by Alan Black
Larry said, “So how do we get in contact with them?”
Jughead said, “We will access monitors in other rooms. Then we will tell them to move. They won’t like it.”
Larry laughed, “No government functionary likes it when a member of the governed body tells it what to do. Remember that the Tetra work for you, you don’t work for them.”
Jughead gave a little bark of laughter. “You don’t understand the Teumess at all, friend Larry, but it will be as you instruct.”
“What if they don’t move?” Larry asked.
Jughead shrugged. “I’ll tell them you’re hungry and you’re in search of food. I’ll tell them their room is next to be searched. Even a family will accept such a warning from an insane one.”
Larry started to speak, but Jughead said, “I know I’m not insane. I’m a friend. But, they don’t know that…yet.”
It didn’t take long before they were seated on the floor and everyone else was scattered about. They were halfway through a meal of some kind of fresh fruit salad when four monitors on the top row popped on, one by one. Jughead and his assistants joined them, looking pleased with themselves.
Jughead needed to jiggle the controls on the two of the monitors. His assistants had to boost him up to reach. When they were finished, the three sat down, comfortably touching one another and began to share a salad.
Scooter raised his hand and looked questioningly at Larry.
Larry nodded and pointed at the monitors.
“This is Scooter. I and the other insane ones have done as needed and as you have instructed. We have gone to Earth. We brought back one even more insane than I. He’s here with me now. He’s promised me he will eat me first if he becomes hungry, so as long as I’m alive you’re safe.”
The four Tetra stared back through the monitors, although the camera on Larry’s side was disabled. There was one Teumessian standing in front of the camera for each monitor and it showed each Teumess’s family spread out behind him or her.
Suddenly a whole row of monitors flashed on showing scenes from all over the spaceport. Each video camera was picking up a family or a group of families gathered around other monitors and cameras. Larry looked over at Jughead. The Teumessian looked delighted with himself.
Scooter nodded and grinned with his fox-like lips. “We have turned all of the spaceport monitors on so that all of Plenty may know and learn of what we do here. The Tetra, as wise as you are, made a mistake in inviting the Almas to a place in the civilization and the Union. We have one and only one opportunity to bring a civilization into the Union, yet you rushed to bring in a civilization that will destroy us all. The Tetra has been too ashamed to tell the Union of our mistake and ask for help. Yet, you sent a mission of insane ones to Earth, to bring an even more deadly creature here, that we may fight fire with fire.”
Larry was surprised to hear the Teumess only had one opportunity to bring another civilization into the Union. That must be Union rules to keep their numbers more manageable. He wondered why the Tetra rushed to the decision. So, he decided to ask.
“Hey, Scooter? Why did the Tetra rush?”
Scooter pointed at the monitors.
One of the Tetra looked around at his family. He harrumphed as good as any Earth politician. Larry laughed. If the little Teumessian had clothes, he would have hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. Larry couldn’t see from this angle, but he bet the Tetra had a little pot belly as well.
The Tetra said, “The Teumess of Plenty remained second class members of the Union until we submitted a valid candidate for membership. The Teumess of Plenty have been part of the Union for thirty generations. We didn’t wish to be second class members any more.”
“So what other benefits will you gain by being first class members?” Larry asked.
“Who is this speaking?” one of the Tetra asked.
“We cannot see you,” another added.
“I am Larry. I’m the crazy, meat-eating human that Scooter and his crew brought back from Earth.”
That announcement was greeted with cries and screams from a dozen different monitors. The Tetra monitors showed them staring back at what, for them, must have been a blank screen.
Larry said, “Jughead, can they turn on their monitors to see us if they want?”
“They just need to push the @#&%^ red button. Then push it again.” Jughead’s words didn’t clear the translator. “We can see who has done this by this little light.” He ran up to a monitor and pointed at a little flashing orange light.
Scooter said, “For those of you brave enough to view a human, you can see him here. He is only slightly ugly and although I’ve told him that he may nourish his body with mine, I’m here after many days time with him.” He walked over, reached up, and stuck a finger in Larry’s mouth. “He is dangerous, though. He has killed and eaten more creatures than I have eaten quislandden berries. Yet, he is slow; even a two-year-old can out run him. You may view him without danger to your families.”
Three unlit monitors on the bottom row flashed. Jughead put down his salad and walked to the wall of monitors. The buttons were high enough to be a reach for him, but he punched a series of buttons.
A Teumessian appeared in each one.
“We are from Gilandrian Lake province. May we view your broadcast?” One Teumessian asked.
“We are from Allarian Mines.”
“And we are from Hoomain.”
Larry looked at Jughead and Scooter, “Television broadcasts?”
Jughead laughed, “Nothing so messy, friend Larry. It is point-to-point secure transmission. I didn’t wish to let the Almas know of your arrival. Scooter said that would not be…prudent at this point.”
Scooter said, “Jughead, please transmit to anyone who wants to listen in.”
