Stalemate

by Basil Wells

he said, "and to spring theother traps. We will eat and sleep, and in the morning try to shave andlook decent before going to the locks."

  Neilson let his head sag between his shoulders, and said nothing. He wasleaning against a tree, his arms lashed behind him and to it.

  "There is one more thing, Harl, that I wish to discuss. It is about thePaul Hubble Foundation Award. Think about it."

  Treb moved off into the darkness.

  * * * * *

  The sunlight from the overhead "suns" of the Satellite revealed agreatly changed Treb. He was shaved, his hair combed and hacked offabove his ears, and he was stitching the last rough patch on his darkgreen trouser leg.

  Now he donned the trousers and went over to the bound Andilian. He cutthe ropes, his carbine ready.

  "Get down to the lake," he ordered. "You'll find a razor, soap and anold shirt to dry yourself with."

  Harl Neilson was chunky and fair-haired, with a healthy lookingred-brown skin. His eyes were wide and darkly blue. Now the wide mouthunder his shapeless nose twisted into a faint grin.

  "I'll try to get away," he warned. "Aren't you afraid of that?"

  "I have all the guns, grenades and needle-knives, Harl. I'll shoot youif you attempt escape, of course, but I hope you'll listen to what Ipropose first."

  Neilson slowly stripped off his ragged tunic and trousers. There was thescar of a recent bullet's path across his right shoulder blade. It wascrusted with blackened blood.

  "I thought I heard you two days back, Harl," said Treb.

  "Just a scratch." Neilson took up the soap and waded into the nearbylake. "Start talking, Treb."

  "I told you to think about Paul Hubble's Award, Harl. He's the Americanindustrialist who opposed violence in settling any issue."

  "Sure. Heard about him in the lower grades. Fifty million dollars hesunk in his worthless Peace Foundation. What about it?"

  "Hear me out. Did you like what we just went through? Your friends andcomrades dying--my friends dead and wounded? And all to settle someterritorial dispute or to wipe out some imagined slur.

  "Would you like to prevent your kid, or mine, from having to face thisagain?"

  "Stop sounding off, Treb, and say something." Neilson scrubbedvigorously. "Of course I would--if I ever had a kid, I mean."

  "We could help, Harl. By calling off the duel and making peace righthere. Of course there might be new balloting--even another battlebetween our countries. But we would crack the theory that victory meansmore than humanity."

  Neilson snorted. He splashed water into his eyes and over his soapybeard and hair.

  "And go home penniless? To have every friend and neighbor avoid us?What's eating you? You won. You'll get the quarter of a million."

  "I want you to share equally. I want our two countries to know thatfriendship means more than glory."

  "I don't get it. If neither side wins we get nothing."

  "You forget about the Hubble Award. Two hundred thousand to each memberof both sides, or their survivors, if they declare an armistice."

  "I had forgotten. You'd give up fifty thousand so I could get the sametwo hundred thousand! You're a prince, Treb.

  "But I couldn't do it. Jane would turn against me. The radio, thenewswires, television and the magazines would crucify me--both of us."

  "We'd ride it out. None of the participants in the twenty-two duels herein Satellite has had the courage to admit he hates war. In years to comeour stand would be honored."

  "It means losing Jane. I can't do it."

  "You've lost her anyway, Harl, if she's the way you say. How about yourthree wounded buddies: Wasson, Clark, and Thomason? Badly cut up aren'tthey? Clark blind. Wasson with no arms.

  "Couldn't they use the two hundred thousand?"

  Neilson was coming ashore. A sudden resolve hardened his face, and hisblue eyes were dark and angry. His jaw jutted through the sandy fairnessof his draggled beard.

  Treb felt his vitals knot at what he sensed in Neilson's expression.He'd gambled on the essential fairness and sympathy of the Andilian'scharacter. But now....

  "I'll do it," Neilson said tonelessly.

  "I hope you'll never regret what you are doing, Harl."

  "Aw, lock valves!" snarled Neilson. "Get ready to go while I finishshaving."

