Larry Niven - The Moon Maze Game

“None,” he admitted, “but the retainer was large enough to catch my interest.”

“Take my arm, please.”

Scotty did, and as if they were old friends, they began to walk now, toward an unspecified destination. Probably a tea or meeting room of some kind, but first a stroll past paintings and statues and images of the ancestors.

“Is money all that motivates you?”

Scotty shrugged. “I like to travel.”

The Kikayan monarch brightened. “Do you indeed? In my younger days, I enjoyed travel as well. My responsibilities currently prevent me from enjoying such freedoms.”

Scotty decided to head off the slight sense of irritation he was beginning to feel. “Mr. President, I don’t mean to be rude, but I haven’t slept in twenty hours, and I’d love to find out what it is that seems so urgent. And… ah… there was mention of ten thousand New dollars?”

Kikaya II grinned. Money, it seemed, was a universal language. He touched his thumb to a bracelet on his left wrist, and a computer screen hovered in the air before them. “Your bank account. Please note the recent deposit.”

Very nice. Efficient. Even better, his request had triggered no offense or indignation. These were all good signs. “Cool. All right, what can I do for you, sir?”

“What do you know about me?” President Kikaya asked.

There is simply no substitute for research. “I know that you ascended to the throne at the age of seventeen-your bloodline was the only one that all factions could agree upon after the Independence War in 2034. For the first thirteen years some called you a bloody tyrant, but you are currently thought a progressive leader.”

“And if I was still thought a tyrant?”

The answer came to him at once, but he took his time speaking it. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Kikaya stared at him, and then roared with laughter. Scotty allowed himself a polite chuckle, but was careful to rein it back in before Kikaya’s explosion ceased.

“You speak your mind,” Kikaya said. “I like that. Next time, don’t wait so long after you have decided what to say.”

“Fair enough,” Scotty said. “So… why am I here, sir?”

Kikaya’s round face split with a quieter, more private amusement. “A moment ago I was ‘your highness.’ And now I am merely ‘sir’?”

Scotty shrugged and took a chance. Kikaya had invited a certain informality. All right, let’s see if he really wants it. “I’m not saying that familiarity breeds contempt, but it certainly encourages a certain informality.”

Kikaya’s smile seemed genuine. “Indeed it does.” He lowered his voice and arched his eyebrows, one man sharing delicious speculation with another. “In fact, without a certain amount of familiarity, it is almost impossible to breed anything at all.”

Apparently, Kikaya liked his guests to laugh with him, and Scotty obliged heartily as a four-man honor guard parted, and the door to a spacious office was opened. Kikaya saw him to his seat as a male assistant inquired into his desire for nutrition and fluids. After arrangements were made, Kikaya folded his hands and spoke as if they were old friends.

“You are the son of Alex Griffin, retired vice president of security for Cowles International. And your mother was a vice president of guest relations for Cowles Entertainment, which controls, among other things, the Dream Park franchise. Is that correct?”

“Yes…” Where was this going? He hoped to God Kikaya didn’t want him to squire some grandnephews around an amusement park.

“You served in the American Union’s National Corps at the age of seventeen, and quite distinguished yourself. Your future wife Ms. Tuinukuafe won an academic work-study slot at Heinlein station when she was twenty-four, worked her way up to comanager in two years. She recruited you at that time. You spent four years at Heinlein base, and then for reasons unclear to my sources, you returned to Earth. Without, apparently, seeking a formal divorce.”

He arched an eyebrow at Scotty.

“Personal,” Scotty said. “Personal reasons.”

“I see. I hope that you can understand how a prospective employer might wish details. If you would be so kind…”

Scotty sighed. “There was an accident. I was trapped in a landslide in a leaking suit for an hour, and it… twisted my mind a bit. I thought it would be safest for me to return to Earth.”

“Because you were no longer suitable for advanced lunar maneuvers?”

“Yes.”

“And basic maneuvers?”

“For tourists. Boring.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that. Well. There is certainly no negative reflection in any of your personnel files… Although one suspects that a kindly ex-spouse might have had something to do with that.”

The skin on the back of his neck flamed. Why would this man say something like that? Another test? “If you brought me here to insult me, please keep your money, and have your shuttle take me home, your majesty.”

For another full minute the two men studied each other, then Kikaya nodded approval. “You are strong. Although your most recent assignment ended on a less than glorious note, you have an excellent reputation in the personal security community.”

Without allowing his ire to cool, Scotty answered: “Cowles has the best training simulators in the world.”

“I believe you. And I believe that your resume and pedigree make you perfect for my purpose.”

Another long pause. This time, Scotty decided not to speak, to put the burden of communication on the man on the other side of the desk.

“My only son,” Kikaya said, “has been chosen to compete in the first lunar Dream Park game. There will be training and travel and risk. I wish Ali to have a professional companion, one knowledgeable in security matters. Such a man must pass muster with Cowles Industries, and is preferably a space hand. You, young Griffin, qualify with flying colors.”

The Moon? This man wanted him to return to the Moon. Dear God. A chance to get back on the horse. But… he hadn’t been to the Moon in three years. The accident had left him with a mix of phobic responses: claustrophobia, fear of asphyxiation and variations on astrophobia or kenophobia: a fear of stars and empty spaces that might create problems during space travel. And a broken marriage. Yes, let’s not forget that little thing.

Quotes from sessions with Dr. Brenner felt harmless enough, but the stars glared, baleful in his mind. Windows were scarce on the Moon. He was not used to staring at stars. The fear of death was overwhelming and humiliating. Anchored to his field of vision, it all created a powerful phobic response.

When he’d been a kid, some feared that moving an asteroid into lunar orbit could end the world. A mile-wide chunk of rock called Aeros ghosted across a remembered starfield. His fingers gripped at the seat of his chair. He didn’t want Kikaya to see his emotions, but didn’t the man have the right, in fact the responsibility to know everything about the man to whom he entrusted his son?

No. My shame is my own. If I turn this down, I’ll do it for my own reasons.

He felt the weight of Kikaya’s stare. He could say yes, dependent on research and discussion…

“What exactly is called for?” he asked.

“There is a period of training and evaluation. Follow this with travel time, and the game itself. We can provide you with what information we have, but I’ve little doubt that your own sources are better than mine.”

He felt as if he’d inhaled a gust of minty wind. You’d see her again. “I assume you understand that any connections I do or do not have with Cowles Industries, or Dream Park, cannot be used to your son’s advantage during the playing of a game. In fact, if I am to accompany him, I see no way to do that save by actually participating in the game. That further limits the information that I can ask from those contacts.”