Competition, Page 2
James Causey
They'rerare and peaceable. Bishop vivisected one yesterday and found nothingalarming.
Last night I dreamed about the first expedition. I dreamed they allcommitted suicide because Epsilon was too good for them.
This is ridiculous!
We're working in a sort of quiet madness getting no closer to thesolution.
Armitage talked to Senator Farragut yesterday and hinted darkly that thefirst ship's hydroponics system went haywire and that an impropercarbohydrate imbalance killed the colony. Pretty thin. Farragut'sgetting impatient. Bishop looks haggard. Max looks grim.
* * * * *
_February 23_
Our quantitative tests are slowing down. We play a rubber of bridge eachnight before retiring. Last night I trumped Max's ace and he snarled atme. We had a fight. This morning I found a bouquet of purplespore-thistles at my cabin door. Max is sweet.
This afternoon, by mutual consent, we all knocked off work and playedbridge. Bishop noticed the thistle bouquet in a vase over thechronometer. He objected.
"They're harmless," Max said. "Besides, they smell nice."
I can hardly wait for tomorrow's rubber. Our work is important, but onedoes need relaxation.
* * * * *
_February 25_
Armitage is cheating.
Yesterday he failed to score one of my overtricks. We argued bitterlyabout it. Taylor, of course, sided with him. Three hands later, Armitagegot the bid in hearts. "One hundred and fifty honors," he announced.
"That's a lie," I said.
"It was only a hundred," he grinned. "But thank you, Greta. Now I shan'ttry the queen finesse."
No wonder they've won the last three evenings! Max is furious with themboth.
* * * * *
_February 28_
We played all day. Max and I kept losing. I always knew Armitage was apompous toad, but I never realized he was _slimy_.
This afternoon it was game all, and Armitage overcalled my diamondopener with three spades. Bishop took him to four and I doubled,counting on my ace-king of hearts and diamonds.
I led out my diamond ace and Armitage trumped from his hand. Bishop laiddown his dummy. He had clubs and spades solid, with doubleton heart anddiamonds.
"None?" Max asked Armitage dangerously.
Armitage tittered. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. He drew trumpimmediately and set up clubs on board, dumping the heart losers from hishand, and finally sluffing--_two diamonds_.
"Made seven," he said complacently, "less two for the diamond renegemakes five, one overtrick doubled. We were vulnerable, so it's game andrubber."
I gasped. "You reneged deliberately!"
"Certainly. Doubleton in hearts and diamonds in my hand. If you get in,I'm down one. As it was, I made an overtrick. The only penalty for arenege is two tricks. The rule book does not differentiate betweendeliberate and accidental reneges. Sorry."
I stared at his florid throat, at his jugular. I could feel my mouthtwitching.
On the next hand I was dummy. I excused myself and went into the lab. Ifound a scalpel. I came up quietly behind Armitage and Bishop saw what Iwas going to do and shouted and I was not nearly fast enough. Armitageducked and Bishop tackled me.
"Thanks, dear," Max said thoughtfully, looking at the cards scattered onthe floor. "We would have been set one trick. Club finesse fails."
"She's crazy!" Armitage's mouth worked. "The strain's too much for her!"
I cried. I apologized hysterically. After a while, I convinced them Iwas all right. Max gave me a sedative. We did not play any more bridge.Over supper I kept staring at Armitage's throat.
After eating, I went for a long walk. When I got back to the ship,everyone was sleeping.
* * * * *
_March 1_
Bishop found Armitage this morning, in his cabin. He came out, verypale, staring at me.
"You bitch," he said. "Ear to ear. Now what'll I do for a partner?"
"You can't prove it," I said.
"We'll have to confine her to quarters," Max said wearily. "I'll tellFarragut."
"And let him know the expedition is failing?"
Max sighed. "You're right. We'll tell them Armitage had an accident."
I said seriously, "It was obviously suicide. His mind snapped."
"Oh, God," Max said.
They buried Armitage this afternoon. From my cabin, I watched them digthe grave.
Cheaters never prosper.
* * * * *
_March 2_
Max talked with Senator Farragut this morning. He said Armitage had dieda hero's death. Farragut sounds worried. The Pan-Asians have withdrawntheir embassy from Imperial Africa. Tension is mounting on the homefront. Immigration _must_ start this week. Max was very reassuring."Just a few final tests, Senator. We want to make sure."
We puttered in our laboratories all afternoon. Bishop seemed bored.After dinner he suggested three-handed bridge and Max said he knew abetter game, a friendly game his grandmother had taught him--hearts.
* * * * *
_March 5_
It's a plot!
All day long Bishop and Max have managed to give me the queen of spades.It's deliberate, of course. Three times I've tried for the moon andBishop has held out one damned little heart at the end. Once Max wasslightly ahead on points and Bishop demanded to see the score. I thoughtfor a moment they would come to blows, but Bishop apologized.
"It's just that I hate to lose," he said.
"Quite," Max said.
When we finally turned in, Bishop was ahead on points.
