The Barsoom Project

The snowman plodded back over to him. “The leader of the Blue team has accepted your challenge. We have a traditional Eskimo combat ready for you.”

Max peered up over the lip to be sure that no snowballs were arcing merrily toward him, and then climbed up out of the slit.

Opposite him, Hippogryph was discarding his external garb. He peeled down to a thermal shirt. Charlene Dula stood beside him, delighted. My hero! She grinned a challenge at Eviane.

Max saw his chance, and took it. “My lady,” he said to

Eviane. “I fight for all of us, but would you honor me by allowing me to be your personal champion?”

Eviane stared blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Allow me to carry some little memento into battle with me.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and finally she giggled. Actually giggled! and said, “Sure.” She took off her belt and handed it to him. Max wrapped it around his thigh, cinched it tight, and tucked the tail in. He bowed expansively to her, and trudged off to do battle.

The two snowmen led the way. They were great clumsy beasts, the heads sometimes wobbling for balance. One of them tripped. The head fell off, made a squashing sound as it hit the ground. He had to feel around for a moment to find it.

The procession marched along (It was a moment before Max realized that there were actually martial strains in the background. Soft, integrated with the wind until he could persuade himself that it was his imagination; but no, there it was. Sousa march? Maybe.)

A hundred yards from the snowball battle area was a patch of ice fifteen feet across. Max looked down into it. He saw a stirring in the depths. A mermaid floated to the surface and blew a kiss at him, pressing lips and palms against the surface of the ice. She was gone before he could react.

“Wasn’t she cold, dressed like that?”

“Secrets of the deep,” the snowman said solemnly. “And now, will the two antagonists please take their places on the opposite sides of the ice rink?”

Max looked back at Eviane, then waved toward the sidelines.

“The object is to cause your opponent to lose his balance, while keeping your own. If you cause any part of his body except his foot to touch the ice, he is debited a point. If you lose your balance at the same time, no point, if you force him out of the ring, one point, if you both go, no points. The first to gain three points wins.

“Are there any questions?”

“What is illegal?”

The snowman grinned. “That can be decided by the two of you. We merely act as referees.”

Max and Hippogryph approached each other across the ice. Max’s boots didn’t grip the ice at all well. He wondered how Hippogryph liked it.

Max sized his opponent up. Hippogryph was four inches shorter, but almost as large across the shoulders. The man was disturbingly light-footed for his girth.

“No punching,” Max said.

“Agreed. Or kicking or poking.”

“Fine. Or any of that stuff.” Max paused. “How do you feel about slapping?”

“Fair enough,” Hippogryph said. “But not to the eyes, or face.”

Max studied him. Hippogryph had a secret. Dream Park Security training? Something else? Max had a secret too. He turned to the snowmen. “We haven’t started yet, have we?”

“Not until you return to the edge of the ring.”

“All right.” He extended his hand. He didn’t trust this guy. “Shake.”

Hippogryph’s gloved hands clasped his. Strong. Man knew gripping. Judo, maybe? Made sense: that, plus some standard police tactics, would cover any ordinary security situation.

Well, he was sure as hell going to find out in a hurry. He looked up at the sky. The aurora was rippling like a magic banner. Any minute now it might branch into a “Go, team” pennant.

It was warm for an arctic day at the end of the world. Max flexed his knees, felt and heard them crinkle-pop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eviane’s face, a pale oval partly bleached by snow glare. But he could still make out the expression, if “worshipful” was too strong a word, “admiring” was too weak.

They could sort it out later.

Hippogryph and Max faced off across the ice. Max shuffled forward, trying to keep his center of balance low. One false move and he would end up on the ground with Hippogryph. That wouldn’t do. What might do? He didn’t have enough traction for a lot of the techniques he knew, and this was just a friendly match…

Hippogryph body-checked him. Max felt strong arms reach up, wrap themselves around his neck, and torque him over. Suddenly he was in the air. He hit the ice hard, Hippogryph atop him. Max was more surprised than hurt, and thrashed for a moment before righting himself.

Hippogryph was grinning at him. “Man-mountain, eh?”

Max squinted up at the smaller man. “Does everybody in the world know that?”

“No point!” a snowman called.

Hippogryph came in low, and Max stiff-armed him. Hippogryph lost his balance, started to go down-grabbed Max’s arm as he went, curled his body, and Max was in the air again. Max hit the ice hard, but was up before his opponent.

“Hey! What’s going on here?”

“No point!” the snowman said.