city—he almost felt Dulaq’s sense of joy about being here. Of course, Odal told himself, it’s probably just a reaction to being free of Kor’s dreary Ministry of Intelligence. But the Kerak major had to admit to himself—as he moved toward the spaceport terminal, escorted by four of Kor’s men—that Acquatainia had a rhythm, a freshness, a sense of freedom and gaiety that he had never found on Kerak.
Inside the terminal building, he had fifty meters of automated inspectors to walk through before he could get into the ground car that would take him to the Kerak embassy. If there was going to be trouble, it would be here.
Two of his escorts got into the inspection line ahead of him, two behind.
Odal walked slowly between the two full-length X-ray screens and then stopped before the radiation detector. He inserted his passport and embassy identification cards into the correct slot in the computer’s registration processor.
Then he heard someone in the next line, a woman’s voice, saying, “It is him! I recognize the uniform from the tri-di news.”
“Couldn’t be,” a man’s voice answered. “They wouldn’t dare send him back here.”
Odal purposely turned their way and smiled gravely at them. The woman said, “I
Kor had arranged for a few newsmen to be on hand. As Odal collected bis cards and travel kit at the end of the inspection line, a small knot of cameramen began grinding their tapers at him. He walked briskly toward the nearest doors, and the ground car that he could see waiting outside. His four escorts kept the newsmen at arm’s length.
“Major Odal, don’t you consider it risky to return to Acquatainia?”
“Do you think diplomatic immunity covers assassination?”
“Aren’t you afraid someone might take a shot at you?”
The newsmen yelped after him like a pack of puppies following a man with an armful of bones. But Odal could feel the hatred now. Not so much from the newsmen, but from the rest of the people in the crowded terminal lobby. They stared at him, hating him. Before, when he was Kerak’s invincible warrior, they feared him, even envied him. But now there was nothing in the crowd but hatred for the Kerak major, Odal knew.
He ducked into the ground car and sank into the back seat. Kor’s guards filled the rest of the car. The door slammed shut, and some of the emotion and noise coming from the terminal crowd was cut off. For the first time, Odal thought about why he had returned to Acquatainia. Leoh. He frowned at the thought of what he had to do. But when he thought about Hector, about revenging himself for the Star Watchman’s absurd victory in their duel, he allowed himself to smile.
8
Leoh sat slumped at the desk chair in the office behind the dueling machine chamber. He had some thinking to do, and his apartment was too comfortable for creative thought.
Through the closed door of the office he heard an outer door bang, hard fast-moving footsteps, and a piercing off-key whistle. With a reluctant smile, he told the door control to open. Hector was standing there with a fist raised, ready to knock.
“How’d you know?…”
“I’m partly telepathic,” Leoh said.
“Really? I didn’t know. Do you think that helped you in your duel with… oh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.…”
Leoh raised a hand for silence. “Come in, my boy, and sit down. Tell me, have you seen the tri-di newscasts this morning?”
Taking a chair next to the Professor, Hector said, “No, sir. I, uh, got in kind of late last night and sort of late getting up this morning.… Got some water in my left ear… it gurgles every time I move my head…”
With an effort, Leoh stayed on the subject. “The newscasts showed Odal landing at the main spaceport. He’s returned.”
Hector jerked as though someone had stuck him with a pin. “He… he’s back?”
“Now don’t get rattled,” Leoh said as calmly as he could. “No one’s going to come in here with pistols blazing to assassinate me.”
“Maybe… but, well, I mean… there’s a chance that Odal—or somebody—will try something.”
“Nonsense,” Leoh grumbled.
Hector didn’t reply. He seemed to be lost in an inner debate; his face was flashing through a series of expressions: worried, puzzled, determined.
“What’s the matter?” Leoh asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing… just thinking.”
“This news about Odal has upset you more than I thought it would.”
“No, no… I’m not upset… just, uh, thinking.” Hector shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. Leoh thought he could hear the gurgling of water.
“It’s my duty,” Hector said, “to, uh, protect you. So I’ll have to stay, well, very close to you at all times. I think I should move into your apartment and stay with you wherever you go.”
Now Leoh found himself upset more than he thought he would be. But he knew that if he didn’t let the Watchman stay close to him openly, Hector would try to do it secretly, which would merely be more agonizing for both of them.
“All right, my boy,
Hector said, “No, I’ve got to be there when Odal shows up.… And anyway, I think the Terran ambassador was getting a little tired of having me around the embassy. He, uh, he seemed to be avoiding me as much as he could.”
Leoh barely suppressed a smile. “Very well. Get your things together and you can move in with me today,”
“Good,” Hector said. And to himself he added,
There was no escaping Hector. He moved into Leoh’s apartment and stood within ten meters of the old scientist, day and night. When Leoh awoke, Hector was already whistling shrilly in the autokitchen, punching buttons, and somehow managing to make the automatic equipment burn at least one part of breakfast. Hector drove him wherever he wanted to go, and stayed with him when he got there. Leoh went to sleep with Hector’s cheerful jabbering still in his ears.
Increasingly, they ate dinner at Geri Dulaq’s sumptuous home on the outskirts of the city. Hector waggled like an overanxious puppy whenever Geri was in sight. And Leoh saw that she was coolly able to keep him at arm’s length. There was something that she wanted Hector to do for her, the old man quickly realized, something Hector wouldn’t talk about. Which—for Hector—was completely unusual.
About a week after the news of Odal’s return, the Kerak major still hadn’t been seen outside of his embassy’s building. But an enterprising newsman, expecting new duels, asked for an interview with Leoh. The Professor met him at the dueling machine. Hector was at his side.
The newsman turned out to be Hector’s age and Leoh’s girth, florid in complexion, sloppy in dress, and slightly obnoxious in attitude.
“I know all about the basic principles of its operation,” he told Leoh airily when the Professor began to explain how the dueling machine worked.
“Oh? Have you had courses in psychonics?”
The newsman laughed. “No, but I understand all about this dream-machine business.”
Pacing slowly by the empty control desk and peering up at the dueling machine’s bulky consoles and power conditioners, he asked, “How can you be sure that people can’t be killed in this rig again? Major Odal actually killed
