Dr. Leoh was lecturing at the Carinae Regional University when the
news of Dulaq’s duel reached him. An assistant professor perpetrated
the unthinkable breach of interrupting the lecture to whisper the news
in his ear.
Leoh nodded grimly, hurriedly finished his lecture, and then
accompanied the assistant professor to the University president’s
office. They stood in silence as the slideway whisked them through the
strolling students and blossoming greenery of the quietly-busy campus.
Leoh remained wrapped in his thoughts as they entered the
administration building and rode the lift tube. Finally, as they
stepped through the president’s doorway, Leoh asked the assistant
professor:
“You say he was in a state of catatonic shock when they removed him
from the machine?”
“He still is,” the president answered from his desk. “Completely
withdrawn from the real world. Cannot speak, hear, or even see—a
living vegetable.”
Leoh plopped down in the nearest chair and ran a hand across his
fleshy face. He was balding and jowly, but his face was creased from a
smile that was almost habitual, and his eyes were active and alert.
“I don’t understand it,” he admitted. “Nothing like this has ever
happened in a dueling machine before.”
The university president shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. But,
this is your business.” He put a slight emphasis on the last word,
unconsciously perhaps.
“Well, at least this will not reflect on the university. That is why I
formed Psychonics as a separate business enterprise.” Then he added,
with a grin, “The money was, of course, only a secondary
consideration.”
The president managed a smile. “Of course.”
“I suppose the Acquatainians want to see me?” Leoh asked academically.
“They’re on the tri-di now, waiting for you.”
“They’re holding a transmission frequency open over eight hundred
parsecs?” Leoh looked impressed. “I must be an important man.”
“You’re the inventor of the dueling machine and the head of
Psychonics, Inc. You’re the only man who can tell them what went
wrong.”
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“You can take the call here,” the president said, starting to get up
from his chair.
“No, no, stay there at your desk,” Leoh insisted. “There’s no reason
for you to leave. Or you either,” he said to the assistant professor.
The president touched a button on his desk communicator. The far wall
of the office glowed momentarily, then seemed to dissolve. They were
looking into another office, this one on Acquatainia. It was crowded
with nervous-looking men in business clothes and military uniforms.
“Gentlemen,” Dr. Leoh said.
Several of the Acquatainians tried to answer him at once. After a few
seconds of talking together, they all looked toward one of their
members—a tall, purposeful, shrewd-faced civilian who bore a
neatly-trimmed black beard.
“I am Fernd Massan, the Acting Prime Minister of Acquatainia. You
realize, of course, the crisis that has been precipitated in my
Government because of this duel?”
Leoh blinked. “I realize that apparently there has been some
difficulty with the dueling machine installed on the governing planet
of your star cluster. Political crises are not in my field.”
“But your dueling machine has incapacitated the Prime Minister,” one
of the generals bellowed.
“And at this particular moment,” the defense minister added, “in the
midst of our difficulties with the Kerak Worlds.”
“If the Prime Minister is not—”
“Gentlemen!” Leoh objected. “I cannot make sense of your story if you
all speak at once.”
Massan gestured them to silence.
“The dueling machine,” Leoh said, adopting a slightly professorial
tone, “is nothing more than a psychonic device for alleviating human
aggressions and hostilities. It allows two men to share a dream world
created by one of them. There is nearly-complete feedback between the
two. Within certain limits, the two men can do anything they wish
within their dream world. This allows men to settle grievances with
violence—in the safety of their own imaginations. If the machine
is operated properly, no physical or mental harm can be done to the
participants. They can alleviate their tensions safely—without damage
of any sort to anyone, and without hurting society.
“Your own Government tested one of the machines and approved its use
on Acquatainia more than three years ago. I see several of you who
were among those to whom I personally demonstrated the device.
Dueling machines are in use through wide portions of the galaxy, and
I am certain that many of you have used the machine. You have,
general, I’m sure.”
The general blustered. “That has nothing to do with the matter at
hand!”
“Admittedly,” Leoh conceded. “But I do not understand how a
therapeutic machine can possibly become entangled in a political
crisis.”
[Illustration]
Massan said; “Allow me to explain. Our Government has been conducting
extremely delicate negotiations with the stellar governments of our
neighboring territories. These negotiations concern the rearmaments of
the Kerak Worlds. You have heard of Kanus of Kerak?”
