Kars had inflicted. Due to the combined efforts of Mulciber’s artificial organs and his naturally strong constitution, the poisoning was not fatal. The counter-agents released into his bloodstream neutralized the paralytic drug rapidly.
After five minutes his senses had returned. Two minutes later he was able to rise stiffly. His new skin had sealed itself over his wounds. Stimulants and pain relievers borrowed time for him, keeping his injuries from slowing him. In less than ten minutes after the attack, he was ready to fight again. While his body worked to repair itself, Mulciber surveyed the docking tower and landing area with gradually improving vision. He sat crouched on a crossbeam, one with the shadowy tower. His unnatural physique had given him a second chance at his enemy, and this time he would not be taken unaware.
The crowds had evaporated for the most part. The last of the colonists were being expertly hustled aboard by uniformed officials. The remaining well-wishers stood in gray clumps on the vast littered expanse of concrete, awaiting the final departure warning that would send them scurrying back to the gates. The final warning indicated that the prisoners were to be loaded into the holds, and anyone left on the field would be treated as one of the prisoners. Kars and Suzy were nowhere in sight. He noted that there were no signs of Kars having gone after the boy that Mulciber had been directed to kill. The boy and his retainers had apparently made it aboard safely.
The final warning sounded. Mulciber’s gaze, no longer impaired, swept the scene for any sign of Kars or Suzy. He saw none. Another minute passed. The last of the gray-clad stragglers hurried away from the starship. Even as they streamed through the gates, a number of large airships floated down out of the night sky, escorted by two police cruisers each. The airships and police cruiser all bore the gold embossed letters UCP, the insignia of the United Chicago Police. The airships landed and their bays swung open. A flood of prisoners were herded out and toward the starship by cursing guards brandishing electric whips. Mulciber watched the proceedings, tensing his muscles, preparing to break for the gate. The guards abandon the prisoners several hundred yards from the starship’s ramp, as the ship was not part of their jurisdiction. The prisoners, left with the choice of boarding the ship or staying outside and being incinerated by her jets upon takeoff, boarded without much hesitation. As the last of them mounted the ramp, Kars suddenly appeared, dragging a disheveled-looking Suzy behind him.
Mulciber, who was about to leap from the docking tower and make a break for the gates, switched directions and launched himself into the air toward the starship. Mulciber hit the concrete running. His muscular legs pumped, the balls of his feet smacking in perfect rhythm. He stretched his stride further, increasing his speed. His heel crushed a discarded styrofoam cup. As he ran he cleared his mind of all extraneous thought. His body prepared itself for battle. Stimulants kept the effects of his injuries to a minimum. When he was less than one hundred yards behind Suzy and Kars he felt his perceptions slowing, so that each second seemed an eternity, giving him time to plan each move of his attack.
At fifty yards Mulciber’s quarry glanced over his shoulder and saw him coming. Kars turned on the ramp, pushing Suzy behind him and facing Mulciber’s charge. His violet plume dipped and fanned. His hat lost its grip on his head and flew off to one side. The slick man reached into his expensive clothing. Mulciber saw Kars move as if in slow-motion, but could tell that in reality the dandy was reacting with great speed. He surmised that his quarry had an improved nervous system, perhaps one as good as his own.
Mulciber was in full battle-readiness now. His body responded with machine-like speed to his will. His eyes no longer needed to blink, save to prevent injury, for the duration of the combat. At full battle-speed much could be missed in the one fifth of a second that it took to blink. All his reconstructed senses were heightened to their peaks. He smelled the litter and the warm human odors that the crowds had left behind on the landing field. He heard the rush of his own breath as it emptied and refilled his lungs.
At thirty yards Kars’ hand pulled back out of his jacket with a weapon. He snapped his arm forward, releasing it with practiced precision. Mulciber watched the twirling object fly directly toward him. It grew steadily and reflected silvery flashes from the landing field’s glaring lights as it spun. It was a throwing star, a wheel of numerous steel spikes. Each of the spikes glinted as it came into line with his vision. Mulciber gauged that it would strike his throat with its present trajectory. He used all his speed to duck to the right.