“I object,” a Tetra said. “This is Tetra business and—”
Larry stood up and said, “The Tetra business is everyone’s business. All of the Teumessians might have been able to object to your contacting the Almas if you hadn’t hidden behind closed doors. They might have cautioned you to wait.” The whole Teumess Tetra attitude was just like a lot of Earth governments who believed they knew what was better for the governed than the governed knew for themselves.
“The question remains,” Larry said, “what did the Teumess have to gain by becoming first class members of the Union?”
The Tetra responded all at the same time.
“We do not know—”
“We would find out when—”
“Becoming first class is always better.”
“The Teumess would have access—”
“—more access—”
“—maybe—”
“—probably—”
Larry shouted them down. “Hey Bob. What did we decide was good for the Teumess Friends Society?”
Bob laughed, catching the drift of the conversation quite quickly, “To say we don’t know if we don’t know. Guessing only causes conflict.”
Larry pointed at the monitors. “Lesson learned. I hope the Tetra can apply that lesson.”
Scooter asked, “Why have the Tetra not contacted the Union for help?”
Again, the Tetra responded all at the same time.
“Embarrassed about our mistake—”
“Carnivores and danger already among the Union and—”
“—not want to be told to leave the Union—”
“—wanted to redust our own wallow—”
The Tetra’s inability to speak in turn was just like a congressional hearing that Larry had once watched on C-Span. Everyone was trying to talk at the same time and everyone was trying to not say anything. Why someone would want to talk and not say anything was beyond Larry. He supposed it was like that kid in school. Every school had at least one; the kid who wanted to ask a question, even though he or she knew the answer, just to hear themselves talk.
The last comment confused Larry only for a second. Redust your own wallow must be a typical Teu
mess saying, like mending your own fences, taking care of business, chew your own breakfast, and you made your bed, now lie in it. All of the English phrases, or any one, might have been confusing to a Teumessian no matter how clearly the translator broke down the sentence word for word.
“Okay,” Larry said, “that’s water under the bridge.” That’ll teach ‘em. “Where’s the Almas spaceship?”
Scooter said, “Very near. We’re in danger if we go too far from this building toward the east.”
Larry nodded and said to the Tetra, “Give me an update on how the Almas are hurting you.”
“They have issued instructions to us that we cannot follow.”
“They gather and kill us at random—”
“—entertainment and nourishment.”
“They give us this.”
“—kill us with this and broadcast the results to their world.”
“Take our dead, liquefy the protein, and take it to their home.”
“—dead cannot return and replenish our soil.”
One of the monitors cleared and a grid appeared. Most of the spaces on the twelve-by-twelve grid were blank, but a few were marked in black and red. The black and red marks appeared in random all over the grid. Larry watched for a while and another square filled in black, then another red, a few more blacks, and another red, a black and finally another red. There were twelve red squares in the twelve-by-twelve grid. The monitor flashed in an explosion of colors. The whole result was like a stylized fireworks display or a laundry detergent commercial.
“More Teumessians are dead at their hands—”
“—more families wiped out—”
“—more insane to wander the land.”
Another grid appeared and a series of figures were superimposed over the grid. He didn’t need to read the symbols to recognize a countdown. He watched the numbers and compared them to his watch. They had about twenty hours.
Only one Tetra spoke. “Many insane volunteer to go to the Almas to save families. Some families volunteer to go to the Almas to protect other families. If we don’t have enough volunteers, they capture us and put us in or on this grid. The black means an open space. The red means that a Teumessian occupied that space. The Teumessians are separated from their families and placed in small, single boxes. Selecting a red square will kill the Teumessian within the space. All Teumessians remaining alive will go free if the black squares are all selected before the red squares are gone. The Almas told us we must do the selecting and kill our own. We cannot kill another species, how can we kill our own?”
“Who’s doing the choosing if you aren’t making the selection?” Larry asked. “How many have survived this game? And why is it in twelve and multiples of twelve?”
“The Almas select an Almas to select.”
“They consider it an honor—”
“—bring an Almas from their planet to here—”
“None have—”
“—survived. None at all.”
“We assume it’s twelve by twelve because the Almas—”
“—six appendages on each Almas, with three to a side—”
“—sometimes their appendages are arms and sometimes they’re legs—”
“—two Almas with six each—”
Larry thought, “Great. Six-legged, killer bugs.”
“Why don’t the Almas just take your other spacecraft?”
No one responded. He looked around.
Bob shrugged. “We keep them locked when we aren’t in them.”
He wanted to ask more questions. Everyone was looking at him. His friends, all the insane ones that followed him, the Tetra, and who knew how many others were watching on monitors around Plenty. There was plenty of Plenty. He wished they had laid this out on the trip. He could have worked up a plan of sorts or at least been able to ask intelligent questions.
