Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move Read Free Page A

game field that flashed at him for a nanosecond. He was becoming more and more confident in this impulsive-seeming style of move. When he first started trying to use it, he failed horribly and lost many times because of it—most of them to Alan in the secret basement where they practiced. Jumper could afford to lose those games, though, and had always suspected there was a powerful force to be tamed if he could perfect the move. He gradually got better with it, and finally took it out of the basement to use against the rest of the guys.
    Nowadays, he was nearly unbeatable in the colony. The flash move , as Jumper liked to call it, had much to do with his success. He still didn’t fully understand it, but he learned to recognize and trust it when the opportunity presented itself. Alan was the only one of his friends who even knew about it, but was himself incapable of discerning it from the other random reflections of light in the game field. That was the real trick. It couldn’t be forced, had to be waited upon, sometimes never appeared at all, and proper recognition of it was extremely subtle. Fortunately, Jumper had learned to hone in on it.
    His opponent began nodding with what seemed to be a great degree of satisfaction.
    Jumper knew that was a good sign. He trusted the flash move without understanding why it worked. It never looked like sound strategy on the surface, as it almost always occurred in a remote spot away from the current developing patterns. His opponents usually considered it a desperate attempt at a diversion. Jumper knew from experience that in a few moves the questionable piece would probably complete a bridge to a strong encompassing formation which would agitate his opponent tremendously.
    That’s exactly what happened. Three moves later, the innocent looking flash move piece was the cornerstone of a formidable structure that tied together most of the field’s broken patterns from the opening moves. It was overbearing and Jumper knew he had won.
    Several members of the audience stepped forward and appeared to marvel over the craftiness of this young Earthling. But not Jumper’s opponent. He grabbed ahold of his head and rocked back and forth in obvious anguish.
    “Hey, don’t go berserk,” Jumper said. “It’s only a game.” He liked saying that after winning. Jumper knew all too well there was no other game remotely comparable to polwar. Everyone realized it was somehow much more than just a game. Saying that was his own special form of victory dance, a method of personal gloating—especially after beating a native.
    Two of the Amulites who were holding weapons then came up behind Jumper’s defeated opponent. His opponent stood. His look of anguish turned to one of terror.
    “What in Erob is going on here?” Jumper asked. He and Alan stood up as well.
    Jumper’s beaten opponent then turned and ran off the side of the cliff.
    Jumper and Alan chased after him as far as the edge, stopped, and looked down. That was a mistake. They saw him crash into a rock protrusion far below, tumble lifelessly down the mountainside from there, and finally vanish into a clump of large shrubs. Jumper and Alan spun back around.
    A large, slightly-lighter skinned Amulite emerged from the group and sat down where Jumper’s now-deceased opponent had been. He turned off the game frame and sorted the pieces. One of the armed natives then stepped forward towards Jumper and Alan.
    “You will now play our champion,” he said, motioning at Jumper with the small laser weapon in his hand.
    “Man, we never should have told them you were the Earth colony champion,” Alan muttered.
    “I don’t understand,” Jumper said to the big Amulite before them. “Why did he kill himself? What is this? Where we come from, this is only a friendly game.”
    “Polwar is a serious affair,” the armed native replied. “You chose to come up here, uninvited. You claim to be a champion. You will now defend your claim, and play