Anthology of Speculative Fiction, Volume One

by Short Story Anthology

  Leoh focused his attention on his surroundings and scanned the busy dining room. It was a beautiful place, really; decorated with crystal and genuine woods and fabric draperies. Not a synthetic in sight. The waiters and cooks and busboys were humans, not the autocookers and servers that most restaurants employed. Leoh suddenly felt touched at Hector's attempt to restore his spirits--even if it was being done at Star Watch expense.

  He saw the young Watchman approaching the table, coming back from the phone. Hector bumped two waiters and stumbled over a chair before reaching the relative safety of his own seat.

  "What's the verdict?" Leoh asked.

  Hector's lean face was bleak. "Couldn't revive him. Cerebral hemorrhage, the meditechs said--induced by shock."

  "Shock?"

  "That's what they said. Something must've, uh, overloaded his nervous system ... I guess."

  Leoh shook his head. "I just don't understand any of this. I might as well admit it. I'm no closer to an answer now than I was when I arrived here. Perhaps I should have retired years ago, before the dueling machine was invented."

  "Nonsense."

  "No, I mean it." Leoh said. "This is the first real intellectual puzzle I've had to contend with in years. Tinkering with machinery ... that's easy. You know what you want, all you need is to make the machinery perform properly. But this ... I'm afraid I'm too old to handle a real problem like this."

  Hector scratched his nose thoughtfully, then answered, "If you can't handle the problem, sir, then we're going to have a war on our hands in a matter of weeks. I mean, Kanus won't be satisfied with swallowing the Szarno group ... the Acquataine Cluster is next ... and he'll have to fight to get it."

  "Then the Star Watch can step in," Leoh said, resignedly.

  "Maybe ... but it'll take time to mobilize the Star Watch ... Kanus can move a lot faster than we can. Sure, we could throw in a task force ... a token group, that is. But Kanus' gang will chew them up pretty quick. I ... I'm no politician, sir, but I think I can see what will happen. Kerak will gobble up the Acquataine Cluster ... a Star Watch task force will be wiped out in the battle ... and we'll end up with Kerak at war with the Terran Commonwealth. And it'll be a real war ... a big one."

  Leoh began to answer, then stopped. His eyes were fixed on the far entrance of the dining room. Suddenly every murmur in the busy room stopped dead. Waiters stood still between tables. Eating, drinking, conversation hung suspended.

  Hector turned in his chair and saw at the far entrance the slim, stiff, blue-uniformed figure of Odal.

  The moment of silence passed. Everyone turned to his own business and avoided looking at the Kerak major. Odal, with a faint smile on his thin face, made his way slowly to the table where Hector and Leoh were sitting.

  They rose to greet him and exchanged perfunctory salutations. Odal pulled up a chair and sat with them.

  "I assume that you've been looking for me," Leoh said. "What do you wish to say?"

  Before Odal could answer, the waiter assigned to the table walked up, took a position where his back would be to the Kerak major, and asked firmly, "Your dinner is ready gentlemen. Shall I serve it now?"

  Leoh hesitated a moment, then asked Odal, "Will you join us?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  "Serve it now," Hector said. "The major will be leaving shortly."

  Again the tight grin broke across Odal's face. The waiter bowed and left.

  "I have been thinking about our conversation of last night," Odal said to Leoh.

  "Yes?"

  "You accused me of cheating in my duels."

  Leoh's eyebrows arched. "I said someone was cheating, yes--"

  "An accusation is an accusation."

  Leoh said nothing.

  "Do you withdraw your words, or do you still accuse me of deliberate murder? I am willing to allow you to apologize and leave Acquatainia in peace."

  Hector cleared his throat noisily. "This is no place to have an argument ... besides, here comes our dinner."

  Odal ignored the Watchman. "You heard me, professor. Will you leave? Or do you accuse me of murdering Massan this afternoon?"

  "I--"

  Hector banged his fist on the table and jerked up out of his chair--just as the waiter arrived with a large tray of food. There was a loud crash. A tureen of soup, two bowls of salad, glasses, assorted rolls, vegetables, cheeses and other delicacies cascaded over Odal.