Too far ahead.
* * * * *
_March 6_
I suppose it's Bishop's laugh. It has a peculiar horselike stridencythat makes me want to tear out his throat. Twice today I've broken downand cried when he made a jackpot.
I'm not going to cry any more.
Supper was the usual, beef-yeast and vita-ale. I remember settingBishop's plate in front of him, and the way his pale eyes gleamedbetween mouthfuls. "Three thousand points ahead," he gloated. "You'llnever catch me now. Never, never!"
That was when he gripped his throat and began writhing on the floor.
Max felt his pulse. He stared at me.
"Very nice," he said. "Quick. Did you use a derivative of that greenfungus?"
I said nothing. Max's nostrils were white and pinched. "Must I make anautopsy?"
"Why bother?" I said. "It's obviously heart failure."
"Yes, why bother?" he said. He looked tired. "Stay in your cabin,Greta. I'll bring your meals."
"I don't trust you."
His laughter had a touch of madness.
* * * * *
_March 10_
Max unlocked my cabin door this morning. He looked drawn. "Listen," hesaid. "I've checked my respiration, pulse, saliva, temperature. Allnormal."
"So?"
"Come here," he said. I followed him into the lab. He indicated amicroscope. His eyes were bright.
"Well?"
"A drop of my blood," he said. "Look."
I squinted into the microscope. I saw purple discs. Oddly, they did notattack the red blood cells. There was no fission, no mitosis. Theleucocytes, strangely enough, let them alone.
My hands were shaking as I took a sterile slide and pricked my finger. Iput the slide under the microscope. I adjusted the lens and stared.
Purple discs, swimming in my bloodstream. Thriving. Minding their ownbusiness.
"Me, too," I said.
"They're inert," Max said hoarsely. "They don't affect metabolism, causefever, or interfere with the body chemistry in any way. Do they remindyou of anything?"
I thought about it. Then I went to the slide file that was marked_flora--negative_.
"Right," Max said. "The purple thistle. Spores!
The atmosphere isclogged with them. Greta, my sweet, we're infected."
"I feel fine," I said.
All day long we ran tests. Negative tests. We seem to be disgustinglyhealthy. "Symbiosis," Max said finally. "Live and let live. Apparentlywe're hosts."
Only one thing disturbs me.
Most symbiotes _do_ something for their host. Something to enhance thehost's survival potential.
We played chess this evening. I won. Max is furious. He's such a poorsport.
* * * * *
_March 11_
Max talked with Senator Farragut this morning. He gave Epsilon a cleanbill of health and the Senator thanked God. "The first starship willleave
Last night I dreamed about the first expedition. I dreamed they allcommitted suicide because Epsilon was too good for them.
This is ridiculous!
We're working in a sort of quiet madness getting no closer to thesolution.
Armitage talked to Senator Farragut yesterday and hinted darkly that thefirst ship's hydroponics system went haywire and that an impropercarbohydrate imbalance killed the colony. Pretty thin. Farragut'sgetting impatient. Bishop looks haggard. Max looks grim.
* * * * *
_February 23_
Our quantitative tests are slowing down. We play a rubber of bridge eachnight before retiring. Last night I trumped Max's ace and he snarled atme. We had a fight. This morning I found a bouquet of purplespore-thistles at my cabin door. Max is sweet.
This afternoon, by mutual consent, we all knocked off work and playedbridge. Bishop noticed the thistle bouquet in a vase over thechronometer. He objected.
"They're harmless," Max said. "Besides, they smell nice."
I can hardly wait for tomorrow's rubber. Our work is important, but onedoes need relaxation.
* * * * *
_February 25_
Armitage is cheating.
Yesterday he failed to score one of my overtricks. We argued bitterlyabout it. Taylor, of course, sided with him. Three hands later, Armitagegot the bid in hearts. "One hundred and fifty honors," he announced.
"That's a lie," I said.
"It was only a hundred," he grinned. "But thank you, Greta. Now I shan'ttry the queen finesse."
No wonder they've won the last three evenings! Max is furious with themboth.
* * * * *
_February 28_
We played all day. Max and I kept losing. I always knew Armitage was apompous toad, but I never realized he was _slimy_.
This afternoon it was game all, and Armitage overcalled my diamondopener with three spades. Bishop took him to four and I doubled,counting on my ace-king of hearts and diamonds.
I led out my diamond ace and Armitage trumped from his hand. Bishop laiddown his dummy. He had clubs and spades solid, with doubleton heart anddiamonds.
"None?" Max asked Armitage dangerously.
Armitage tittered. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. He drew trumpimmediately and set up clubs on board, dumping the heart losers from hishand, and finally sluffing--_two diamonds_.
"Made seven," he said complacently, "less two for the diamond renegemakes five, one overtrick doubled. We were vulnerable, so it's game andrubber."
I gasped. "You reneged deliberately!"
"Certainly. Doubleton in hearts and diamonds in my hand. If you get in,I'm down one. As it was, I made an overtrick. The only penalty for arenege is two tricks. The rule book does not differentiate betweendeliberate and accidental reneges. Sorry."