“I recall the name vaguely,” Leoh said. “He’s a political leader of
some sort.”
“Of the worst sort. He has acquired complete dictatorship of the Kerak
Worlds, and is now attempting to rearm them for war. This is in direct
countervention of the Treaty of Acquatainia, signed only thirty Terran
years ago.”
“I see. The treaty was signed at the end of the Acquataine-Kerak war,
wasn’t it?”
“A war that we won,” the general pointed out.
“And now the Kerak Worlds want to rearm and try again,” Leoh said.
“Precisely.”
Leoh shrugged. “Why not call in the Star Watch? This is their type of
police activity. And what has all this to do with the dueling
machine?”
* * * * *
Massan explained patiently, “The Acquataine Cluster has never become a
full-fledged member of the Terran Commonwealth. Our neighboring
territories are likewise unaffiliated. Therefore the Star Watch can
intervene only if all parties concerned agree to intervention. Unless,
of course, there is an actual military emergency. The Kerak Worlds, of
course, are completely isolationist—unbound by any laws except those
of force.”
Leoh shook his head.
“As for the dueling machine,” Massan went on, “Kanus of Kerak has
turned it into a political weapon—”
“But that’s impossible. Your government passed strict laws concerning
the use of the machine; I recommended them and I was in your Council
chambers when the laws were passed. The machine may be used only for
personal grievances. It is strictly outside the realm of politics.”
Massan shook his head sadly. “Sir, laws are one thing—people are
another. And politics consists of people, not words on paper.”
“I don’t understand,” Leoh said.
Massan explained, “A little more than one Terran year ago, Kanus
picked a quarrel with a neighboring star-group—the Safad Federation.
He wanted an especially favorable trade agreement with them. Their
minister of trade objected most strenuously. One of the Kerak
negotiators—a certain Major Odal—got into a personal argument with
the minister. Before anyone knew what had happened, they had
challenged each other to a duel. Odal won the duel, and the minister
resigned his post. He said that he could no longer effectively fight
against the will of Odal and his group ... he was psychologically
incapable of it. Two weeks later he was dead—apparently a suicide,
although I have doubts.”
“That’s ... extremely interesting,” Leoh said.
“Three days ago,” Massan continued, “the same Major Odal engaged Prime
Minister Dulaq in a bitter personal argument. Odal is now a military
attaché of the Kerak Embassy here. He accused the Prime Minister of
cowardice, before a large group at an Embassy party. The Prime
Minister had no alternative but to challenge him. And now—”
“And now Dulaq is in a state of shock, and your government is
tottering.”
Massan’s back stiffened. “Our Government shall not fall, nor shall the
Acquataine Cluster acquiesce to the rearmament of the Kerak Worlds.
But”—his voice lowered—“without Dulaq, I fear that our neighboring
governments will give in to Kanus’ demands and allow him to rearm.
Alone, we are powerless to stop him.”
“Rearmament itself might not be so bad,” Leoh mused, “if you can keep
the Kerak Worlds from using their weapons. Perhaps the Star Watch
might—”
“Kanus could strike a blow and conquer a star system before the Star
Watch could be summoned and arrive to stop him. Once Kerak is armed,
this entire area of the galaxy is in peril. In fact, the entire galaxy
is endangered.”
“And he’s using the dueling machine to further his ambitions,” Leoh
said. “Well, gentlemen, it seems I have no alternative but to travel
to the Acquataine Cluster. The dueling machine is my responsibility,
and if there is something wrong with it, or with the use of it, I will do
my best to correct the situation.”
“That is all we ask,” Massan said. “Thank you.”
The Acquatainian scene faded away, and the three men in the university
president’s office found themselves looking at a solid wall once
again.
“Well,” Dr. Leoh said, turning to the president, “it seems that I must
request an indefinite leave of absence.”
The president frowned. “And it seems that I must grant your
request—even though the year is only half-finished.”
“I regret the necessity,” Leoh said; then, with a broad grin, he
added, “My assistant professor, here, can handle my courses for the
remainder of the year very easily. Perhaps he will even be able to
deliver his lectures without being interrupted.”
The assistant professor turned red.
“Now then,” Leoh muttered, mostly to himself, “who is this Kanus, and
why is he trying to turn the Kerak Worlds into an arsenal?”