Kren of the Mitchegai

by Leo Frankowski

  "Remarkable," Kren said. "And all of this for just a few Ke placed in the right places. You have much to be proud of, Bronki!"

  "Oh, I am, but I don't dare brag about it. There are probably lots of survivors hiding in the basements, looking for someone to get even with!"

  * * *

  They found that one of Duke Dennon's captains, Yor, was very proficient at logistics, and a good manager besides. She was put in charge of production, and costs went down as production went up. Kren was afraid that before the year was out, he'd have to give her a hefty bonus, just in order to keep her.

  And remarkably, under the efficient direction of Chief Engineer Dako, construction proceeded on schedule, and at, or even sometimes slightly under, budget.

  Still, sales didn't begin to meet costs. And the betting odds on Kren continued to go down.

  * * *

  Dol's study of the statistical anomalies of the betting on an excellent, but erratic, athlete named Kren was published in The Journal of Statistical Anomalies. They charged two thousand Ke for this service, which Dol paid for herself to boost her academic career. Over six dozen popular magazines picked up on the story, including some of the majors, three of whom actually paid Dol a total of three thousand Ke for the privilege.

  The written language of the Mitchegai was standardized, and absolutely phonetic. If you could speak it, you could read it.

  It used three gross and six phonemes, each with its own symbol, a huge number by human standards. While humans, with all of their thousands of languages, use over six gross phonemes, the largest number used by any one language is less than a gross, and English uses only four dozen and four, and only half that number of symbols.

  But since there were several dozen Mitchegai languages and many more dialects of them, most popular magazines were written in Deno, the common tongue.

  * * *

  Dol appeared on eight television talk shows, two of which were broadcast planet-wide, telling about her findings, but none of them paid her. Nonetheless, any publicity was good for one's career.

  It did Kren no good at all. If anything, the publicity enhanced Kren's fame far more than Dol's. He had become too popular. Apparently, gamblers didn't care about studies or logic. They bet on their gut feelings. They kept on betting on Kren. The odds kept going down.

  Kren knew that the thing to do was to lose for three or four weeks straight, to disillusion his fans. But he couldn't afford to do that. Building expenses were too high.

  Betting his entire purse every weekend, he was not quite able to keep up with the spending that his building plans required. His purse started shrinking.

  Then he got a letter from the City of Dren Internal Revenue Command. They had been watching his gambling income, and demanded that he pay them two billion Ke in taxes. Failure to do so immediately would result in his Death by Fire.

  At this point, Kren didn't have two billion Ke, not in ready cash, anyway.

  He promptly called a meeting of the board of directors of the Superior Food Corporation.

  * * *

  When Bronki and Dol were gathered in Kren's sitting room, surrounded by display cases of athletic medals and strange weapons, he explained the situation to them, and then said, "I take it that the IRC really is as ruthless as they claim to be?"

  "I'm afraid so," Bronki said. "What's more, they like to make an example of high profile individuals. They feel it is good advertising, the better to intimidate the ordinary Mitchegai. And you, Kren, are about as high profile as you can get."

  "I see. I'm sure that you will both agree that without me here and alive to run it, this corporation is not likely to be successful. It desperately needs cash, to meet current and future expenses, and to loan to me, interest free, so that I can satisfy the IRC. Neither of you has put any significant amount of cash into the company account, even though you have both made fabulous sums betting on me. This is because you both anticipate a stock fight just before the next board elections. What I propose is that you each buy four billion Ke worth of company stock today. This will rescue both me and the company, and still keep your race fair."

  Bronki said, "It's really all your fault, Kren. Your building plans were entirely too ambitious. You should have done things spread out over several years."

  "I had assumed that the betting odds would stay at least at the two to one level. Also, you both agreed with me on the building plans. Now, I need you each to contribute four billion Ke," Kren said.

  "That's a lot of money, sir," Dol said.

  "Yes, surely you can think of some other alternative," Bronki said.

  "I have, but my only obvious alternative would be disadvantageous to me since it would result in my loss of the valuable services provided by both of you. To put it simply, I could kill you both, and by eating certain portions of your brains, I could obtain the information needed to gain access to all of your accounts. Thus, I would have all of the money that both of you possess, satisfying both the corporation's needs and the IRC demands. However, I think that my original proposal is superior from all of our viewpoints."

  "I think that you are absolutely correct, sir," Dol said quickly. "After all, there is no point in being a director of a nonexistent corporation, and I really prefer being alive to the alternative. Would a check suffice, or do you really need cash?"

  "A check would be fine, and there's still time to get it to the bank today."

  "My check will be there at the same time, Kren, to help you in this time of need. After all, what else are good friends for?" Bronki said.

  Kren said, "I was sure that you would both see the wisdom of my suggestions."

  "Most assuredly, sir."

  They wrote up the checks and deposit slips right there, plus a check for two billion Ke from the corporation to Kren's private account, signed by all three of them.

  As Dol prepared to run it all to the bank before it closed, Kren said, "I have one other announcement. The payoff on our winnings has gotten extremely low, and Dol's excellent campaign to educate my fans has proved to be unsuccessful. Therefore, with the director's permission, I intend to have a losing streak. I will not be winning anything for the next three or four weeks. Let's see if that gets the odds up to where they should be."