The star was ten feet away.
Mulciber’s right leg was coming up, readying for another downstroke that would carry him two yards closer to his quarry. His head was ducking, moving to the right, but still in the path of the twirling spikes.
The star was five feet away.
Mulciber’s right leg was on its downstroke now. He gauged that his throat was out of the spinning weapon’s path.
The star was two feet away.
Mulciber fought the urge to blink.
Wet tearing. The star ripped through skin and muscle. The leading spike scored his left collar bone. The bone split and the star caromed off, flying past him and into the night. His skin began closing immediately. He would bleed for less than a minute.
He did not slow his charge. The two men were still thirty feet apart. Kars’ eyebrows rose slowly as he registered surprise. His hand dived into his jacket again to fish out another weapon.
Twenty feet.
Now Mulciber slowed, shifting his weight, gauging the distance. Kars had a knife out this time. It had a short broad blade and brass knuckles for a hand grip. The hilt glinted a dull yellow in the harsh glare of the landing lights. Kars set his legs, knees bent and balance forward to meet the charge.
Ten feet.
Mulciber’s body lifted, extended, like a hurdler at the last step before a jump. Kars saw the kick coming and dove slowly to the right. Too late. Mulciber launched himself. His heavy foot smashed into Kars’ left shoulder. The force of the blow spun the man half around. Something in the joint snapped. Nerves and cartilage tore loose. The arm spasmed then hung, twisting like a beheaded snake as the muscles contracted and locked.
The knife dropped and clattered on the concrete. Mulciber landed neatly and recovered, whirling around to face his enemy. Kars was up too, although a little off-balance. His face was a blood-flushed death mask. He threw his first punch with his good arm, landing it on Mulciber’s chin.
Mulciber’s head rocked back. His jaw dislocated then slipped back into place. His teeth sank into his lips and the familiar taste of his own blood filled his mouth. Kars snatched up his knife again, underestimating Mulciber’s speed of recovery.
Mulciber’s fist slammed into Kars’ chest. Mulciber noticed that the man took the blow well, yielding with it, but he felt ribs crackle. Kars made use of his knife in a lightning uppercut for the throat. Mulciber blocked it just in time, his arm opening in a long red gash. He countered with another body blow that came in under the extended knife-arm, aiming to rupture the organs behind Kars’ already cracked ribs. Kars dropped the knife again when the shock hit him. He was weakening, but Mulciber knew that he had to end things quickly himself, before his prior injuries started to slow him. Acting with the smooth cunning of vast combat experience, he stepped back, as if to disengage and circle.
Kars, ready for a breather, took the cue and began to pull back himself. In that moment he felt relief and was off-guard. In that moment Mulciber reversed on the balls of his feet and attacked again, moving with all his great speed unleashed. Summoning his reserves of strength, Mulciber put all his power into a kick to the neck that struck home. Kars’s windpipe was crushed. The tiny bones in his throat and voice box splintered. His neck vertebrae shattered and tore his spinal cord from his brain stem as a weed rips loose from its roots, killing him instantly.
Mulciber watched with slowed vision as the slick man fell back with lazy grace onto the bare concrete. His broken head hit with a wet slap.
“You see Mulciber, I knew you would track me! You see, there are men around worth fighting!” Suzy exclaimed happily, stepping forward now that the fight was over. “I’ve given you back your spirit!”
Mulciber ignored her. He watched as a dark stain spread around the man’s ruined head immediately. He nodded to his fallen enemy, silently acknowledging the death of a worthy opponent.
She stepped calmly away from the corpse, hips swinging, toward the distant gates. Her manner indicated that she expected Mulciber to follow. “Do you know what that fool was up to?” she asked. “He was trying to get out of the city all along. He was going to drag me with him on a ship full of prisoners to some wild planet full of proles and-” here she noticed that Mulciber was not following her.
She turned to find him standing where he had been, staring at her. Mulciber’s face, normally somber and impassive, was now twisted. He took two silent strides forward. He lifted Suzy effortlessly, bringing her down into a
