 THE DUELING MACHINE by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis, Part 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Greg Marguerite. THE DUELING MACHINE by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis, Part 1. The trouble with great ideas is that someone is sure to expend enormous effort and ingenuity figuring out how to louse them up. Dulac rode the slide to the upper pedestrian level, stepped off and walked over to the railing. The city stretched out all around him. Broad avenues thronged with busy people, pedestrian walks, vehicle thoroughfares, air cars gliding between the gleaming towering buildings. And somewhere in this vast city was the man he must kill—the man who would kill him, perhaps. It all seemed so real—the noise of the streets, the odors of the perfumed trees lining the walks, even the warmth of the reddish sun on his back as he scanned the scene before him. It is an illusion. Dulac reminded himself—a clever man-made hallucination, a figment of my own imagination, amplified by a machine. But it seemed so very real. Real or not, he had to find Odal before the sun set, find him and kill him. Those were the terms of the duel. He fingered the stubby cylindrical stat wind in his tunic pocket. That was the weapon he had chosen—his weapon, his own invention. And this was the environment he had picked—his city, busy, noisy, crowded. The metropolis Dulac had known and loved since childhood. Dulac turned and glanced at the sun. It was halfway down toward the horizon he judged. He had about three hours to find Odal. When he did, kill or be killed. Of course, no one is actually hurt. That is the beauty of the machine. It allows one to settle a score, to work out aggressive feelings without either mental or physical harm. Dulac shrugged. He was a roundish figure, moon-faced, slightly stooped shoulders. He had work to do—unpleasant work for a civilized man, but the future of the aquatine cluster and the entire alliance of neighboring star systems could well depend on the outcome of this electronically synthesized dream. He turned and walked down the elevated avenue, marveling at the sharp sensation of hardness that met each footstep on the paving. Children dashed by and rushed up to a toy-shop window. Man of commerce strode long purposefully, but without missing a chance to eye the girls sauntering by. I must have a marvelous imagination, Dulac thought, smiling to himself. Then he thought of Odal, the blond, icy professional he was pitted against. Odal was an expert at all the weapons, a man of strength and cool precision, an emotionless tool in the hands of a ruthless politician. But how expert could he be with a stat wand, when the first time he saw one was the moment before the duel began? And how well acquainted could he be with the metropolis when he had spent most of his life in the military camps on the dreary planets of Kerak, sixty light-years from Aquitania? No. Odal would be lost and helpless in this situation. He would attempt to hide among the throngs of people. All Dulac had to do was to find him. The terms of the duel restricted both men to the pedestrian walks of the commercial quarter of the city. Dulac knew this area intimately, and he began a methodical hunt through the crowds for the tall, fair-haired blue-eyed Odal. And he saw him. After only a few minutes of walking down the major thoroughfare, he spotted his opponent, strolling calmly along a crosswalk at a level below. Dulac hurried down the next ramp, worked his way through the crowd, and saw the man again, tall and blond, unmistakable. Dulac edged along behind him quietly, easily, no disturbance, no pushing, plenty of time. They walked along the street for a quarter-hour while the distance between them slowly shrank from fifty feet to five. Finally Dulac was directly behind him, within arm's reach. He grasped the stat wand and pulled it from his tunic. With one quick motion he touched it to the base of the man's skull and started to thumb the button that would release the killing bolt of energy. The man turned suddenly. It wasn't Odal. Dulac jerked back in surprise. It couldn't be. He had seen his face. It was Odal. And yet this man was definitely a stranger. He stared at Dulac, as the duelist backed away a few steps, then turned and walked quickly from the place. A mistake, Dulac told himself. You were over-anxious. A good thing this is a hallucination or else the autopolice would be taking you in by now. And yet he had been so certain that it was Odal. A chill shuddered through him. He looked up and there was his antagonist on the thoroughfare above at the precise spot where he himself had been a few minutes earlier. Their eyes met and Odal's lips parted in a cold smile. Dulac hurried up the ramp. Odal was gone by the time he reached the upper level. He could not have gotten far. Dulac reasoned. Slowly but very surely Dulac's hallucination turned into a nightmare. He spotted Odal in the crowd only to have him melt away. He saw him again, lolling in a small park, but when he got closer the man turned out to be another stranger. He felt the jill of the duelist's ice-blue eyes on him again and again, but when he turned to find his antagonist no one was there but the impersonal crowd. Odal's face appeared again and again. Dulac struggled through the throngs to find his opponent only to have him vanish. The crowd seemed to be filled with tall blonde men criss-crossing before Dulac's dismayed eyes. The shadows lengthened. The sun was setting. Dulac could feel his heart pounding within him and perspiration pouring from every square inch of his skin. There he is. Definitely. Positively him. Dulac pushed through the homeward bound crowds toward the figure of a tall blonde man leaning against the safety railing of the city's main thoroughfare. It was Odal. The damned, smiling, confident Odal. Dulac pulled the wand from his tunic and battled across the surging crowd to the spot where Odal stood motionless, hands in pockets, watching him. Dulac came within arm's reach. Time, gentlemen. Time is up. The duel is ended. High above the floor of the antiseptic white chamber that housed the dueling machine was a narrow gallery. Before the machine had been installed the chamber had been a lecture hall in Aquitania's largest university. Now the rows of students, seats, the lecturers' deus and rostrum were gone. The chamber held only this machine, the grotesque collection of consoles, control desks, power units, association circuits, and booths where the two antagonists sat. In the gallery, empty during ordinary duels, sat a privileged handful of newsmen. Time limit is up. One of them said, Dulac didn't get him. Yes, but he didn't get Dulac, either. The first one shrugged. The important thing is that now Dulac has to fight Odal on his terms. Dulac couldn't win with his own choice of weapons and situations, so wait. They're coming out. Down on the floor below, Dulac and his opponent emerged from their enclosed booths. One of the newsmen whistled softly. Look at Dulac's face. It's positively gray. I've never seen the Prime Minister so shaken. And take a look at Keynes' hired assassin. The newsmen turned toward Odal, who stood before his booth quietly chatting with his seconds. Hmm. There's a bucket of frozen ammonia for you. He's enjoying this. One of the newsmen stood up. I've got a deadline to meet. Save my seat. He made his way past the guarded door down the rampway circling the outer walls of the building to the portable tri-dye transmitting unit that the Aquitainian government had permitted for the newsmen on the campus grounds outside the former lecture hall. The newsman huddled with his technicians for a few minutes, then stepped before the transmitter. Emile Dulac, Prime Minister of the Aquitain cluster and acknowledged leader of the coalition against Chancellor Keynes of the Kerak worlds, has failed in the first part of his psychonic duel against Major Par Odal of Kerak. The two antagonists are now undergoing the routine medical and psychological checks before renewing their duel. By the time the newsman returned to his gallery seat, the duel was almost ready to begin. Dulac stood in the midst of a group of advisors before the looming impersonality of the machine. You need not go through with the next face of the duel immediately, his Minister of Defense was saying. Wait until tomorrow. Rest and calm yourself. Dulac's round face puckered into a frown. He cocked an eye at the chief med tech hovering at the edge of the little group. The med tech, one of the staff that ran the dueling machine pointed out. The Prime Minister has passed the examinations he is capable within the agreed upon rules of the contest of resuming. But he has the option of retiring for the day. Does he not? If Major Odal agrees. Dulac shook his head impatiently. No, I shall go through with it now. But the Prime Minister's face suddenly hardened. His advisors lapsed into a respectful