Most of the interior of Rishi had been overrun by a jungle of thick trees and shrubs. The Navy used so little of the interior space it just wasn’t worth clearing out. Along the meridian line, however, the region equidistant from the two open ends of the cylinder, there ran a length of parkland where the otherwise overwhelming vegetation had been cut down to a manicured lawn. It was necessary to have access to this region because that was where the habitat kept its weather control turbines, and without constant maintenance those machines would break down and leave the place uninhabitable.
The turbines were noisy, though, and dangerous, so this park was rarely used. Because of this seclusion—and perhaps because said turbines made an excellent method of disposing of unwanted bodies—the sward had become popular with Naval officers fighting duels.
In the century since Rishi graduated its first class of cadets, the Navy’s strict orders against dueling had been relaxed. They weren’t the clandestine affairs of prior generations, back when the Navy needed pilots so badly that anyone who even witnessed a duel could face public flogging. These days audiences—family members, well-wishers, enthusiasts—frequently gathered when a duel was to be fought, and so a small guesthouse and a pleasant café had been opened on the meridian park. The turbine noise had not abated in the meantime, but the possibility of free entertainment drew a modest commerce.
The guesthouse provided pistols and sabers for rental, as well as a variety of more exotic weaponry, including whips and nets (for nonfatal duels, fought when the Navy considered both parties nonexpendable). Videos of famous duels played on loops in the common room, and a variety of souvenirs—the pistol that took the life of Admiral Hu, the white handkerchief that was never dropped during the Duel of the Famous Lovers—were mounted on the walls. A doctor was always on call, and a quartet of drones were kept on standby to carry a wounded person quickly to the nearest hospital, seven kilometers away.
That day the guesthouse was doing a brisk business, judging at least by the throng crowding its front rooms. Lanoe and Valk shouldered their way through a variety of people, most in dress uniforms or fancy civilian clothes. They were supposed to meet Candless in the little café attached to the guesthouse, but were having trouble finding it. “Go ask the girl at the desk,” Lanoe told Valk. Being two and a half meters tall meant people tended to get out of your way. But as Valk started pushing his way through the crowd, Lanoe was shoved backward, nearly out the door.
“Excuse me,” someone said, ducking under his arm. He twisted around to see a flash of red hair atop a skinny woman in a thinsuit. He smiled and wanted to laugh. She must not have recognized him.
“Zhang,” he said. It was Zhang, just as he’d last seen her. Red hair and—
No. Wait.
The woman turned and gave him a questioning look. She had a broad, amiable-looking face covered in freckles, and bright blue eyes. She was maybe twenty years old, if that. It wasn’t Zhang. Of course it wasn’t. He’d seen the red hair and something in him, something subconscious, had reacted.
He forced himself to smile in apology. Even if he wanted to smack himself in the leg for such a dumb mistake. “Sorry,” he said. “Thought you were somebody else.”
The last time he’d seen Zhang, her hair had been that color. She hadn’t been born with it. She’d swapped bodies with somebody who … she …
Zhang. Zhang was—
Zhang was dead. Some part of him must be refusing to accept that. He knew grief could hit people in funny ways, but this was—it wasn’t good.
“I hope you find her,” the young woman said, then disappeared into the crowd.
“Lanoe?” Valk said. “This way.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
“You okay?” Valk asked, touching his arm. “You look a little pale.”
Lanoe let out a little laugh, more a release of tension than anything else. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Valk nodded, but for a second he just stood there, like he expected something more.
Lanoe hardened his mouth. Stared straight ahead. Eventually Valk got the point.
He followed the big pilot out a back door and into the open air café. Candless was there waiting for them. She’d already ordered tea and a series of small plates. She rose and shook his hand, then nodded at Valk when he introduced himself.
“Honestly,” Lanoe said, once they’d all sat down, “I’m surprised you were willing to meet up at all. Aren’t you a little busy right now?”