  The Kerak major leaped to his feet, swearing violently in his native tongue. He sputtered back into basic Terran: "You clumsy, stupid oaf! You maggot-brained misbegotten peasant-faced--"

  Hector calmly picked a salad leaf from the sleeve of his tunic. Odal abruptly stopped his tirade.

  "I am clumsy," Hector said, grinning. "As for being stupid, and the rest of it, I resent that. I am highly insulted."

  A flash of recognition lighted Odal's eyes. "I see. Of course. My quarrel here is not with you. I apologize." He turned back to Leoh, who was also standing now.

  "Not good enough," Hector said. "I don't, uh, like the ... tone of your apology."

  Leoh raised a hand, as if to silence the younger man.

  "I apologized; that is sufficient." Odal warned.

  Hector took a step toward Odal. "I guess I could insult your glorious leader, or something like that ... but this seems more direct." He took the water pitcher from the table and poured it calmly and carefully over Odal's head.

  A wave of laughter swept the room. Odal went white. "You are determined to die." He wiped the dripping water from his eyes. "I will meet you before the week is out. And you have saved no one." He turned on his heel and stalked out.

  "Do you realize what you've done?" Leoh asked, aghast.

  Hector shrugged. "He was going to challenge you--"

  "He will still challenge me, after you're dead."

  "Uu-m-m, yes, well, maybe so. I guess you're right--Well, anyway, we've gained a little more time."

  "Four days." Leoh shook his head. "Four days to the end of the week. All right, come on, we have work to do."

  Hector was grinning broadly as they left the restaurant. He began to whistle.

  "What are you so happy about?" Leoh grumbled.

  "About you, sir. When we came in here, you were, uh, well ... almost beaten. Now you're right back in the game again."

  Leoh glanced at the Star Watchman. "In your own odd way, Hector, you're quite a boy ... I think."

  XII

  Their groundcar glided from the parking building to the restaurant's entrance ramp, at the radio call of the doorman. Within minutes, Hector and Leoh were cruising through the city, in the deepening shadows of night.

  "There's only one man," Leoh said, "who has faced Odal and lived through it."

  "Dulaq," Hector agreed. "But ... for all the information the medical people have been able to get from him, he might as well be, uh, dead."

  "He's still completely withdrawn?"

  Hector nodded. "The medicos think that ... well, maybe in a few months, with drugs and psychotherapy and all that ... they might be able to bring him back."

  "It won't be soon enough. We've only got four days."

  "I know."

  Leoh was silent for several minutes. Then: "Who is Dulaq's closest living relative? Does he have a wife?"

  "I think his wife is, uh, dead. Has a daughter though. Pretty girl. Bumped into her in the hospital once or twice--"

  Leoh smiled in the darkness. Hector's term, "bumped into" was probably completely literal.

  "Why are you asking about Dulaq's next-of-kin?"

  "Because," Leoh replied, "I think there might be a way to make Dulaq tell us what happened during his duel. But it is a very dangerous way. Perhaps a fatal way."

  "Oh."

  They lapsed into silence again. Finally he blurted, "Come on, my boy, let's find the daughter and talk to her."

  "Tonight?"

  "Now."

  * * * * *

  She certainly is a pretty girl, Leoh thought as he explai
ned very carefully to Geri Dulaq what he proposed to do. She sat quietly and politely in the spacious living room of the Dulaq residence. The glittering chandelier cast touches of fire on her chestnut hair. Her slim body was slightly rigid with tension, her hands were clasped in her lap. Her face--which looked as though it could be very expressive--was completely serious now.

  "And that is the sum of it," Leoh concluded. "I believe that it will be possible to use the dueling machine itself to examine your father's thoughts and determine exactly what took place during his duel against Major Odal!"

  She asked softly, "But you are afraid that the shock might be repeated, and this could be fatal to my father?"

  Leoh nodded wordlessly.

  "Then I am very sorry, sir, but I must say no." Firmly.

  "I understand your feelings," Leoh replied, "but I hope you realize that unless we can stop Odal and Kanus immediately, we may very well be faced with war."

  She nodded. "I know. But you must remember that we are speaking of my father, of his very life. Kanus will have his war in any event, no matter what I do."

