The door opened and Leoh squeezed into the booth.
“You’re all right?”
Hector blinked and refocused his eyes on reality. “Think so—”
“Everything went well? The Watchmen got through to you?”
“Good thing they did. I was nearly killed anyway.”
“But you survived.”
“So far.”
Across the room, Odal stood massaging his forehead while Kor demanded:
“How could they possibly have discovered the secret? Where was the
leak?”
“That is not important now,” Odal said quietly. “The primary fact is
that they have not only discovered our secret, but they have found a
way of duplicating it.”
“The sanctimonious hypocrites,” Kor snarled, “accusing us of cheating,
and then they do the same thing.”
“Regardless of the moral values of our mutual behavior,” Odal said
dryly, “it is evident that there is no longer any use in calling on
telepathically-guided assistants. I shall face the Watchman alone
during the second half of the duel.”
“Can you trust them to do the same?”
“Yes. They easily defeated my aides a few minutes ago, then stood
aside and allowed the two of us to fight by ourselves.”
“And you failed to defeat him?”
Odal frowned. “I was wounded by a fluke. He is a very ... unusual
opponent. I cannot decide whether he is actually as clumsy as he
appears to be, or whether he is shamming and trying to make me
overconfident. Either way, it is impossible to predict his behavior.
Perhaps he is also telepathic.”
Kor’s gray eyes became flat and emotionless. “You know, of course, how
the Chancellor will react if you fail to kill this Watchman. Not
merely defeat him. He must be killed. The aura of invincibility must
be maintained.”
“I will do my best,” Odal said.
“He must be killed.”
The chime that marked the end of the rest period sounded. Odal and
Hector returned to their booths. Now it was Hector’s choice of
environment and weapons.
Odal found himself enveloped in darkness. Only gradually did his eyes
adjust. He saw that he was in a spacesuit. For several minutes he
stood motionless, peering into the darkness, every sense alert, every
muscle coiled for immediate action.
[Illustration]
Dimly he could see the outlines of jagged rock against a background of
innumerable stars. Experimentally, he lifted one foot. It stuck,
tackily, to the surface. _Magnetized boots_, Odal thought. _This must
be a planetoid._
As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he saw that he was right.
It was a small planetoid, perhaps a mile or so in diameter. Almost
zero gravity. Airless.
Odal swiveled his head inside the fishbowl helmet of his spacesuit and
saw, over his right shoulder, the figure of Hector—lank and ungainly
even with the bulky suit. For a moment, Odal puzzled over the weapon
to be used. Then Hector bent down, picked up a loose stone,
straightened, and tossed it softly past Odal’s head. The Kerak major
watched it sail by and off into the darkness of space, never to return
to the tiny planetoid.
_A warning shot_, Odal thought to himself. He wondered how much
damage one could do with a nearly weightless stone, then remembered
that inertial mass was unaffected by gravitational fields, or lack of
them. A fifty-pound rock might be easier to lift, but it would be just
as hard to throw—and it would do just as much damage when it hit,
regardless of its gravitational “weight.”
Odal crouched down and selected a stone the size of his fist. He rose
carefully, sighted Hector standing a hundred yards or so away, and
threw as hard as he could.
The effort of his throw sent him tumbling off-balance, and the stone
was far off-target. He fell to his hands and knees, bounced lightly
and skidded to a stop. Immediately he drew his feet up under his body
and planted the magnetized soles of his boots firmly on the iron-rich
surface.
But before he could stand again, a small stone _pinged_ lightly off
his oxygen tank. The Star Watchman had his range already!
Odal scrambled to the nearest upjutting rocks and crouched behind them.
_Lucky I didn’t rip open the spacesuit_, he told himself. Three stones,
evidently hurled in salvo, ticked off the top of the rocks he was
hunched behind. One of the stones bounced into his fishbowl helmet.
Odal scooped up a handful of pebbles and tossed them in Hector’s
general direction. That should make him duck. Perhaps he’ll stumble
and crack his helmet open.
