Dr. Leoh stared at the dinner table without really seeing it. Coming
to this restaurant had been Hector’s idea. Three hours earlier, Massan
had been removed from the dueling machine—dead.
Leoh sat stolidly, hands in lap, his mind racing in many different
directions at once. Hector was off at the phone, getting the latest
information from the meditechs. Odal had expressed his regrets
perfunctorily, and then left for the Kerak Embassy, under a heavy
escort of his own plainclothes guards. The government of the
Acquataine Cluster was quite literally falling apart, with no man
willing to assume responsibility ... and thereby expose himself. One
hour after the duel, Kanus’ troops had landed on all the major planets
of the Szarno Confederacy; the annexation was a _fait accompli_.
_And what have I done since I arrived on Acquatainia?_ Leoh demanded
of himself. _Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have sat back like a
doddering old professor and played academic games with the machine,
while younger, more vigorous men have USED the machine to suit their
purposes._
Used the machine. There was a fragment of an idea in that phrase.
Something nebulous, that must be approached carefully or it will fade
away. Used the machine ... used it ... Leoh toyed with the phrase for
a few moments, then gave it up with a sigh of resignation. _Lord, I’m
too tired even to think._
Leoh focused his attention on his surroundings and scanned the busy
dining room. It was a beautiful place, really; decorated with crystal
and genuine woods and fabric draperies. Not a synthetic in sight. The
waiters and cooks and busboys were humans, not the autocookers and
servers that most restaurants employed. Leoh suddenly felt touched at
Hector’s attempt to restore his spirits—even if it was being done at
Star Watch expense.
He saw the young Watchman approaching the table, coming back from the
phone. Hector bumped two waiters and stumbled over a chair before
reaching the relative safety of his own seat.
“What’s the verdict?” Leoh asked.
Hector’s lean face was bleak. “Couldn’t revive him. Cerebral
hemorrhage, the meditechs said—induced by shock.”
“Shock?”
“That’s what they said. Something must’ve, uh, overloaded his nervous
system ... I guess.”
Leoh shook his head. “I just don’t understand any of this. I might as
well admit it. I’m no closer to an answer now than I was when I
arrived here. Perhaps I should have retired years ago, before the
dueling machine was invented.”
“Nonsense.”
“No, I mean it,” Leoh said. “This is the first real intellectual
puzzle I’ve had to contend with in years. Tinkering with machinery ...
that’s easy. You know what you want, all you need is to make the
machinery perform properly. But this ... I’m afraid I’m too old to
handle a real problem like this.”
Hector scratched his nose thoughtfully, then answered. “If you can’t
handle the problem, sir, then we’re going to have a war on our hands
in a matter of weeks. I mean, Kanus won’t be satisfied with swallowing
the Szarno group ... the Acquataine Cluster is next ... and he’ll have
to fight to get it.”
“Then the Star Watch can step in,” Leoh said, resignedly.
“Maybe ... but it’ll take time to mobilize the Star Watch ... Kanus
can move a lot faster than we can. Sure, we could throw in a task
force ... a token group, that is. But Kanus’ gang will chew them up
pretty quick. I ... I’m no politician, sir, but I think I can see what
will happen. Kerak will gobble up the Acquataine Cluster ... a Star
Watch task force will be wiped out in the battle ... and we’ll end up
with Kerak at war with the Terran Commonwealth. And it’ll be a real
war ... a big one.”
Leoh began to answer, then stopped. His eyes were fixed on the far
entrance of the dining room. Suddenly every murmur in the busy room
stopped dead. Waiters stood still between tables. Eating, drinking,
conversation hung suspended.
Hector turned in his chair and saw at the far entrance the slim,
stiff, blue-uniformed figure of Odal.
The moment of silence passed. Everyone turned to his own business and
avoided looking at the Kerak major. Odal, with a faint smile on his
thin face, made his way slowly to the table where Hector and Leoh were
sitting.
They rose to greet him and exchanged perfunctory salutations. Odal
pulled up a chair and sat with them.
“I assume that you’ve been looking for me,” Leoh said. “What do you
wish to say?”
Before Odal could answer, the waiter assigned to the table walked up,
took a position where his back would be to the Kerak major, and asked
firmly, “Your dinner is ready gentlemen. Shall I serve it now?”
Leoh hesitated a moment, then asked Odal, “Will you join us?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Serve it now,” Hector said. “The major will be leaving shortly.”
Again the tight grin broke across Odal’s face. The waiter bowed and
left.
“I have been thinking about our conversation of last night,” Odal said
to Leoh.
“Yes?”
“You accused me of cheating in my duels.”
Leoh’s eyebrows arched. “I said someone was cheating, yes—”
“An accusation is an accusation.”
Leoh said nothing.
“Do you withdraw your words, or do you still accuse me of deliberate
murder? I am willing to allow you to apologize and leave Acquatainia
in peace.”
Hector cleared his throat noisily. “This is no place to have an
argument ... besides, here comes our dinner.”
Odal ignored the Watchman. “You heard me, professor. Will you leave?
Or do you accuse me of murdering Massan this afternoon?”
“I—”
Hector banged his fist on the table and jerked up out of his
chair—just as the waiter arrived with a large tray of food. There was
a loud crash. A tureen of soup, two bowls of salad, glasses, assorted
rolls, vegetables, cheeses and other delicacies cascaded over Odal.
The Kerak major leaped to his feet, swearing violently in his native
tongue. He sputtered back into basic Terran: “You clumsy, stupid oaf!
You maggot-brained misbegotten peasant-faced—”
Hector calmly picked a salad leaf from the sleeve of his tunic. Odal
abruptly stopped his tirade.
“I am clumsy,” Hector said, grinning. “As for being stupid, and the
rest of it, I resent that. I am highly insulted.”
A flash of recognition lighted Odal’s eyes. “I see. Of course. My
quarrel here is not with you. I apologize.” He turned back to Leoh,
who was also standing now.
“Not good enough,” Hector said. “I don’t, uh, like the ... tone of
your apology.”
Leoh raised a hand, as if to silence the younger man.
“I apologized; that is sufficient,” Odal warned.
Hector took a step toward Odal. “I guess I could insult your glorious
leader, or something like that ... but this seems more direct.” He
took the water pitcher from the table and poured it calmly and
carefully over Odal’s head.
A wave of laughter swept the room. Odal went white. “You are
determined to die.” He wiped the dripping water from his eyes. “I will
meet you before the week is out. And you have saved no one.” He turned
on his heel and stalked out.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Leoh asked, aghast.
Hector shrugged. “He was going to challenge you—”
“He will still challenge me, after you’re dead.”
“Uu-m-m, yes, well, maybe so. I guess you’re right—Well, anyway,
we’ve gained a little more time.”
“Four days.” Leoh shook his head. “Four days to the end of the week.
All right, come on, we have work to do.”
Hector was grinning broadly as they left the restaurant. He began to
whistle.
“What are you so happy about?” Leoh grumbled.
“About you, sir. When we came in here, you were, uh, well ... almost
beaten. Now you’re right back in the game again.”
Leoh glanced at the Star Watchman. “In your own odd way, Hector,
you’re quite a boy ... I think.”