silence. The chief med tech ushered Dulac back into his booth. On the other side of the room Odal glanced at the Aquitanians, grinned humorlessly and strode to his own booth. Dulac sat and tried to blank out his mind while the med techs adjusted the neurocontacts to his head and torso. They finished at last and withdrew. He was alone in the booth now, looking at the dead white walls, completely bare except for the view screen before his eyes. The screen finally began to glow slightly, then brightened into a series of shifting colors. The colors merged and changed, swirled across his field of view. Dulac felt himself being drawn into them gradually, compellingly, completely immersed in them. The mist slowly vanished and Dulac found himself standing on 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 disturbingly harsh yellow sky. He looked down and at his feet saw the weapon that Odal had chosen. A primitive club. With a sense of dread, Dulac picked up the club and hefted it in his hand. He scanned the plain. Nothing. No hills or trees or bushes to hide in. No place to run to. And off on the horizon he could see a tall, lithe figure holding a similar club, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. The press gallery was practically empty. The duel had more than an hour to run and most of the newsmen were outside broadcasting their hastily drawn guesses about Dulac's failure to win with his own choice of weapon and environment. Then a curious thing happened. On the master control panel the dueling machine a single light flashed red. The med tech blinked at it in surprise, then pressed a series of buttons on his board. More red lights appeared. The chief med tech rushed to the board and flipped a single switch. One of the newsmen turned to his partner. What's going on down there? I think it's all over. Yes, look, they're opening up the booths. Somebody must have scored a victory. They watched intently while the other newsmen quickly filed back into the gallery. There's O'Dall. He looks happy. Guess that means... Good Lord, look at Dulac! Chapter 2 Dr. Leo was lecturing at the Coronet Regional University when the news of Dulac's duel reached him. An assistant professor perpetrated the unthinkable breach of interrupting the lecture to whisper the news in his ear. Leo nodded grimly, harriedly finished his lecture and then accompanied the assistant professor to the university president's office. They stood in silence as the slideway whisked them through the strolling students and blossoming greenery of the quietly busy campus. Leo remained wrapped in his thoughts as they entered the administration building and rode the lift tube. Finally as they stepped through the president's doorway Leo asked the assistant professor, you say he was in a state of catatonic shock when they removed him from the machine? He still is, the president answered from his desk, completely withdrawn from the real world, cannot speak here or even see a living vegetable. Leo plopped down on the nearest chair and ran a hand across his fleshy face. He was balding and jolly but his face was creased from a smile that was almost habitual and his eyes were active and alert. I don't understand it, he admitted, nothing like this has ever happened in the dueling machine before. The university president shrugged. I don't understand it either but this is your business. He put a slight emphasis on the last word unconsciously perhaps. Well, at least this will not reflect on the university, that is why I formed Psychotronics as a separate business enterprise. Then he added with a grin, the money was of course only a secondary consideration. The president managed to smile. Of course. I suppose the Aquitanians want to see me, Leo asked academically. They're on the tridi now, waiting for you. They're holding a transmission frequency open over 800 parsecs? Leo looked impressed. I must be an important man. You're the inventor of the dueling machine and the head of Psychotronics Inc. You're the only man who can tell them what went wrong. Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting. You can take the call here, the president said, starting to get from his chair. No, no, stay there at your desk, Leo insisted. There's no reason for you to leave, or you either, he said to the assistant professor. The president touched a button on his desk communicator. The far wall of the office glowed momentarily then seemed to dissolve. They were looking into another office, this one on Aquitania. It was crowded with nervous looking men in business clothes and military uniforms. Gentlemen, Dr. Leo said. Several of the Aquitanians tried to answer him at once. After a few seconds of talking together, they all looked toward one of their members, a tall, purposeful, shrewd-faced civilian who bore a neatly trimmed black beard. I am Ferned Massan, the acting prime minister of Aquitania. You realize, of course, the crisis that has been precipitated in my government because of this duel. Leo blinked. I realized that apparently there has been some difficulty with the dueling machine installed on the governing planet of your star cluster. Political crises are not my field. But your dueling machine has incapacitated the prime minister, one of the generals bellowed. And at this particular moment the defense minister added, in the midst of our difficulties with the Kerak worlds, if the prime minister is not gentlemen, Leo objected, I cannot make sense of your story if you all speak at once. Massan gestured them to silence. The dueling machine, Leo said, adopting a slightly professorial tone, is nothing more than a psychonic device for alleviating human aggressions and hostilities. It allows for two men to share a dream world created by one of them. There is a nearly complete feedback between the two. Within certain limits, two men can do anything they wish within their dream world. This allows men to settle grievances with violence in the safety of their own imaginations. If the machine is operated properly, no physical or mental harm can be done to the participants. They can alleviate their tensions safely without damage of any sort to anyone and without hurting society. Your own government tested one of the machines and approved its use on aquitania more than three years ago. I see several of you who were among those to whom I personally demonstrated the device. Dueling machines are in use through wide portions of the galaxy and I am certain that many of you have used the machine. You have, General, I'm sure. The general blustered. That has nothing to do with the matter at hand. Admittedly, Leo conceded, but I do not 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 stellar governments of our neighboring territories. These negotiations concern the rearmament of the Karak worlds. You have heard of Canis of Karak? I recall the name vaguely. Leo said, He's a political leader of some sort. Of the worst sort. He has acquired complete dictatorship of the Karak worlds and is now attempting to rearm them for war. This is in direct countervention of the Treaty of Aquitania signed only 30 Terran years ago. I see, the treaty was signed at the end of the Aquitaine Treaty. This is in direct countervention of the Treaty of Aquitania signed only 30 Terran years ago. I see, the treaty was signed at the end of the Aquitaine Karak war, wasn't it? A war that we won, the general pointed out. And now the Karak worlds want to rearm and try again? Leo said. Precisely. Leo shrugged. Why not call in the Starwatch? This is their type of police activity and what has all this to do with the dueling machine? Masan explained patiently. The Aquitaine cluster has never become a full-fledged member of the Terran Commonwealth. Our neighboring territories are likewise unaffiliated. Therefore, the Starwatch can intervene only if all parties concerned agree to intervention. Unless, of course, there is an actual military emergency. The Karak worlds, of course, are completely isolationist, unbound by any laws except those of force. Leo shook his head. As for the dueling machine, Masan went on. Canis of Karak has turned it into a political weapon. But that's impossible. Your government passed strict laws concerning the use of the machine. I recommended them and I was in your council chambers when the laws were passed. The machine may be used only for personal grievance. It is strictly outside the realm of politics. Masan shook his head sadly. Sir, laws are one thing. People are another. And politics consists of people, not words on paper. I don't understand, Leo said. Masan explained. A little more than one Terran year ago, Canis picked a quarrel with a neighboring star group, the Safad Federation. He wanted an especially favorable trade arrangement with them. Their minister of trade objected most strenuously. One of Karak's 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 that he could no longer effectively fight against the will of Odal and his