Contest

'The Presidian,' Selexin began, 'has been held on six previous occasions. And this,' he said, looking at the study hall around him, 'is the seventh. It is held approximately once every thousand Earth years, each time on a different world, and in every system, except Earth, it is held in only the highest esteem.'

'Systems?' Swain asked.

'Yes, Contestant, systems.' Selexin's tone was now that of a weary adult addressing a five-year-old. 'Other worlds. Other intelligent life. There are seven in total.'

Selexin paused for a moment, lifted a hand to massage his brow. He looked as if he was trying very hard to keep himself calm.

Finally, he looked up at Swain. 'You didn't know that, did you?'

'The part about other worlds and other intelligent life? Ah, no.'

'I am dead,' Selexin whispered, presumably to himself. Swain heard him clearly.

'Why?' he asked innocently. 'Why are you dead? What is this Presidian?'

Selexin sighed in exasperation. He held his hands out, palms up.

'What do you think it is?' he said sharply, barely concealing the condescension in his voice. 'It is a competition. A battle. A contest. Seven contestants enter the labyrinth and only one leaves. It is a fight to the death.'

He could see the disbelief spread across Swain's face. Selexin threw up his hands. 'By the Gods, you do not even understand what you are here for! Do you not see?'

Selexin slowed down for a moment, lowering his voice, trying desperately to control himself.

'Let me begin again. You have been chosen to represent your species in the ultimate contest in the universe. A contest that dates back over six millennia, that bases itself on a principle that goes light years beyond any notion of 'sport' that you could possibly imagine. That is the Presidian.

'It is a battle. A battle between hunters, athletes, warriors; creatures coming from every corner of the universe, possessed of skill, courage and intelligence, prepared to stake their very lives on their extraordinary talents -- talents at hunting, stalking and killing.'

Selexin shook his head.

'There is no coming back from defeat in the Presidian. There is no return match. Defeat in the Presidian is no loss of pride, it is loss of life. Every contestant who enters the labyrinth accepts that in this contest the only alternative to ultimate victory is certain death.

'It is quite simple. Seven will enter. The best will win, the lesser will die. Until only one remains.' The little man paused. 'If, of course, one does remain.

'There is no place for the ordinary man in the Presidian. It is a contest for the extraordinary -- for those prepared to risk the ultimate to attain the ultimate. On Earth you play games where you lose nothing in defeat. 'Winning isn't everything,' you say. 'It doesn't matter if you win or lose, but how you played the game.'' Selexin grunted disdainfully. 'If that is the case, why should anyone even try to win?

'Winning is devalued where defeat involves no loss, and humans are quite simply unable to comprehend that idea. Just as they are unable to comprehend a contest like the Presidian, where defeat means exactly that-losing everything.'

The little man looked Swain squarely in the eye. 'Winning is everything when you have everything to lose.'

The little man laughed weakly. 'But your kind will never understand that...'

Selexin paused, dropping his head, withdrawing into himself. Swain just stood there, entranced, staring in amazement at the little man before him.

'And that is why I am dead,' Selexin looked up. 'Because my survival depends on your survival. It is a highly prized honour to guide a contestant through the Presidian -- an honour bestowed upon my people since we are prevented by our size from competing in the contest -- but when one accepts that honour, one also accepts the fate of his contestant.

'So when you die, I die. And as I see it now,' he raised his voice, 'since you appear to know absolutely nothing about the Presidian or anything it entails, I would say quite confidently that at the moment our collective chances of survival are approximately zero!'

Selexin looked Swain up and down. Sneakers, jeans, a loose-fitting shirt with the sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly wet. He shook his head.

'Look at you, you haven't even come prepared to fight!'

He began to pace, gesturing with his arms, despairing for his situation, until finally he was totally indifferent to Swain and Holly's presence: 'Why me? Why this? Why the human? Keeping in mind the distinguished history human participation has had in the Presidian...'

Swain watched the little man pace back and forth in front of him. Holly just stared at him.

'Hey,' Swain said, stepping forward. Selexin continued to mutter to himself.

'Hey!'

Selexin stopped. He turned and stared at Swain.

'What?' he said angrily. In his anger, the little man possessed a ferocity that belied his size.

Swain cocked his head. 'Are you saying that humans have been in this thing before? In this contest?'

Selexin sighed. 'Yes. Twice. In the last two Presidia, humans have participated.'

'And what happened to them?'

Selexin laughed sadly. 'Both were the first to be eliminated. Neither one ever stood a chance.' He cocked an eyebrow. 'Now I know why.'

He looked down at the wristwatch. It now read:

INCOMPLETE--3

Swain said, 'And how exactly were they selected for this thing?'

As Selexin explained, but for one crucial modification, the process for human selection for the Seventh Presidian was largely unchanged from that which had operated for the two Presidia before it. Beings unable to accept the fact that other lifeforms existed in the universe could hardly be expected to choose a contestant of their own accord, let alone appreciate the concept of the Presidian.

After all, humans had not even been considered for inclusion in any Presidian until two thousand years ago -- human development having been disappointingly slow.

All six of the other systems chose their own representatives for the millennial Presidian either by holding a competition of their own or by choosing their greatest sportsman, huntsman or warrior. Earth, on the other hand, would be surveyed for some time, and from that surveillance, a worthy contestant would be chosen.

'Well, they didn't look too hard this time,' Swain said. 'I've never picked a fight in my life.'

'Oh, but--'

'I'm a doctor,' Swain said. 'Do you know what a doctor is? I don't kill people. I--'

'I know what a doctor is, and I know precisely what they do,' Selexin shot back. 'But you have forgotten what I said earlier -- one crucial modification was made to the selection criteria this time.

'You see, for the last two Presidia the choice of the human contestant was based largely on combat skills, and combat skills alone. This was obviously a mistake. After the dismal performance of those two human contestants, it was decided that other, less obvious skills should be taken into account in the selection process for this Presidian.

'Of course, fighting skills would be necessary, but this time they would not be conclusive. Now, from our observations of your planet, we could see that human warriors were adept at using artificially propelled weapons -- firearms, missiles and the like. But such weapons are forbidden in the Presidian. Only self-propelled weapons are allowed -- throwing knives, bladed weapons. So, first of all, we needed a human proven in hand-to-hand combat. Naturally, several warriors of your race fulfilled this requirement.

'But other skills were also deemed necessary, skills which are not often found in your warrior types. High mental aptitude levels were a primary consideration -- in particular, the ability to respond to a crisis, objective rational thinking in the face of the potentially bizarre, and most importantly, adaptive intelligence.'