Ben Bova: The Dueling Machine

“No. Not now. Let’s get out of this place for a few hours. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

They fought several more duels over the next day and a half. Hector won three of them. It was late afternoon when Leoh called a halt.

“We can get in another couple,” the Watchman said.

“No need,” said Leoh. “I have all the data I require. Tomorrow Massan meets Odal, unless we can put a stop to it. We’ve got much to do before tomorrow morning.”

Hector sagged into the couch. “Just as well. I think I’ve aged seven years in the past seven days.”

“No, my boy,” Leoh said gently, “you haven’t aged. You’ve matured.”

It was deep twilight when the ground car slid to a halt on its cushion of compressed air before the Kerak embassy.

“I still think it’s a mistake to go in there,” Hector said. “I mean, you could’ve called him on the tri-di, couldn’t you?”

Leoh shook his head. “Never give an agency of any government the opportunity to say, ‘hold the line a moment.’ They huddle together and consider what to do with you. Nineteen times out of twenty, they’ll end by passing you to another department or transferring your call to a taped, ‘So sorry,’ message.”

“Still,” Hector insisted, “you’re sort of, well, stepping into enemy territory.”

“They wouldn’t dare harm us.”

Hector didn’t reply, but he looked unconvinced.

“Look,” Leoh said, “there are only two men alive who can shed light on this matter. One of them is Dulaq, and his mind is closed to us for an indefinite time. Odal is the only other man who knows what happened in those duels.”

Hector shook his head skeptically. Leoh shrugged, and opened the door of the ground car. Hector had no choice but to get out and follow him as he walked up the pathway to the main entrance of the embassy building. The building stood gaunt and gray in the dusk, surrounded by a precisely clipped hedge. The entrance was flanked by a pair of evergreen trees, straight and spare as sentries.

Leoh and Hector were met just inside the entrance by a female receptionist. She looked just a trifle disheveled, as though she’d been rushed to her desk at a moment’s notice. They asked for Odal, were ushered into a sitting room, and within a few minutes—to Hector’s surprise—were informed by the girl that Major Odal would be with them shortly.

“You see,” Leoh pointed out jovially, “when you come in person they haven’t as much of a chance to consider how to get rid of you.”

Hector glanced around the windowless room and contemplated the thick, solidly closed door. “There’s a lot of scurrying going on behind that door, I’ll bet. I mean… they might be figuring out how to get rid of us… uh, permanently.”

Leoh was about to reply when the door opened and Odal came into the room. He wore a military uniform of light blue, with his insignia of rank on the shoulders and the Star of Kerak on his breast.

“Dr. Leoh, I’m flattered,” he said with a slight bow. “And Mr. Hector… or is it Lieutenant Hector?”

“Junior Lieutenant Hector,” the Watchman answered, with a curtness that surprised Leoh.

“Lieutenant Hector is assisting me,” the Professor said, “and acting as liaison for Commander Spencer.”

“So,” Odal commented. He gestured them to be seated. Hector and Leoh placed themselves on a plush couch while Odal drew up a stiff chair, facing them. “Now, why have you come to see me?”

“I want you to postpone your duel against Minister Massan tomorrow,” Leoh said.

Odal’s lean face broke into a tight smile. “Has Massan agreed to a postponement?”

“No.”

“Then why should I?”

“To be perfectly frank, Major, I suspect that someone is tampering with the machine used in your duels. For the moment, let’s say that you have no knowledge of this. I am asking you to forego any further duels until we get to the bottom of this. The dueling machines are not to be used for political assassinations.”

Odal’s smile faded. “I regret, Professor, that I cannot postpone the duel. As for tampering with the machines, I can assure you that neither I nor anyone of the Kerak Worlds has touched the machines in any unauthorized manner.”

“Perhaps you don’t fully understand the situation,” Leoh said. “In the past week we’ve tested the dueling machine here on Acquatainia exhaustively. We’ve learned that its performance can be greatly influenced by a man’s personality and his attitude. You’ve fought many duels in the machines. Your background of experience, both as a professional soldier and in the machines, gives you a decided advantage over your opponents.

“However, even with all this considered, I’m still convinced that no one can kill a man in the machine—under normal circumstances. We’ve demonstrated that fact in our tests. An unsabotaged machine cannot cause actual physical harm.

“Yet you’ve already killed one man and incapacitated another. Where will it stop?”

Odal’s face remained calm, except for the faintest glitter of fire deep in his eyes. His voice was quiet, but it had the edge of a well-honed blade to it. “I cannot be blamed for my background and experience. And I have not tampered with your machine.”

The door to the room opened, and a short, thickset, bullet-headed man entered. He was dressed in a dark street suit, so that it was impossible to guess his station at the embassy.

“Would the gentlemen care for some refreshments?” he asked in a low-pitched voice.

“No thank you,” Leoh said.

“Some Kerak wine, perhaps?”

“Well…”

“I, uh, don’t think we’d better, sir,” Hector said. “Thanks all the same.”

The man shrugged and sat on a chair next to the door.

Odal turned back to Leoh. “Sir, I have my duty. Massan and I duel tomorrow. There is no possibility of postponing it.”

“Very well,” Leoh said. “Will you at least allow me to place some special instrumentation into the booth with you, so that we can monitor the duel more fully? We can do the same thing with Massan. I know that duels are normally private and you’d be within your legal rights to refuse the request, but morally…”

The smile returned to Odal’s face. “You wish to monitor my thoughts. To record them and see how I perform during the duel. Interesting. Very interesting…”

The man at the door rose and said, “If you have no desire for refreshments, gentlemen…”

Odal turned to him. “Thank you for your attention.”

Their eyes met for an instant. The man gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, then left.

Odal returned his attention to Leoh. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t allow you to monitor my thoughts during the duel.”

“But…”

“I regret having to refuse you. But, as you yourself pointed out, there is no legal requirement for such a course of action. I must refuse. I hope you understand.”

Leoh rose slowly from the couch. “No, I do not understand. You sit here and discuss legal points when we both know full well that you’re planning to murder Massan tomorrow.” His voice burning with anger, Leoh went on, “You’ve turned my invention into a murder weapon. But you’ve turned me into an enemy. I’ll find out how you’re doing it, and I won’t rest until you and your kind are put away where you belong… on a planet for the criminally insane!”

Hector reached for the door and opened it. He and Leoh went out, leaving Odal alone in the room. In a few minutes, the dark-suited man returned.

“I have just spoken with the Leader on the tri-di and obtained permission to make a slight adjustment in our plans.”

“An adjustment, Minister Kor?”