The Quisling's Tale, Part Seven
Jun. 1st, 2016 12:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalI think my premise of this story is ruined. I forgot that Vidkun Quisling was the Prime Minister of Norway, not Sweden! ;p
Also, it turns out "Anna" was the name of his mom, which is just odd.
* * *
Her Steel Tyger Master stared at her across the chessboard, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. The battlefield was nearly his, her own queen captured, along with her knights, rooks, one bishop and nearly all of her pawns, without only a single knight and a pair of pawns missing from his own army. “Mate in one move,” he rumbled, his voice a purr of satisfaction.
“Master, it occurs to this slave that trying to beat you at a game like chess puts her at a slight disadvantage,” she pointed out to him. “You have a computerized mind, after all.”
“You needn’t have played, if you didn’t wish,” he said to her.
“When the stakes were my freedom? What other choice did this slave have?”
“Not to play. Or demand a different game, one that you might win.”
She smiled. “What if losing is the best way to win the prize?”
* * *
So it turned out that Xavier was really into Scrabble, somehow finding a pair of sets from a hobby store that their mysterious captor had provided, so they wouldn’t get bored.
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to get the game app for your phone?” Anna asked him. She sat at the table across from him, the board between them, while around them the rest of the partygoers mingled or played other games like European Outbreak Express.
He turned a tile over in his fingers. “You don’t want people staring at their phones at a party,” he said, setting it back down on his holder. “Besides, I always thought face-to-face communication was better.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Have you heard from your mother?” he asked.
“Yes, she’s still stuck with the rest of the government employees,” Anna said. “She’s bored, but at least she was able to exchange texts with Pappa. As near as he can figure his Rest & Rec city is in Mongolia.” One of the more interesting bits of news to come through the rapidly expanding rumor mill that had built up overnight, was the report from a few amateur astronomers that their own city was in the middle of the Empty Quarter in the Arabian Peninsula. Which made the idea of somehow ripping through apparently unrippable dome plastic to escape even less appealing than before.
“We need your help,” Xavier said, setting down several Scrabble tiles to spell out FIGHT.
“Doing what?” Anna asked. She looked at her own tiles, trying to figure what she could spell with G N T V V W X. She settled for borrowing Xavier’s I and making WIN.
He smiled. “Trying to help other people. Keep them from having too much time to worry with activities like we’re doing now.” He spelled out RESIST, using the T on the end of FIGHT.
She’d gotten a pair of O’s with her last grab, and spelled out ROBOT off of Xavier’s last word. “That makes sense. Folks are so scared. They need some comforting.”
“Well, maybe not too comfortable,” he said, spelling out SABOTAGE. He stared into her eyes intently. “Do you understand?”
Anna looked down at the words spelled out on the board, and was suddenly reminded of images from her history classes, of Swedes, sometimes brave, sometimes frightened, often angry, resisting the Nazis that had invaded their homeland.
I have really got the wrong last name for this, she thought. “Yeah, I understand,” she said aloud.
“Good.”
Also, it turns out "Anna" was the name of his mom, which is just odd.
* * *
Her Steel Tyger Master stared at her across the chessboard, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. The battlefield was nearly his, her own queen captured, along with her knights, rooks, one bishop and nearly all of her pawns, without only a single knight and a pair of pawns missing from his own army. “Mate in one move,” he rumbled, his voice a purr of satisfaction.
“Master, it occurs to this slave that trying to beat you at a game like chess puts her at a slight disadvantage,” she pointed out to him. “You have a computerized mind, after all.”
“You needn’t have played, if you didn’t wish,” he said to her.
“When the stakes were my freedom? What other choice did this slave have?”
“Not to play. Or demand a different game, one that you might win.”
She smiled. “What if losing is the best way to win the prize?”
* * *
So it turned out that Xavier was really into Scrabble, somehow finding a pair of sets from a hobby store that their mysterious captor had provided, so they wouldn’t get bored.
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to get the game app for your phone?” Anna asked him. She sat at the table across from him, the board between them, while around them the rest of the partygoers mingled or played other games like European Outbreak Express.
He turned a tile over in his fingers. “You don’t want people staring at their phones at a party,” he said, setting it back down on his holder. “Besides, I always thought face-to-face communication was better.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Have you heard from your mother?” he asked.
“Yes, she’s still stuck with the rest of the government employees,” Anna said. “She’s bored, but at least she was able to exchange texts with Pappa. As near as he can figure his Rest & Rec city is in Mongolia.” One of the more interesting bits of news to come through the rapidly expanding rumor mill that had built up overnight, was the report from a few amateur astronomers that their own city was in the middle of the Empty Quarter in the Arabian Peninsula. Which made the idea of somehow ripping through apparently unrippable dome plastic to escape even less appealing than before.
“We need your help,” Xavier said, setting down several Scrabble tiles to spell out FIGHT.
“Doing what?” Anna asked. She looked at her own tiles, trying to figure what she could spell with G N T V V W X. She settled for borrowing Xavier’s I and making WIN.
He smiled. “Trying to help other people. Keep them from having too much time to worry with activities like we’re doing now.” He spelled out RESIST, using the T on the end of FIGHT.
She’d gotten a pair of O’s with her last grab, and spelled out ROBOT off of Xavier’s last word. “That makes sense. Folks are so scared. They need some comforting.”
“Well, maybe not too comfortable,” he said, spelling out SABOTAGE. He stared into her eyes intently. “Do you understand?”
Anna looked down at the words spelled out on the board, and was suddenly reminded of images from her history classes, of Swedes, sometimes brave, sometimes frightened, often angry, resisting the Nazis that had invaded their homeland.
I have really got the wrong last name for this, she thought. “Yeah, I understand,” she said aloud.
“Good.”
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no subject
Date: 2016-06-01 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-01 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-01 05:04 pm (UTC)No, the Swedes and Norwegians have a longtime rivalry. "A thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one Norwegian", as my Mom used to say, so they're not likely to cut anyone with that name much slack. (In fact, I'm surprised people with that name haven't changed it; I don't think I'd wait to change my name if I was born with the last name "Hitler", and in the Scandinavian countries "Quisling" ranks right down there with old Adolf).
no subject
Date: 2016-06-01 06:07 pm (UTC)