“Strictly speaking it would be an inter-system or inter-stellar incident, but I take your point. If your governments react to visitors the same way as you did, it could be unpleasant.”
“Yeah. Governments tend to have very big guns.”
“Oh, they wouldn’t cause any damage, but the visitors are likely to be rich if not important and would not take kindly to being shot at.” His eyes crossed again. “I shall have to take advice on that.”
“Why do you keep crossing your eyes?”
“Huh?”
“Every so often you stop and your eyes cross. You did it just there.”
“Did I? I didn’t know that. I was communicating with my ibic.”
“Ibic?”
“The computer that operates my ship.”
“Oh. Do you have some sort of implant?”
“Yes.”
“That explains it then. Would I get one?”
“No. You’d have to pay for it.”
“Expensive?”
“Quite.”
“That brings me to another question. Okay so I’ve won this luxury space ship. I assume it isn’t cheap to maintain. How do I afford it?”
He shrugged. “That, as they say, is your problem. The Lottery awards you the ship, what you do with it is up to you.”
I grinned. “So I could become a space pirate?”
“Space piracy is theoretically not practical although rumours abound.”
“What did previous winners do with their ships?”
The crossed eyes again. He really looked very silly. He stayed like that for quite a while. His expression was serious as he uncrossed them. “Of the ten most recent winners, three have disappeared without trace, one crashed into an asteroid while exploring an obscure star system, four were sold within six months and only two are still operating. One is essentially a luxury taxi in the Rigel area, the other has had the luxury fittings stripped out and is being used as a courier ship in another spiral arm.”
“So I could sell it as soon as it’s mine?”
“Yes, yes.” He seemed quite distracted.
“What about a cash alternative?”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“Instead of the ship, how about giving me the equivalent in money.”
He shook his head. “Not possible, I’m afraid.”
“Has something upset you?”
“No. Yes. You didn’t ask about the prize winners. Of the five who no longer have their ships, three committed suicide. With the one who died of natural causes and the one who had an accident and the three that disappeared, it means that eight of the last ten winners are dead.”
“Why is that a problem? You said the prize was only awarded every ten years. So in a century eight have died. Hell, in a century I’ll be dead, too. If I live half that long, I’ll consider myself fortunate.”
“You are a particularly short-lived species. But that isn’t the point. It’s not that they have died, it’s the circumstances of their death that bothers me.”
“I’m more and more tempted to turn this prize down.”
“You mustn’t do that. Think of the publicity.”
“Who’s going to know?”
“Everybody. The identity of the winner is on public record. Until the prize is officially presented, it’s embargoed, but after that… Just think what will happen if the day comes and goes and no prize is given. We’d be ruined.”
A nasty thought was buzzing round in my head. “And, no doubt, the galaxy’s media would be heading hot-foot for Earth to interview the man who refused the greatest prize in the galaxy.”
“That, too. Oh, dear. Your governments. They wouldn’t take too kindly to a fleet of newshounds, would they?”
“Hardly.”
“Then you’ve no option. You must accept the prize. We’ll try to figure out what to do in the meantime.”
“I have an idea. You say this is the best spaceship money can buy?”
He nodded vigorously. “You’ve no idea. I’d give… well, a lot, to own one.”
“Okay. So how about you substitute a slightly less advanced model and make up the balance in expenses?”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ve no idea what these things cost to run but, let’s say, the next model down costs only $4 billion. You use the remaining half a billion to provide a life-time’s fuel, servicing, repairs and whatnot. Also you provide, say, a decade of free food, drink and so on. That way the winner doesn’t have to try to find the running costs immediately.”
“A moment.” He went cross-eyed for some time. “You may have hit upon the germ of a workable idea. I’ve set my ibic working on it. So you’ll accept the prize?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“Not really, no.”
“Then I accept.”
“Excellent.”
He leapt to his feet and produced a strange box from his belt which he held up a few inches from my face.
“What are you doing?”
“Verifying you are who you say you are. Please place your finger in this hole.”
“Why?”
“I need a DNA sample.”
I stuck my finger in the indicated hole. I was expecting a pin-prick or something, but the tip of my finger became warm and that was all. He stuck the box in front of my face again.
“Now, if you will please say, ‘I, say your full name, of, say your full address, hereby accept the Galactic Lottery Grand Prize. I swear I will fulfil all the obligations this award entails.’”
“Whoa. What obligations?”
“I’ve already explained the main ones; the gala dinner and the presentation. That’s all there is to it, really.”
“That’s all? There’s nothing more?”
“Well, there are a few trivial items, but nothing of consequence.”
“Exactly what are these ‘trivial items’?”
“Well, the manufacturers of the ship will want you to appear in some advertising. It’s only fair. They’ve given you a very expensive ship, after all.”
“And?”
