Ben Bova: The Dueling Machine

“Your own government tested one of the machines and approved its use on Acquatainia more than three years ago. I see several of you who were among those to whom I personally demonstrated the machine. Dueling machines are becoming commonplace through wide portions of the Terran Commonwealth, and neighboring nations such as Acquatainia. I’m sure that many of you have used the machine yourselves. You have, General, I’m certain.”

The general flustered. “That has nothing to do with the matter at hand!”

“Admittedly,” Leoh conceded. “But I don’t understand how a therapeutic machine can possibly become entangled in a political crisis.”

Massan said, “Allow me to explain. Our government has been conducting extremely delicate negotiations with the governments of our neighboring star-nations. These negotiations concern the rearmament of the Kerak Worlds. You have heard of Kanus of Kerak?”

“Vaguely,” Leoh said. “He’s a political leader of some sort.”

“Of the worst sort. He has acquired complete dictatorship of the Kerak Worlds and is now attempting to rearm them for war. This is in direct contravention of the Treaty of Acquatainia, signed only thirty Terran years ago.”

“I see. The treaty was signed at the end of the Acquataine-Kerak War, wasn’t it?”

“A war that we won,” the general pointed out.

“And now the Kerak Worlds want to rearm and try again,” Leoh said.

“Precisely.”

Leoh shrugged. “Why not call in the Star Watch? This is their type of police activity. And what has all this to do with the dueling machine?”

“Let me explain,” Massan said patiently. He gestured to an aide, and on the wall behind him a huge tri-di star map glowed into life.

Leoh recognized it immediately: the swirling spiral of the Milky Way galaxy. From the rim of the galaxy, where the Sun and Earth were, in toward the star-rich heart of the Milky Way, stretched the Terran Commonwealth—thousands of stars and myriads of planets. On Massan’s map the Commonwealth territory was shaded a delicate green. Just beyond its border was the golden cluster of Acquatainia. Around it were names that Leoh knew only vaguely: Safad, Szarno, Etra, and a pinpoint marked Kerak.

“Neither the Acquataine Cluster nor our neighboring nations,” said Massan, “have ever joined the Terran Commonwealth. Nor has Kerak, for that matter. Therefore the Star Watch can intervene only if all the nations concerned agree to intervention. Naturally Kanus would never accept the Star Watch. He wants to rearm.”

Leoh shook his head.

“As for the dueling machine,” Massan went on, “Kanus has turned it into a political weapon…”

“But that’s impossible. Your government passed strict laws concerning the Use of the machines. The dueling machine may be used only for personal grievances. It’s strictly outside the realm of politics.”

Massan shook his head sadly. “My dear Professor, laws are one thing, people are another. And politics consists of people, not words on tape.”

“I don’t understand,” said Leoh.

“A little more than one Terran year ago, Kanus picked a quarrel with a neighboring nation—the Safad Federation. He wanted an especially favorable trade agreement with them. Their minister of trade objected most strenuously. One of the Kerak negotiators—a certain Major Odal—got into a personal argument with the minister. Before anyone knew what had happened, they had challenged each other to a duel. Odal won the duel, and the minister resigned his post. He said he could no longer fight against the will of Odal and Kerak… he was psychologically incapable of it. Two weeks later he was dead—apparently a suicide, although I have my doubts.”

“That’s… extremely interesting,” Leoh said.

“Three days ago,” Massan continued, “the same Major Odal engaged Prime Minister Dulaq in a bitter personal argument. Odal is now a military attachй of the Kerak embassy here on Acquatainia. The argument grew so loud before a large group at an embassy party that the prime minister had no alternative but to challenge Odal. And now…”

“And now Dulaq is in a state of shock, and your government is tottering.”

Massan’s back stiffened. “Our government will not fall, nor shall the Acquataine Cluster acquiesce to the rearmament of the Kerak Worlds. But…” his voice lowered, “without Dulaq, our alliances with neighboring nations may dissolve. All our allies are smaller and weaker than Acquatainia. Kanus could pressure each one individually and make certain that they won’t take steps to prevent his rearming Kerak. Alone, Acquatainia cannot stop Kanus.”

“But if Kerak attacks you, surely you could ask the Star Watch for help and…”

“It won’t be that simple or clear-cut. Kanus will nibble off one small nation at a time. He can strike a blow and conquer a nation before the Star Watch can be summoned. Finally he’ll have us cut off completely, without a single ally. Then he’ll strike Acquatainia, or perhaps even try to subvert us from within. If he takes Acquatainia, he’ll have whetted his appetite for bigger game: he’ll want to conquer the Terran Commonwealth next. He’ll stop at nothing.”

“And he’s using the dueling machines to further his ambitions,” Leoh mused. “Well, gentlemen, it seems I have no alternative but to travel to the Acquataine Cluster. The dueling machine is my responsibility, and if there’s something wrong with it, or with the use of it, I’ll do my best to correct the situation.”

“That is all we ask,” Massan said. “Thank you.”

The Acquatainian scene faded away, and the three men in the president’s office found themselves looking at a solid wall once again.

“Well,” Leoh said, turning to the president, “it seems that I must request an indefinite leave of absence.”

The president frowned. “And it seems that I must grant it—even though the year isn’t even half-finished.”

“I regret the necessity,” said Leoh. Then, with a broad grin, he added, “My assistant, here, can handle my courses for the remainder of the year quite easily. Perhaps he’ll even be able to deliver his lectures without being interrupted.”

The assistant professor turned red from collar to scalp.

“Now then,” Leoh muttered to himself, “who is this Kanus, and why is he trying to turn the Kerak Worlds into an arsenal?”

Chancellor Kanus, Supreme Leader of the Kerak Worlds, stood at the edge of the balcony and looked across the wild, tumbling gorge to the rugged mountains beyond.

“These are the forces that mold men’s actions,” he said to his small audience of officials and advisers. “The howling winds, the mighty mountains, the open sky, and the dark powers of the clouds.”

The men nodded and made murmurs of agreement.

“Just as the mountains thrust up from the pettiness of the lands below, so shall we rise above the common walk of men,” Kanus said. “Just as a thunderstorm terrifies them, we will make them cower and bend to our will.”

“We will destroy the past,” said one of the ministers.

“And avenge the memory of defeat,” Kanus added. He turned and looked at the little group of men. Kanus was the smallest man on the balcony: short, spare, sallow-faced. His gaudy military uniform looked out of place on him, too big and heavy, too loaded with braid and medals. But he possessed piercing dark eyes and a strong voice that commanded attention.

He walked through the knot of men, and stopped before a tall, lean, blond youth in a light-blue military uniform. “And you, Major Odal, will be a primary instrument in the first steps of conquest.”

Odal bowed stiffly. “I only hope to serve my Leader and my Worlds.”