Ben Bova: The Dueling Machine

“Quite right,” said Romis. “What have you learned?” The captain’s face darkened. “Absolutely nothing. Either he knows nothing… which is hard to believe, or,” he went on, shifting his gaze to the meditech, “he can overcome the effects of the drug.”

Shrugging, Romis turned back to the meditech. “You are certain that you got away from Kor undetected.”

“Yes, sir. We went by the usual route, using only those men we know are loyal to our cause.”

“Good. Now let us pray that none of our loyal friends decide to change loyalties.”

The captain asked, “How are you going to explain Odal’s disappearance? The Leader will be told about it this morning, won’t he?”

“That is correct. And I do not intend to say a word. Kor assumes that Odal, and this meditech and guard, all escaped in the dueling machine. Let him continue to assume that; no suspicion will fall on us.”

The captain murmured approval.

There was a rap at the door. The captain opened it, and the guard outside handed him a written message. The captain scanned it, then handed it to Romis, saying, “Your tri-di link has been set up.”

Romis crumpled the message in his hand. “I had better hurry, then, before the beam leaks enough to be traceable. Here,” he handed the rolled-up paper to the meditech, “destroy this. Personally.”

Romis quickly made his way to another compartment, farther down the passageway that served as a communications center. When he and the captain entered the compartment, the communications tech rose, saluted, and discreetly stepped out into the passageway.

Romis sat down before the screen and touched a button on the panel at his side. Instantly the screen showed the bulky form of Sir Harold Spencer, sitting at a metal desk, obviously aboard his own star ship.

Spencer’s face was a thundercloud. “Minister Romis. I was going to call you when your call arrived here.”

Romis smiled easily and replied, “From the expression on your face, Commander, I believe you already know the reason for my calling.”

Sir Harold did not return the smile. “You are a well-trained diplomat, sir. I am only a soldier. Let’s come directly to the point.”

“Of course. A major in the Kerak army has disappeared, and I have reason to believe he is on Acquatainia.”

Spencer huffed. “And a Star Watch lieutenant has disappeared, and I have reason to believe he is on Kerak.”

“Your suspicions are not without foundation,” Romis fenced coolly. “And mine?”

The Star Watch Commander rubbed a hand across his massive jaw before answering. “You have been using the words ‘I’ and ‘mine’ instead of the usual diplomatic plurals. Could it be that you are not speaking on behalf of the Kerak government?”

Romis glanced up at the captain, standing by the door out of camera range; he gave only a worried frown and a gesture to indicate that time was racing.

“It happens,” Romis said to Sir Harold, “that I am not speaking for the government at this moment. If you have custody of the missing Kerak major, you can probably learn the details of my position from him.”

“I see,” Spencer said. “And should I assume that you—and not Kanus and his gang of hoodlums—have custody of Lieutenant Hector?”

Romis nodded.

“You wish to exchange him for Major Odal?”

“No, not at all. The Major is… safer… where he is, for the time being. We have no desire for his return to Kerak at the moment. Perhaps later. However, we do want to assure you that no harm will come to Lieutenant Hector—no matter what happens here on Kerak.”

Spencer sat wordlessly for several seconds. At length he said, “You seem to be saying that there will be an upheaval in Kerak’s government shortly, and you will hold Lieutenant Hector hostage to make certain that the Star Watch does not interfere. Is that correct?”

“You put it rather bluntly,” Romis said, “but, in essence, you are correct.”

“Very well,” said Spencer. “Go ahead and have your upheaval. But let me warn you: if, for any reason whatever, harm should befall a Star Watchman, you will have an invasion on your hands as quickly as star ships can reach your worlds. I will not wait for authorization from the Terran Council or any other formalities. I will crush you, one and all. Is that clear?”

“Quite clear,” Romis replied, his face reddening. “Quite clear.”

Leoh had to make his way through the length of the Acquatainian Justice Department’s longest hallway, down a lift tube to a sub-sub-basement, past four checkpoints guarded by a dozen armed and uniformed men each, into an anteroom where another pair of guards sat next to a tri-di scanner, and finally—after being stopped, photographed, questioned, and made to show his special identification card and pass each step of the way—entered Odal’s quarters.

It was a comfortable suite of rooms, deep underground, originally built for the Secretary of Justice as a blast shelter during the previous Acquataine-Kerak war.

“You’re certainly well guarded,” the old man said to Odal as he entered.

The Kerak major had been sitting on a plush lounge, listening to a music tape. He flicked the music silent and rose as Leoh walked into the room. The outside door clicked shut behind the scientist.

“I’m being protected, they tell me,” said Odal, “both from the Acquatainian populace and from the Kerak embassy.”

“Are they treating you well?” Leoh asked as he sat, uninvited, on an easy chair next to the lounge.

“Well enough. I have music, tri-di, food and drink.” Odal’s voice had a ring of irony in it. “I’m even allowed to see the sun once a day, when I get my prison-yard exercise.”

As Odal sat back in the lounge, Leoh looked closely at him. He seemed different. No more icy smile and haughty manner. There were lines in his face that had been put there by pain, but not by pain alone. Disillusionment, perhaps. The world was no longer his personal arena of triumph. Leoh thought, He’s settled down to the same business that haunts us all: survival.

Aloud, he said, “Sir Harold Spencer has been in touch with your Foreign Minister, Romis.” Odal kept his face blank, noncommittal. “Harold has asked me to speak with you, to find out where you stand in all of this. The situation is quite confused.”

“It seems simple to me,” Odal said. “You have me. Romis has Hector.”

“Yes, but where do we go from here? Is Kanus going to attack Acquatainia? Is Romis going to try to overthrow Kanus? Harold has been trying to avert a war, but if anything happens to Hector, he’ll swoop in with every Star Watch ship he can muster. And where do you stand? Which side are you on?”

Odal almost smiled. “I’ve been asking myself that very question. So far, I haven’t been able to find a clear answer.”

“It’s important for us to know.”

“Is it?” Odal asked, leaning forward slightly in the lounge. “Why is that? I’m a prisoner here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You needn’t be a prisoner. I’m sure that Harold and Prime Minister Martine would agree to have you released if you guaranteed to help us.”

“Help you? How?”

“For one thing,” Leoh answered, “you could help us to get Hector back to safety.”

“Return to Kerak?” Odal tensed. “That would be risky.”

“You’d rather sit safely here, a prisoner?”

“Why not?”

Leoh shifted his weight uncomfortably in the chair. “I should think that Romis could use you in his attempt to overthrow Kanus.”

“Possibly. But not until the moment he’s ready to strike directly at Kanus. Until then, I imagine he’s just as happy to let me remain here. He’ll call me when he wants me. Whether I’ll go or not is another problem.”