That reminded him of his spying missions. He regretted those, now, despite the importance of the information gleaned. Would it have been better not to have done it? That would have meant falling into Tania’s trap, and also he would have avoided the need to be with Fleta, when—
“There be much in this I like not,” he muttered.
Agape did not misunderstand. “But also much to like. I will always be glad for the visit I was able to make to Phaze, and the folks I was able to know there, though I had to borrow Fleta’s body.”
“Aye. But what future have we? An I win, we be soon parted. An I lose, the frames be in peril. What choice be that?”
“It would be easier if your kind was like mine in this respect,” she said. “With no set sexes.”
“And no love between them,” he agreed. “Is that the way you prefer it?”
“No.”
They went on through the park. It had not changed, but his mood had improved.
Next day he overlapped Mach and relayed the information about the arrangements for the game. The Game Computer had worked out the basics and compressed them into a few code words for Mach to tell Trool. They would overlap again in a few days for verification.
Then: I wish we were locked not in this struggle between ourselves. Bane thought.
The issue must be settled, one way or the other, Mach responded. It would have arisen elsewhere, if not with us.
And that was probably true. Dost know that the source of our exchange be the lingering connection between Stile and Blue?
Mach was surprised. It’s not because we are alternate selves?
Nay. Other alternates can do it not, only us—because we relate to our sires.
And our loves relate to us, Mach concluded.
Aye.
That was all. They separated.
Bane reported for the first game of Round Two. “Plug in,” the Oracle directed.
Bane plugged the cable into his ear.
Suddenly he was standing in Phaze. Mach was standing beside him, and there was a little collection of chairs in which Fleta, Agape, Trool, the Translucent Adept and the Brown Adept sat. Before them was a shimmering curtain concealing the setting of the game, reminiscent of the historical curtain between the frames.
Trool rose and walked to them. “Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” he asked Bane.
“Aye, Adept,” Bane said. “But not the nature o’ this dream!”
“It be no dream, Bane,” the troll assured him. “Only thy presence here be a vision and that o’ thine alien friend; all else be real. Do thou play the game to win.”
“Aye, Adept.” The Oracle had told him it would seem realistic, and it was! It seemed that his body was overlapping Mach’s, but his awareness was being projected to the representation of his body here. Thus he saw everything that Mach saw, here in Phaze—without actually being here. He was actually in the Game Computer’s mock-up of the scene, and the mock-up was based on the actual scene of Phaze. Technology was emulating magic.
“Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” Trool asked Mach.
“Yes, Adept.” Mach was in Bane’s body, so looked like Bane. Bane glanced down at himself: it was the robot body.
“The machine in Proton-frame has made Bane the Predator, this time,” Trool continued. “Mach be the Prey. An the Prey lap the course three times, he be victor; an the Predator catch him first, the Predator be the victor. The Prey be given a five-second start. Ready, players?”
“Aye.”
“Yes.”
“Then begin.”
Mach stepped forward, into the setting. He disappeared.
Bane glanced at Agape. It was incongruous to see her here in Phaze in her own form, but of course with magic any vision could be Grafted. He waved to her, and she waved back. He wondered whether Agape and Beta were talking together, and if so, what they were saying.
“Go, Bane,” Translucent snapped.
Bane stepped through the curtain.
He found himself on four feet, in a solid, striped body. He was a tiger! His passage through the curtain had triggered the first of the transformations, rendering him into the predator animal.
The setting was an irregular landscape with projecting rocks and descending gullies. There were a number of trees; in fact, parts were as solid as a jungle. This would be a good region to hide and pounce—but he knew he could not afford that. He had to run down the prey, lest it lap the course before he catch it.
He sniffed the air. He smelled mongoose. That would be the Prey form, for the moment. As a tiger, he could readily kill it; the problem was running it down. On an open plain, in real life, that would be simple, but this terrain offered many hiding and dodging places; it would be hard to catch it here.
In fact, that five-second head start made the task of location a problem, let alone the task of catching. The mongoose could be through this region and into the next medium, while the tiger was still trying to sniff out the trail.
So he played it smart. He bounded directly across, going for the lake he saw in the distance ahead. If he could get there first, and cut off the mongoose—
But as he ran, bounding along the highest ground, he peered into the low regions, noting which ones offered the best protection and clearest access for a mongoose. This was a vital part of the game; what he overlooked could cost him the victory.
He had almost reached the water when he heard a splash. The mongoose had raced right through to the next medium!
Bane charged for the lake, trying to catch up a little. In this game, the traveling velocities of the creatures were identical, whatever they might be in life. The Predator gained only by cutting corners or by taking advantage of opportunities like this, when he knew the location of the Prey. This slight advantage of the Predator was unlikely to make up for the five-second delay of the start, in the course of any one medium, but would inevitably close the gap a little each time. All he needed to do was to make no error, and the Prey would be his.
He did not step into the water, he leaped into it, trying to gain another fraction of a second by entering it at speed. He came down with a horrendous splash—and found himself in the form of a dolphin.
Ahead was a shark. A shark might not be considered prey to most creatures, but in life a dolphin could kill a shark by knocking it with the snout. Thus the shark fled the dolphin, in this situation.
The water was not deep. Aquatic plants were rooted in its sediment, reaching their stems up to the surface, forming patterns of thin columns where they clustered. Sponges were grouped on rounded nether rocks. Some rifts showed below, partially filled with sediment, and a few dipped into dark holes that might be blind caves or might be tunnels. Small fish darted about, giving way to the far more massive dolphin.
Bane forged after the shark. But the lead was still too great; he knew he could not catch up within the limit of this lake. Rather than expend his full energy trying to do so, he kept the pace and watched the surroundings, mentally mapping the terrain. The thickest growths of plants offered concealment, but also slowed progress of larger swimmers. Velocity of the contestants was equivalent, but not if they moved foolishly; he would feel better about plowing through those plants if he were smaller. As for the bottom—he paid special attention to the darkest holes, so that he would be able to spot them without faltering when he came this way again.
The shark moved toward the bottom, and swerved around a greenish rock. Bane remained higher, and so was able to cut across above the rock, gaining another fraction of a second. He knew the shark would have to come up again, to enter the next medium, so in this, too, he was saving time. The fact was that Mach was not managing his forms perfectly. That was probably because a month’s training for this game was not enough to compensate for a lifetime as a robot. Mach was simply not acclimatized to the nuances of the motions of wild creatures. But he would probably catch on rapidly enough, with this experience.