. The BEM had a pile of pebbles: its winnings for the session. It was an infallible player, understanding all the odds and values; only an adverse fall of the cards could reverse it on occasion. Sirel, playing as Troubot, could remember and figure as accurately as the BEM did, but lacked the finesse to bluff well. The Hectare was matchless at this type of game, as Lysander had tried to warn them. But of course they were not playing for genuine stakes, just the sheer challenge of it. In this the wolf and bat and harpy were one with the BEM: they were enamored of challenge. It was a satisfactory foursome.

Flach and the girl Weva replaced the bats. They looked slightly older than before, because they had aged more than four months in that one day.

“Needs must we travel,” Flach said. “Canst complete the game soon?”

“Aye,” Alien said. “We know the outcome already. Methinks Bern could hold the deck’s weakest hand, and bluff to victory anyway.”

Flach faced the Hectare. “Our sojourn here be done,” he said. “We thank thee for honoring our deal, and on the morrow thou mayst report us an thou choosest.”