Away Games: Science Fiction Sports Stories Read Online Free PDF

Plutarch.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “I just arrived a few hours ago.”
    “Have you come to admire our monument?”
    “No, I have business here,” I said. “But I find your monument very interesting.”
    She nodded. “It depicts the greatest moment in our history.”
    “I’ve read about it.”
    “You can see it, if you like. Every shop sells the holo.”
    “Maybe I’ll buy one,” I said.
    “I hope you enjoy your stay,” she said. “You have come at a lovely time of year.”
    I hadn’t noticed anything particularly lovely about the time or the planet.
    “The corn is just starting to come up out past the edge of the city,” she continued. “If you open your window at night, you can hear it growing.”
    I gave her a look that said I was a little long in the tooth for fairy tales.
    “It’s true,” she said. “It will grow eight or ten inches a night for the next week. It grows so quickly that you can hear the leaves flutter.”
    “I’ll listen for it,” I told her.
    “Will you be here long?”
    “I don’t know,” I answered. “Possibly you can help me. Do you know where I can find Damika Drake?”
    She frowned. “He’ll be in school until midafternoon.” She paused. “I knew you were here for him.” She stared at me long and hard. “Leave him alone.”
    “I’m not here to do him any harm,” I said. “Quite the contrary. I …”
    “We need him more than you do,” she said and began laboriously pushing her cart away.
    I figured I’d walk toward the city center. It was the only city left on the planet, maybe the only one Plutarch ever had, and I knew the school had to be there. I circled the statue and found a road that would take me there. Sitting next to the road was an old beggar, seated on the ground, holding out a cup with a few coins in it and a misspelled sign saying “Desstitut” right next to him.
    “Hello, old man,” I said. “Doesn’t it get warm sitting out here in the sun?”
    “My cross-country racing days are over,” he said with a wry grin. “Course, they only lasted about ten minutes. Got some alms for the poor?”
    “What the hell is an alm?”
    He shrugged. “Beats me,” he admitted. “I read it somewhere.”
    “Will credits do?”
    “To coin a phrase, beggars can’t be choosers.”
    I flipped a couple of Democracy credits into his cup.
    “Thanks, Mister,” he said. “You’re here for Damika Drake, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Figgers,” he said. “Only two reasons for anyone to come to Plutarch. The statue and the Drake kid. I saw you looking at the statue, and you’re still here, so it got to be for the kid.”
    “It is,” I said. “Can you tell me anything about him?”
    “Not much,” he replied. “I can tell you about the statue, though.”
    “I’ve heard about it.”
    “Not from an insider,” he said.
    I tossed him another couple of credits. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
    “I’ve love to,” he said, “but my throat just dried up.”
    “I assume a glass of water won’t open it up,” I suggested.
    He grinned. “I’m allergic to water. Better make it beer.”
    “Okay,” I said, helping him to his feet. “Lead the way.”
    He made a beeline for a broken-down building about two hundred feet away. The place was dimly-lit, with one squeaky fan hanging down from the ceiling and spinning slowly. There was a human bartender—the place obviously couldn’t afford a robot—and we sat down on a couple of well-used stools at the bar.
    “A couple of long ones,” said the beggar. “My friend is buying.”
    The bartender looked at me. “You new here?”
    “Just passing through,” I said, slapping some money on the bar.
    “That’s what they all say,” replied the bartender. “Especially if they’ve got any money.”
    “I was just about to tell him about the game,” said the beggar.
    “He doesn’t look like he cares,” said the bartender.
    “I’m interested,” I said.
    “Then I’d better stick around, just in