THE SUBTLE ART OF FENDO

Stardate: 365243.73894735387563
Standard Sol Year: Calculator´s broken, sorry

The dark and forbidding forest and the clearing it surrounded vanished in a flash of light, to reveal the cold barren walls of the "Emancipation Chamber."

Captain John Denmark removed his visor and shook hands with the Testerian, he had just beaten. "Good game, Crobol," he said amicably.

Crobol shook his head sadly. "It wasn´t. I lost. You were just too fast. Waste of ten sousand credits. In the preliminary rounds, too."

"You´re not out of it yet. One loss doesn´t mean you´ve automatically lost the tournament."

Crobol seemed to brighten a bit. Literally. Testerians´ skin mimics not only their surroundings but also their current emotion. "See you around, captain," he hissed pleasantly enough.

The captain watched him walk out. His graceful movements belied his strength and speed. Three of his arms swung slightly as he walked. His fourth one hung limply at his side, still unhealed from his fight with the Blob sovereign a few weeks before; in fact, it had taken on a bluish tinge.

The air stirred suddenly around the captain, and he waited patiently for the voice to start talking.

HELLO CAPTAIN

The voice belonged to his science officer. A rock. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once and it hinted at an ancientness and intelligence that man could only dream of.

"Hello, Rock."

THAT´S NOT MY NAME

"Then what is?"

I DON´T HAVE ONE

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS " " OR "MMMMMMMMM"

"Can´t I jut call you Rock?"

NO

"Then, to what, do I owe this� visitation, ?"

I WANT TO ENTER THE COMPETITION

"Why?" There was surprise evident in his voice. It�s not everyday that a sentient rock wants to participate in a sporting event.

FENDO TAKES EXTREME MENTAL DISCIPLINE. THE COMPUTER TAKES YOUR SELF IMAGE AND PROJECTS IT INTO THE SIMULATION. IT IS POSSIBLE TO ACTUALLY MAKE YOURSELF STRONGER, FASTER, MORE SKILLFUL, WITH JUST THE POWER OF YOUR MIND. IT´S THE IDEAL MENTAL EXCERCISE

"That´s all very well but the competition´s already started."

I DON´T MIND THE HANDICAP AND I´LL PAY THE REQUIRED TEN THOUSAND CREDITS, JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHER PARTICIPANTS.

"But you´re a rock; an inanimate object."

YOU´RE COMPLAINING� WHY? THE WINNINGS ARE SPLIT FROM THE PROCEEDINGS, FOUR FIFTHS TO THE WINNER AND THE REMAINING FIFTH TO THE RUNNER-UP. IF I TRULY AM GOING TO FAIL MISERABLY, LIKE YOU SAY, THEN ALL THAT´S HAPPENING IS THAT THE PRIZES WILL BE BIGGER. AND YOU�LL HAVE MORE POINTS, IF YOU FACE ME EARLY ON.

"There´s no guarantee that we´ll even face each other in the competition."

OH, I THINK THERE IS

"What the hell´s that supposed to mean?"

OH, NOTHING� EXCEPT THAT YOU´VE ALREADY RIGGED THE CHAMBER TO YOUR ADVANTAGE, SO WHY NOT THE ROSTER, TOO?

"I take offence at that."

I DON'T KNOW WHY. IT´S TRUE

An evil chuckle echoed off the walls.

"I thought higher life-forms were supposed to be moral, or at least NOT EVIL!!!"

WHAT MADE YOU THINK THAT?

Another evil chuckle resounded off the walls, and then the voice was gone. Denmark sighed. One of these days he�d get around to firing that rock. One of these days.

He dismissed the conversation from his mind, exited the chamber, and walked over to the nearest computer console. He brought up the day´s roster. His next match was in an hour. He was opposing sir Fendo, the current galactic champion; a man so obsessed with the sport that he had changed his name to honour it. He looked around to see that no one was looking and then hacked into the roster.

