People gathered around and began to smile. Obviously, a real pelican had never flown anywhere near Solaris, but like any inside joke, it did not need to be funny for the listeners to share in the camaraderie. "Pollution was bad in those days, the debris and sewage so awful that you could almost walk across the river from bank to bank. But the pelican was determined. They even tell that the river caught fire, but the pelican didn't give up.

"Suddenly, through the smoke and flame, the pelican spied a fish, but at the same moment another pelican approached, its sights set on the very same fish."

Dillon dropped one sardine into each drink and placed the tumblers in front of Rose and Jaryl. "The two mighty birds began a race to the fish." Dillon pulled a small lighter from out of an apron pocket and leaned close to Rose. "No fair blowing on your drink first, Mister Rose. To the winner, a meal, but to the loser . . . ?" Dillon flicked the lighter and passed the flame over each drink, which began to burn with the clear flame of an alcohol fire.

As Dillon backed away Jaryl leaned forward and began fanning the flame with her hand. The crowd meanwhile had begun to chant, setting up a current of air that nearly put out the diminishing flame. Rose jumped forward and began to fan his drink too, but Jaryl's head-start proved the difference. Her flame went out first. As she was raising her glass to drink, Rose had just managed to extinguish the flame in his. As he grabbed for the glass, the crowd roared, urging him on.

Next to him Jaryl was trying to gulp down the brown liquid through tear-stained eyes. His own eyes began to tear at the smell of the drink, which was as bad as Rose had feared it might be. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he opened his throat as wide as he could. He poured the drink down in a single smooth motion, barely feeling the fish slide over his tongue on the way to his stomach. With a wide smile he overturned the glass and set it back on the tray while Jaryl struggled with the last of the dregs in hers. Rose risked a bream and discovered that the aftertaste was terrible. He glanced at Dillon, who stood smiling behind the bar. Jaryl coughed slightly and slammed the tumbler down on the tray, wiping her mouth with the back of her free hand. The crowd broke into wild applause.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "Dillon, why didn't you warn me I was going against a professional?" The crowd broke into laughter as Jaryl's face turned red.

"Rose is the winner! Drinks on the house all night!" Dillon reached over and raised Rose's hand above his head. Those near Rose clapped him on the back and shouted their approval. ,

"And Jaryl ..."

"... PAYS FOR A ROUND OF DRINKS!" Dillon grinned as the applause grew louder. Jaryl, still red-faced, rolled her eyes and smiled at the crowd.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. One round, Dillon. Put it on the tab." Jaryl turned to go, but Rose stopped her.

"Just a second, Jaryl. Mind if we talk for a second?"

"Sure thing, but let's get a table near a trivid. The first match is about to start."

Rose ordered two bottles of Conner's and followed Jaryl to a booth just off the main viewing area. Despite the nearness to game time, the booth was still open. As Rose slid into one side and Jaryl into the other, he noticed that the booth offered an excellent view of the main trivid, near-perfect viewing without the press of the crowd on the main floor. He pushed one of the bottles over to Jaryl as she turned on the speaker built into the booth back.

"Hope you like Conner's." Jaryl nodded and adjusted the volume. Rose couldn't understand the announcer's words, which were in Chinese but might as well have been Greek as far as he was concerned. Jaryl, on the other hand, was obviously picking up on all of it.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I made you mad," he said.

"No, not mad. It's just that I don't lose often and I don't like it when Ldo. Nothing personal. Really."

"You're good."

"Thanks. It was a trick I learned at the academy. It's not too hard to do with a little practice. Just concentrate on opening your throat and let the liquor slide right down."

"Neat trick."

"But still just a trick."

"As you say."

"Before Dillon brought the drinks, you said something ..."

"Yes?"

"... about having to kill me?"

"Yes?"

"Could you, maybe, expand on that point?"

"I guess. I mean, you did buy me this nice, WARM beer." Rose decided not to meet the challenge in her voice or her eyes. She wasn't kidding when she said she didn't like to lose. He let the silence linger as he listened to an announcer he didn't understand go through the warm-ups for a fight he didn't care anything about.

"Sorry, again." Jaryl lapsed into silence and partially turned to the main trivid. A Stalker'Mech was lumbering through the doorway of the 'Mech shed. Rose tried to guess the arena, but couldn't place either the pilot or the location. He'd have recognized one of the five major arenas instantly, for each of those was as distinctive as the sector of Solaris City that spawned it. This must be a match in one of the lesser-class arenas of either the capital or one of the other nearby towns.

The announcer became even more excited as the trivid image switched to a Banshee,presumably the Stalker'sopponent, but Rose still found it difficult to get enthusiastic about the prospect of men dying for the amusement of others.

"Do you have any idea how nervous you make people?" Jaryl asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Do you have any idea how nervous you make people? People like Warwick or my boss Carstairs?" Rose eased back into his seat and thought about the question.

"I guess not. I'm just one guy. What's to get nervous about?"

"Plenty. You're an unknown. That drives the odds-makers crazy, but, god, what it does to the stablemasters."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You'd better start. Do you know that within half an hour of your first call for a 'Mech, half the stables in Solaris City knew about you? By the end of the first day, most of the stablemen in the city had placed calls checking on your service record, which came up empty."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Any idea why nobody would sell you a 'Mech?"

"Not at all. Most of the people I contacted said they didn't have what I wanted, but that got a little hard to believe after a while." Rose thought back to all the calls he'd made during the inbound flight aboard the Drop-Ship. Out of all the 'Mech dealers on Solaris, not one would sell him even an abused heavy or assault class machine?

"Finals week, that's why. This is the last week of the season. A new guy like you isn't much of a threat for the grand championship—that's handled by a process of elimination. On the other hand, there are plenty of other competitions you could enter if you had a 'Mech. Events like the match between Carstairs and Warwick. Events where the team is entered, not the individual competitors.

"Were there any 'Mechs on the ship that brought you here?"

"I don't know," Rose said. "Most of the cargo bays were off-limits."

"Probably not. If there had been, they'd have been impounded until the end of the week—no new blood until the end of the season. What little manages to get into the city is roadblocked."

"If new blood is so dangerous to the odds, and money, of the gamblers, why am I still walking around? Why was Warwick the only one to approach me?"