The Dueling Machine

“I can feel in your thoughts,” Odal replied, “a hatred for Kanus. A hatred that is matched only by your fear of him. If you had it in your power you would…”

“I would what?”

Odal finally saw the picture clearly. “You would have the Leader assassinated.”

“how?”

“By a disgraced army officer who would have good cause to hate Kanus.”

“You have cause to hate him,” Romis emphasized.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? Can you fail to hate him?”

Odal shook his head. “I’ve never considered the question. He is the Leader. I have neither loved nor hated, only followed his commands.”

“Duty above self,” Romis’ thought returned. “You speak like a member of the nobility.”

“Such as you are. And yet you wish to assassinate the Leader.”

“Yes! Because a true member of the nobility puts his duty to the Kerak Worlds before his allegiance to this madman—this usurper of power who will destroy us all, nobleman and commoner alike.”

“I am only a commoner,” Odal replied, very deliberately. “Perhaps I’m not equipped to decide where my duty lies. Certainly, I have no choice in my duties at present.”

Romis recovered his composure. “Listen to me. If you agree to join us, we can help you escape from this beastly experimentation. As you can see, certain members of Kor’s staff are with us; so too are groups in the army and space fleet. If you will help us, you can once again be a hero of Kerak.”

If I murder Kanus and survive the deed, Odal thought to himself. And if I am not then assassinated in turn by your friends.

To Romis he asked, “And if I don’t agree to join you?”

The Minister remained silent.

“I see,” Odal answered for himself. “I know too much now to be allowed the risk of living.”

“Unfortunately, the stakes are too high to let personal feelings intervene. If you do not agree to help us before leaving the dueling machine, the medical technician and sergeant are waiting outside for you. They have their orders.”

“To murder me,” Odal said bluntly, “and make it seem as though I tried to escape.”

“Yes. I am sorry to be brutal, but that is your choice. Join or die.”

4

While Odal deliberated his choice in the midnight darkness of Kerak, it was sunset in the capital city of Acquatainia.

High above the city, Hector circled warily in a rented air car that had been ready for the junk heap long ago. He kept his eyes riveted to the view screens on the control panel in front of him, sitting tensely in the pilot’s seat; the four-place cabin was otherwise empty.

Part of his circle carried him through one of the city’s busier traffic patterns, but he ignored other air cars and kept the autopilot locked on its circle while homeward-bound commuters shrieked into their radios at him and dodged around the Watchman’s vehicle. Hector had his radio off; every nerve in his body was concentrating on the view screens.

The car’s tri-di scanners were centered on Geri Dulaq’s house, on the outskirts of the city. As far as Hector was concerned, nothing else existed. Cars buzzed by his bubble-topped canopy and apoplectic-faced drivers shook their fists at him. He never saw them. Wind whistled suspiciously through what should have been a sealed cabin; the air car groaned and rattled when it should have hummed and soared. He never noticed.

There she is! He felt a charge of electricity flash through him as he saw her at last, walking through the garden next to the house.

For an instant he wondered if he had the nerve to go through with it, but his hands had already nudged the controls and the air car, shuddering, started a long whining descent toward the house.

The reddish sun of Acquatainia was shining straight into Hector’s eyes, through the ancient photochromic canopy that was supposed to screen out the glare. Squinting hard, Hector barely made out the menacing bulk of the house as it rose to meet him. He pulled back on the controls, jammed the brake flaps full open, flipped the screeching engine pods to their landing angle, and bounced the car in a shower of dust and noise and wind squarely into Geri’s flower bed.

“You!” she screamed as he popped the canopy open.

She turned and ran to the house. He went to leap out after her, but the seat harness yanked cuttingly at his middle and shoulders.

By the time Hector had unbuckled the harness and jumped, stumbling, to the ground, she was inside the house. But the door was still open, he saw. Hector sprinted toward it.

A servant, rather elderly, appeared on the walk before the door. Hector ducked under his feebly waving arms and launched himself toward the door, which was now swinging shut. He got halfway through before the door slammed against him, wedging him firmly against the jamb.

Hector could hear someone panting behind the door, struggling to get it closed despite the fact that one of his arms and a leg were flailing inside the doorway. Hoping it wasn’t Geri, he pushed hard against the door. It hardly budged. It’s not her, he realized. Setting himself as solidly as he could on his outside leg, he pushed with all his might. The door gave slowly, then suddenly burst open. Hector sailed off balance into the husky servant who had been pushing against him. They both sprawled onto the hard plastiwood floor of the entryway.

Hector groped to all fours and caught a glimpse of Geri at the top of the wide, curving stairway that dominated the main hall of the house. Then the servant fell on him and tried to pin him down. He rolled over on top of the servant, broke loose from his clumsy grip, and got to his feet.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” he said shakily, holding his hands out in what he hoped was a menacing position. Another pair of arms grappled at him from behind, but weakly. The old servant. Hector shrugged him off and took a few more steps into the house, his eyes still on the husky one, who was now crouched on the floor and looking up questioningly at Geri.

All she has to do is nod, Hector knew, and they’ll both jump me.

“I told you I never wanted to see you again!” she screamed at him. “Never!”

“I’ve got to talk to you,” he shouted back. “Just for five minutes… Uh, alone.”

“I don’t… your nose is bleeding.”

He touched his upper lip with a finger. It came away red and sticky.

“Oh… the door… I must’ve banged it on the door.”

Geri took a few steps down the stairway, hesitated, then seemed to take a deep breath and came slowly down the rest of the way.

“It’s all right,” she said calmly to the servants. “You may leave.”

The brawny one looked uncertain. The old one piped, “But if he…”

“I’ll be all right,” Geri insisted firmly. “You can stay in the next room, if you like. The Lieutenant will only be here for five minutes. No longer,” she added, turning to Hector.

They withdrew reluctantly.

“You ruined my flowers,” she said to Hector. But softly, and the corners of her mouth looked as though they wanted to turn up. “And your nose is still bleeding.”

Hector fumbled through his pockets. She produced a tissue from a pocket in her dress.

“Here. Now clean yourself up and leave.”

“Not until I’ve said what I came to say,” Hector replied nasally, holding the tissue against his nose.

“Keep your head up, don’t bleed on the floor.”

“It’s hard to talk like this.”