“You mean with my duel? Really,” Candless said, “all the preparations are complete. I suppose I could be putting my affairs in order. I always find that so trying, though.”
Valk laughed. “You didn’t tell me she was funny, Lanoe,” he said. “This is a cute place, huh?”
“It’s disgusting,” Lanoe said.
“Is it, now?” Candless asked. “Are you referring to the food, or the concept of dueling in the abstract?”
“People making money off ritualized murder,” Lanoe said, glaring at the guesthouse’s proprietor, who stood at the entrance to the café trying to find tables for the influx of guests.
“People like us are always trying to kill each other over something or other,” Valk said, sipping at a glass of perfumed tea. “Might as well dress it up with a lot of pompous traditions. Dueling’s practically a sport,” Valk said.
“Young man,” Candless said, “don’t be flippant. Lives are at risk here. Mine, to be specific. The least you could do would be to show some respect.”
The big pilot set his teacup down very carefully. “Uh. Sorry,” he said.
She continued to stare at him until he sat up straighter in his chair.
“What’s this duel even about?” Lanoe asked. “How did you get yourself into this mess?”
“Oh, it’s really very simple,” Candless told him. “The other fellow—Cadet Bury—is one of my students. The other day I happened to tell him he flew like a duck with one broken wing.”
Lanoe felt his weathered face cracking in a genuine smile. “My flight instructor—this was a long time ago, but I remember it pretty well—told me I should try shooting my squadmates rather than the enemy, since I could never seem to hit what I aimed at. I wanted to slug him in the jaw. I never actually did it, though.”
“The job of a teacher—and I’ve been doing it quite a while now, so I ought to know—is to encourage one’s students to perform to their best. Sometimes that means praising them, or making helpful suggestions. Sometimes, as in this case, it means kicking them in the pants. I’ve used the same technique with hundreds of students. There were a few tense moments but this is the first time one of them offered to butcher me.”
“And this cadet, Bury—does he actually fly like a duck with a broken wing?”
“Oh, no, he’s very talented,” Candless said. “He could be brilliant, if he ever learns to control his temper.”
“You know, if you just explained to him why you insulted him—perhaps asked his forgiveness—he’d probably back down. Almost everyone does,” Lanoe told her. “Of all the duels I’ve seen, the only ones that actually went as far as the shooting part were because neither party had the brains to stop and think it through for five seconds.”
“No doubt,” Candless said.
Lanoe leaned forward across the table. “You’ve got the brains. But you insist on going through with this.”
“Yes,” Candless said. “Another part of being a teacher, of course, is projecting confidence. Students won’t pay attention to a teacher who appears not to know her subject. And if I’m going to teach my cadets to be honorable, I need to project honor myself, at all times.”
Lanoe watched her carefully, as if he expected her to say something more. She did not.
“I wonder,” she said instead, “if one of you would do me a favor. I find myself without a second.”
Lanoe raised an eyebrow.
“I’m in a rather unfortunate position, you see. The duel can’t go forward unless I have
a second, yet none of my fellow teachers will do it. They seem to think that condoning this sort of behavior might lead to cadets challenging them whenever they give out poor marks. Especially if young Bury actually kills me.”
Lanoe shook his head and looked away.
“I know it’s an odd request. But we don’t often get visitors passing through Rishi. Your being here is a stroke of luck. It’s not a tough job. You check the weapons—”
“I’ve been to my share of duels,” Lanoe said. “When you get to my age there are very few things you haven’t done before. But I have to say no.” He glanced over at Valk for a moment, trying to decide how much he should tell her. “I’m trying to keep a low profile here, actually, and—”
“Someone attacked us on the way here,” Valk said, leaning back in his chair. “We think they might try again.”
Lanoe glared at the big pilot.
“What?” Valk asked. He turned toward Candless. “You’re an old friend of his, right? And anyway, it’s why we wanted to talk to you. We were hoping you could help us. You see—”
Lanoe jumped in before Valk could say anything more. “Obviously, all that is going to have to wait. You need a second, and I can’t do it. But maybe Valk can.”