I stared at his florid throat, at his jugular. I could feel my mouthtwitching.
On the next hand I was dummy. I excused myself and went into the lab. Ifound a scalpel. I came up quietly behind Armitage and Bishop saw what Iwas going to do and shouted and I was not nearly fast enough. Armitageducked and Bishop tackled me.
"Thanks, dear," Max said thoughtfully, looking at the cards scattered onthe floor. "We would have been set one trick. Club finesse fails."
"She's crazy!" Armitage's mouth worked. "The strain's too much for her!"
I cried. I apologized hysterically. After a while, I convinced them Iwas all right. Max gave me a sedative. We did not play any more bridge.Over supper I kept staring at Armitage's throat.
After eating, I went for a long walk. When I got back to the ship,everyone was sleeping.
* * * * *
_March 1_
Bishop found Armitage this morning, in his cabin. He came out, verypale, staring at me.
"You bitch," he said. "Ear to ear. Now what'll I do for a partner?"
"You can't prove it," I said.
"We'll have to confine her to quarters," Max said wearily. "I'll tellFarragut."
"And let him know the expedition is failing?"
Max sighed. "You're right. We'll tell them Armitage had an accident."
I said seriously, "It was obviously suicide. His mind snapped."
"Oh, God," Max said.
They buried Armitage this afternoon. From my cabin, I watched them digthe grave.
Cheaters never prosper.
* * * * *
_March 2_
Max talked with Senator Farragut this morning. He said Armitage had dieda hero's death. Farragut sounds worried. The Pan-Asians have withdrawntheir embassy from Imperial Africa. Tension is mounting on the homefront. Immigration _must_ start this week. Max was very reassuring."Just a few final tests, Senator. We want to make sure."
We puttered in our laboratories all afternoon. Bishop seemed bored.After dinner he suggested three-handed bridge and Max said he knew abetter game, a friendly game his grandmother had taught him--hearts.
* * * * *
_March 5_
It's a plot!
All day long Bishop and Max have managed to give me the queen of spades.It's deliberate, of course. Three times I've tried for the moon andBishop has held out one damned little heart at the end. Once Max wasslightly ahead on points and Bishop demanded to see the score. I thoughtfor a moment they would come to blows, but Bishop apologized.
"It's just that I hate to lose," he said.
"Quite," Max said.
When we finally turned in, Bishop was ahead on points.
Too far ahead.
* * * * *
_March 6_
I suppose it's Bishop's laugh. It has a peculiar horselike stridencythat makes me want to tear out his throat. Twice today I've broken downand cried when he made a jackpot.
I'm not going to cry any more.
Supper was the usual, beef-yeast and vita-ale. I remember settingBishop's plate in front of him, and the way his pale eyes gleamedbetween mouthfuls. "Three thousand points ahead," he gloated. "You'llnever catch me now. Never, never!"
That was when he gripped his throat and began writhing on the floor.
Max felt his pulse. He stared at me.
"Very nice," he said. "Quick. Did you use a derivative of that greenfungus?"
I said nothing. Max's nostrils were white and pinched. "Must I make anautopsy?"
"Why bother?" I said. "It's obviously heart failure."
"Yes, why bother?" he said. He looked tired. "Stay in your cabin,Greta. I'll bring your meals."
"I don't trust you."
His laughter had a touch of madness.
* * * * *
_March 10_
Max unlocked my cabin door this morning. He looked drawn. "Listen," hesaid. "I've checked my respiration, pulse, saliva, temperature. Allnormal."
"So?"
"Come here," he said. I followed him into the lab. He indicated amicroscope. His eyes were bright.
"Well?"
"A drop of my blood," he said. "Look."
I squinted into the microscope. I saw purple discs. Oddly, they did notattack the red blood cells. There was no fission, no mitosis. Theleucocytes, strangely enough, let them alone.
My hands were shaking as I took a sterile slide and pricked my finger. Iput the slide under the microscope. I adjusted the lens and stared.
Purple discs, swimming in my bloodstream. Thriving. Minding their ownbusiness.
"Me, too," I said.
"They're inert," Max said hoarsely. "They don't affect metabolism, causefever, or interfere with the body chemistry in any way. Do they remindyou of anything?"
I thought about it. Then I went to the slide file that was marked_flora--negative_.
"Right," Max said. "The purple thistle. Spores!
The atmosphere isclogged with them. Greta, my sweet, we're infected."
"I feel fine," I said.
All day long we ran tests. Negative tests. We seem to be disgustinglyhealthy. "Symbiosis," Max said finally. "Live and let live. Apparentlywe're hosts."
Only one thing disturbs me.
Most symbiotes _do_ something for their host. Something to enhance thehost's survival potential.
We played chess this evening. I won. Max is furious. He's such a poorsport.
* * * * *
_March 11_
Max talked with Senator Farragut this morning. He gave Epsilon a cleanbill of health and the Senator thanked God. "The first starship willleave