  So that was the way it was to be. Treb turned wearily away. He went backthrough the screen of flowering shrubs and trees to where the coals oftheir fire turned gray.

  The grenades and the three cartridges, his own and Neilson's, he buriedin a hasty hole under a tree's sprawled roots. Afterward he tamped sodback into place and spread leaves.

  His needle-knife he laid on the turf. From his pocket he took a longstrip of cloth and some of the tough nylon cords from the net. Then helet his trousers drop about his ankles and set about anchoring theneedle-knife securely to his upper leg.

  When he had finished the keen blade projected a foot below his knee-cap.And around it, carefully, he wound some of the cloth. He donned hisbattered trousers again. The concealed knife was well hidden, althoughit did impede the freedom of his stride.

  Then he went down to rejoin Neilson.

  Neilson was just finishing hacking at his hair with the short-bladedsafety razor. He scowled at Treb, his eyes on the carbine that the manfrom Baryt yet carried.

  "Not taking any chances, eh, Treb?"

  "Just in case you change your mind, Harl."

  "My friend--my very dear friend--Gram Treb!" Neilson laughed. "Whattrust--what a faith in human nature!"

  "Yes, Harl. Your friend."

  They left the lake behind, Neilson in advance. Directly ahead, beyondthe outer ring of trees, the locks to the upper levels waited. They hadless than a third of a mile to traverse.

  The rusting shattered debris of a machine gun, with a spilled clutter ofempty shell cases, lay just off the trail.

  "Harok Dann died here," said Treb. Neilson did not turn.

  "The big man, Manross, was killed by Dann's fire even as he threw thegrenade," he added.

  Treb was watching the broad-shouldered figure ahead.

  "Shut it off, Treb, will you?" Neilson shouted, turning. "Isn't it toughenough without you yap-yapping all the way?"

  Treb's lips thinned. The knife chafed his leg. Already he was limpingslightly. But they had covered more than half the distance. Once theycontacted the UN guards and were through the locks he could relax....

  * * * * *

  The circular outer face of the lock was before them. And the button thatsummoned the guards jutted redly from a shoulder-high recess. Neilsonleaned against the lock, his narrowed eyes on Treb as he reached for thebutton.

  Treb jabbed. And he relaxed inwardly. Too late now for Neilson toattempt overpowering him and claiming the victory. He had feared such anattempt--with the lust for the woman, Jane Vanne, driving him, Neilsonmight have gone back on his word.

  It was tough going for the kid. But he wasn't losing anything worthkeeping. And hundreds of fine young lads like him might be spared goingthrough this ordeal in space. They'd....

  Neilson's fist caught him behind the ear. That split-second ofinattention was proving costly. Neilson clamped the carbine barrel,wrested it away from Treb. He raised it. Treb lifted his hands.

  "So now it's me at the controls," Neilson said, grinning. "Any reasonwhy I should go through with your Hubble Award idea?"

  "The guards will be here in no more than a minute, Harl. Throw the gunaway and we'll go through together."

  Neilson's eyes were shining. He was seeing the crowds waving crazywelcome as his space ship grounded. He was seeing the adulation of theboys, and the adoring glance of the dark-eyed girl named Jane. He wasseeing the medals and the banquets and the bundles of money.

  "You were crazy, Treb," he said, "to ever trust me. In war promises meannothing. Study your history."

  Treb squared his shoulders, his hands came down.

  "If that's the way it is," he s
aid, and then, "coming at you, Neilson."

  Neilson flinched. It was the first time Treb had called him by his lastname, perhaps that was the reason. Or it could have been the sight of anunarmed man walking directly into his carbine's ugly muzzle.

  He pressed the trigger. The unloaded weapon was silent. Treb wrenched atthe gun. Neilson kicked him in the crotch. The gun came free. He broughtit down at Treb's head, but at the last second before impact Trebdodged. The barrel smacked into Treb's right shoulder and broke thecollar bone.

  Treb came on, his left hand jabbing, and his right arm dangling. Neilsonchopped at his face with the vertically held carbine, and tore a