"I know," he whispered. "He hasn't moved?"
"No."
_Wouldn't it be funny if he were dead?_ Stanton thought. _If his heart had
stopped, or something. Wouldn't that be a big joke on everybody?
Especially me._
Ahead the tunnel made a curving turn, and there was a large area that had
once been a major junction of two tunnels, one below the other. The Nipe
had taken over a part of that area to build his home-away-from-home.
Stanton approached the turn and took off the infra-red goggles. Enough
light spilled over from the Nipe's lair to illuminate the tunnel. He put
the goggles on the trackway. He wouldn't need them again.
He went on around the curve, slowly and quietly. He didn't want to fight
down here in the tracks, and he didn't want to be caught just yet.
Cautiously, he lifted himself up to the platform, where long-gone
passengers had once waited for long-gone trains. Now that he was out of
the trench that the tracks lay in, he could move more easily. He moved
away from the tracks.
"Barbell! He's heard you! Watch it!"
But Stanton had already heard the movement of the Nipe. He jerked off the
communicator and threw it away. He didn't want any encumbrances now.
And then, as fast as any express train that had ever moved in these
underground ways, the Nipe came around a corner thirty feet away, his four
violet eyes gleaming, his limbs rippling beneath his centipede-like body.
_From fifteen feet away, he launched himself through the air, his
outstretched hands ready to kill._
But Stanton's marvelous neuro-muscular system was already in action.
At this stage of the game, it would be suicide to let the Nipe get close.
He couldn't fend off eight grasping hands with his own two. He leaped to
one side, and the Nipe got his first surprise in ten years when Stanton's
fist slammed against the side of his snouted head, knocking him in the
opposite direction from that in which Stanton had moved.
The Nipe landed, turned, and charged back toward the man. This time, he
reared up, using his two rear pairs of limbs for locomotion, while the two
forward pair were held out, ready to kill.
He got surprise number two when Stanton's fist landed on his snout,
rocking his head back. His own hands met nothing but air, and by the time
he had recovered from the blow, Stanton was well back, out of the way.
_He's so small!_ Stanton thought wonderingly. Even when he reared up, the
Nipe's head was only three feet above the concrete floor.
The Nipe came in again--more cautiously, this time.
Stanton punched again with a straight right. The Nipe moved his head
aside, and Stanton's knuckles merely grazed the side of his head, below
the lower right eye. One of the Nipe's hands came in in a chopping right
hook that took Stanton just below the ribs. Stanton leaped back with a
gasp of pain.
The Nipe didn't use fists. He used his open hand, fingers together, like a
judo fighter.
The Nipe came forward once more, and as Stanton danced back, the Nipe made
a grab for his ankle, almost catching it.
There were too many hands to watch! Stanton had two advantages: weight and
reach. His arms were almost half again as long as the Nipe's.
Against that, the Nipe had all those hands; and with his low center of
gravity and four-footed stance, it would be hard to knock him down. If
Stanton lost his footing, the fight would be over fast.
Stanton lunged suddenly forward and planted a left in the Nipe's right
upper eye, then followed it with a right uppercut to the Nipe's jaw as his
head snapped back. The Nipe's four hands cut inward from the sides like
sword blades, but they found no target.
Backing away, Stanton suddenly realized that he had another advantage. The
Nipe couldn't throw a straight jab! His shoulder--if that's what they
should be called--were narrow and the upper armbones weren't articulated
properly for such a blow. He could throw a mean hook, but he had to get in
close to deliver it.
On the other side of the coin was the fact that the Nipe knew plenty about
human anatomy--from the bones out. Stanton's knowledge of Nipe anatomy was
almost totally superficial.
He wished he knew if and where the Nipe had a solar plexus. He would like
to punch something soft for a change.
Instead, he tried for another eye. He danced in, jabbed and danced out
again, The Nipe had ducked again, taking it on the side of his head.
Then the Nipe came in low, at an angle, trying for the groin. For his
troubles, he got a knee in the jaw that staggered him badly. One grasping
hand clutched at Stanton's right thigh and grasped hard. Stanton swung his
fist down like a pendulum and knocked the arm aside.
But there was a slight limp in his movement as he back-pedaled away from
the Nipe. That full-handed pinch had hurt!
Stanton was angry now, with the hot, controlled anger of a fighting man.
He stepped in and slammed two fast, hard jabs into the point of the
Nipe's snout, jarring the monster backwards. This time, it was the Nipe
who scuttled backwards.
Stanton moved in to press his advantage and landed a beaut on the Nipe's
lower left eye. Then he tried a body blow. It wasn't too successful. The
alien had an endoskeleton, but he also had a hide that was like somewhat
leathery chitin.
He pulled back, out of the way of the Nipe's judo cuts.
His fists were beginning to hurt, and his leg was paining him badly where
the Nipe had clamped on to it. And his ribs--
And then he realized that, so far, the Nipe had only landed one blow!
_One punch and one pinch,_ he thought with a touch of awe. _The only other
damage he's inflicted has been to my knuckles!_
The Nipe charged in again, then he leaped suddenly and clawed for
Stanton's face with his first pair of hands. The second and third pairs
chopped in toward the man's body. The last pair propelled him off the
floor.
Stanton stepped back and let him have a right just below the jaw, where
his throat would have been if he'd been human.
The Nipe arced backwards in a half-somersault and landed flat on his back.
Stanton backed up a little more, waiting, while the Nipe wriggled feebly
for a moment. _The Marquis of Queensbury should have lived to see this,_
he thought.
The Nipe rolled over and crouched on all eight limbs. His violet eyes
watched Stanton, but the man could read no expression on that inhuman
face.
"_You did not kill._"
For a moment, Stanton found it hard to believe that the hissing, guttural
voice had come from the crouching monster.
"_You did not even_ try _to kill._"
"I have no wish to kill you," Stanton said evenly.
"_I can see that. Do you ... Are you...._" He stopped, as if baffled.
"_There are not the proper words. Do you follow the Customs?_"
Stanton felt a surge of triumph. This was what George Yoritomo had guessed
might happen!
"If I must kill you," he said carefully, "I, myself, will do the honors.
You will not go uneaten."
The Nipe sagged a little, relaxing all over. "_I had hoped it was so. It
was the only thinkable thing. I saw you on the television, and it was only
thinkable that you came for me._"
Stanton blinked, stunned. What was the Nipe thinking? But, of course, he
knew. And he saw that even his brother's return had been a part of the
plan.
"_I knew you were out in the asteroids,_" the Nipe went on. "_But I had
decided you had come to kill. Since you did not, what are your thoughts,
Stanley Martin?_"
"That we should help each other," Stanton said.
It was as simple as that.