Barrington Bayley - The Grand Wheel

‘We’ve taken it to the point where we can risk using it, in an emergency. It would have been better,’ Dom added affably, ‘if matters had gone otherwise, of course.’

Scarne reflected. ‘I reckon you’ve already badly miscalculated once. The galactics’ gamesmanship was better than you anticipated. Now you’re using the luck equations. What if that goes wrong somehow, too?’

‘One must estimate the likely outcome. It raises an interesting conundrum. Can one be invested with luck and be unlucky enough to lose it?’

Scarne sighed. ‘You’ve certainly got nerve, I’ll say that. Did you bring me out here just for this little demonstration?’

‘No.’ Dom’s eyes scanned the horizon. ‘I’m looking for Shane. He’s got to be out here somewhere. Probably underground.’

‘And you can find him where others couldn’t?’

‘I’m lucky.’

He put the car in motion again and drove it on its wheels for about a mile, apparently in a direction chosen at random. Then he stopped and pointed to a rise in the ground some distance away.

‘See that bank – a sort of hillock? That could hide something.’

‘It’s far from being a unique feature.’

‘Just the same I think I’ll get somebody to fly over that hillock and take a heat reading,’ Dom said thoughtfully.

He seemed satisfied. He turned the car round and took it off the ground again. They went skimming over the terrain back towards the camp.

‘I think I’ll soon have him back again,’ he exclaimed gladly. ‘The dear boy.’

‘What for?’ Scarne asked in a sudden passion. ‘To make him as corrupt and evil as yourself? Why don’t you leave him alone and give him a chance to live decently?’

‘What’s this, my dear fellow?’ said Dom, affecting surprise. ‘Jealousy?’

‘Jealousy? No…’

‘No, it’s real hatred, real disgust, I can see that. And all based on a misconception, too! All because you think I’ve been gambling away Sol civilization. Putting up humankind as a stake in the game!’

‘Well, haven’t you?’ Scarne asked, puzzled.

‘Why, no, of course not!’ Dom, in high spirits, was laughing at him. ‘Allow me to destroy your delusions, Cheyne. I admit I did nothing to discourage them, but after all I wanted you to have an incentive to play. But did I ever actually say I was putting civilization at risk? The real truth is, I would have done it without a qualm – the higher the stakes, the more we stood to win. But the galactics wouldn’t accept anything we didn’t actually own. We would have had to be in possession of the Legitimacy, and that was something we couldn’t obtain. So it would have been like passing a dud cheque. The galactics don’t let you get away with that.’

‘Then what are the stakes we put up?’ Scarne wanted to know.

‘The Grand Wheel. All our tangible assets, and all our influence. The galactics regard it as a pitch which we operate. Should we lose, it will become theirs.’

‘They will run the Grand Wheel?’

‘Yes. Or do whatever it is they aim to do with it.’

There was silence for a while, except for the rush of air past the speeding car. ‘You’re just as bad as I said,’ Scarne said eventually. ‘You would have done it if you could.’

‘Face facts. We are going to win . I have luck, Cheyne! The goddess’s rays are blazing down on me. Instead of heaping recriminations on me, you should be feeling relief that your fears were groundless.’

But Scarne felt himself too confused to feel such relief. He no longer knew whether he could trust anything Dom said.

The Chairman did not drive back to the camp but instead put the car down near to the glassy travel-globe, which was still waiting for them. Scarne held back when Dom left the car and made for it.

‘Why are you taking me along?’

In comradely fashion Dom put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You are my favourite, Cheyne. You’ve gone through the whole thing with me. I want your moral support.’ Then he took his hand away and sighed. ‘But you may stay behind if that’s what you want.’

‘No,’ Scarne decided, ‘I’ll come.’

Fearfully, he walked towards the majestically shimmering sphere.

‘Has it occurred to you that this planetoid is a bit tatty?’ Scarne asked Dom as the sphere descended towards the coldly glowing surface. ‘It seems to me we’re not too important a customer.’

‘They’re handling deals like this all the time,’ Dom agreed. ‘They’re big. Very big.’

‘Doesn’t that make you feel insignificant?’

‘No. It’s our way in, that’s all. The first rung of the ladder. Once inside we’ll have immortality, power, knowledge – but you know something about gaining knowledge already, don’t you, eh, Cheyne?’ He shot Scarne an enquiring glance. ‘Maybe I’ll try a shot of that drug of yours myself.’

With the odd, disconcerting effect that caused them to brace themselves needlessly, the sphere embedded itself in the earth. This time they had not come down near the games village. The small landscape was empty except for what appeared to be a hut just short of the horizon. Dom and Scarne trudged towards it over the cinders-like ground, reaching it in five minutes or so.

The hut had a crude makeshift appearance. It was constructed of planks of a fibrous material resembling wood and was windowless. After looking it over, Dom knocked on the door.

Immediately the door swung open. Within, the hut looked more comfortable but by no means luxurious. There was a table, and two chairs, one of them large and peculiar-looking, built for something other than a human.

That something beckoned them in from the opposite side of the table. Only by a considerable stretching of definitions could it have been described as humanoid. It stood on two legs, but these were hinged partway up a sloping body, which balanced its weight by means of a thick tail as in some dinosaurs. The head, however, lacked any kind of snout. It was skull-like, covered with horny grey skin and looked upon them with staring, deep-set eyes.

They entered, Scarne closing the door behind them. The air of the hut was close and stuffy, with a dog-like odour which Scarne found unpleasant. The alien took the larger chair, seating himself in it with a flick of his tail, which rested on a curved groove, and with a surprisingly long and slender arm motioned Dom to do likewise. There apparently being nowhere for Scarne to sit, he remained standing to one side.

The alien’s head turned to regard him. ‘I am sorry,’ he said in well-modulated, civilized-sounding tones which Scarne guessed came from an artificial voice-box, ‘you will wish to sit.’

He made a motion with a long, multi-jointed hand. Some mechanism apparently responded to the signal, for a part of the wall came adrift and folded itself into a serviceable straight-backed chair which crept across the floor to Scarne.

‘Thank you.’ Scarne sat down.

The galactic player turned his attention to Dom. He placed a deck of cards on the table.

‘Our proposal is this. This deck is of the same type that was used in the earlier games. No two cards have the same value, as you are aware. We will cut for a card, and play three times. Two winning cards out of three wins all.’

‘Highest takes it?’

‘Correct. I need hardly add that these cards are specially treated against any kind of legerdemain, which is superfluous in any case since they will be machine-shuffled. If there are to be subsequent games we can proceed by gentlemen’s agreement.’

‘What about change-cards?’

‘For this game, all cards are immutable,’ the alien answered in a slightly surprised tone, as though the point was obvious.