It was no better for the elves, who on the surface had mined iridium and fashioned it into assorted artifacts. Deprived of their natural way of existence, they reacted in much the fashion of the human beings, sleeping, gaming, socializing, and fighting. Chief Oresmite was at times hard put to it to keep the peace.
There were some human-elf liaisons, not because of any natural affinity, but because of sheer boredom with the limits of their own populations. Lysander had not understood this well at first, but in time the relative unfamiliarity of the elf maidens became appealing, and he found himself dating them too. Such liaisons were officially discouraged, but privately tolerated; they were better than violence.
The whole community existed to support Mischief and the effort to save Phaze. But most of its work had been done before the four newcomers had arrived. Only if there was a cave-in in a tunnel or some other emergency was there actual need for human or elfin action. It was apparent that those who had settled here had made a considerable sacrifice. All longed for the time when they would be freed to live again on the surface—or die.
“The truth be,” an elf lass confided to him once, as she showed him what elves knew about fundamental interaction that human beings did not, “that I care not o’ermuch which it be, just so long as the dullness be done.” That seemed to be a general sentiment. They knew his position, but were not pushing him to save Phaze.
He avoided Echo, and she avoided him. But after a year desperation brought them together. “I told you I wasn’t interested in sex without obligation,” she said. “I have changed my mind.”
“It was better when we were in love,” he said. “If there were another potion, I would take it with you.”
“So would I. But there isn’t. Such potions work only once for a given couple. We would have to do it the hard way.”
“The hard way?”
“By falling in love naturally.”
“You mean that’s possible? I thought—“
“So did I. But others say that though it is harder, after a potion and nulling, it can be accomplished. It has to be worked at. I know you wouldn’t be interested in that.”
“I thought you wouldn’t be interested!” he said.
She gazed at him. “I wasn’t interested in being your mistress. Then. Now it doesn’t matter. Anything’s better than this bore dom.”
“Are the two incompatible?”
“Love and sex? They weren’t before.”
“Let’s consider it a challenge.”
“A challenge,” she agreed.
It turned out to be worth it. They could handle the sex readily enough, for they had had a lot of practice in their original month in love, but the love was slower. After a month there was only a flicker of emotion. After six there was some. After two years; it was significant. After three it was assuming the aspect of a shadow of their former feeling.
“I think we are right for each other after all,” he said. “I” have not been bored since we undertook this challenge.”
“Nor I,” she agreed. “Now I am glad we lost the unnatural love, because we are proving what is real.”
They kissed, quite satisfied. It seemed that love was most valuable when it was a struggle to achieve.
Four years after his arrival, Lysander was able to announce that the algorithmic computations were complete. “The figures, if invoked, will do the job,” he said.
Oresmite’s delight was restrained. “Then we must deal.”
“My position is unchanged.”
“But thou hast had opportunity to consider. Be it a victory for the Hectare an all be destroyed?”
“They would not consider it so.”
“But it be a victory for us, an it be saved.”
“Agreed.”
“So one side can win, and the other can only lose.”
“Yes. But this is logic. My mission is not subject to that.”
“Suppose it were possible at least to save most Hectare and some natives, by warning them now?”
“It isn’t. It would take several days to organize for a disciplined withdrawal, and only one day remained when I came here. Had I known the nature of the ploy sooner, I would have warned the Hectare.”
“Aye. We told thee little, until thou wast here. Yet there be a way.”
“Something you didn’t tell me?”
“Aye. I be thine enemy, remember.”
Lysander laughed. “I had almost forgotten! What is this secret?”
“We can, by special magic, transport some o’ the acceleration to the surface o’ the shell. It would deplete the effect at the Poles, but provide perhaps a week at the cities.”
“They could get away!” Lysander exclaimed.
“Aye.”
“But there’s a catch.”
“Perceptive o’ thee to fathom that.”
“You won’t let it happen.”
“Aye. Why facilitate the benefit o’ mine enemy?”
“And I, lacking your expertise in magic, can not do it without your cooperation.”
“Aye, no more than I can gain thy figures from Mischief.”
“Then what is the point? It changes nothing. I will not save your frames, and you will not save the BEMs. Our positions are consistent.”
“The point be that we have chips to bargain. An the Hectare had a choice, would they not choose to exit Proton?”
“Yes, of course! But you aren’t going to give them that choice.”
“Here be my challenge: play me a game. An thou dost win, I will provide magic to save the Hectare and those they choose to take with them, and thou and Echo. That be a half victory, but better than naught. An I win, thou dost release those figures.”
“But the stakes aren’t even!” Lysander protested, guiltily intrigued. “You aren’t offering victory against victory, but half against whole.”
“True. But our victory be not complete loss for the Hectare or thee. We will treat them fairly, and put thee in charge o’ integrating them into the society. We can use their skills. And we will make a spell to make thou fertile—“
“I’m with Echo. She can’t conceive.”
“An we do the magic, she can. Remember Nepe; she be child o’ machine.”
Lysander considered. It was true: the full victory for the natives would be only half a loss for the Hectare, while the full loss of the natives would be half a Hectare win. The stakes were fair. But did he have the authority to make such a deal?
“Be the Hectare not gamesmen?” Oresmite inquired. “Would they not let the game decide, an the stakes be even?”
“Yes, they would. But I can’t—“
“An the leader be incapacitated, who has authority?”
“The next in command. But—“
“An the leader be away or distracted, and the next in command learns aught that must needs be decided instantly, what then?”
“The next in command must act.”
“Does the authority for this matter then not devolve on thee, the only Hectare to know its nature in time to act?”
“Well, there is Weva—“
“Wouldst have her make the decision?”
“No! She’s on your side!”
“Then methinks it must be thee, unless my logic be in error.”
Lysander realized that the cunning old elf had him. He had been maneuvered into a position where the authority was his; a Hectare court would agree. He might lack the authority simply to decide the fate of the frames, but as a player in a game of decision—a case could be made.