D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

LaBerge shot a questioning look to Veego. She didn’t flinch. He looked back to me and said, “You are very, very wrong. Challenger Red. Those dolls aren’t creepy at all!”

“Oh, be quiet!” Veego snapped at him. “If he doesn’t understand why he’s here, then it will benefit us all to explain.” She gestured to the long banquet table and said, “Please, join us. We will answer all your questions.”

I was torn. I needed to know who these two were and what their connection to Saint Dane was, but on the other hand, they had a hand in killing the Traveler from Quillan. Part of me wanted to grab them and throw them both into the monstrous piston wouldn’t get me any closer to Saint Dane. I needed to suck it up and play it their way.

“All right,” I said. “Where should I sit?”

“In the place of honor of course!” LaBerge said happily, as if we were suddenly buddies. “It’s where all the new challengers sit when they first arrive!” He gestured to a high-backed chair that was at the center of the table. I walked over to the chair, glared at LaBerge, then sat in another chair that was closer to the end. I don’t know why I did that. Probably just to annoy the guy. He stood there for a second, sniffed, then walked quickly back to his chair at one end of the table.

“Suit yourself!” he said in a huff.

As soon as I sat down, a servant appeared as if from nowhere. It was the same small bald guy in white with the two-tone tie who had shown me to my room. He placed a silver plate and some utensils down in front of me.

“Thanks, Fourteen,” I said.

LaBerge chuckled and said, “That’s Thirteen.”

I looked at the bald servant. He looked exactly like Fourteen. Either he was a twin or…

“Is he a dado?” I asked Veego.

Veego took her place at the other end of the table.

“They are quite useful, don’t you think?” Veego answered. “They always do what they are told and-“

“And they don’t ask questions,” LaBerge said with a smug smirk.

I decided to let it go. I still hadn’t gotten my mind around the fact that Quillan was loaded with lifelike robots. From what I had seen so far, they were used as servants and policemen. And spiders. Don’t forget the spiders.

“Are any of the challengers dados?” I asked.

LaBerge burst out laughing. Even Veego chuckled. I was glad I was amusing them.

“Of course not!” LaBerge said. “Where would our reputations be if we pitted programmable dados against each other? There’s no challenge in that, or drama.”

“So you two stage the Tato matches?” I asked.

“Among others,” Veego said. “Tato is one of our more popular contests. But there are so many unique games. The most popular on Quillan, if I may be so boastful. No others put on games that are as entertaining, and successful, as ours. You’ll see.”

I didn’t want to see.

“I invent the games,” LaBerge said proudly. “All of them. Big and small.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small handheld toy. It looked like the wooden handle of a jump rope, with a button on one end. He held it upright and pressed the button. Instantly there was a whistling tweeee sound and a spinning red propeller flew up and out of the end of the handle. It rose into the air for about five feet, then ran out of energy and gently fluttered back down. LaBerge watched it intently, then expertly caught it in the hollow end of the launcher, where it settled back with a click. He looked at me and smiled like a proud kid who had just accomplished the impossible.

“Don’t you just love playing Runkle?” he asked.

“Never heard of it,” I said flatly.

LaBerge’s eyes went wide. “How can you not know Runkle?” he shouted. “Every child on Quillan has a Runkle!”

“Sorry, must have missed it,” I said.

LaBerge dropped the toy on the table and took a drink from his goblet. “You are an odd one. Challenger Red,” he said, pouting.

“Ignore him,” Veego said to me. “He may seem like a buffoon, but he is quite brilliant. One must have a bit of the child in them to concoct such unique games.”

“Unique games where people get killed,” I added, staring right at Veego.

She stared back at me and said, “We provide a service. We didn’t create the demand.”

We held eye contact for a moment. Man, she was cold.

“If he comes up with the games, what’s your job?” I asked.

“I’m the more practical side of this partnership,” she said. “Where LaBerge imagines the games, I make them real. Part of that is to find able contestants, which is why you are here. Challenger Red.”

“So it was your idea to bring me here?” I asked.

Before she could answer, three more identical servant dados entered with trays of food. They placed the trays in front of each of us and backed away. I saw fruit and slices of meat and some orange gnarly-looking vegetables that could have been squash, or carrots, or potatoes, or anything else. LaBerge picked up one of these twisted veggies from his plate, took a big crunchy bite, and said haughtily, “I, on the other hand, love tribbun.”

That answered that question. The thought crossed my mind that this food might be poisoned, but I had to eat. I needed to keep up my strength and there was no telling when I’d get another chance. Besides, I figured if they wanted me to compete in their games, they weren’t going to kill me. At least not yet. I took a bite of the tribbun, and I’m surprised to say that it was actually pretty good. It was crunchy like a carrot, but had the sweet flavor of a melon. Actually, all the food was pretty good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started eating. I emptied my plate quickly, and Fourteen was right there to heap on more food. Or maybe it was Thirteen. Or Twelve. Sheesh.

“You see?” Veego said. “Challengers are treated very well.” “Until they have to die,” I said.

“You keep saying that!” LaBerge shouted. “Don’t you understand? We offer you a better life! You know what it is like out there. It’s a harsh, miserable existence. Here, the challengers are pampered and fed like they never could be on the outside. Here you have music and art and servants at your disposal. Can you imagine how wonderful that is? And yes, all right, every so often we ask that you compete in our games. And there is some risk. But is that so much to ask in return for living the life of a king?”

“Well… yes,” I said. “I told you, I’m not playing your games.”

LaBerge smacked his hand on the table and shouted, “You will!”

“Sit down!” Veego barked.

“He is making me very upset!” LaBerge yelled back at her. “Get used to it,” I said cockily.

LaBerge shot me an angry look. Before he could say anything, a door opened on the far side of the room. I glanced up, expecting to see Twelve, or Thirteen or Fifteen-and-a-Half or whatever, or possibly another dado cop charging in to see what all the shouting was about. It was none of these. Hurrying in with an armload of papers was a young woman. She was wearing an outfit similar to Veego’s. It was deep blue, with long pants and sleeves, and a jacket of the same color that came to her waist. Her clothes weren’t all that different from what the people wore outside in the city, but looked a bit more stylish. Or better made. Or something. Maybe it was the way they fit her, like the outfit was perfectly tailored. Yes, that’s the best way I can describe the outfit, and the woman, for that matter. Perfectly tailored. There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. She had straight brown hair that was combed and parted on the side, and fell to just below her ears. Not one hair was out of place. She was pretty, too. Her eyes were big and brown and, I’m not quite sure how else to describe this, but they were… alive. Unlike most of the other people I had seen out there in the city of Rune, this woman looked like she had some spark. If I were to guess, I’d say she was a couple of years older than me. Maybe eighteen? Or nineteen? I’m not even sure how old I am anymore! She entered the room and walked quickly toward us. She seemed to be on a mission.