D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

It looked as if there’d been a real Mr. Kayto at some point, but Saint Dane stepped in and took over his identity, which meant the real Mr. Kayto was dead.

“People have been fighting wars forever, Pendragon, simply to gain power. The history of each and every territory is written in the blood of those who died trying to fulfill the aspirations of their ambitious leaders. What happened here on Quillan was so much more civilized and far more successful. There were no battles. Not a shot was fired in anger. You won’t find military cemeteries crowded with thousands of tombstones. Yet make no mistake, an entire territory has been conquered and the spoils are huge.” Saint Dane gave me a twisted smile and added with a chuckle, “And the best part of all is that I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

I stood there, dazed, trying to understand all that he had thrown at me. Was it possible? Could a company grow so huge and powerful that it ruled an entire world?

“How do the games fit into this?” I asked.

“Ahhh! The games!” Saint Dane said with relish. “A particularly interesting sidelight. You see, my boy, greed is an addiction. It’s a machine that must constantly be fed. The trustees of Blok saw that their business had grown as large as possible. There was nothing left to conquer, nowhere left to expand. Most importantly, there were no more products to create and exploit in order to increase their own wealth. So they created one.”

“The games,” I said.

“Exactly! The games provide entertainment for the people and a constant source of revenue for the company. Blok takes a percentage of every bet placed, no matter who wins.”

“But people are betting with more than money,” I said. “I’ve seen people carted off after losing a bet.”

“Oh, yes,” Saint Dane said, laughing. “These people have very little money to wager. Of course that doesn’t stop them from gambling. The chance of improving their sorry lives is too tempting. Remember: greed. Though they may not have money to wager, they do have something that is much more valuable-their lives. When people make the ultimate bet, a win means they might have more food for their families. Food grown, processed, and sold by Blok, of course. Or they mightwin a higher-paying job… with Blok. Or a larger home… built by Blok. The possibilities are endless.” “What if they lose?” I asked.

“Several things could happen,” Saint Dane said. “Usually they are retrieved and sent to an area of Blok where their particular talents are needed. Laboring with little or no pay increases the bottom line for Blok. The losers could be separated from their families for years-in Second Earth terms. Or they could be sent for medical research, or to the tarz.”

“What is the tarz?” I asked.

“Tarz is power,” he answered. “You might call it electricity. Tarz powers the territory. But it’s volatile, much like nuclear power on Second Earth. Cleaning up the waste produced in a tarz factory is the lowest job there is. The good news is no one works in a tarz factory for long, because the waste is poisonous. I understand it is a painful death.”

I had to sit down on one of the cold black couches. It was like the weight of what Saint Dane was telling me was pushing me down. He had just described a territory that was a living nightmare. The people of Quillan were zombielike slaves to the greedy people who ran Blok. A store.

Saint Dane added, “I’ve often seen cases where fathers wager with the lives of their children.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. The lure of the big win is simply too much to resist. Greed, Pendragon.”

My thoughts went back to that arcade, where the guy beat the video game and was reunited with a little kid. I wondered if he had bet with the life of that kid. I felt sick to my stomach.

“I’d like to say you’ve already lost Quillan,” Saint Dane said, trying to sound sympathetic. I know he wasn’t. “But I’m afraid that isn’t entirely true. Quillan never had a chance. The territory will crumble and when it does, I’ll be here to help them rebuild. I have wonderful plans. You have to admit that the people here have made a horrible mess of things. Under my guidance Quillan will once again become strong. Even you have to admit they need help. I can give it to them, Pendragon. I can help all the territories. What’s happening here on Quillan isn’t unique. Time and again it’s been proved that the people of the territories are incapable of guiding their own destinies. All I want to do is help. Is that so bad?”

He said this last with a gleam in his eye that made me want to punch him. I think I would have, if I thought it would do any good.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

The demon walked back to the window and gazed out at the grim city. “I want to see how strong you really are, and the only way to do that is to see you lose.”

“I thought the territory was already lost.”

“Not the territory, fool!” Saint Dane snapped. “You!” He lost his cool for a second, but quickly regained it. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised by how you’ve disrupted my plans on so many of the other territories. Press said you would be strong, but I had no idea just how resourceful you could be. Bravo! If I were being perfectly honest, I’d have to say I thought you would have given up by now. But that’s not the case, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” I said.

Saint Dane was actually complimenting me, and admitting his own failures. How weird was that?

“I have a proposition for you,” he said. “I know you don’t have to compete in the Quillan games. I’m sure you’d find a way to escape from those Veego and LaBerge buffoons. But I’d like you to compete in this extravaganza they call the Grand X.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “Is that all? Why sure! I’d do anything for you, old pal!”

Saint Dane laughed. “Will it be that simple?”

“In your dreams.”

“I thought not.” He chuckled.

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is I want you to lose!” he snarled.

The guy’s emotions changed on a dime. I never knew when he was going to laugh, or get all angry and try to beat me into jelly. “You’ve gotten strong, Pendragon,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not just in your resolve, but physically. You’ve become a force that I’ve grown weary of dealing with,”

“And you know you can’t beat me,” I said, getting cocky. “We found that out in the cavern on Zadaa, didn’t we?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I believe your intensity in battling me was fueled by the emotion you felt over the death of your friend Loor. I’m not so sure you could beat me again.”

“Want to find out?” I asked. If this was turning into a macho contest, I didn’t want to lose. Saint Dane stared right into my eyes. I didn’t blink. For a moment I thought I saw the image of this

Mr. Kayto dude waver, as if Saint Dane was losing his grip on the illusion and turning back into his normal self. Was he going to attack me again? I did a quick mental inventory of the room from memory, thinking about what I could grab as a weapon.

“That may happen someday,” Saint Dane said, backing off. “But not here. Not now.” The moment passed. “I’m offering you a challenge, Pendragon. If you should triumph, which I don’t believe you will, then you’ll be stronger and more confident than ever. Perhaps as a champion you might even be able to do some good for this miserable territory. Who knows? You have the charisma to do that.”

“But if I lose, I might die,” I said. “Sorry, the upside isn’t worth it.”

“Ahhh, but that’s where my offer comes in,” Saint Dane said. “What is it that you want most, Pendragon? Other than defeating me, of course. What is the one thing you want that would make the risk worthwhile?”