group. He was psychologically incapable of it. Two weeks later, he was dead. Apparently a suicide, although I have doubts. That's extremely interesting, Leo said. Three days ago Masan continued. The same major Odal engaged Prime Minister Dulak in a bitter personal argument. Odal is now a military attaché of the Karak Embassy here. He accused the Prime Minister of cowardice before a large group of an embassy party. The Prime Minister had no alternative but to challenge him. And now, and now Dulak is in a state of shock and your government is tottering. Masan's back stiffened. Our government shall not fail, nor shall the aquitaine cluster acquiesce to the rearmament of the Karak worlds. But, his voice lowered. Without Dulak, I fear that our neighboring governments will give in to Canis' demands and allow him to rearm. Alone, we are powerless to stop him. Rearmament itself might not be so bad, Leo mused. If you can keep the Karak worlds from using their weapons, perhaps the Starwatch might... Canis could strike a blow and conquer a star system before the Starwatch could be summoned and arrive to stop him. Once Karak is armed, this entire area of the galaxy is in peril. In fact, the entire galaxy is endangered. And he's using the dueling machine to further his ambitions? Leo said. Well, gentlemen, it seems I have no alternative but to travel to the aquitaine cluster. The dueling machine is my responsibility, and if there is something wrong with it or the use of it, I will do my best to correct the situation. That is all we ask, Masan said. Thank you. The Aquitainian scene faded away, and the three men in the university president's office found themselves looking at a solid wall once again. Well, Dr. Leo 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 your request, even though the year is only half finished. I regret the necessity, Leo said. Then, with a broad grin, he added, My assistant professor here can handle my courses for the remainder of the year very easily. Perhaps he will even be able to deliver his lectures without being interrupted. The assistant professor turned red. Now then, Leo muttered mostly to himself, Who is this Canis, and why is he trying to turn the Kerak worlds into an arsenal? Chapter 3 Chancellor Canis, the supreme leader of the Kerak world, stood at the edge of the balcony and looked across the wild, tumbling gorge to the rugged mountains beyond. These are the forces that mulled men's actions, he said to his small audience of officials and advisors. 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, Canis said. Just as a thunderstorm terrifies them, we will make them bend to our will. We will destroy the past, said one of the ministers. And avenged the memory of defeat, Canis added. He turned and looked at the little group of men. Canis was the smallest man on the balcony, short, spare, salo-faced, 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 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. You shall, and you already have, Canis said, beaming. Already the Aquitanians are thrashing about like a snake whose head has been cut off. Without doulac they have no head, no brain to direct them. For your part in this triumph, Canis snapped his fingers and one of his advisors quickly stepped to his side and handed him a small ebony box. I present you with this token of the esteem of the Karak worlds and of my personal high regard. He handed the box to Odal, who opened it and took out a small jeweled pin. The Star of Karak, Canis announced. This is the first time it has been awarded to anyone except a warrior on the battlefield. But then we have turned their so-called civilized machine into our own battlefield, eh? Odal grinned. Yes, sir, we have. Thank you very much, sir. This is the supreme moment of my life. To date, Major, only to date, there will be other moments, even higher ones. Come, let's go inside. We have many plans to discuss, more duels, more triumphs. They all filed into Canis's huge elaborate office. The leader walked across the plushly ornate room and sat at the elevated desk while his followers arranged themselves in the chairs and couches placed about the floor. Odal remained standing near the doorway. Canis let his fingers flick across a small control board set into his desktop and a tridimensional star map glowed into existence on the far wall. At its center were the eleven stars that harbored the Karak worlds. Around them stood neighboring stars, color-coded, to show their political groupings. Off to one side of the map was the aquitaine cluster, a rich mass of stars, wealthy, powerful, the most important political and economic power in this section of the galaxy, until yesterday's duel. Canis began one of his inevitable harangues. Objectives, political and military. Already the Karak worlds were unified under his dominant will. The people would follow wherever he led. Already the political alliances built up by the aquitainian diplomacy since the last war were tottering. Now that Dulak was out of the picture, now was the time to strike. A political blow here at the Zarno Confederacy to bring them and their armaments industries into line with Karak. Then more political strikes to isolate the aquitaine cluster from its allies and to build up the subservient states for Karak. Then finally the military blow against the aquitainians. A sudden strike, a quick, decisive series of blows, and the aquitainians will collapse like a house of paper. Before the Starwatch can interfere, we will be masters of the cluster. Then with the resources of Aquitania to draw on, we can challenge any force in the galaxy, even the Terran Commonwealth itself. The men in the room nodded their assent. They've heard this story many, many times. Odal thought to himself. This was the first time he had been privileged to listen to it. If you closed your eyes or looked only at the star map, the plan sounded bizarre, extreme, even impossible. But if you watched Canis and let those piercing almost hypnotic eyes fasten on yours, then the leader's wildest dream sounded not only exciting, but inevitable. Odal leaned a shoulder against the paneled wall and scanned the other men in the room. There was Fat Grieber, the vice chancellor, fighting desperately to stay awake after drinking too much wine during the luncheon and afterward. And Modal, sitting on the couch next to him, was bright-eyed and alert, thinking only of how much money and power would come to him as chief of industries once the re-armament program began in earnest. Sitting alone on another couch was Kor, the quiet one, the head of intelligence and, technically, Odal's superior. Silent Kor, whose few words were usually charged with terror for those whom he spoke against. Marshal Lugal looked bored when Canis spoke of politics, but his face changed when military matters came up. The Marshal lived for only one purpose, to avenge his army's humiliating defeat in the war against the Aquitanians 30 turn years ago. What he didn't realize, Odal thought, smiling to himself, was that as soon as he had reorganized the army and re-equipped it, Canis planned to retire him and place younger men in charge. Men whose only loyalty was not to the army, not even to the Kerak worlds and their people, but to the chancellor himself. Eagerly following every syllable, every gesture of the leader was little Tenth. Born to the nobility, trained in the arts, a student of philosophy, Tenth had deserted his heritage and joined the forces of Canis. His reward had been the Ministry of Education. Many teachers had suffered under him. And finally there was Ramos, the Minister of Intergovernmental Affairs, a professional diplomat and one of the few men in government before Canis's sweep to power to survive this long. It was clear that Ramos hated the chancellor, but he served the Kerak worlds well. The diplomatic corps was flawless in their handling of interconfermental affairs. It was only a matter of time Odal knew before one of them, Ramos or Canis, killed the other. The rest of Canis's audience consisted of political hacks, rough necks turned bodyguards and a few other hangers on who had been with Canis since the days when he held his political monologues in cellars and haunted the alleys to avoid the police. Canis had come a long way from the blackness of oblivion to the dazzling heights of the chancellor's rural estate. Money, power, glory, revenge, patriotism. Each man in the room listening to Canis had his reasons for following the chancellor. And my reasons? Odal asked himself. Why do I follow him? Can I see into my own mind as easily as I see into theirs? There was duty, of course. Odal was a soldier and Canis was the duly elected leader of the government. Once elected, though, he had dissolved the government and solidified his powers as absolute dictator of the Kerak worlds. There was gain to be had by performing well under Canis, regardless of his political ambitions and personal tyrannies. Canis