Steppe

'First, it might take many days or weeks to locate such people, assuming they remain on the planet. And longer to convince them. And yet longer to arrange financing for such a mission into the past. Time snatches are costly under the best conditions, and subject to many limitations both legal and paradoxical, and payment is required in advance. Even prominent archaeological ventures have difficulty raising the fees. I fear the Game would be over before the information was obtained.'

Alp had been primarily concerned with the first problem: escaping the Game secretly. He had planned to work out the other stages of his project extemporaneously. Now he saw that forthright Uigur scheming had no place in this complex galaxy.

'Still, there might be a way to avoid that hurdle,' Uga continued after a pause. 'The four men do not really need to be located. They expended their resources—mostly on bribes for key officials, I suspect—and are out of the Game. They intended you no favor, and you owe them nothing, any more than does a white rat who escapes the scalpel. All that is really required is the time machine—and all that is ultimately required for this is sufficient Galactic assets. As it happens, I have sufficient.'

'Then you hardly need success in the Game,' Alp pointed out.

'You don't comprehend the motivations of affluence,' Uga said. 'I do need that success—as much in my way as you do in your way! The man who has wealth without success is not complete. I am a very capable technician with useful connections in the field, but not at all a hero. Only the Game offers that notoriety I crave. And you, perhaps, offer the means to it.'

So Uga wanted to be cut in—and was making a fair offer. 'You mentioned more than one objection to the plan.'

'The document would be bound by the normal limitations of paradox,' Uga said. 'It would have to be completely lost to history, so that its absence would make no conceivable difference, even to some later archaeologist who might excavate the grounds and discover it. In short, one that was destroyed soon after loss. Such a document would be extremely difficult to locate, without special knowledge—' he paused. 'But you have special knowledge, don't you! And since it should be feasible to snatch the document, photograph it, and return it within seconds, there would be no potential interference historically and it could remain for the archaeologists...' He trailed off, musing it out. 'Still, the computers are all keyed to alert the Game Machine the moment anyone attempts researches of this nature, and the Game Machine is an extremely sharp artifact. So unless you know precisely where and when to look—'

'I don't know those things,' Alp admitted. 'But I am certain of this: the document we need will be written in Uigur script. Uigurs are the only educated nomads extant, and there are no likely prospects to succeed our place. Other powers may come and go—but they will employ Uigur scholars, rather than training their own. And I am literate in Uigur.'

'You're right!' Uga exclaimed. 'The Game Machine would keep track of all translations into Galactic, and of all serious scholars of Steppe history and language. But you are not a part of our society; there is no record of your capabilities. The Machine can hardly have allowed for a literate Uigur national! No library research, no translation... if we could locate even one native paper, just enough to suggest the politics of the future...'

'What are your other objections?' Alp asked.

'I don't see how you plan to escape from the Game. Or to return to it, undetected. The Machine keeps most careful track, and all players are numbered.'

'We need dead men. Two or more. The Game patrol will locate them and pick them up and identify them and pass them down into the regular world. But if a substitution is made just after identification—'

'Ah! Riding the dead! That could work—if only because nobody ever tries to sneak out of the Game, and so the Machine won't be alert for that. But there are still complications. What happens to those dead men when they wake and find themselves still in the Game? The paralysis lasts only a few hours. And what about the hard part: getting back?'

'Choose men you can trust to keep silent. Perhaps the same who will fill our Games-roles during our absence. The Machine will not check them while they live. When the time comes to re-enter, pay the fees and enter as new characters—minor parts. Your own recruiting net will bring us in. Then change places with the two listed dead —'

'And they will be as well off as they ever were, in new parts!' Uga cried. 'While there is no record of our temporary absence! Beautiful! By the time the error in their identities is discovered, twenty Years may have passed, and it will be impossible to unravel. They themselves won't know the complete story. Pei-li will have to know, so he can cover for us in the Game; that's all.'

Alp didn't like cutting another person in but saw no help for it. Someone did have to cover. 'But we shall have to find a way to remove our own identity tattoos,' he said. 'At least temporarily. Otherwise the Machine will see—'

'Skin graft. Elementary.'

Alp smiled. 'You say you are no hero, yet there is surely Uigur blood in you! Now you are answering the objections!'

'I daresay there is Uigur blood in every man of the galaxy, technically! There was a great deal of interbreeding once massive interplanetary colonization began, with the multilight drive. I know I have Chinese ancestry—and there was Steppe blood in that, certainly! And after observing the similarity with which our minds work...'

'Perhaps we will both be Khagans,' Alp said.

'But let us never war against each other!'

Alp smiled agreement. But he knew that whatever parts they took in future, the Game would be followed. There could be no lasting personal loyalties...

Part Two — MONGOL

Chapter 12

REVELATIONS

The document was almost illegible, hardly more than a charred fragment. The photograph reproduced every smudge, discoloration and tear with marvelous fidelity, but still the chore was difficult.

'It is Uigur script,' Alp said. 'But not the same as the style I know... more evolved, I think. And so many passages blotted out...'

'But you can read it!' Uga cried eagerly. 'There must be some hint—'

Alp read, painfully: '...taken from the manuscript of the five Uigur envoys... followed camel tracks across the