  "Yes, I think that in the long run, that might be the most profitable thing to do," Bronki said. "If the odds get back up to five to one, we could recoup our losses at a single meet."

  Early the next morning, Kren verified that the checks had all cleared, and then personally paid the IRC their demanded taxes, being careful to get a receipt. With some organizations, even a warrior must tread carefully.

  But by this time next year, Kren vowed to himself, I will be officially living on my own lands, and not subject to City of Dren taxes. Surely, a residence there, and a year-long commuter's ticket, both costing infinitely less than two billion Ke, will satisfy the judges.

  That evening, Bronki reminded him, politely, that he also had to pay the taxes and utilities on the two country houses that she had given him.

  Kren grumbled, but paid.

  * * *

  "Ah, Kren," the director said, "I take it you have your 'prediction' for next weekend?"

  "Yes, sir. With your permission, I won't win anything."

  "Indeed?"

  "Sir, the payoffs on my wins have gotten so bad that it isn't worth betting on me any more. When you are only getting five for four, and there is always a chance of something going wrong, well, why bother? I mean, what if some gang of muggers breaks my arm? Why take the risk? I figure if I have a losing streak for three or four weeks, my idiot fans will stop driving the odds down, and maybe we can make some decent money."

  "You know, I've been thinking the same thing. I saw Dool on the television, with that study of hers. That was your idea?"

  "Yes, sir, but it didn't work."

  "I knew it wouldn't. If there's anything stupider than athletes, it's the trash who bet on them. Okay, take a break, but keep an eye on the o
dds. You still have to show up for the games, of course, so you can lose in public, but if you want to cut a few training sessions, feel free."

  "Thank you sir. I appreciate that. I need a rest."

  "You're welcome. Have you heard anything about Kodo?"

  "No sir. I've asked a few discreet questions about him, when I could work it into a conversation, but Kodo seems to have left the planet."

  "I doubt it. Even the Sky Pilots wouldn't take that pile of burning trash. Dismissed."

  * * *

  Kren left the athletic center early, thinking about a good meal and a long sleep. Dol and Bronki were not home when he got there, so he phoned Bronki's store to order up a child to eat.

  "Yes, sir! And what size did you want?" a pleasant voice on the phone answered back.

  This was actually Kren's first contact with the store. Normally, Dol handled this sort of thing for him.

  "Well, what sizes do you have?"

  "The standard size is our 'Perfect Party Snack' series, which run from five dozen to seven dozen pounds. They go for two pounds per Ke. If you have a larger group, or are really, really hungry, the 'Belly Busters' go up to a gross pounds or even more at three pounds per Ke. Or for a more intimate party, you can buy a 'Munchkin' as small as two dozen pounds, at a pound and a half per Ke," the cheerful voice said. "There is also our 'Special Selection' series, but you have to come down here personally and make your selection. They run as high as a pound per Ke."

  "That's interesting. I think I'll come down there."

  "I'll be waiting for you!"

  Since the outlet was directly below him, he was in the store in a few minutes. He was the only customer there, and with only a single shop girl in attendance.

  "It's rather quiet here," Kren said.

  "Well, this is early on a Tuesday afternoon, sir. Come here on a Friday night, and you'll find a long line of customers and two dozen shop girls worn to a frazzle! Oh my! You're Kren, aren't you! The famous athlete!"

  "I'm guilty of that, yes. It's a rough job, but somebody has to do it." Kren found his fans to be annoying, and tried to avoid them. "You were going to show me this 'Special Selection' thing?"

  "Yes, sir. You know, I always bet on you!"

  "Yes, and you lose money doing it, just like everybody else."

  "Yes, I suppose that I do. But it's so much fun, cheering you on, that I can't help myself. There's a gang of us who get together every Saturday, at the arenas or around a television set, on the away games. And sometimes I win."

  "You can have no idea how depressing it is to cost my supporters money. But so many of you are betting so much on me that it drives the odds down!"

  "Yes, I read something about that in a magazine. But you shouldn't let it bother you. It's our money, after all."

  "It bothers me anyway, and I wish you'd all stop doing it. Now, show me these 'Specials.' "

  The shop girl led Kren into a large room with about two dozen youngsters on display. About half were in attractive cages, some were clamped down on party tables, and the rest were held vertically, standing with their feet fastened on top of short pedestals, and with their arms clamped to the wall.

  All sizes were represented, and these particularly attractive children had all been carefully washed and then coated with a light layer of oil, which made them glisten nicely. The spotlights on them glowed warmly.

  A smaller one caught his eye. She was a lovely little thing, looking eagerly at him as she stood on her pedestal with her back to the wall.

  He ran his hand gently down her side, and checked the flesh on her buttocks. She actually smiled at him.

  "How much is this one?" Kren asked.

  "She weighs five dozen and three pounds, and goes for a pound and a half per Ke. That's three dozen and six Ke, sir."

  "I'll take her."

  "Very good, sir. Did you want a box to put her in?"