rewarded well when he was pleased. The medal, the Star of Kerak, carried with it an annual pension that would nicely accommodate a family. If I had one, Odal thought sardonically. There was power of sorts also. Working the dueling machine in his special way, hammering a man into nothingness, finding the weaknesses in his personality and exploiting them, pitting his mind against others, turning sneering towers of pride like Dulak into helpless whipped dogs. That was power. And it was a power that did not go unnoticed in the cities of the Kerak worlds. Already Odal was easily recognized on the streets. Women especially seem to be attracted to him now. The most important factor, Canis was saying, and I cannot stress it over much, is to build up an aura of invincibility. This is why your work is so important, Major Odal. You must be invincible, because today you represent the collective will of the Kerak worlds. Today you are the instrument of my own will, and you must triumph at every turn. The fate of your people, of your government, of your chancellor rests squarely on your shoulders each time you step into a dueling machine. You have borne that responsibility well, Major. Can you carry it even further? I can, sir, Odal answered crisply, and I will. Canis beamed at him. Good, because your next duel, and those that follow it, will be to the death. Chapter 4 It took the Starship two weeks to make the journey from Karane to the Aquitaine Cluster. Dr. Leo spent the time checking over the Aquitainian dueling machine by direct tridi beam. The Aquitainian government gave him all the technicians' time and money he needed for the task. Leo spent as much of his spare time as possible with the other passengers of the ship. He was gregarious, a fine conversationalist, and had a nicely balanced sense of humor. Particularly, he was a favorite of the younger women, since he had reached the age where he could flatter them with his attention without making them feel endangered. But still, there were long hours when he was alone in his state room with nothing but his memories. At times like these, it was impossible not to think back over the road he had been following. Albert Robertus Leo, Ph.D., Professor of Physics, Professor of Electronics, Master of Computer Technology, Inventor of the Interstellar Tridi Communication System, and more recently, Student of Psychology, Professor of Psychophysiology, Founder of Psychonics, Inc., Inventor of the Dueling Machine. During his earlier years, when the supreme confidence of youth was still with him, Leo had envisioned himself as helping mankind to spread his colonies and civilizations throughout the galaxy. The bitter years of galactic war had ended in his childhood, and now human societies throughout the Milky Way were linked together, in greater or lesser degree of union, into a more or less peaceful coalition of star groups. There were two great motivating forces at work on those human societies spread across the stars, and these forces worked toward opposite goals. On the one hand was the urge to explore, to reach new stars, new planets, to expand the frontiers of man's civilizations and found new colonies, new nations. Pitted against this drive to expand was an equally powerful force. The realization that technology had finally put an end to physical labor and almost to poverty itself on all the civilized worlds of man. The urge to move off to the frontier was penned in and buried alive under the innervating comforts of civilization. The result was inescapable. The civilized worlds became constantly more crowded as time wore on. They became jam-packed islands of humanity, sprinkled thinly across the sea of space that was still full of unpopulated islands. The expense and difficulty of interstellar travel was often cited as an excuse. The starships were expensive, their power demands were frightful, only the most determined and the best financed groups of colonists could afford them. The rest of mankind accepted the ease and safety of civilization, lived in the bulging cities of the teeming planets. Their lives were circumscribed by their neighbors and by their governments. Constantly more people crowding into a fixed living space meant constantly less freedom. The freedom to dream, to run free, to procreate all became state-owned, state-controlled monopolies. And Leo had contributed to this situation. He had contributed his thoughts and his work. He had contributed often and regularly. The interstellar communications system was only one outstanding achievement in a long career of achievements. Leo had been nearly at the voluntary retirement age for scientists when he realized what he and his fellow scientists had done. Their efforts to make life richer and more rewarding for mankind had made life only less strenuous and more rigid. And with every increase in comfort Leo discovered came a corresponding increase in neuroses, in crimes of violence, in mental aberrations. Senseless wars of pride broke out between star groups for the first time in generations. Outwardly the peace of the galaxy was assured, but beneath the glossy surface of the Terran Commonwealth there smoldered the beginnings of a volcano. Police actions fought by the Star Watch were increasing ominously. Petty wars between once stable peoples were flaring up steadily. Once Leo realized the part he had played in this increasingly tragic drama he was confronted with two emotions. A deep sense of guilt, both personal and professional, and countering this a determination to do something, anything to restore at least some balance to man's collective mentality. Leo stepped out of physics and electronics and entered the field of psychology. Instead of retiring he applied for a beginner's status in his new position. It had taken considerable bending and straining of the Commonwealth rules, but for a man of Leo's stature the rules could be flexed somewhat. Leo became a student once again, then a researcher, and finally a professor of psychophysiology. Out of this came the dueling machine, a combination of electroencephalograph and auto-computer, a dream machine that amplified a man's imagination until he could engulf himself into a world of his own making. Leo envisioned it as a device to enable men to rid themselves of hostility and tension safely. Through his efforts and those of his colleagues, dueling machines were quickly becoming accepted devices for settling disputes. When two men had a severe difference of opinion, deep enough to warrant legal action, they could go to the dueling machine instead of the courts. Instead of sitting helplessly and watching the machinations of the law grind impersonally through their differences, the two antagonists could allow their imaginations free reign in the dueling machine. They could settle their differences personally as violently as they wished without hurting themselves or anyone else. In most civilized worlds the results of properly monitored duels were accepted as legally binding. The tensions of civilized life could be escaped, albeit temporarily, in the dueling machine. This was a powerful tool, much too powerful to allow it to be used indiscriminately. Therefore, Leo safeguarded his invention by forming a private company, Psychonics Inc., and securing an exclusive license from the Terran Commonwealth to manufacture, sell, install and maintain the machines. His customers were government health and legal agencies. His responsibilities were legally to the Commonwealth, morally to all mankind, and finally to his own restless conscience. The dueling machines succeeded. They worked as well and often better than Leo had anticipated, but he knew that they were only a stopgap, only a temporarily shoring of a constantly eroding dam. What was needed, really needed, was some method of exploding the status quo, some means of convincing people to reach out for those unoccupied unexplored stars that filled the galaxy, some way of convincing men that they should leave the comforts of civilization for the excitement of colonization. Leo had been searching for that method when the news of Dulac's duel against Odal reached him. Now he was speeding across parsecs of space, praying to himself that the dueling machine had not failed. The two-week flight ended. The starship took up a parking orbit around the capital planet of Aquatain Cluster. The passengers trans-shipped to the surface. Dr. Leo was met at the landing-disk by an official delegation headed by Massan, the acting prime minister. They exchanged formal greetings there at the base of the ship while the other passengers hurried by. As Leo and Massan surrounded by the other members of the delegation rode the slideway to the port's administration building, Leo commented, As you probably know I have checked through your dueling machine quite thoroughly via tri-die for the past two weeks. I can find nothing wrong with it. Massan shrugged. Perhaps you should have checked then the