“And, er, well the President of the Capellan Theocracy, where our headquarters are based, will expect you to spend some time there. You know, be seen out and about enjoying the sights and experiences of his empire.”
“And will I?”
“Will you what?”
“Will I enjoy them?”
“You might.”
“But I probably won’t?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Well Capella is rather unusual. It’s a binary system and much brighter than your sun. It throws out a lot of energy. There are lots of planets, some of which support life naturally and some artificially. The Capellan Theocracy also controls about fifty other solar systems.”
There was something in his tone that ‘a lot of energy’ could mean ‘a lot of very harmful energy’.
“In other words, I’ll be dead within a week from radiation poisoning or something.”
“Well…”
“I will, won’t I? Good scam, that. Present the winner with his prize then, before he can enjoy it, send him outside to be frazzled to death. You get your valuable prize back and, of course, no blame can be placed on you for the unfortunate and untimely demise of your recent winner.”
“I assure you, sir or madam… Crawford, that the thought never occurred.” He looked genuinely shocked. “You wouldn’t have to go out in the sunlight.” He shuddered. “We don’t.”
“Then how am I to experience the multitude of attractions that Capella obviously offers, not having a hide like a rhinoceros?”
“I admit that could be a slight problem. However, I’m sure we could persuade the President that it would endanger your life.”
“You’d better. No sightseeing tours of Capella. What else?”
“Well… er… that is…” he seemed particularly reluctant to spit this one out. “There is the breeding programme.”
“Breeding programme?”
�
�Yes,” he shuffled his feet and refused to meet my eye.
“I think you’d better explain,” I said in a dangerously quiet voice.
He took a deep breath and looked very unhappy. “I need to explain a bit about the lottery so please bear with me. Several thousand years ago, some scientists were experimenting with the theory that gave us our space drive. I don’t understand the theory myself, but it allows us to cross the galaxy in a few years. I assume your civilisation understands about space and time? Well, forget all that. It appears that what we perceive as the real world isn’t, at least according to the scientists. The ‘real’ universe lies underneath the one we perceive, several layers deep.” He held up a placating hand. “I know, it sounds incredible. I’ve lived with the results all my life and I can’t understand more than two words. Take it as read, please.
“As I said, these scientists were playing around on the fringes of the theory and their experiments kept being disrupted by what they thought of as ‘noise’. They tried to eliminate it, but couldn’t and gave up. Quite some time later, some more scientists, looking at something else, rediscovered the same effect. By chance they also stumbled upon the researches of the earlier scientists. One of this new group wondered if the effect wasn't noise at all but something else. It took him a long time to isolate it and even longer to identify it, but what he discovered was startling. It appears that every being that achieves a certain level of sentience makes a… footprint… impression… mark on the universe. I’m afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. With the appropriate instruments, individual impressions can be observed though you can imagine that with 57 septillion impressions, isolating individuals is a bit tricky.”
He gave a small, deprecating laugh.
“Over the years this phenomenon was studied. It was noticed that most impressions were amorphous; they stayed within the general mass and were barely discernable. However, every so often one would rise up and be more readily visible. This caused great excitement, for the scientists believed these impressions must be those of great leaders or beings who had a major impact on their civilisations. Over many centuries, they studied and analysed these impressions and finally learned to identify them. When the next one arose, they set out eagerly across the galaxy to find the being who was shaking its civilisation’s foundations. What they found was not what they expected. The being in question was the equivalent of a shoemaker who lived in a small town in a quiet part of his world’s southern continent. He showed no evidence of greatness. Under promises of fame and fortune, he allowed the scientists to study him.” He shrugged. “They killed him, of course, in their vain attempts to prove his greatness. The next impression that was identified was that of a clerk in a religious institution and the third of a young animal herder. Not their actual occupations, you realise, but equivalents. They, too, died prematurely.”
He paused to sip his water.
“Unfortunately for the scientists, but fortunately for the rest of us, the authorities became aware of what was going on. They were a bit upset that the scientists were, in effect, kidnapping these beings and killing them. Apart from the fact that it was highly illegal, the authorities asked what the scientists hoped to achieve if the subject of their studies was dead. They banned the scientist from further hands-on research. The scientists were, naturally, quite upset. How could they study what made an impression become visible, they argued, if they couldn’t study the being in question. The authorities were adamant. No more kidnapping. All research must be done at a distance.
“The authorities, although they were unsympathetic to the scientists’ methods, were not unsympathetic to their aims. They, too, wanted to know what strange and wonderful factors caused one individual to rise from the mass of his or her or its peers. They could not, in all conscience, kidnap these beings, but they wanted to identify and study them. How could they get them to step forward voluntarily? And so the Lottery was born. If they were to provide a prize, something that no rational sentient being could refuse, and offer it to the identified being, that being would come forward and the scientists could study it.
