SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

“Rayley hacked into their comms,” Captain Yokota said. “The adults are some kind of state dignitary and his mate. Their presence aboard a destroyer is unusual, but not unheard of.”

“And now you can call out the child,” Rayley said. “Name him as your opponent.”

“You know it’s a boy?” Erin said.

“We know his name, his age, his bedtime—”

“It’s allowed,” Darrow said. “They never asked us to name an opponent. Most champion games involve the captains of the respective warships by default. The Quggano named Miss Bountain because they knew she was a civilian, and therefore hadn’t been trained to play Ton-Gla-Ben.”

“And neither has this kid,” Rayley said. “He won’t know anything about the game; his family’s not military caste. But he’s old enough to serve, according to their laws. They have to honor your champion request.”

“The losing champion dies.” Erin looked at the captain. “I’m not going to kill a kid. You must be considering other options.”

“Sure,” Yokota said. “I can blow up my ship.”

Erin blinked. “What?”

“Nobody here is going to become a Quggano POW,” Yokota said. “If you lose the game, we trigger the auto-destruct and hope we take those bastards with us.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” Erin said as she walked into the airlock.

“Stop saying that. You could still win,” Darrow said, joining her inside and closing the inner door behind them. “And win or lose, you’ll have more than done your part for the war effort. We’ve already transmitted a sitrep back to Fleet Command. Now that we know how the champion callout ritual works, we can target Quggano warships carrying civilians—”

“Great,” Erin said. “So I’m going to cause the deaths of more innocent people.”

Darrow stopped working the airlock controls and frowned at her. “They’re not people. They’re aliens.”

Erin felt a headache starting. “Anyone you can have meaningful communication with is a person,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if they’re human, or alien, or some kind of hyperintelligent computer virus. Life is life.”

The airlock began cycling. Darrow turned back to face Erin and raised both hands, palms out in surrender. “I’m not qualified to argue philosophy with you, ma’am. All I’m saying is, we’re at war, and I’d rather it be us instead of them who wins.”

“Nobody wins if we’re all dead,” Erin said.

Darrow avoided her gaze, instead watching the airlock status lights very intently. “Miss Bountain, there is one thing I’d like to give you before you go in there.”

Erin stepped back. “Look, Darrow, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I don’t even know your first name—”

Darrow gave her a shocked look. “I’m not propositioning you.”

Erin hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Well, I am just about to take off all my clothes here.”

Darrow shook his head. “Not to boast, ma’am, but if we were going to do, um, that , I think I would last a little longer than the two minutes it’s going to take this airlock to finish cycling.”

“Fine. Sorry. My mistake.” Erin felt like dying already. “What is it you want to give me, then?”

Darrow reached into a tiny pouch hidden inside the left sleeve of his uniform jacket and pulled out a small red capsule. Erin didn’t need to ask what it was. She didn’t want to accept it, either, but Darrow pressed it into her hand.

“Hide it under your tongue,” he said, lowering his voice as if someone could eavesdrop over the noise of atmosphere filling the docking tunnel between Myrmidon and the Quggano ship. “It’s all organic compounds, even the capsule itself, so it won’t show up on any scans. If you need to use it, just bite down to break the seal. The chemicals will mix together and activate the—” He stopped and shrugged.

“Poison,” Erin said, finishing the sentence.

“It’s very fast-acting,” Darrow said, “and completely painless.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Look,” Darrow said, “we don’t know what the Quggano do with the losing champions. But no human who goes into the competition chamber has ever come out again. If it looks like they’re going to do something that—if they’re going to torture you, or worse—this will let you end it quickly.”

Erin hated not being able to argue with him. She hated being afraid like this, feeling powerless and limited to only bad choices.

She took the capsule and shoved it under her tongue. It felt cold and hard, not merely lifeless but actively malignant. She hated knowing that she might actually welcome death soon.

The airlock finished cycling, and the bolts clanged open. Darrow pushed the door outward, and cold air billowed in from the docking tunnel. Erin shivered.

“Whenever you’re ready, ma’am,” Darrow said, turning his back. “Take your time.”

Erin unzipped her jacket. “Worst day of my life,” she muttered.

Erin didn’t quite understand why the Quggano insisted that both champions playing Ton-Gla-Ben had to be nude in the competition chamber. Sure, part of it was to enforce the no-cheating rule, making sure nobody could smuggle in any devices to give them an unfair advantage over their opponent, but according to Darrow, most of it was based in the Quggano warrior culture. Something about having to strip down to your birth essence to reveal your true nature in single combat, shedding any impediments which might distract from your own personal ability.

She pulled herself through the docking tunnel, doing her best to ignore the swaying of the cylindrical passage and to not think about the fact that there was only a thin membrane separating her from hard vacuum. The lack of gravity was a welcome novelty, though she did grumble when she reached the other ship’s gravity field and her breasts sagged again.

The Quggano airlock didn’t look too dissimilar from the Myrmidon ’s, aside from the unfamiliar signage in their language. Erin briefly wondered if Darrow would find that a compelling argument for the aliens’ personhood.

There were also markings on the floor—not quite arrows, but definitely a line leading out from the airlock and down the corridor. Erin followed the line into the Quggano ship, suddenly self-conscious about her nude body. Why hadn’t she spent more time on the treadmill? Why hadn’t she stuck to a healthier diet? Why hadn’t she been more careful with her interstellar navigation?

Two Quggano guards met her at the entrance to the competition chamber. They looked like all the pictures she’d ever seen: tall and spindly, humanoid enough to be familiar but with enough buglike features to make them unnerving. She had no idea what the child would look like.

After the guards looked her over and passed a scanning wand across every part of her body, they opened the chamber door and motioned her forward. Erin was very proud of herself for not fainting or stumbling as she stepped inside. The door closed behind her.

In the center of the square room was a heavy round table with two stools. Another door was outlined on the far wall. A grid of illuminated strips cast light from above. The walls, floor, and ceiling were otherwise bare. Erin briefly wondered if every Quggano warship kept a special room set aside just for these contests, or if they hastily converted a cargo hold every time something like this came up.

She walked forward and sat down on the stool closer to her, which was mercifully padded with some kind of cloth. The only objects on the table were the Ton-Gla-Ben board and pieces. She looked around nervously, even though Darrow had assured her there would be no cameras or other recording sensors in here. It was some kind of point of honor that the two champions would face each other alone.