Valk set down his teacup, very carefully.
“Me?” Valk said. “But—”
“He’ll be great,” Lanoe said.
“But—low profile—”
Lanoe slapped Valk on the back. “Centrocor was after me. Not you. Officially, you’re still dead.”
Candless pursed her lips. “I expect you to perform your duties in a manner that brings honor on us both,” she said.
“I—but.” Valk lifted his hands and then let them drop again. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Give me a caff,” Bury said.
Ginger opened her little enameled tin and took out a white tab. “This is kind of against the rules,” she said. The look on his face must have conveyed his feelings on that, because she handed it over. “Are you sure that—”
He could feel his cheeks burning. He knew what she was going to say. She’d said it three times already. Was he sure he wanted to go through with this?
What choice did he have?
The two of them were in a quiet room at the guesthouse, upstairs away from the vultures who had gathered downstairs. People always flocked to the smell of blood. Bury knew that all too well.
He’d spent far too much of his life proving to people that he shouldn’t be trifled with. From birth, he thought. From his earliest memories, at least, people had treated him like a joke. Like a fool. Well, he was nineteen now. Old enough to start making a name for himself. To prove to everyone that he was something. Someone.
There were two chairs in the room, one for the duelist, one for the second. There was a clock on the wall. Nothing else. No displays, no distractions.
He put the tab on his tongue and felt it fizz its way into his bloodstream. The skin of his head felt like it was shrinking, tightening. He felt focused. He felt ready. He checked the clock.
Five minutes.
“There’s a chance …” Ginger said. Nothing more. Half a thought.
Bury had always hated it when people wouldn’t just say things. “There’s a chance she’ll kill me. I know. I’ve seen her fight. In the simulator, out in the practice space.” He shook his head. “She’s really good. Really, really good at shooting.”
Ginger nodded.
“I know that! But I have to go through with this. If you don’t stand up for yourself, if you don’t call out the cowards in this world—”
“Candless isn’t a coward,” Ginger said.
He whirled around to stare at her. “I didn’t—I didn’t say that. Or if I did, I didn’t mean it. Just—just stop asking me questions. Okay? I have to be here. I have to do this.” Even if it meant killing a woman he respected. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.
“Is it time?” he asked. “Can we go down now?”
“I don’t see why not,” Ginger told him. She stood up and gathered the weapons in their velvet-lined boxes. Checked them one last time. “They’re good.”
Chapter Five
Lanoe touched the recessed stud underneath his collar ring and his helmet flowed up over his head. He blinked at a display that hovered near his chin and the flowglas polarized, turning the same shiny black as Valk’s helmet. They must look like twins, he thought—except that Valk was half a meter taller.
“Is this all right?” he asked Candless. “Both of us like this?”
“It’s fine,” she replied. “Everyone will assume that you’re staff officers from the school and you’re hiding your faces because you can’t be publicly associated with the duel.” She turned to Valk. “Are you ready?”
“If I were you,” Valk told her, “I’d be more worried about myself. I mean, if you were me, you’d be wondering why—ah, hell.” The big pilot was visibly shaking. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “But you—you’re way too calm right now. Your pulse isn’t even elevated. Aren’t you afraid he might shoot you?”
If she wondered how Valk was able to measure her heartbeat, she didn’t say so. “I am a pilot in the Naval Expeditionary Force. It is my job to fly into danger on a moment’s notice, and, if necessary, to lay down my life. If I was afraid every time I faced death I’d spend my whole life sobbing and asking for my mother.”
“That’s some impressive bravado,” Lanoe told her.