machine on Zarno. The Zarno confederation, their dueling machine? Yes. This morning Canis's hired assassin killed a man in it. He won another duel? Leo said. You do not understand, Massan said grimly. Major O'Doll's opponent, an industrialist who had spoken out against Canis, was actually killed in the dueling machine. The man is dead. Chapter 5 One of the advantages of being commander-in-chief of the Starwatch, the old man thought to himself, is that you can visit any planet in the Commonwealth. He stood at the top of the hill and looked out over the green-table land of Kenya. This was the land of his birth. Earth was his home world. The Starwatch's official headquarters may be in the heart of a globular cluster of stars near the center of the galaxy, but Earth was the place the commander wanted to see most as he grew older and wearier. An aide who had been following the commander at a respectful distance suddenly intruded himself into the old man's reverie. Sir, a message for you. The commander scowled at the young officer. I gave orders that I was not to be disturbed. The officer slim and stiff in his black and silver uniform replied, Your chief of staff has passed the message on to you, sir. It's from Dr. Leo of Karine University, personal and urgent, sir. The old man grumbled to himself but nodded. The aide placed a small crystalline sphere on the grass before him. The air above the sphere started to vibrate and glow. Sir Harold Spencer here, the commander said. The bubbling air seemed to draw in on itself and take solid form. Dr. Leo sat at a desk chair and looked up at the standing commander. Harold, it's a pleasure to see you once again. Spencer's stern eyes softened and his beefy face broke into a well-creased smile. Albert, you ancient scoundrel, what do you mean by interrupting my first visit home in fifteen years? It won't be a long interruption, Leo said. You told my chief of staff that it was urgent, Sir Harold groused. It is, but it's not the sort of problem that requires much action on your part. Yet you are familiar with recent political developments on the Kerak worlds? Spencer snorted. I know that a barbarian named Canis has established himself as a dictator. He's a troublemaker. I've been talking to the Commonwealth Council about the advisability of quashing him before he causes grief. But you know the council. First wait until the flames have sprung up, then thrash about and demand that the Starwatch do something. Leo grinned. You're as irascible as ever. My personality is not the subject of this rather expensive discussion. What about Canis and what are you doing getting yourself involved in politics? About to change your profession again? No, not at all. Leo answered laughing. Then more seriously, it seems as though Canis has discovered some method of using the dueling machines to achieve political advantages over his neighbors. What? Leo explained the circumstances of Odell's duels with the Aquitainian Prime Minister and the Zarno Industrialist. Do lack is completely incapacitated and the other poor fellow is dead? Spencer's face darkened into a thunder cloud. You were right to call me. This is a situation that could easily become intolerable. I agree, Leo said, but evidently Canis has not broken any laws or interstellar agreements. All that meets the eye is a disturbing pair of accidents, both of them accruing to Canis's benefit. Do you believe they were accidents? Certainly not. The dueling machine cannot cause physical or mental harm unless someone has tampered with it in some way. That is my thought too. Spencer was silent for a moment, weighing the matter in his mind. Very well. The Starwatch cannot act officially, but there is nothing to prevent me from dispatching an officer to the Aquitain cluster on detached duty to serve as a liaison between us. Good. I think that will be the most effective method of handling the situation at present. It will be done, Sir Harold pronounced. His aide made a mental note of it. Thank you very much, Leo said. Now go back to enjoying your vacation. Vacation? This is no vacation, Spencer rumbled. I happen to be celebrating my birthday. So? Well, congratulations. I try not to remember mine, Leo said. Then you must be older than I, Spencer replied, allowing only the faintest hint of a smile to appear. I suppose it's possible. But not very likely, eh? They laughed together and said good-bye. The Starwatch commander tramped through the hills until sunset, enjoying the sight of the grasslands and distant purple mountains he had known in his childhood. As dusk closed in, he told his aide he was ready to leave. The aide pressed a stud on his belt and a two-place air-car skimmed silently from the far side of the hills and hovered beside them. Spencer climbed in laboriously while the aide remained discreetly at his side. While the commander settled his bulk into his seat, the aide harried around the car and hopped into his place. The car glided off towards Spencer's personal planet ship, waiting for him at a nearby field. Don't forget to assign an officer to Dr. Leo, the commander muttered to his aide. Then he turned and watched the unmatchable beauty of an earthly sunset. The aide did not forget the assignment. That night, as Sir Harold's ship spiraled out to a rendezvous with a starship, the aide dictated the necessary order into an autodispatcher that immediately beamed it to the Starwatch's nearest communications center on Mars. The order was scanned and routed automatically and finally beamed to the Starwatch unit commandant in charge of the area closest to the Aquitaine cluster, on the sixth planet circling the star Perseus Alpha. Here again the order was processed automatically and routed through the local headquarters to the personnel files. The automated files selected three microcard dossiers that matched the requirements of the order. The three microcards and the order itself appeared simultaneously on the desktop viewer of the Starwatch personnel officer. He looked at the order, then read the dossiers. He flicked a button that gave him an updated status report on each of the three men in question. One was due for leave after an extensive period of duty. The second was the son of a personal friend of the local commandant. The third had just arrived a few weeks ago, fresh from the Starwatch Academy on Mars. The personnel officer selected the third man, routed his dossier and Sir Harold's order back into the automatic processing system, and returned to the film of primitive dancing girls he had been watching before this matter of decision had arrived at his desk. And of Part One of the Dueling Machine by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis. Part Two of the Dueling Machine by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Greg Marguerite. Part Two of the Dueling Machine by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis. Chapter Six The space station orbiting around Aquitania, the capital planet of the Aquitaine cluster, served simultaneously as a transfer point from starships to planet ships. A tourist resort, a meteorological station, communication center, scientific laboratory, astronomical observatory, medical haven for allergy and cardiac patients, and military base. It was in reality a good-sized city with its own markets, its own local government, and its own way of life. Dr. Leo had just stepped off the debarking ramp of the starship from Zarno. The trip there had been pointless and fruitless, but he had gone anyway in the slim hope that he might find something wrong with the Dueling Machine that had been used to murder a man. A shudder went through him as he edged along the automated custom scanners and paper checkers. What kind of people could these men of Kerak be to actually kill a human being in cold blood to plot and plan the death of a fellow man? Worse than Barbaric. Savage! He felt tired as he left customs and took the slideway to the planetary shuttleships. Halfway there he decided to check at the communications desk for messages. That Starwatch officer that Sir Harold had promised him a week ago should have arrived by now. The communications desk consisted of a small booth that contained the output printer of a communications computer and an attractive young dark-haired girl. Automation or not, Leo thought smilingly, there were certain human values that transcended mere efficiency. A lanky, thin-faced youth was half leaning on the booth's counter trying to talk to the girl. He had curly blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. His clothes consisted of an ill-fitting pair of slacks and tunic. A small traveler's kit rested on the floor at his feet. So I was sort of, well, thinking maybe somebody might show me around the little. He was stammering to the girl. I've never been here. It's the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, the girl was saying. Its cities are the finest. Yes, well, I was sort of thinking, that is, I