  "Perhaps," Leoh admitted. "Perhaps."

  Hector and Leoh drove back to the University campus and their quarters in the dueling machine chamber. Neither of them slept well that night.

  The next morning, after an unenthusiastic breakfast, they found themselves standing in the antiseptic-white chamber, before the looming, impersonal intricacy of the machine.

  "Would you like to practice with it?" Leoh asked.

  Hector shook his head. "Maybe later."

  The phone chimed in Leoh's office. They both went in. Geri Dulaq's face showed on the tri-di screen.

  "I have just heard the news. I did not know that Lieutenant Hector has challenged Odal." Her face was a mixture of concern and reluctance.

  "He challenged Odal," Leoh answered, "to prevent the assassin from challenging me."

  "Oh--You are a very brave man, lieutenant."

  Hector's face went through various contortions and slowly turned a definite red, but no words issued from his mouth.

  "Have you reconsidered your decision?" Leoh asked.

  The girl closed her eyes briefly, then said flatly, "I am afraid I cannot change my decision. My father's safety is my first responsibility. I am sorry."

  They exchanged a few meaningless trivialities--with Hector still thoroughly tongue-tied and ended the conversation on a polite but strained note.

  Leoh rubbed his thumb across the phone switch for a moment, then turned to Hector. "My boy, I think it would be a good idea for you to go straight to the hospital and check on Dulaq's condition."

  "But ... why--"

  "Don't argue, son. This could be vitally important."

  Hector shrugged and left the office. Leoh sat down at his desk and drummed his fingers on the top of it. Then he burst out of the office and began pacing the big chamber. Finally, even that was too confining. He left the building and started stalking through the campus. He walked past a dozen buildings, turned and strode as far as the decorative fence that marked the end of the main campus, ignoring students and faculty alike.

  Campuses are all alike, he muttered to himself, on every human planet, for all the centuries there have been universities. There must be some fundamental reason for it.

  Leoh was halfway back to the dueling machine facility when he spotted Hector walking dazedly toward the same building. For once, the Watchman was not whistling. Leoh cut across some lawn and pulled up beside the youth.

  "Well?" he asked.

  Hector shook his head, as if to clear away an inner fog. "How did you know she'd be at the hospital?"

  "The wisdom of age. What happened?"

  "She kissed me. Right there in the hallway of the--"

  "Spare me the geography," Leoh cut in. "What did she say?"

  "I bumped into her in the hallway. We, uh, started talking ... sort of. She seemed, well ... worried about me. She got upset. Emotional. You know? I guess I looked pretty forlorn and frightened. I am ... I guess. When you get right down to it, I mean."

  "You aroused her maternal instinct."

  "I ... I don't think it was that ... exactly. Well, anyway, she said that if I was willing to risk my life to save yours, she couldn't protect her father any more. Said she was doing it out of selfishness, really, since he's her only living relative. I don't believe she meant that, but she said it anyway."

  They had reached the building by now. Leoh grabbed Hector's arm and steered him clear of a collision with the half-open door.

  "She's agreed to let us put Dulaq in the dueling machine?"

  "Sort of."

  "Eh?"

  "The medical staff doesn't want him to be moved from the hospital ... especially not back to here. She agrees with them."

  Leoh snorted. "All right. In fact, so much the better. I'd rather not have the Kerak people see us bring Dulaq to the dueling machine. So instead, we shall smuggle the dueling machine to Dulaq!"

  XIII

  They plunged to work immediately. Leoh preferred not to inform the regular staff of the dueling machine about their plan, so he and Hector had to work through the night and most of the next morning. Hector barely understood what he was doing, but with Leoh's supervision, he managed to dismantle part of the dueling machine's central network, insert a few additional black boxes that the professor had conjured up from the spare parts bins in the basement, and then reconstruct the machine so that it looked exactly the same as before they had started.

  In between his frequent trips to oversee Hector's work, Leoh had jury-rigged a rather bulky headset and a hand-sized override control circuit.

  The late morning sun was streaming through the tall windows when Leoh finally explained it all to Hector.