“The idea worked. The beings were identified, approached and offered the Grand Prize. Naturally they accepted and came to Capella to receive their prize. Once there, they were studied. Oh, not so intensively as before… the authorities would not tolerate that, but they were studied none the less… and with the same result.
“Now, a curious thing happened. The scientists and authorities noticed that, after the award ceremony, the winner, and so far the winners have all been male, was always surrounded by many beings of the opposite sex… sentient beings, by the way, are generally humanoid to a greater or lesser extent, and bi-sexual. They vary in many details from world to world; a few have six limbs, some have fur or hair or scales; physical features vary considerably but, by and large, they resemble you and me. The beings who clustered round the winner weren't necessarily of the same species, but all seemed to greatly desire to be in the winner’s company. Some would go to great lengths and elaborate subterfuges to gain access to the winner. Authorities, being authorities, took some time to pay attention to this. When they did, they discovered that this disparate group of sentient beings had one thing in common… a desire to breed.
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “Breed?”
He nodded. “It mystifies me too I must confess, but it is true nonetheless. They wished, indeed some were desperate, to breed with the Lottery Winner. At first the scientists and authorities were inclined to dismiss this as irrelevant. After all, and I’m sure it’s the same in your civilisation, there are those who find fame an aphrodisiac. However, some bright scientist finally suggested that, instead of discouraging the phenomenon, perhaps they should encourage it. Perhaps it was the ability to breed that made the winner rise from the mass in the first place. Moreover, the present direction of study was going precisely nowhere, as it had been for several centuries, so why not try something different?
He stopped as if he had finished. It was certainly a breath-taking vista; people making imprints on the universe; research that took centuries to complete; scientists who kidnapped people. My mind was boggling frantically.
“I’m just a simple being from a backward planet,” I said. “I heard what you said, but can’t see what it’s got to do with me?”
“I thought I explained that. Oh, well, perhaps I didn’t. The Lottery organisers incorporated this desire to breed into the conditions. One of the conditions of acceptance is that the winner participates in the breeding programme.”
“You mean I’ll be expected to have sex… er, breed with lots of women?”
“Well, they won’t be human women in all probability, but, yes.”
“You mean I’m expected to breed with females with talons or six breasts or scales or who are eight feet tall or who eat their mates after sex or…”
“No, no, no,” he interrupted. “The experiment is highly controlled. All the females will be chosen to be compatible with your genotype. There would be little point in a breeding experiment where the participants could not actually breed. The female participants will all be warm-blooded. They may not be precisely mammalian… I believe your world contains a class of marsupials… but they will be compatible. I assure you they are selected very strictly.” He gave a wry smile. “In fact there is fierce competition to be selected. We are, as you would put it, spoilt for choice.”
“Well…” I said doubtfully. “What does the experiment hope to achieve?”
“The theory… well, the hope is that whatever it is that is that made you a Lottery Winner is genetically transferable. The offspring of your breeding partners will be measured and then the mass of impressions watched to see if these individuals rise to the surface.”
“And the results so far?”
“Inconclusive. You will only be the third winner to take part in the experiment. Many species take many years for offspring to achieve the necessary level of sentience so, as yet, the
re have been too few to measure. Definitive results are not expected for another fifty to a hundred years.”
“Whew. I can’t get used to this long-term thinking.”
“As I said, you are a particularly short-lived species. However, now that you have heard my explanation, will you still accept the prize?”
“At least I now have a better idea of what it’s about. The prospect of making love to alien females doesn’t really appeal to me but, providing that you guarantee to remove the tour of Capella and that you swear there are no more ‘trivial items’, then yes.”
He smiled. “I swear there are no conditions other than those I have described.”
“No ‘scientific studies’?”
“Yes, but these are non-intrusive and guaranteed to have no detrimental effect on your health or physical safety.”
He held up his box and I took his oath, adding my caveats for good measure.
“I note your suspicious nature has asserted itself again,” he said with a rueful smile. “You realise you have just imposed a binding oath upon me? If I fail with the President of the Capellan Theocracy or if I have overlooked anything you can destitute me.
“Good. I’m not vindictive and I’ll overlook anything that is genuinely trivial and you genuinely forgot, but at least I’ve a degree of leverage, now.”
“I am uncertain as to whether I am relieved or not. However, we must be going.”
“Now?”
“Of course, now.”
“Not now. I can’t just up and go like that. How long am I likely to be away for?”
“Probably forever, except for visits. You’re going to be the owner of the fastest, most luxurious spaceship in the galaxy. Why would you want to return? However, in the unlikely event you did, several months.”
“Then I definitely can’t leave right away.” I began ticking points off on my fingers. “One, I’ll have to resign my job and I must give a month’s notice. Two, I’ll have to sell my house. Three, I’ll need to tell everyone, family and friends, that I’m going away. Four, I’ll need to find a good home for my cats.”
I Won A Spaceship Page 2