Then he grinned to himself. That’s it. Kor wants him dead, and that is
the way to do it. Pin him under a big rock, then bury him alive under
more rocks. A few at a time, stretched out nicely. While his oxygen
supply gives out. That should put enough stress on his nervous system
to hospitalize him, at least. Then he can be assassinated by more
conventional means. Perhaps he will even be as obliging as Massan, and
have a fatal stroke.
A large rock. One that is light enough to lift and throw, yet also big
enough to pin him for a few moments. Once he is down, it will be easy
enough to bury him under more rocks.
The Kerak major spotted a boulder of the proper size, a few yards
away. He backed toward it, throwing small stones in Hector’s direction
to keep the Watchman busy. In return, a barrage of stones began
striking all around him. Several hit him, one hard enough to knock him
slightly off-balance.
[Illustration]
Slowly, patiently, Odal reached his chosen weapon—an oblong boulder,
about the size of a small chair. He crouched behind it and tugged at
it experimentally. It moved slightly. Another stone _zinged_ off his
arm, hard enough to hurt. Odal could see Hector clearly now, standing
atop a small rise, calmly firing pellets at him. He smiled as he
coiled, catlike, and tensed himself. He gripped the boulder with his
arms and hands.
Then in one vicious uncoiling motion he snatched it up, whirled
around, and hurled it at Hector. The violence of his action sent him
tottering awkwardly as he released the boulder. He fell to the ground,
but kept his eyes fixed on the boulder as it tumbled end over end,
directly at the Watchman.
For an eternally-long instant Hector stood motionless, seemingly
entranced. Then he leaped sideways, floating dreamlike in the low
gravity, as the stone hurtled inexorably past him.
Odal pounded his fist on the ground in fury. He started up, only to
have a good-sized stone slam against his shoulder, and knock him flat
again. He looked up in time to see Hector fire another. The stone
puffed into the ground inches from Odal’s helmet. The Kerak major
flattened himself. Several more stones clattered on his helmet and
oxygen tank. Then silence.
Odal looked up and saw Hector squatting down, reaching for more
ammunition. The Kerak warrior stood up quickly, his own fists filled
with throwing stones. He cocked his arm to throw—
But something made him turn to look behind him. The boulder loomed
before his eyes, still tumbling slowly, as it had when he had thrown
it. It was too close and too big to avoid. It smashed into Odal,
picked him off his feet and slammed against the upjutting rocks a few
yards away.
Even before he started to feel the pain in his midsection, Odal began
trying to push the boulder off. But he could not get enough leverage.
Then he saw the Star Watchman’s form standing over him.
“I didn’t really think you’d fall for it,” Odal heard Hector’s voice
in his earphones. “I mean ... didn’t you realize that the boulder was
too massive to escape completely after it had missed me? You could’ve
calculated its orbit ... you just threw it into a, uh, six-minute
orbit around the planetoid. It _had_ to come back to perigee ... right
where you were standing when you threw it, you know.”
Odal said nothing, but strained every cell in his pain-wracked body to
get free of the boulder. Hector reached over his shoulder and began
fumbling with the valves that were pressed against the rocks.
“Sorry to do this ... but I’m not, uh, killing you, at least ... just
defeating you. Let’s see ... one of these is the oxygen valve, and the
other, I think, is the emergency rocket pack ... now, which is which?”
Odal felt the Watchman’s hands searching for the proper valve. “I
shouldn’ve dreamed up suits without the rocket pack ... confuses things ...
there, that’s it.”
Hector’s hand tightened on a valve and turned it sharply. The rocket
roared to life and Odal was hurtled free of the boulder, shot
uncontrolled completely off the planetoid. Hector was bowled over by
the blast and rolled halfway around the tiny chink of rock and metal.
Odal tried to reach around to throttle down the rocket, but the pain
in his body was too great. He was slipping into unconsciousness. He
fought against it. He knew he must return to the planetoid and somehow
kill the opponent. But gradually the pain overpowered him. His eyes
were closing, closing—
And, quite abruptly, he found himself sitting in the booth of the
dueling machine. It took a moment for him to realize that he was back
in the real world. Then his thoughts cleared. He had failed to kill
Hector.
And at the door of the booth stood Kor, his face a grim mask of anger.