Part 14 (2/2)
Christmas glanced at Ser Nisrair. Hadn't he briefed them? He saw a worry-helix in one of the Gal Q officer's tendrils.
”Why, like everyone here-everyone on the staff I mean-I'm a Solterran,” Christmas said stiffly. ”I a.s.sume you were informed that Solterrans originated and run Raceworld.”
”Peculation (?) speculation (?)-” the voder gobbled. Evidently the alien semantics were giving Central Computer a hard time. Then it said clearly, ”Query there is no illegal manipulation for profit.”
Christmas said nothing.
”Deception, in a system of this sort, can be denned simply as entropy,” Ser Nisrair took over smoothly. ”And of course, entropy, or degradation of order, is avoided by all civilized beings, since no local increase in complexity can offset entropic effects in the larger matrix. We see three main entropic potentials in the Raceworld system. First, external parasitism-attempts at a take-over from without.
You have viewed the galactic security force which guards against this. Second, attempts by the contestants to subvert portions of the system for individual or planetary benefit. The Steward here functions to prevent this, with the aid of his own security staff and such outside help as continuous probability monitoring from Mutuel. Thirdly, there is the possibility of corruption of the system by its own organizing elements, that is, by the Solterrans themselves. This is highly unlikely, as I indicated earlier-perhaps too briefly-first because of the high value placed upon honesty and fair play in the Solterrans' own value system, in which they are indoctrinated from infancy as managers of Raceworld, secondly because the Solterrans themselves insist upon a program of periodic testing conducted by galactic experts in combination with a rotating panel from neutral planets. And of course we have tried to meet all their material needs-haven't we, Peter?”
A pause in which Christmas could hear the voder whispering to the Magellans.
”We will observe,” the voder said. ”Alone.”
Nisrair's antennae, which had straightened out during his speech, kinked again. ”You wish me to leave?” he asked.
”You mean, stay here and watch our normal operations?” asked Christmas.
”Yes.”
”Well, certainly.” Christmas found he was speaking through clenched teeth and flexed his jaw. ”Glad to have you. Make yourselves comfortable. Would you like, ah, chairs? Resting surfaces?”
The Magellans rippled into sudden violent motion and then stopped abruptly. They were nowstanding behind Christmas's off shoulder.
”Proceed,” said the voder.
”Right,” grated Christmas. He rang for Dana and bowed to Ser Nisrair, who allowed himself to be unshered out, antennae rigid.
”All right, Dana, I'm open for business. Our guests are staying to observe. What's come in?”
”A complaint has been filed by Betelgeuse system.” Only a slight starchiness about the whiskers betrayed Dana's awareness of the apparitions looming behind Christmas. ”They have a team of giant bore-worms, and they claim their entry was fouled by striking tunnels left by a previous race.”
Christmas grunted. ”Those cursed worms have gnawed up that whole mountain range. Allow the claim, notify Mutuel, and tell the Secretariat we need some new mountains, they're going to devastate the planet. Wait-ask Detweiler if Gal Q could move in an asteroid for all those excavation contests. There's mining over in the next system, maybe they can shove us a rock or two. Det should have thought of that.”
To the presences behind he added, ”This is a just claim against Raceworld for improper track conditions and must be allowed. Those who bet on the affected team will be compensated.”
”We understand your language,” the voder said hollowly.
Kurtis came on the intercom. As the screen lit, Christmas realized that the aliens had chosen to stand where no viewer would pick them up.
”Your Flangians, PC. Its Pyrrhoxa all over again. Their drivers are nothing more than monkeys, the horses were training them. We caught the horses cold laying out a ploy for the next race. Their own odds were too short so they were fixing to have a long shot from Fitfat win. They actually pa.s.sed their betting instructions to one of my boys. They were doing it through a Spican food-handler. They had him terrorized.”
”Mutuel will go up the wall on this one, Kurt; they've been in a lot of races.” For the Magellans'
benefit Christmas added, ”Of course they will have to reimburse all bettors, probably with damages.
Thank our stars those light equities aren't too popular. Give Detweiler the word, will you?”
”It's lucky they went for the big odds so openly,” Kurtis said. ”If they hadn't been so greedy they might have had a longer run. Well, that's horses for you.”
Christmas flinched and cut him off.
Dana looked up from his own commocollar.
”Ankru has just won another one, PC.”
Christmas nodded slowly. Holding his fingers on Detweiler's channel, he swung around to the Magellans. ”I am now going to query the Secretary on a very serious case,” he told them. ”A team from ,a planet called Ankru appears to have been a.s.signed too light a gravity handicap, probably due to an error in the original schedules made up the Secretary's office. The team has of course been winning in several different cla.s.s events.” He swung back, trying to shake off the black weirdness.
”Anything on Ankru yet, Det?”
The gravity is absolutely correct at one-point-two gee, PC,” Detweiler told him gravely. ”According to both our own star synopsis and the Gal Q master directory.”
”Can't be-they're still winning. Four out of five now. Besides-have you seen the brutes?”
Detweiler nodded perplexedly. Suddenly both he and Christmas started to speak at once, the Secretary's tenor riding over Christmas's rumble.
”Ambima.s.s!” he exclaimed. ”That could be it-I'll signal Center for the full planetary specs!”
”But-” said Christmas to the empty screen. The office door lit up.
”Visiting planetary minister, PC,” Dana told him. ”He's from somewhere I can't p.r.o.nounce in Sector 90. Insists on talking to you in person, something about their age-weight handicap.”
The caller ambled in, an immense hump of sh.e.l.l with a sad, tapir-like face emerging at knee-height.He began hooting in nearly incomprehensible Galactic, with much ritual courtesy. Christmas waved Dana over to interpret.
”The problem is that their entry is now fifteen hundred Standard years old, and the age handicap's gone asymptotic.”
”How long do your animals live?” Christmas asked.
”He's not sure,” Dana translated. ”This particular animal has been winning races for over a millenium-he races every twenty years-and the home system expects him to go on indefinitely, I gather. They don't have any more right now, breeding is slow. With no weight handicap differential anymore, it's getting tough. They're up against a much younger similar form from a new system, and planetary prestige is at stake.”
”I recall him now, he's a nice old boy. But we can't b.u.g.g.e.r up the whole handicap system. Even anti-grav wouldn't help, the animal would lose traction. Ask him if he'd be satisfied to switch over to noncompet.i.tive exhibition, with choice of pace-setters, and lots of fanfare-oldest living champion, and all that?”
Dana and the alien hooted at length. Behind Christmas the aliens stood motionless, expressionless, exuding their faint aroma of disquiet.
”I think he says yes,” Dana reported. ”I told him the Secretary will-”
The office door burst open and a long white figure leaped in, drew itself up to eight feet of naked girl, rounded the desk and fell p.r.o.ne with a crash at Christmas's feet. Christmas curled up his toes as he felt cold steel sliding under them. Tapir-face hooted in alarm and backed into the Magellans, who did not move. He moaned louder and backed off into Dana. The office door was jammed with people, topped by the interns dark face.
”What the-you, Doctor Ooloo-this is no place-” Christmas yelped.
”She got away from me, sir, through the ladies latrine. She kept saying she was your slave since you saved her life and she had to swear fealty or something.”
The girl nodded and patted his instep.
”She says now she must toil for you-she has no home.”
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