“From you, Commander, I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.” Candless nodded. “Very good. Let’s go.” The three of them got up from their seats in the café and headed across the stretch of grass. The dueling ground wasn’t far, just on the other side of one of the weather control turbines. As they passed by the giant fan its subsonic hum made Lanoe’s teeth vibrate. The noise kept them from speaking again until they’d reached the appointed spot. There was no mark on the ground, no special facilities for the spectators who gathered in a loose circle around the strip of grass. There were no markers to indicate where famous duelists had fallen.
Candless’s opponent was waiting for them. He wore a cadet’s dress suit, so only his head was visible. At first Lanoe thought he had shaved off all his hair. Then he saw the telltale way the light reflected off his smooth skin.
“Oh,” Valk said, so quietly only Lanoe and Candless could hear him over the noise of the turbine. “He’s a Hellion. Suddenly this makes more sense.”
There was almost no water at all on the planet Hel—definitely not enough to support human life. The population had adapted to conditions by having their skin polymerized, their pores and sweat glands and some of their mucous membranes filled in with a bio-inert plastic. It kept them from losing their body moisture to the dry air. It also meant they never grew any hair and they shone under any kind of bright light. Humans being what humans were, Hellions faced a certain stigma for this when they left their homeworld.
“I’ve never met a Hellion that didn’t have a chip on his shoulder,” Valk said.
“Drawing conclusions based on ethnic stereotypes is a wonderful way to underestimate one’s opponent,” Candless said. “You would be wise to remember that.”
Valk ducked his head—or rather his helmet. Lanoe fought back the urge to grin. As long as Valk took the brunt of Candless’s sharp tongue, he could avoid it himself.
“Hellions are born survivors,” Candless went on, perhaps a bit less harshly now. “Bury is one of the tougher fellows I’ve ever met. If a tad stupid.”
The boy’s second was a young woman with red hair and a spray of freckles covering most of her face. She looked familiar—and then with a shock Lanoe realized she was the girl he’d approached in the guesthouse. The one he thought was Zhang.
Getting a better look at her now, he couldn’t see much of a resemblance. Zhang, in the body she’d inhabited when she died, had a small, foxlike face. More important, her eyes had been replaced with metal sensors—her body having been born without optic nerves.
> This girl—a cadet, like Bury—had an open, round face with soft features and very clear, very bright eyes that would have looked sympathetic if, at that moment, they didn’t look so terrified. “Another of yours?” Lanoe asked, pointing her out.
“Ginger. She has a real name but nobody ever uses it. She’s already washed out of the pilot program, though it hasn’t been made official,” Candless said.
“Some people were never meant to fly,” Lanoe said.
“Oh, she’s a fair hand at actual flying. It’s the shooting she can’t handle. She has the worst quality a fighter pilot can have—she wants everyone to like her. No good in a confrontation—or a fight. I imagine, given the chance, she’ll make a decent staff officer.”
Lanoe frowned. He couldn’t tell if she meant that to sound insulting or not. Fighter pilots had very little respect, typically, for the staff officers who oversaw the vast bureaucracy of the Navy. Everyone knew the Navy couldn’t exist without the staff officers pushing files around on their minders, but the fact they never actually put themselves in harm’s way meant that pilots would never accept them as their own.
Candless’s face pinched together in a pursed frown, as if she’d just smelled something repugnant. “Ginger’s a terrible choice for a second. If someone dies here today, she’ll be traumatized for life.”
“I’d rather that than be the one who gets to bleed out on the grass,” Lanoe pointed out.
“Maybe,” Candless said. “Lanoe, you can’t come any closer with us—I’m only allowed one second on the actual field of honor. Perhaps you’d like to go watch. With the spectators.”
“Sure,” Lanoe said. He shook her hand for luck and trotted over to where the onlookers waited. There were a lot of them, but there was plenty of room and they shifted aside to let him in.
“Should be a good one today,” a woman in a thinsuit said, leaning in from his left to whisper to him. “It’s always interesting when they’re so mismatched.”
On his right was a civilian in a silk jacket. “I hope it isn’t the boy. You hate to see children die.”
Forgotten Worlds Page 4
