And Lum’s name, Lum of Minacta, stood above all others.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I’m sure you feel you’ve been through a lot. Well, it’s my job to tell you that hard times are just beginning. Take a word from Eliya Gilby, you’ve seen nothing. Compared with the off-planet tests, the crappy Planetfest games are for kiddies.”

The speaker was a thin, gray-haired man dressed in the black leather and glittering brass of a System Guard. His face wore a sardonic smile that could be read equally as pity, contempt, or dyspepsia. He was unable to stand still as he spoke. He paced in front of the silent group, and all the time his hands were also in motion, pulling at his belt, adjusting his collar, or rubbing at bloodshot eyes.

The Planetfest winners who made up his audience were in much better shape. The offers of drinks, drugs, and stimulants from the celebrating well-wishers had been numerous, but years of preparation for the trials had taught the contestants self-control. And a quiet sleep until almost midday, without having to plan for the next trial, had been a restorative and a luxury. They looked at each other as the guard was speaking, and exchanged secret smiles. Captain Gilby was in terrible condition. He had refused no offers of free drinks, by the look of it. There was no doubt that he was hungover — and badly — from a night’s long revelry.

Captain Gilby moved his head from side to side, very slowly. He grunted, sighed, and cleared his throat. “Bloody hell. All right, here we go. It’s my job to try to explain the Fifty Worlds to you. But I can tell you now, there’s no real way you’ll know what they’re like until you’ve been there for yourself. Take my word for it, I’ve made six trips off-planet, with six lots of you winners, all over the Cass system. And everybody tells me when they see the real thing that my pictures are useless. And I agree. But my bosses won’t listen to that, so today that’s what you get. Pictures. They won’t give you more than a faint idea, but they’re all you’ll have until next week.”

He sniffed, bent forward slowly and carefully, and lifted up a large, flat case. “Let’s take a look at a few pictures of Barchan, close-in to Cassay. There’s a hell-hole for you, if you want my opinion. I suppose it’s too much to hope that any of you already know something about it?”

Wilmer looked around him, then raised a tentative hand. “I do.”

Gilby stared at him. “Do you now? Mind telling me how, since that sort of knowledge shouldn’t be public down on Pentecost.”

“My uncle was a Planetfest winner, twelve years ago. Last year I asked him about the off-planet trials.”

“Before you even started on the first round for Planetfest! Cocky little bastard, aren’t you? So tell us all about Barchan.”

“Sand dunes, just like the picture shows. Primitive vegetable life, no animals, not much atmosphere. And hot as blazes except at the poles. Hot as melted lead.” Wilmer hesitated, then added: “Not my choice for a trial. If it’s held there it will mean hotsuits all the time.”

“Now then, no trying to influence the others,” said Gilby mildly. While Wilmer had been talking a tray of hot drinks had arrived, and the captain was eyeing it longingly. “But the rest of what you say is right enough. Hot enough to boil your balls off in two minutes, if your suit fails. And if you have balls. Barchan is only a hundred and twenty million kilometers from Cassay. Let’s look at another one, a bit farther out. This is Gimperstand. Know anything about it?” Gilby was holding up two pictures. One showed a space view of a greenish-brown ball, the other a lush jungle of incredibly tangled vines. Wilmer shook his head, and no one else seemed ready to speak.

“And you probably don’t want to. It’s officially Gimperstand, but the unofficial name we have for it is Stinker. And it deserves it. There’s an atmosphere. It’s a little thin, but in principle it’s breathable. I’ve tried it. Two breaths make you run off and puke. It’s something one of the vines releases, and it makes night-lapper shit smell like honeysuckle. A real stinkeroo. One whiff of it will knock you flat.”

He held the pictures out delicately at armslength, then dropped them back into the case.

“We have a lot of ground to cover, but I don’t think we’ll do it all right now. For a start, I don’t think you lot can absorb much at a time. And for a second, I want one of those drinks or I’ll fall down right here.”

He walked over to the tray and grinned unpleasantly at his audience. “I’m glad it’s you doing the trial, not me. We’ve got some monsters out there in the Cass system. You’ve seen the official planet names in school, but that’s not what people who’ve been there call them. And their names are a lot more accurate. There’s Bedlam, and Boom-Boom, and Imshi, and Glug, and Firedance, and Fuzzball. And when we get to the Outer System it’s even worse. We’ve got to take a look at Goneagain, and Jellyroll, and Whistlestop, then Whoosh, Pinto, Dimples, Camel, and Crater. They’re not called the Fifty Worlds for nothing, and every one can be a death trap.” He picked up a flask, took a tentative sip, and gave his audience another sadistic grin. “Don’t think your worries are over. By the time the off-planet tests are done you’ll be wishing that you’d gone back home today with the losers.”

The whole afternoon had been devoted to briefings, by Gilby and others. Then came news conferences and meetings with the VIP’s from each winner’s home area. It was late evening before they had any time to themselves, or even time for food. Peron had found a quiet place in a corner of the food area and was eating alone. But he was more than pleased when Elissa carried a tray over and seated herself opposite him uninvited.

“Unless you’re hiding away for a good reason, I thought I’d join you. I’ve already talked to Lum and to Kallen, now I want to pay my respects to you.” “You’re working down the whole list of winners, in order?”

She laughed. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone? No, I was just joking. I’m interested in you, so I thought it would be nice to eat dinner together — unless you really are hiding away?”

“I’m not. I’m brooding. I’ve just been sitting here and thinking how damnably rude everybody has been today. It started this morning with Captain Gilby, and I just assumed it was his hangover. But it’s been getting worse. We’re polite to everyone, and people we meet — complete strangers, most of them — treat us like dirt.”

Elissa said, “Of course they do. Better get used to it. They don’t mean any harm. But see, we’re the Planetfest winners, names in lights, and that makes us a big deal. A lot of people have to keep telling themselves that we’re not all that great, that they’re just as good as we are. And one way they convince themselves of that is by putting us down.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Peron looked at Elissa with respect. “But I wouldn’t have thought that way. You know, this is going to sound stupid, but I still can’t believe that I came higher than you in the rankings. You did better than me in everything. And I think you think better. I mean, more perceptively. I mean, you’re — “

“If you’re getting ready to ask me to go out for a walk,” said Elissa, “there are more direct ways.”

She leaned forward and put her hand on Peron’s arm. “All you have to do is say it. You’re the exact opposite of Sy. He thinks everybody else is some sort of trained ape. But you always undervalue yourself. That’s rare for a winner in Planetfest. Most people are like me, pushy. And as for Lum — “

“And as for Lum — “ echoed a voice behind her. “What about him? Something nice, I hope.”

It was Lum, and he had with him Kallen, the second place winner.

“Good. It’s convenient to find you two together,” he said. He hoisted one huge thigh and buttock to perch on the corner of their table, threatening to overturn the whole thing. “Do you feel up to another interview tonight? The Planetfest organizers would like to meet with the top five.”