He was now playing Rock and Crobol was playing sir Fendo. Crobol seemed a decent enough player, and there was the old saying "Never underestimate a Testerian, except when it comes to intelligence". Even so, he didn´t have a chance; Denmark chuckled evilly for a few brief moments and walked away. He had to prepare for his up-coming match.

Rock was waiting for him in the Emancipation Chamber. It might have been his imagination, but the hunk of granite looked smug. It was already "wearing" the goggles.

He took a set of goggles off their wall rack and put them on. They wouldn�t have any effect until the simulation actually started.

"What arena do you want?"

SURPRISE ME

"OK then� ummm� ooh, I know. Hell."

WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED?

"Now what´re you getting at?" Denmark pretended to be offended.

IT´S ONE OF YOUR MORE HIGHLY RIGGED ARENAS. THERE´S NATURAL PHENOMENON, LIKE METEORS AND EARTHQUAKES, EXCEPT THEY ONLY HAPPEN TO THE OPPOSITION.

Now Denmark was pretending to be seething.

AND CUT THE ACT, WE BOTH KNOW IT�S TRUE. WE MIGHT AS WELL USE THIS ONE, THOUGH.

Denmark raised one of his eyebrows in amusement. Rock seemed overly confident for an inanimate object. "Computer begin match. Arena: Hell."

The barren walls faded to reveal an even bleaker landscape, if that was possible. All the eyes could see was mile upon mile of dark red, and an incredible heat pervaded the air.

For a moment Denmark thought Rock had vanished. But then he saw an outline of a foot that blended into the environment. He followed the foot, up and up, and up, until he was looking at the head, eleven feet above the ground. The eyes were so red that they could barely be distinguished from the rest of its face. He knew this creature. An annoyed taxman.

Denmark was lost for words. He felt tears coming to his eyes at the shame of it all. It had been such a good scam. Now it was all for naught. He looked at the two sabres in his hands, that had appeared as the simulation started, and thought about discarding them. He had a feeling they wouldn´t be much use.

Rock smiled pitifully down at him.

ALL IN THE MIND, CAPTAIN. ALL IN THE MIND

And with that he, it, leaped at the captain. The move was so blindingly fast, that Denmark hadn�t even begun to recreate, when Rock�s two sabres went right through his head. He staggered back a bit, blood running freely down his face, and gasped in pain; until the simulation healed him. The computer chimed and a holographic scoreboard floated above their heads for a few moments. The move Rock had just performed, was worth fifty-five points; nearly as much as expert players normally got in an entire game.

"That really hurt," Denmark moaned.

STOP BEING SUCH A BABY

"I just had two swords stuck right through my head."

WORSE IS YET TO COME

The tax-man apparition launched into a flurry of attacks, too quick for the human eye to see. Denmark had his limbs severed, watched them grow quickly back, only to see them severed again. He couldn�t even defend himself, let alone initiate an attack. After just a few minutes, he started running away while screaming for mercy. He didn�t get very far before Rock caught up to him.

When the hour-long match ended, Denmark had: been decapitated 306 times, blinded 10 times, castrated twice, lost either a hand or foot 2000 times, lost 500 arms and legs, and screamed in a pitch beyond human hearing range 20 times. Rock earned a total of 8000 points; instantly negating the rest of the competition, and making him outright winner. No one else could hope to get that many points.

All through the match, Rock had been chuckling evilly and this continued all through the awarding of the trophy and the 157500 credits.

Crobol was second. Further invesitgation by Denmark, showed that the match never took place between Crobol and sir Fendo. Crobol had managed to covertly knock sir Fendo out before the match, thereby making himself winner by default. He had been awarded sixty points for the match by the computer, just enough to come second. Denmark decided Crobol was a creature after his own heart, and a living example of the oxymoron "Testerian intelligence". He let the matter rest.

As for Denmark himself, he couldn´t walk into a room with anything pointy inside for months. Seeing this included practically every room, he spent those months as a nomad, aimlessly wandering the corridors.