Part 5 (2/2)

Hmm,” said the lizard-Pierce approvingly, ”my estimation of your nav comp has just risen a point or two.”

”Jeez,” said Pierce, plopping down in his command chair in disgust.

”Well,” XB-223 went on, ignoring its master's voice, ”perhaps the lizard general would be interested in a game of chance. An exploration of the statistical flukes of fate. An empirical probe of the vagaries of probability.”

The lizards' leader looked at the human-Pierce in confusion. ”What does it mean?” he asked warily. ”I think he means blackjack.”

”Blackjack it is!” cried the navigational computer. ”Twenty-one. Vingt-et-un. It's known by many names across the Spiral Fed. I'll be dealer.” XB-223 quickly outlined the rules of blackjack to the lizard general, leaving out a few pertinent points of betting that might have gone in the alien's favor, such as doubling down and splitting pairs.

”It seems simple enough,” said the general finally. ”Deceptively simple,” said the computer.

”Deceptive is right,” said Pierce. ”You don't stand a chance, General.”

The lizard made his equivalent of a shrug. ”I don't see why not. My vastly superior intellect has already computed the odds of each possible combination of-”

”You'll see,” said Pierce. He wondered why people-including aliens-had to learn absolutely everything the hard way.

”I'll deal the first hand now,” said the computer. He turned up the queen of hearts for the general and laid one card facedown for himself. Then he turned up the jack of diamonds for the lizard, and the king of spades for himself. ”Now we'll bet. If I win, we'll continue hurtling on through s.p.a.ce. If you win, we'll turn around and go back, and the two of you can work out your differences the usual way, with screams and explosions and stealth in the night.”

”Fine,” said the general.

”Do you want another card?” asked XB-223.

The lizard laughed. ”I've got twenty already. No, I'll stay with this.”

The downturned card on the computer monitor flipped over. It was the ace of hearts. ”Oh look!” cried XB-223 in mock surprise. ”I have blackjack! I win!” .

”Of course he does,” complained the human-Pierce. ”He can deal anything he wants. Do you believe he's drawing random cards?”

The lizard-Pierce glared down at his counterpart. ”I can't accept that a computer would cheat.

Even a computer programmed by the likes of you, ape.” The way he said it, ”ape” was neither a compliment nor a mere zoological reference.

The human-Pierce decided to ignore it. The general would learn his lesson soon enough.

”Let's make it two out of three,” growled the lizard. ”Great!” said XB-223. ”Good of Arbiter Pierce won't play this game with me anymore.”

”It will soon be clear why,” said Pierce. No one paid him any attention.

The navigational computer dealt again. The first card for the alien general was the nine of clubs. Then the computer dealt itself a card facedown. The next card to the lizard was the three of hearts. XB-223's up-card was the queen of spades. The general's second card was the three of diamonds. ”You're showing twelve,” said the computer. ”Do you want another?”

The general nodded. ”Hit me,” he said. The third card flicked into view on the monitor. It was the jack of spades.

”Aw,” said the computer, ”you busted.” It turned over its hole card-the ace of clubs, another blackjack. ”But we have some lovely parting gifts for you. Pierce, tell our guest what he's won.”

The alien leader flew into a rage. ”You d.a.m.n, cheating, lying computer!” he shouted. ”No matter what hand I get, you can give yourself a better one! There's no way at all to win against you!”

”See?” said Pierce wearily. ”Didn't I tell you?”

The lizard looked down at the human fiercely. ”Thecomputer represents your mind, your thinking, even your individual personality. I can't revenge myself against the computer, but I can against you. And I will-at great length, with great pleasure!” And the scarlet scales of the general's head and neck flared in some unguessable but frightening display.

What a time to be interrupted! Yet just at this moment, Mrs. M. A. Sutton of Jackson, Mississippi, informs me that gambling is evil, and should not be shown in any light that makes it attractive to impressionable children and teenagers. All right, Mrs. Sutton, perhaps now is the time to return to the travails of the aliens-the Proteans-trapped in the guts of human-Pierce's fuel pod.

The Protean in charge, Commodore Millard Fillmore Pierce, sat tensely at the controls of the good s.h.i.+p Pel Torro. Somewhere out in the human s.h.i.+p's fuel supply, Arro was motivating their craft by alternately puffing up a few sacs and discharging the gases with a loud bubbling noise that echoed in the dark chamber. Slowly at first, then ever faster, the Pel Torro slipped through the slos.h.i.+ng liquid fuel toward the nearest wall of the fuel pod.

