The Blue Marble Gambit Read Free Page A

the Mainer. “And you win."
    "You
lose, Orlyx," said the Mainer, tensing. An overpowering stench of ancient alien
pond water drifted across the table, as unspeakable muscles prepared and scent
pores dilated.
    "Awk!"
said the Orlyx in dismay. “Wait a
chron, monkey-food, let's think-"
    A blur from my right. Snick went the Mainer's
fighting claw. A single jet of
purple blood jetted upward before a valve clamped shut. The Mainer hadn't waited, hadn't
thought. They never do.
    "Urp!"
said the Orlyx's right head, glancing across the sudden gap
which now separated it from the left. The left head gazed back forlornly.
    The
removed head perched on the gravtable beside the Mainer, gazing sadly at its
former home with glassy eyes. Already a tiny bud was rising on the mesa of the neck, the new head
regrowing. This was the moment I'd
been looking for.
    I
stood up. “Pardon me. We humans have to purge our excretory
organs frequently. I'll be right
back."
    I
didn't expect it to work and it didn't. The kill team immediately began shuffling, stammering, and oozing to
their various walking appendages. They swung into an encircling scythe of chitin and gristle and armored
jelly and stopped me short. But I
only had to cover two meters.
    I did.
    "There
is still the matter of the Galactic Code and your head," said the Mainer. Apparently heads are like potato
chips. It's hard to take just one.
    The
Crunchies crackled as they spread wider to flank me.
    And
here, as I'd been unhappily expecting, an interesting aspect of Galactic
history came into play.
    This
CasinoPlex, like many others, had been built eons before by a now-extinct race
whose physical form was uncertain, but which some scientists conjectured to
have been something like butane-soaked balsa wood. This novel construction left them
deathly afraid of fire, but not at all bothered by vacuum. It also accounted for some unusual
design features. On their newer
stations automatic detectors would, upon the outbreak of even a minor blaze, instantly
flood all compartments with a thick green foam that instantly smothered any flames
and, almost as instantly, smothered any air-breathers. The builders, of course, didn't breathe.
    But
the older stations were somewhat different, having been built before the
perfection of the suffocating foam. These earlier stations used a different and manual system of fire
extinguishing: long orange handles on the bare metal support beams were to be
pulled in case of fire. According
to a small plaque, this would trigger a cool, safe, refreshing shower of water. This was a lie. Pulling the handle would actually blast
open the nearest viewports, dumping all the air, occupants, and contents into
deep space. This would quickly extinguish any fire.
    In
most circumstances it wasn't a great option.
    These
weren't most circumstances.
    The
team separated, spreading still wider - a tribute to my reputation - and
crackling closer.
    "An interesting game, yes, diz Astor?" said the Orlyx,
now somewhat recovered.
    I
backed up against the bulkhead. Ahead of me, beyond the enclosing thicket of aliens, lay the scenic
clearsteel window, and beyond that only vacuum. Cold, dark, airless - but at the moment
it didn't sound so bad. Almost hospitable, in fact.
    "I
especially like the surprise ending," I hinted. Most of the Old Galactic Races evolved
from colonial insects and so lacked the sense of individual identity and selfishness which a certain non-colonial organism, descended
from ape-like creatures in a dull and uninteresting corner of the Milky Way,
prided itself upon. A bug would
never do what I was about to do.
    "Me
too," agreed the Mainer, misunderstanding. “It was nice, yes?" Clear yellow
fluid dripped from his serrated fighting claw while long, sickening,
blood-colored appendages whipped out from a nasty fringe-lined maw in his lower
carapace, to caress and fondle and lick at each other. Tiny prehensile tongues, I realized.
    "It
will be," I said. I raised my
hand with fingers