The Immortal Game (Rook's Song) by Chad Huskins Read Free Book Online

he’s slammed back into the present, and takes a deep, sobering breath.  “What look?”
    “I’ve dedicated a file to getting to know you , and I know that look.”
    “A file?”
    “To learn more about a subject, whether it be an animate or inanimate object, my people create— created —a system of adapting quickly.  I have dedicated subroutines, and subroutines within subroutines, where I allot the necessary resources to the development of such programs.  Then, I make it a point to gather information necessary to learn to extrapolate and predict what the subject will do next.”  He shrugs, something he learned to do early on to communicate with Rook, no doubt.  “In short, it’s enhanced pattern recognition, and I now recognize a face you make when you are reflecting, looking back, reminiscing, experiencing nostalgia—”
    “Got it, got it,” Rook says, waving a hand and tossing his micropad up onto the control board.  Rook leans back in his chair.  “It’s just…you took me back there, talking about the importance of chess, ya know?”
    The alien doesn’t move, but still somehow imparts puzzlement.  “No.”
    He chuckles.  “Well, chess was somethin’ my dad and I shared a passion for.  I played it a lot, went to tournaments, thought about it all the time.  I took it very seriously.  I read all the major books.  The Encyclopaedia of Chess Openings , edited by Serbian chess Grandmaster Aleksandar Matanovi ć himself , as well as the Encyclopaedia of Chess Endings , the Chess Informant , all the great tomes and magazines and websites.  I played against computers so often I didn’t really collect that many friends.”  He looks at Bishop, and smiles.  “Which made me a good fit for this kind of work, ya know—being alone, working out problems on my own, spending long stints of time in space with nobody to talk to.”
    “But you still went insane.”  The Ianeth is blunt, and Rook takes no offense.  After knowing Bishop only a few days, Rook shared with him what his life was like in the months and years leading up to the encounter with the Cerebs in the asteroid field he called Magnum Collectio .
    “Yeah ,” he says.  “I did go insane, didn’t I?  Heh.  I guess even the most lonesome of us requires socializing with our own kind from time to time.”
    “But you continued playing this game.  Chess.”
    “Had to.  Needed something familiar besides just music and old memories.”
    Bishop taps a few keys on his micropad, calls up some diagnostics screens.  “I am sure your chess skills have improved since you’ve had so much time to play.”  Perhaps that was meant to be some alien version of a silver lining, like, hey, don’t sweat all those dead countrymen, at least you got some sweet alone time with your favorite hobby?
    Rook taps a key, adjusting the pycno mixtures.  “Not really.  A chess player never really gets any better unless he plays someone better than him, and often.”  He looks out the forward view, at Kali, at the planet angrily running away from some unknown and dark event.  Rook empathizes.  “A mind needs an opponent as much as it needs friends.  It needs a problem to solve, or else it becomes stagnant and unimaginative.  An opponent is a whetstone to a blade.  It sharpens you.”
    “I see.  So, with my lowly chess skills, I suppose I haven’t exactly sharpened your blade.”
    Rook smiles, and leans forward, starting to check the best possible approach vectors to the planet.  There are many possible sites that Bishop indicated would serve as landing pads near the primary buried installation.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You’ve got the pieces down, now you just need to learn the basics of strategy.”
    “I understand strategy,” says Bishop, running a check over the atmo scrubbers.  “I may be an engineer, but I am a warrior-engineer.”
    “Exactly.  You only understand yourself as a piece.  A pawn.  Understand?  You’re