"Doctor Umbana," the helicopter said, "no one is forcing you to stay.
How can one force a creative mind to work? We only want you to consider
what you are doing. We only want you to see how much we are willing to
suffer."
The jets of the airliner whined. MacFarland glanced at his watch. Five
minutes.
"You've done a good job," Doctor Warren said, "and I'm certain you'll
be commended by your superiors, but you've failed. I suggest we go home
and sleep." His two sons were sleeping on his shoulders. They had been
drugged, at their father's request, so they wouldn't see the attack on
the crowd.
"Are you going to submit to this bullying?" Doctor Umbana demanded.
"I never was very interested in this project," Doctor Forbes said. "I'm
only here because the rest of you want to go. And I've been listening
to that helicopter. Some of that's true, you know. They must want us an
awful lot to do all this."
"They don't want us," Doctor Umbana said. "They're greedy. Those people
out there are only your employers. Are you going to let them treat you
like a slave who doesn't have the right to change jobs? Don't you have
any pride?"
"He has a point," Doctor Sani said.
"Suppose you go back now," MacFarland argued. "They'll know they can
make you stay and they may not give you such good terms next time your
contract is renewed."
"True," Forbes said, "but academic. You can't break their line. You
might win a starvation match, but I'm not going to stay here that long.
It isn't worth it to me."
"Is it worth a few more hours?" MacFarland asked. "You want to work on
the starship. You know you meant it when you told me you want a chance
to be on the ship. It's the biggest opportunity offered any group of
scientists in history. And you admit you can't give in to this coercion
without hurting your own self interest. So why not give me until dawn?
There's another plane at six a.m. give me till then."
"What can you do?" Doctor Warren asked.
"I can challenge them to a duel. They won't refuse. No one ever refuses
a duel."
* * * * *
All night the two sides harassed each other. Crawford Bell's
technicians went up and down the enemy line, waking up any Belderkan
who was sleeping on his feet. Sirens wailed. The crowd pleaded with
the scientists, insulted the invaders and sang to itself. The girls,
not yet battle fatigued, tried to tempt the Belderkan troops. The
helicopters continued their sermons and denunciations.
MacFarland tried to sleep on a cot beside the command car. Crawford
Bell gave him a mild sedative but it didn't do much good.
"Have you ever fought a duel?" Crawford Bell asked.
"No. This is only my third raid."
"What's happened up to now is a boy's game compared to that. That's for
real."
"You don't have to tell me. It makes me sick to think about it."
"You don't have to do it. It's something no government can ask you to
do."
"No, but the UN Secretariat approves of it and every honest
psychologist approves of it, too. Let me rest. You get the junk ready."
He wondered if anything was worth a duel. The star ship wasn't. His
career wasn't. So why bother? But he knew the answer and so did every
soldier on the planet. Every duel fought made killing a little less
likely; every duel decreased the danger modern knowledge, which hadn't
been destroyed with the weapons it had made possible, would wipe out
human life. It wasn't something you did for your own country. You did
it for the whole human race and all the generations to come.
At five he arose from his cot. He felt groggy but that couldn't be
helped.
In the chilly dawn he took off his jacket and shirt. Bare chested, he
stepped into the space between his vehicles and the enemy line.
Crawford Bell handed him a public address system. "Good morning," his
voice boomed. "I hope you've had a better sleep than I got. It's easy
to be brave when you know your opponent won't kill you. It's easy to
stand in line and look heroic and patriotic when you know I don't dare
run you over with my vehicles. But how brave are you? Are you really
willing to suffer for your country? I think the men of Belderkan are
cowards. I think you would still be running if we had fought an old
fashioned war last night."
* * * * *
He paused and stroked his mustache. Then he gestured and Crawford Bell
rolled the instrument forward. It was a pole on a wheeled platform.
Four handles stuck out from the pole; above each handle was a set of
four dials.
"Do you know what a duel is?" He made himself look at the instrument.
"Have you heard in this primitive country of the great duels fought
all over the world these last few years? Have you heard of the
champions produced by nations like Ghana, Israel, Costa Rica? Wouldn't
you like to pretend you haven't?"
The youth he had tried to tempt the night before stepped out of the
line. "I accept your challenge."
He doesn't know what he's doing, MacFarland thought. "We've got room
for four at the pole. Who else accepts my challenge?"