Kren of the Mitchegai by Leo Frankowski and Dave Grossman

“Could you settle for two?” Kren asked.

“For a good friend like you, certainly.”

Bronki computed that with this fee, she had recouped her initial investment in Kren in less than four weeks, and was starting to make a nice profit on him.

“Then please do these financial things and get me the money. I expect to need it soon.”

“You are going to bet on your performance in the upcoming competition?” Bronki said.

“Of course.”

“The odds against you winning the distance throw are currently eleven to one. That’s quite low, considering that there will be over three dozen contestants, and you have never been in competition before. The word on your throwing must have gotten out.”

“Do you know my odds on the accuracy competition?” He asked.

“They are currently much better, a dozen and nine to one. The actual payoff will depend on the odds at the start of the competition, of course.”

“Then I will bet all of my money on the accuracy competition.” Kren was not yet sufficiently confident of his abilities with an épée to wager on the outcome of that event, and the javelin tennis game had too large of an element of luck for Kren to take any serious risks with it.

“Don’t bet everything, Kren. Save a little as a cushion. No competition is ever certain,” she said.

“We will see.”

“As you wish. I’ll have Dol take you to an honest bookie. She will tell them that you are my friend, and you will be well taken care of.”

“Thank you. What is happening with the KUL and the PPG, incidentally?” Kren asked.

“Oh, there is a lovely gang war going on, even better than I had hoped. More than eight dozen bits of trash have died thus far with only a few of them being resurrected, and the end is not in sight. Also, that lieutenant who offended me had a meeting with his superiors, and hasn’t been seen since. To my mind, it’s good riddance to the lot of them. I think of it as a private contribution on our part toward the general betterment of the city.”

“I expect that you are right. And what is happening with Kodo?”

“That is still in the planning stage. When things are ready, we’ll discuss the matter fully,” Bronki said.

“As you wish.”

* * *

The first athletic meet of the season was a home game, and the Dren University athletes were naturally nervous about their first public performance of the year. It was a two-day event, and there were three dozen and five separate competitions, held with the rival University of Tu, whose team had flown in from the other side of the planet.

The facilities available for the meet were large by human standards. Every sport had its own separate courts and buildings, with open-air facilities for good weather and indoor ones built below them for use in winter and on rainy days. The university had been building and expanding for over seven dozen thousand years, and the Mitchegai, with their long lives, built things to last.

While their creativity was inferior to that of humans, materials technology is largely a matter of experimenting with many things over a long period of time, and at this, the Mitchegai excelled. Their structural components could be relied upon to last indefinitely, and even their carpeting could sometimes last for ten thousand years.

The complete lack of microbes helped considerably. On earth, microbes are not only responsible for the degradation of organic materials, but also for much of the rusting of iron and other metals. There is even one that thrives on gold.

And since the outsides of their buildings were always covered with self-renewing grass, they required no external maintenance at all, forever.

The Mitchegai, who neither drank, nor smoked, nor enjoyed sex, were almost all serious gamblers. With more than six billion free adults on their efficiently managed planet, a significant portion of their gross planetary product was wagered on academic sports.

The fencing competition was held on Saturday morning in an open arena, since the weather was good. All of the javelin events would be held in the afternoon, which would leave Kren free for the whole day on Sunday.

And at noon, there would be a fight to the death between two athletes selected by lot, one from each university.

Fencing was a horizontal pyramid event, where the winner of a previous bout went up against the winner of the bout below her. The scoring was simple. The first contestant to score three touches against her opponent won.

Kren was surprised to find that he won six matches in a row quite easily, and was hailed the winner before a cheering crowd. Dik came up to him and hugged him, which caused Kren a bit of embarrassment.

“That was magnificent, Kren! Do you realize that the official pari-mutuel odds on you paid a gross two dozen and four?”

“No, Coach, actually I didn’t.”

“You mean to say that you didn’t bet on yourself? I put over a dozen and five thousand Ke down on you, and I’m a wealthy person because of it!”

“Actually, I didn’t think that I was that good. After all, until today, you were the only person that I had ever used an épée against, and compared to you, I am only marginally superior.”

“Well, we kept your fencing talent a secret to keep the odds on you up. We never meant that you shouldn’t know about it. Anyway, you know now. But next time, the odds on you will not be so good.”

“Indeed, I seem to have made a major financial error.”

“Sorry, Kren. I thought that I had made it clear how good you were.”

Kren left the arena depressed. Had he bet his money on his fencing, he would be on his way to wealth and power. Furthermore, he would have more than five million Ke that he could now bet on his javelin throwing, not a paltry three dozen and eight thousand.

On his way to the locker room, Kren was stopped by Bo, an athlete that he barely knew.

“Kren, you must help me!”

“And why is it that I must do this thing?”

Kren continued walking toward the locker room, with Bo scurrying behind him.

“Kren, I lost the raffle! I’m going to have to fight to the death in half an hour!”

“So? Someone had to lose. Anyway, it’s not like Big Time Gladiators on television. They always resurrect the loser in these university matches.”

“I’m a runner! I’m not a fighter! I’m sure to be the loser! And resurrection is so painful!”

“It is far superior to the alternative. Anyway, I fail to see what I can do for you.”

Bo said, “You could take my place! You can out fight anybody!”

“But, why should I want to do this for you?”

“Because I would pay you to do it! How does five thousand Ke sound to you?”

“It sounds very small,” Kren said.

“Then ten thousand! That’s all that I have!”

“I’ll be paid in advance?”

“Very well, but how? We can’t get to the bank and back before the event,” Bo said.

“There are plenty of bookies around who are working the crowds. You will place a ten thousand Ke bet naming me as the recipient of the winnings.”

“Okay! I’ll do it! But let’s hurry!”

They found a bookie, placed a bet for Kren to win at the javelin accuracy competition, and then went to the locker room where Kren picked up his sword and a spare military spear that he’d bought.

The rules for the death competition were “arm yourself with any legal weapon.”

They got to the ring with three minutes to spare. Kren was just getting into it when he was stopped by the athletic director himself.

“Kren, just what in the name of the Great First Egg do you think that you are doing?”

“I am getting into the ring?”

“And why were you doing this stupid thing?”

“For the Glory of the University! Consider, sir, that Bo here doesn’t stand a chance of winning a fight against anybody. The university team will lose five points when he gets killed.” Kren knew that it was a stupid excuse, but it was the only thing that he could think of at the time. “How could I let a thing like that happen to my beloved alma mater? Especially when there’s no doubt at all that I would win easily.”

“You bloody idiot!” The director said, “Do you have any idea how much money I have riding on your performance with the javelin this afternoon? Even a slight wound could risk that! Now get your bleeding cloaca out of that ring!”

The athletic director then picked up the terror-stricken Bo and threw her bodily into the fighting area.

“And you, Bo, will quit blowing farts and at least try to die like an athlete!”

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