  "A simple matter of technological improvisation," he told the bewildered Watchman. "You have installed a short-range transceiver into the machine, and this headset is a portable transceiver for Dulaq. Now he can sit in his hospital bed and still be 'in' the dueling machine."

  Only the three most trusted members of the hospital staff were taken into Leoh's confidence, and they were hardly enthusiastic about Leoh's plan.

  "It is a waste of time," said the chief psychophysician, shaking his white-maned head vigorously. "You cannot expect a patient who has shown no positive response to drugs and therapy to respond to your machine."

  Leoh argued, Geri Dulaq coaxed. Finally the doctors agreed. With only two days remaining before Hector's duel with Odal, they began to probe Dulaq's mind. Geri remained by her father's bedside while the three doctors fitted the cumbersome transceiver to Dulaq's head and attached the electrodes for the automatic hospital equipment that monitored his physical condition. Hector and Leoh remained at the dueling machine, communicating with the hospital by phone.

  Leoh made a final check of the controls and circuitry, then put in the last call to the tense little group in Dulaq's room. All was ready.

  He walked out to the machine, with Hector beside him. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the sepulchral chamber. Leoh stopped at the nearer booth.

  "Now remember," he said, carefully, "I will be holding the emergency control unit in my hand. It will stop the duel the instant I set it off. However, if something should go wrong, you must be prepared to act quickly. Keep a close watch on my physical condition; I've shown you which instruments to check on the control board--"

  "Yes sir."

  Leoh nodded and took a deep breath. "Very well then."

  He stepped into the booth and sat down. The emergency control unit rested on a shelf at his side; he took it in his hands. He leaned back and waited for the semi-hypnotic effect to take hold. Dulaq's choice of this very city and the stat-wand were known. But beyond that, everything was locked and sealed in Dulaq's subconscious mind. Could the machine reach into that subconscious, probe past the lock and seal of catatonia, and stimulate Dulaq's mind into repeating the duel?

  Slowly, lullingly, the dueling machine's imaginary yet very
real mists enveloped Leoh. When the mists cleared, he was standing on the upper pedestrian level of the main commercial street of the city. For a long moment, everything was still.

  Have I made contact? Whose eyes am I seeing with, my own or Dulaq's?

  And then he sensed it--an amused, somewhat astonished marveling at the reality of the illusion. Dulaq's thoughts!

  Make your mind a blank, Leoh told himself. Watch. Listen. Be passive.

  He became a spectator, seeing and hearing the world through Dulaq's eyes and ears as the Acquatainian Prime Minister advanced through his nightmarish ordeal. He felt the confusion, frustration, apprehension and growing terror as, time and again, Odal appeared in the crowd--only to melt into someone else and escape.

  The first part of the duel ended, and Leoh was suddenly buffeted by a jumble of thoughts and impressions. Then the thoughts slowly cleared and steadied.

  Leoh saw an immense and totally barren plain. Not a tree, not a blade of grass; nothing but bare, rocky ground stretching in all directions to the horizon and a disturbingly harsh yellow sky. At his feet was the weapon Odal had chosen. A primitive club.

  He shared Dulaq's sense of dread as he picked up the club and hefted it. Off on the horizon he could see a tall, lithe figure holding a similar club walking toward him.

  Despite himself, Leoh could feel his own excitement. He had broken through the shock-created armor that Dulaq's mind had erected! Dulaq was reliving the part of the duel that had caused the shock.

  Reluctantly, he advanced to meet Odal. But as they drew closer together, the one figure of his opponent seemed to split apart. Now there were two, four, six of them. Six Odals, six mirror images, all armed with massive, evil clubs, advancing steadily on him.

  Six tall, lean, blond assassins, with six cold smiles on their intent faces.

  Horrified, completely panicked, he scrambled away, trying to evade the six opponents with the half-dozen clubs raised and poised to strike.

  Their young legs and lungs easily outdistanced him. A smash on his back sent him sprawling. One of them kicked his weapon away.

  They stood over him for a malevolent, gloating second. Then six strong arms flashed down, again and again, mercilessly. Pain and blood, screaming agony, punctuated by the awful thudding of solid clubs hitting fragile flesh and bone, over and over again, endlessly.