«What would you call big?» he said softly.
«What’s the biggest you’ve got?»
The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. «Maybe you’d like to try Slam.»
«Tell me about it.»
«Over here.» The crowd opened up and made a path.
Retief and Magnan followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box. There was an arm-sized opening at waist height, and inside was a hand grip. A four-foot clear plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the center. Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box.
«Slam pays good odds,» the man said. «You can go as high as you like. Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip in here.» He indicated a slot.
«You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks and starts to turn. Takes a pretty good grip to start the globe turning. You can see, it’s full of chips. There’s a hole at the top. As long as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you squeeze, the faster it turns. Eventually it’ll turn over to where the hole is down, and chips fall out. If you let up and the bowl stops, you’re all through.
«Just to make it interesting, there’s contact plates spotted around the bowl; when one of ’em lines up with a live contact, you get a little jolt—guaranteed non-lethal. But if you let go, you lose. All you’ve got to do is hold on long enough, and you’ll get the pay-off.»
«How often does this random pattern put the hole down?»
«Anywhere from three minutes to fifteen, with the average grip. Oh, by the way, one more thing. That lead block up there …» The man motioned with his head toward a one-foot cube suspended by a thick cable. «It’s rigged to drop every now and then: averages five minutes. A warning light flashes first. You can set the clock back on it by dropping another chip—or you can let go the grip. Or, you can take a chance; sometimes the light’s a bluff.»
Retief looked at the massive block of metal.
«That would mess up a man’s dealing hand, wouldn’t it?»
«The last two jokers who were too cheap to feed the machine had to have ’em off; their arm, I mean. That lead’s heavy stuff.»
«I don’t suppose your machine has a habit of getting stuck, like Kippy’s?»
The broad-shouldered man frowned.
«You’re a stranger,» he said. «You don’t know any better.»
«It’s a fair game, mister,» someone called.
«Where do I buy the chips?»
The man smiled. «I’ll fix you up. How many?»
«One.»
«A big spender, eh?» The man snickered and handed over a large plastic chip.
Retief stepped to the machine and dropped the coin.
«If you want to change your mind,» the man said, «you can back out now. All it’ll cost you is the chip you dropped.»
Retief, reaching through the hole, took the grip. It was leather-padded, hand-filling. He squeezed it. There was a click and bright lights sprang up. The globe began to twirl lazily. The four-inch hole at its top was plainly visible.
«If ever the hole gets in position, it will empty very quickly,» Magnan said.
Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the glass cage. A sound went up from the spectators.
«Quick, drop a chip,» someone yelled.
«You’ve only got ten seconds …»
«Let go!» Magnan pleaded.
Retief sat silent, holding the grip, frowning up at the weight. The globe twirled faster now. Then the bright white light winked off.
«A bluff!» Magnan gasped.
«That’s risky, stranger,» the grey-templed man said.
The globe was turning rapidly now, oscillating from side to side. The hole seemed to travel in a wavering loop, dipping lower, swinging up high, then down again.
«It has to move to the bottom soon,» Magnan said. «Slow it down, so it doesn’t shoot past.»
«The slower it goes, the longer it takes to get to the bottom,» someone said.
There was a crackle, and Retief stiffened. Magnan heard a sharp intake of breath. The globe slowed, and Retief shook his head, blinking.
The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter.
«You took pretty near a full jolt, that time,» he said.
The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to the center, then below.
«A little longer,» Magnan said.
«That’s the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball,» someone said. «How much longer can he hold it?»
Magnan looked at Retief’s knuckles. They showed white against the grip. The globe tilted farther, swung around, then down; two chips fell out, clattered down a chute and into a box.
«We’re ahead,» Magnan said. «Let’s quit.»
Retief shook his head. The globe rotated, dipped again; three chips fell.
«She’s ready,» someone called.
«It’s bound to hit soon,» another voice added excitedly. «Come on, mister!»
«Slow down,» Magnan said. «So it won’t move past too quickly.»
«Speed it up, before that lead block gets you,» someone called.
The hole swung high, over the top, then down the side. Chips rained out, six, eight … «Next pass,» a voice called.
The white warning light flooded the cage. The globe whirled; the hole slid over the top, down, down … a chip fell, two more …
Retief half rose, clamped his jaw, and crushed the grip. Sparks flew, and the globe slowed, chips spewing. It stopped and swung back. Weighted by the mass of chips at the bottom, it stopped again with the hole centered. Chips cascaded down the chute, filled the box and spilled on the floor. The crowd yelled.
Retief released the grip and withdrew his arm at the same instant that the lead block slammed down.
«Good lord,» Magnan said. «I felt that through the floor.»
Retief turned to the broad-shouldered man.
«This game’s all right for beginners,» he said. «But I’d like to talk a really big gamble. Why don’t we go to your office, Mr. Zorn?»
«Your proposition interests me,» Zorn said, an hour later. «But there’s some angles to this I haven’t mentioned yet.»
«You’re a gambler, Zorn, not a suicide,» Retief said. «Take what I’ve offered. Your dream of revolution was fancier, I agree, but it won’t work.»
«How do I know you birds aren’t lying?» Zorn snarled. He stood up and strode up and down the room. «You walk in here and tell me I’ll have a squadron of Corps Peace Enforcers on my neck, that the Corps won’t recognize my regime. Maybe you’re right; but I’ve got other contacts. They say different.» Whirling, he stared at Retief.
«I have pretty good assurance that once I put it over, the Corps will have to recognize me as the legal de facto government of Petreac. They won’t meddle in internal affairs.»
«Nonsense,» Magnan spoke up, «the Corps will never deal with a pack of criminals calling themselves—»
«Watch your language, you!» Zorn rasped.
«I’ll admit Mr. Magnan’s point is a little weak,» Retief said. «But you’re overlooking something. You plan to murder a dozen or so officers of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne along with the local wheels. The Corps won’t overlook that. It can’t.»
«Their tough luck they’re in the middle,» Zorn muttered.
«Our offer is extremely generous, Mr. Zorn,» Magnan said. «The post you’ll get will pay you very well indeed; as against certain failure of your coup, the choice should be simple.»
Zorn eyed Magnan. «I thought you diplomats weren’t the type to go around making deals under the table. Offering me a job—it sounds phony as hell.»
«It’s time you knew,» Retief said. «There’s no phonier business in the galaxy than diplomacy.»
«You’d better take it, Mr. Zorn,» Magnan said.
«Don’t push me,» Zorn said. «You two walk into my headquarters empty-handed and big-mouthed. I don’t know what I’m talking to you for. The answer is no. N-i-x, no!»