  "Does that cost extra?"

  "No, but there's an eight Ke deposit on the box. You will get that back when you return it."

  That was twice what they were paying for the things new, and Kren thought that to be proper.

  The Mitchegai, with their long-term outlook on things, do not go in for disposable packaging, as a rule. Everything is carefully recycled.

  "Well, I live just upstairs from here, and this one seems pretty gentle, so I'll forego the box." Kren gave her his credit card.

  "Oh! You live at Bronki's address! I'd better check something." She checked quickly at a list behind the counter. "Yes, you are listed as a 'Friend of Bronki's.' "

  "How much extra do I have to pay for that privilege?"

  "Nothing, silly! Excuse me. I mean, sir. No, you get a dozen per gross discount," she said.

  She deducted the proper amount from his card and returned it, along with a receipt. "Before you go, could I have your autograph?"

  "Are you going to stop betting on me?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then you won't get an autograph. Unlock the child I just bought," Kren said.

  As she did so, he petted his purchase to make sure that she was calm. He lifted her off the pedestal and put his hand gently around her neck, his claws almost touching, to be certain that the naked little child wouldn't try to run away. She walked obediently with him back up to Bronki's apartment, sometimes looking up at him and smiling. She even waited trustingly while he let go of her to get his card out to unlock the door.

  Once inside, he let her take a long drink of water from the fountain, and once again, she smiled at him.

  A fine, gentle child, Kren thought.

  A human might have considered keeping her as a pet, but Kren, of course, wasn't human.

  A few hours later, he expanded his earlier thought to, A fine, gentle, and delicious child!

  And she had screamed so nicely when he ate her alive. When alone, Kren preferred to dispense with the civilized niceties like knives and branding irons, and to just chew his meat right off the bone, the way he did when he was a slave in the mines.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES,

  FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.

  BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO

  2000 YEARS EARLIER

  Tunneling to War

  Losing a match didn't bother Kren, since he got no joy from winning one. If anything, it was a bonus, since he didn't have to show up at the awards ceremonies, and thus he had his Sundays free.

  After five weeks of relaxing, and paying more attention to the business than to his academic and athletic duties, the odds on Kren's winning an event had gone up to between five and seven to one.

  The posted odds were always just rough approximations. The actual payoffs were computed to six duodecimal places.

  Kren told the director that he would win at the accuracy event.

  He also planned to win at the distance event immediately afterward, but kept this a secret, except for telling Bronki and Dol. The close spacing between the events meant that very few betters would be able to wager on the second event, based on Kren's performance in the first. The odds were not likely to go down much.

  He made special arrangements with his bookie to have his winnings on accuracy to be bet automatically on distance, and since he was a very good customer, who had made the bookie a considerable fortune, this was readily agreed to.

  The bookies did not care whether their customers won or lost. All bookies were tied into a planet-wide, computerized syndicate that shared out the wins and losses. The bookies took a nine per gross cut of all bets, wired the rest to the syndicate, which kept three per gross, and then distributed the pot, which was automatically wired back to the winners. The central syndicate didn't know who bet what, but of course, the bookies did, and they all placed side bets of their own. However, they didn't normally pass tips out for fear of reducing their own winnings.

  Kren's bookie had learned that it was wise to bet the way Kren was betting.

  By delaying payment on his debts to the constru
ction contractors, Kren was also able to bet over four billion of the corporation's money on the double win.

  Bronki and Dol used the same deal with the same bookie, betting such money as they had left over after paying their own taxes.

  The javelin accuracy event paid five to one, and distance paid seven. The result was that Kren's personal account increased to over three dozen billion, and the corporation's account to over four times that amount.

  Afterward, Kren met with his bookie, and suggested that she invest a dozen billion Ke in Kren's corporation.

  "But I don't have anything like a dozen billion Ke!" the bookie protested.

  "That is unfortunate, because if you don't make this excellent, but long-term investment, I will be forced to take my future business elsewhere," Kren explained.

  The bookie made the investment, though she was not happy about it.

  The director of athletics was also unhappy.

  "Burn you, Kren! You never said that you would win at two events on Saturday!"

  "I didn't intend to, sir. But at the distance event, just when I was letting fly, my foot slipped on something, maybe some juvenal droppings, and I had to throw too hard to keep myself from falling on my face! It was an accident! Surely, the tapes of my performance will prove that!"

  Kren had indeed faked slipping on that throw, but the director said that he needed more practice, and insisted that until further notice, he would attend all physical training sessions.

  Kren thought that for well over a gross billion Ke, he could put up with a lot, and making the payments with the late penalties to his contractors didn't hurt him at all.

  The next day, since the odds on him were down to typically two to one, Kren proposed that they slough off for at least three weeks, and the director agreed.

  The rest of the year went that way. It was more profitable to win big once every three to five weeks than it was to win small every week.

  * * *

  Bronki completed her first paper on chaos theory, and it was enthusiastically accepted by their world's mathematical community. She was soon attending conventions around the planet as an Honored Guest Speaker, and was giving a course on chaos theory at the College of Mathematics to a large, packed auditorium, three days a week. Of course, all of this paid well.