know we just met a few minutes ago, but well, maybe, if you have a free day or so coming up, maybe, maybe we could sort of... She smiled coolly. I have two days off at the end of the week, but I'll be staying here at the station. There's so much to see and do here, I very seldom leave. Oh. You're making a mistake, Leo interjected dogmatically. If you have such a beautiful planet for your home world, why in the name of the gods of the intellect don't you go down there and enjoy it? I'll wager you haven't been out in the natural beauty and fine cities you spoke of since you started working here on the station. Why, you're right, she said surprised. You see, you youngsters are all alike. You never think further than the ends of your noses. You should return to the planet young lady and see the sunshine again. Why don't you visit the university at the capital city? Plenty of open space and greenery, lots of sunshine and available young men. Leo was grinning broadly and the girl smiled back at him. Perhaps I will, she said. Ask for me when you get to the university. I'm Dr. Leo. I'll see to it that you are introduced to some of the girls and gentlemen of your own age. Why, thank you doctor. I'll do it this weekend. Good. Now then, any messages for me? Anyone aboard the station looking for me? The girl turned and tapped a few keys on the computer's console. A row of lights flicked briefly across the console's face. She turned back to Leo. No sir, I'm sorry, no message and no one has asked for you. Hmm, that's strange. Well, thank you and I'll expect to see you at the end of this week. The girl smiled a fair well. Leo started to walk away from the booth back toward the slideway. The young man took a step toward him, stumbled on his own traveling kit and staggered across the floor for a half a dozen steps before regaining his balance. Leo turned and saw that the youth's face bore a somewhat ridiculous expression of mixed indecision and curiosity. Can I help you? Leo asked, stopping at the edge of the moving slideway. How? How did you do that, sir? Do what? Get that girl to agree to visit the university. I've been talking to her for half an hour and, well, she wouldn't even look straight at me. Leo broke into a chuckle. Well, young man, to begin with, you were much too flustered. It made you appear over-anxious. On the other hand, I am at an age where I can be strictly platonic. She was on guard against you, but she knows she has very little to fear from me. I see, I think. Well, Leo said gesturing toward the slideway. I suppose this is where we go our separate ways. Oh, no, sir, I'm going with you. That is, I mean, you are Dr. Leo, aren't you? Yes, I am, and you must be. Leo hesitated. Can this be a Star Watch officer? He wondered. The youth stiffened to attention, and for an absurd flash of a second Leo thought he was going to salute. I am Junior Lieutenant Hector, sir, on special-detached duty from the cruiser SW-4J188, home-based Perseus Alpha-6. I see, Leo replied. Uh, is Hector your first name or your last? Both, sir. I should have guessed. Leo told himself. Allowed, he said. Well, Lieutenant, we better get to the shuttle before it leaves without us. They took the slideway. Half a second later, Hector jumped off and dashed back to the communications desk for his traveling kit. He hurried back to Leo, bumping into seven bewildered citizens of various descriptions, and nearly breaking both legs when he tripped as he ran back on to the moving slideway. He went down on his face, sprawled across two lanes, moving at different speeds, and needed the assistance of several persons before he was again on his feet and standing beside Leo. I—I'm sorry to cause all that commotion, sir. That's all right. You weren't hurt, were you? Uh, no, I—I don't think so. Just embarrassed. Leo said nothing. They rode the slideway in silence through the busy station and out to the enclosed berths where the planetary shuttles were docked. They boarded one of the ships and found a pair of seats. Just how long have you been with Starwatch, Lieutenant? Six weeks, sir. Three weeks aboard a starship, bringing me out to Perseus Alpha-6, a week at the planetary base there, and two weeks aboard the cruiser SW-4J-188. That is, it's been six weeks since I received my commission. I've been at the Academy—the Starwatch Academy—on Mars for four years. You got through the Academy in four years? That's the regulation time, sir. Yeah, I know. The ship eased out of its berth. There was a moment of free fall, then the drive engines came on and the grab-field equilibrated. Tell me, Lieutenant, how did you get picked for this assignment? I wish I knew, sir, Hector said, his lean face twisting into a puzzled frown. I was working out a program for the navigation officer, aboard the cruiser. I'm pretty good at that. I can work out computer programs in my head, mostly. The mathematics was my best subject at the Academy. Interesting. Yes, well, anyway, I was working out this program when the captain himself came on deck and started shaking my hand, telling me that I was being sent on special duty on Aquitania by direct orders of the Commander-in-Chief. He seemed very happy. The captain, that is. He was no doubt pleased to see you get such an unusual assignment, Leo said tactfully. I'm not sure, Hector said truthfully. I think he regarded me as some sort of a problem, sir. He had me on a different duty berth practically every day. I was on board the ship. Well, now, Leo changed the subject. What do you know about psychonics? About what, sir? A electroencephalography. Hector looked blank. Psychology, perhaps? Leo suggested, hopefully. Physiology? Computer and electronics? I'm pretty good at mathematics. Yes, I know. Did you, by any chance, receive any training in diplomatic affairs? At the Starwatch Academy? No, sir. Leo ran a hand through his thinning hair. Then why did the Starwatch select you for this job? I must confess, Lieutenant, that I can't understand the workings of a military organization. Hector shook his head ruefully. Neither do I, sir. Chapter 7 The next week was an innervatingly slow one for Leo. Evenly divided between tedious checking of each component of the dueling machine and shameless rouses to keep Hector alive. Each component of the dueling machine and shameless rouses to keep Hector as far away from the machine as possible. The Starwatch man certainly wanted to help, and he actually was little short of brilliant in doing intricate mathematics completely in his head. But he was, Leo found, a clumsy, chattering, whistling, scatterbrained and experienced bundle of noise and nerves. It was impossible to do constructive work with him nearby. Perhaps you're judging him too harshly. Leo warned himself. You just might be letting your frustrations with the dueling machine get the better of your sense of balance. The professor was sitting in the office that the Aquitanians had given him in one end of the former lecture hall that held the dueling machine. Leo could see its impassive metal hulk through the open office door. The room he was sitting in had been one of a suite of offices used by the permanent staff of the machine. But they had moved out of the building completely in deference to Leo, and the Aquitanian government had turned the other cubby-haul offices into sleeping rooms for the professor and the Starwatch man and an auto-kitchen. The combination cook, valet, handyman appeared twice each day, morning and evening, to handle any special chores that the cleaning machines and auto-kitchens did. Leo slouched back in his desk chair and cast a weary eye on the snack of papers that recorded the latest performances of the machine. Earlier that day he had taken the electroencephalographic records of clinical cases of catatonia and run them through the machine's input unit. The machine immediately rejected them, refused to process them through the amplification units and association circuits. In other words, the machine had recognized the EEG traces as something harmful to a human being. Then how did it happen to Dulac? Leo asked himself for the thousandth time. It couldn't have been the machine's fault. It must have been something in Odal's mind that simply overpowered Dulacs. Overpowered? That's a terribly unscientific term, Leo argued against himself. Before he could carry the debate any further he heard the main door of the big chamber slide open and then bang shut and Hector's off-key whistle shrilled and echoed through the high vaulted room. Leo sighed and put his self-contained argument off to the back of his mind, trying to think logically near Hector was a hopeless prospect. Are you in, doctor? Hector's voice rang out. In here Hector ducked in through the doorway and plopped his rangy frame on the office's couch. Everything going well, sir? Leo shrugged. Not very well, I'm afraid. I can't find anything wrong with the dueling machine. I can't even force it to malfunction. Well, that's good, isn't it? Hector chirped happily. In a sense, Leo admitted, feeling slightly netdled at the youth's boundless, pointless optimism. But you see it means that Canis's people can do things with the machine that I can't. Hector frowned considering the problem. Hmm. Yes, I guess that's right too, isn't it? Did you see the girl back to her ship safely? Leo asked. Yes, sir. Hector replied, bobbing his head vigorously. She's on her way back to the communications booth at the space station. She said to tell you she enjoyed her visit very much. Good. It was very good of you to escort her about the campus. It kept her out of my hair. What's left of it, that is? Hector grinned. Oh, I liked showing her around and all that, and well, it sort of kept me out of your hair too, didn't it? Leo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hector laughed. Doctor, I may be clumsy and I'm certainly no scientist, but I'm not completely brainless. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. No, no, don't be sorry. It didn't mean that to sound so well the way it sounded, that is. I know I'm just in your way. He started to get up. Leo waved him back to the couch. Relax, my boy, relax. You know, I've been sitting here all afternoon wondering what to do next. Somehow, just now, I came to a conclusion. Yes? I'm going to leave the aquitaine cluster and return to Coronet. What? But you can't. I mean, why not? I'm not accomplishing anything here. Whatever it is that this Odal and Canis have been doing, it's basically a political problem and not a scientific one. The professional staff of the machine here will catch up to their tricks sooner or later. But sir, if you can't find the answer, how can they? Frankly, I don't know. But as I said, this is a political problem more than a scientific one. I'm tired and frustrated and I'm feeling my years. I want to return to Coronet and spend the next few months considering beautifully abstract problems about instantaneous transportation devices. Let Mason and the Starwatch worry about Canis. Oh, that's what I came to tell you. Mason has been challenged to a duel by Odal. What? This afternoon, Odal went to the council building, picked an argument with Mason right in the main corridor and challenged him. Mason accepted, Leo asked. Hector nodded. Leo leaned across his desk and reached for the phone unit. It took a few minutes and a few levels of secretaries and assistants, but finally, Mason's dark bearded face appeared on the screen above the desk. You have accepted Odal's challenge? Leo asked without preliminaries. We meet next week. Mason replied gravely. You should have refused. On what pretext? No pretext, a flat refusal based on the certainty that Odal or someone else from Kerak is tampering with the dueling machine. Mason shook his head sadly. My dear learned sir, you still do not comprehend the political situation. The government of the Aquitaine cluster is much closer to dissolution than I dare to admit openly. The coalition of star groups that Dulac had constructed to keep the Kerak worlds neutralized has broken apart completely. This morning, Canis announced that he would annex Zarno. This afternoon, Odal challenges me. I think I see. Of course, the Aquitainian government is paralyzed now until the outcome of the duel is known. We cannot effectively intervene in the Zarno crisis until we know who will be heading the government next week. And frankly, more than a few members of our council are now openly favoring Canis and urging that we establish friendly relations with him before it's too late. But that's all the more reason for refusing the duel, Leo insisted. And be accused of cowardice in my own council meetings? Mason smiled grimly. In politics, my dear sir, the appearance of a man means much more than his substance. As a coward, I would soon be out of office. But perhaps as the winner of a duel against the invincible Odal, or even as a martyr, I may accomplish something useful. Leo said nothing. Mason continued. I put off the duel for a week hoping that in that time you might discover Odal's secret. I dare not postpone the duel any longer, as it is the political situation may collapse about our heads at any moment. I'll take this machine apart and rebuild it again, molecule by molecule, Leo promised. As Mason's image faded from the screen, Leo turned to Hector. We have one week to save his life. And avert a war, maybe, Hector added. Yes. Leo leaned back in his chair and stared off into infinity. Hector shuffled his feet, rubbed his nose, whistled a few bars of off-key tunes, and finally blurted, How can you take apart the dueling machine? Hmm? Leo snapped out of his reverie. How can you take apart the dueling machine, Hector repeated. Looks like a big job to do in a week. Yes, it is, but my boy, perhaps we, the two of us, can do it. Hector scratched his head. Well, uh, sir, I'm not very... That is, my mechanical aptitude scores at the Academy. Leo smiled at him. No need for mechanical aptitude, my boy. You were trained to fight, weren't you? We can do the job mentally. Chapter 8 It was the strangest week of their lives. Leo's plan was straightforward. To test the dueling machine, push it to the limits of its performance by actually operating it. By fighting duels. They started off easily enough, tentatively probing and flexing their mental muscles. Leo had used the dueling machine himself many times in the past, but only in tests of the machine's routine performance, never in actual combat against another human being. To Hector, of course, the machine was a totally new and different experience. The Aquitainian staff plunged into the project without question, providing Leo with invaluable help in monitoring and analyzing the duels. At first, Leo and Hector did nothing more than play hide and seek with one of them picking an environment and the other trying to find his opponent in it. They wandered through jungles and cities over glaciers and interplanetary voids seeking each other without ever leaving the booths of the dueling machine. Then, when Leo was satisfied that the machine could reproduce and amplify thought patterns with strict fidelity, they began to fight light duels. They fenced with blunted foils, Hector won, of course, because of his much faster reflexes. Then they tried other weapons, pistols, sonic beams, grenades, but always wearing protective equipment. Strangely, even though Hector was trained in the use of these weapons, Leo won almost all the bouts. He was neither faster nor more accurate when they were target shooting, but when the two of them faced each other, somehow Leo almost always won. The machine projects more than thoughts, Leo told himself. It projects personality. They worked in the dueling machine day and night, now enclosed in the booths for 12 or more hours a day, driving themselves and the machine's regular staff to near exhaustion. When they gulped their meals between duels, they were physically ragged and sharp-tempered. They usually fell asleep in Leo's office while discussing the results of the day's work. The duels grew slowly more serious. Leo was pushing the machine to its limits now, carefully extending the rigors of each bout, and yet, even though he knew exactly what and how much he intended to do in each fight, it often took a conscious effort of will to remind himself that the battles he was fighting were actually imaginary. As the duels became more dangerous and the artificially amplified hallucinations began to end in blood and death, Leo found himself winning more and more frequently. With one part of his mind, he was driving to analyze the cause of his consistent success, but another part of him was beginning to really enjoy his paralysis. The strain was telling on Hector. The physical exertion of constant work and practically no relief was considerable in itself, but the emotional effects of being hurt and killed repeatedly were infinitely worse. Perhaps we should stop for a while. Leo suggested after the fourth day of tests, No, I'm all right. Leo looked at him. Hector's face was haggard, his eyes bleary. You've had enough, Leo said quietly. Please, don't make me stop. Hector begged. I... I can't stop now. Please, give me a chance to do better. I'm improving. I lasted twice as long in this afternoon's two duels as I did in the ones this morning. Please, don't end it now. Not while I'm completely lost. Leo stared at him. You want to go on? Yes, sir. And if I say no? Hector hesitated. Leo sensed he was struggling with himself. If you say no, he answered dully, then it will be no, I can't argue against you any more. Leo was silent for a long moment. Finally he opened a desk drawer and took a small bottle from it. Here, take a sleep capsule. When you wake up, we'll try again. It was dawn when they began again. Leo entered the tooling machine determined to allow Hector to win. He gave the youthful Starwatch man his choice of weapon and environment. Hector picked one