It seemed the Almas needed entertainment and nourishment, just like humans. If nourishment — in this case was protein from the Teumess — was in limited supply, then they would compete for it. Winners would eat and losers would go hungry. With only one spaceship, the Almas wouldn’t have the ability to slaughter the Teumess in wholesale batches and transport their nourishment back to the Almas home world. Still, given enough time, they would tire of their games and begin transporting more Almas to Plenty for direct feeding or for conquests to take more spaceships.
Larry asked, “How long has it been since you spoke directly with the Almas?”
“We are not—”
“That would be insane—”
“—by message only—”
“—no messages in six months.”
Larry did the math in his head. He wasn’t a genius, but the numbers were simple enough. If the Almas killed twelve Teumessians in each game, and there was one game per day times 180 days, that equals 2,160 dead Teumessians. If a Teumessian lost all of his or her family to the Almas, but was spared, he or she went insane and was lost to society. He didn’t know how many Teumessians were on Plenty, but a couple thousand was enough to get angry about. Many Earth countries would have gone to war over a lot less.
“Do the Almas have weapons?” he asked.
There was silence.
“I will take that as you-don’t-know.” He turned to Scooter. “Can you see if there are any volunteers to go watch the Almas and see if they can spot anything that might be a weapon?”
Something was beginning to jiggle at the back of his brain.
Scooter and a few others headed for the door.
“Scooter,” he shouted, “see if you can find out about how many Almas are on the planet at any given time. Don’t get yourself hurt or captured, but do what you can.”
He looked at the Tetra. “I would be considered insane even among your insane. I’ll try to talk with them. I’d rather make friends than enemies.”
“How can you speak—”
“—not speak for Plenty—”
“—do not want to endanger Earth—”
That last was a valid point. How was he going to talk to them and not let them know he was human? He certainly didn’t want them to backtrack him to Earth. As for not speaking for the Teumess, that was a moot point. They had asked for his help and couldn’t or wouldn’t speak for themselves. He would do what he could do.
“Jughead? Can you send a signal to the Almas, but make sure to block the video from this side?
Jughead conferred with his two staff members. Then he nodded acceptance with his hands. His two staff lifted him up to the top row of monitors. He opened a small panel on the side and twisted a few controls.
Jughead dropped back to the floor. He went to the translator unit and turned a few dials, twisted a few knobs and punched a few buttons. He seemed a lot more familiar with the unit now than he did back on Earth.
Larry wondered if the Teumessian had found a set of instructions or if Jughead was just getting used to technology his species hadn’t built. Finally, he gestured from the monitor on the wall to Larry and back.
Larry turned up the volume on the interpreter unit.
“This is the Teumess calling the Almas. Can you hear me?” Larry said softly.
The little interpreter machine called out his message. Rather it burped out a message and followed that with a translation into Teumess. Larry assumed the burping was the Almas language and not something the machine ate.
He repeated his call three times, but received no response.
He went back to finishing his lunch. Then it hit him. That little jiggle in his brain finally wiggled its way to the forefront. That stupid grid was just like a little version of Battleship. The game was simplified and played solo, but that was what it was. Set up the way it was, it became completely unwinnable for the Teumessians. It was exactly like playing Monopoly against yourself, but making someone else pay with real money when you lost to yourself. Even if the Teumess elected to play, they might, just might save a few of their people, but not enough to make it worth the effort.
“Battleship!” he muttered. “No, that’s a two person game. This crap is more like that old game on every computer I’ve ever owned — Minesweeper.”
Minesweeper was a game designed to teach mouse skills and deductive logic to children, or that was the purpose when it was first applied to computers. The game was simple and one he’d played for countless hours while avoiding homework back in junior high school.
The game was a grid with hidden mines. The player would overturn hidden squares on the grid to reveal either a blank square or an exploding, buried mine. If the player overturned a blank or empty square, the computer version would tell the player how many hidden mines were in adjacent squares. It was a simple game of logic and reasoning. The player won if they found all of the hidden mines without overturning a square with an exploding mine in it.
Larry clearly remembered an element of guesswork as the first few overturned squares were always guesses and most of the time, no matter how good he got at the game, he would reach a point where he had to guess which space of the two or three remaining spaces held a hidden mine. He remembered losing a lot more games than he won.
The variant the Almas was forcing on the Teumess was a simple hit or miss version without the deductive logic or reasoning of getting a mine count when selecting blank squares. The player continued selecting grid spaces until all of the Teumess were dead or, which was unlikely, the player had selected all the empty squares before killing all of the captured Teumessians.
From what he could gather listening to the Tetra’s garbled everyone-talking-at-the-same-time conversation, the Almas had turned a cheap version of the game into a television game show with the winner taking home a few barrels of liquefied Teumess protein. The Almas weren’t the serious vegans they appeared to be.
Larry must have been thinking aloud because Bob asked “What?”
Larry shook his head. He was deep in thought and responded to Bob without thinking. “It’s a child’s game on Earth.”