Commodore Pierce spoke into the communicator that was strapped around one of his largest gas sacs. ”How are you doing out there, Arro?” he asked.

The reply came as if from within a great, hollow metal ball, which is where Arro was. His voice echoed, and the noise of waves of fuel all but obliterated his words. ”Fine,” he said, ”just fine.”

”You're doing a great job, my friend,” said Pierce, trying to gauge the distance to the pod's wall with the tiny, weak headlamp mounted on the front of the Pel Torro. ”I'm sure the Grand High Potentate Master Commander will personally decorate you for this effort, if you survive and if the harmful effects of exposure to the alien fuel doesn't turn you into a gibbering vegetable.” It must be noted here for the likes of Mrs. Sutton that on their home world, the Proteans actually did have vegetables that gibbered. Even after they were cooked.

”That's heartening,” said Arro, but because of the audible distortion, his friend and commodore couldn't tell if Arro was genuinely moved or sarcastic beyond endurance.

”I see the pod wall clearly now, Arro,” said the gasbag Pierce. ”I've chosen a target for the s.h.i.+p's laser. Of course, the weapon was never intended to take on so huge an a.s.signment, so it may be some time before it manages to sear its way through the metal of the pod's wall. In the meantime, would it be too much to ask you to remain outside, steadying the s.h.i.+p, and helping me keep the laser lined up correctly?”

”Glub,” said Arro.

”I'm sorry?” said Pierce.

”Lug lug lug,” said Arro.

”Aha!” cried Pierce. ”Somehow out there you're in touch with the alien craft's communication system, and you're beginning to learn their language! Excellent! Marvelous show of initiative!

This should win you a fomb-leaf cl.u.s.ter on that commendation I mentioned earlier. Arro, you've been a dear friend and devoted companion all these years, but even so I never realized the full extent of your commitment to our cause-the final and ultimate conquest of all life and quasi-life in the Andromeda Galaxy!”

At this point, Arro made several strange remarks that conveyed little if any information to his commanding officer within the tiny s.p.a.cecraft.

”What was that again, Arro?” asked Pierce. ”I think I'm beginning to see a pattern in this language. The vowels aren't so bad, but you're speaking some strange consonants that don't exist in our own speech, and it may takeme some time to perfect my accent to the degree you've already shown.”

”Blurb. Blurble.”

Pierce sighed. ”I have nothing but admiration, but I guess I'll just have to wait until you get back inside to learn the translation of those words. It won't be much longer. The pod wall is already red hot, and smoke is starting to rise. Don't worry: I'm aiming high enough that the laser can't possibly touch the fuel. You have absolutely nothing-”

”Glorg! Glorgle glorg!”

”Yes, I see it. A small area of molten metal running down toward the lake of liquid fuel. Well, don't worry about me, old friend. I'm secure inside this nearly indestructible hull. Just hold the s.h.i.+p steady a little while longer-”

Just then, some protective system detected the heat of the melting wall, and a sprinkler system strong enough to wash away most of the Cayman Islands turned itself on. If it hadn't, the fuel would have ignited in three one-hundredths of a second, blowing Arro, the Pel Torro, gasbag- Pierce inside the Pel Torro, human-Pierce, lizard-Pierce and his lizard lieutenant, and the red- haired female into subatomic particles so tiny and short-lived that scientists haven't yet even decided on the proper alphabet to name them.

Arro was caught in this hyperhurricane and thrown from one end of the fuel pod to the other.

He continued to speak in strange tongues, but Pierce inside the invading craft had his own sacs full of trouble. The laser had succeeded in burning a hole in the fuel pod large enough for the Pel Torro to slip through, but the s.h.i.+p was responding sluggishly to the controls. The vast, mountainous waves of fuel dashed down on the tiny s.h.i.+p, and the Pel Torro's thrusters were little match for the force of the sprinklers' storm.

Soon, however, the sprinkler system satisfied itself that all danger had pa.s.sed, and the inundating spray shut off again. In a matter of moments, the fuel began to settle into a calm lake of explosive fluid. Then Pierce turned his attention back to his long-range concerns. First, he had to find Arro and get the poor second-in-command back aboard-if, indeed, Arro were still alive.

Then the reconnaisance had to go forward as scheduled, and the results pa.s.sed along to the Grand High Potentate Master Commander.

<script>