man's scout ships in planetary orbits. Their weapons were conventional force beams. But despite his own conscious desire, Leo found himself winning. The ships spiraled about an unnamed planet, their paths intersecting at least once in every orbit. The problem was to estimate your opponent's orbital position and then program your ship so that you arrived at that position either behind or to one side of him. Then you could train your guns on him before he could turn on you. The problem should have been an easy one for Hector with his knack for intuitive mental calculation. But Leo scored the first hit. Hector had piloted his ship into an excellent firing position but his shot went wide. Leo maneuvered around clumsily but managed to register an inconsequential hit on the side of Hector's ship. In the next three passes Leo scored two more hits. Hector's ship was badly damaged now. In return the Starwatch man had landed one glancing shot on Leo's ship. They came around again and once more Leo had out guessed his younger opponent. He trained his guns on Hector's ship then hesitated with his hand poised above the firing button. Don't kill him again. He warned himself. His mind can't accept another defeat. But Leo's hand almost of its own will reached the button and touched it lightly. Another gram of pressure in the guns would fire. In that instance hesitation Hector pulled his crippled ship around and aimed at Leo. The watchman fired a searing blast that jarred Leo's ship from end to end. Leo's hand slammed down on the firing button. Whether he intended to do it or not he did not know. Leo's shot raked Hector's ship but did not stop it. The two vehicles were hurtling directly at each other. Leo tried desperately to avert a collision but Hector bored in grimly matching Leo's maneuvers with his own. The two ships smashed together and exploded. Abruptly Leo found himself in the cramped booth of his dueling machine, his body cold and damp with perspiration, his hands trembling. He squeezed out of the booth and took a deep breath. Warm sunlight was streaming into the high vaulted room. The white walls glared brilliantly. Through the tall windows he could see trees and people and clouds in the sky. Hector walked up to him. For the first time in several days the watchman was smiling. Not much, but smiling. Well, we broke even on that one. Leo smiled back somewhat shakily. Yes, it was quite an experience. I've never died before. Hector fidgeted. It's not so bad, I guess. It does sort of, well, shatter you, you know? Yes, I can see that now. Another duel, Hector asked, nodding his head toward the machine. Let's get out of this place for a few hours. Are you hungry? Starved. They fought seven more duels over the next day and a half. Hector won three of them. It was late afternoon when Leo called a halt to the tests. We can still get in another one or two, the watchman pointed out. No need, Leo said. I have all the data I require. Tomorrow my son meets Odal unless we can put a stop to it. We have much to do before tomorrow morning. Hector sagged into the couch. Just as well I think I've aged seven years in the past seven days. No, my boy. Leo said gently. You haven't aged. You've matured. Chapter 9 It was deep twilight when the ground car slid to a halt on its cushions of compressed air before the Karak Embassy. I still think it's a mistake to go in there, Hector said. I mean you could have called him on the tri-die just as well, couldn't you? Leo shook his head. Never give an agency of any government the opportunity to say, hold the line a moment and then huddle together to consider what to do with you. Nineteen times out of twenty they'll end by passing your request up to the next higher echelon and you'll be left waiting for weeks. Still, Hector insisted. You're simply stepping into enemy territory. It's a chance you shouldn't take. They wouldn't dare touch us. Hector did not reply but he looked unconvinced. Look, Leo said. There are only two men alive who can shed light on this matter. One of them is Dulak and his mind is closed to us for an indefinite time. Odal is the only other one who knows what happened. Hector shook his head skeptically. Leo shrugged and opened the door of the ground car. Hector had no choice but to get out and follow him as he walked up the pathway to the main entrance of the Embassy. The building stood gaunt and gray in the dusk surrounded by a precisely clipped hedge. The entrance was flanked by a pair of tall evergreen trees. Leo and Hector were met just inside the entrance by a female receptionist. She looked just a trifle disheveled as though she had been rushed to the desk at a moment's notice. They asked for Odal, were ushered into a sitting-room and within a few minutes to Hector's surprise were informed by the girl that major Odal would be with them shortly. You see, Leo pointed out jovially. When you come in person they haven't as much of a chance to consider how to get rid of you. Hector glanced around the windowless room and contemplated the thick, solidly closed door. There's a lot of scaring going on on the other side of that door, I'll bet. I mean, they may be considering how to, uh, get rid of us permanently. Leo shook his head, smiling riley. Undoubtedly the approach closest to their hearts, but highly improbable in the present situation. They have been making most efficient and effective use of the dueling machine to gain their ends. Odal picked this moment to open the door. Dr. Leo, Lieutenant Hector, you ask to see me? Thank you, Major Odal. I hope you will be able to help me, Leo said. You are the only man living who may be able to give us some clues to the failure of the dueling machine. Odal's answering smile reminded Leo of the best efforts of the robot puppet designers to make a machine that smiled like a man. I am afraid I can be of no assistance, Dr. Leo. My experiences in the machine are private. Perhaps you don't fully understand the situation, Leo said. In the past week we have tested the dueling machine here on Aquitania exhaustively. We have learned that its performance can be greatly influenced by a man's personality and by training. You have fought many duels in the machines. Your background of experience both as a professional soldier and in the machines gives you a decided advantage over your opponents. However, even with all this considered, I am convinced that you cannot kill a man in the machine under normal circumstances. We have demonstrated that fact in our tests. An unsabotaged machine cannot cause actual physical harm. Yet you have already killed one man and incapacitated another. Where will it stop? Odal's face remained calm except for the faintest glitter of fire deep in his eyes. His voice was quiet but had the edge of a well-honed blade to it. I cannot be blamed for my background and experience and I have not tampered with your machines. The door to the room opened and a short thick-set bullet-headed man entered. He was dressed in a dark street suit so that it was impossible to guess his station at the Embassy. Would the gentlemen care for refreshments? He asked in a low-pitched voice. No, thank you, Leo said. Some Karak wine perhaps. Well... I don't think we better, sir, Hector said. That thanks all the same. The man shrugged and sat at the chair next to the door. Odal turned back to Leo. Sir, I have my duty. Massan and I duel tomorrow. There is no possibility of postponing it. Very well, Leo said. Will you at least allow us to place some special instrumentation into the booth with you so that we can monitor the duel more fully? We can do the same with Massan. I know the duels are normally private and you would be within your legal rights to refuse the request, but morally. The smile returned to Odal's face. You wished to monitor my thoughts to record them and see how I performed during the duel. Interesting. Very interesting. The man at the door rose and said, if you have no desire for refreshments, gentlemen... Odal turned to him. Thank you for your attention. Their eyes met and locked for an instant. The man gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, then left. Odal returned his attention to Leo. I am sorry, Professor, but I cannot allow you to monitor my thoughts during the duel. But... I regret having to refuse you, but as you yourself pointed out, there is no legal requirement for such a course of action. I must refuse. I hope you understand. Leo rose from the couch and Hector popped up beside him. I am afraid I do understand and I too regret your decision. Odal escorted them out to their car. They drove away and the Kerak Major walked slowly back into the Embassy building. He was met in the hallway by the dark-suited man who had sat in on the conversation. I could have let them monitor my thoughts and still crush Massan, Odal said. It would have been a good joke on them. The man grunted. I have just spoken to the Chancellor on Tridi and obtained permission to make a slight adjustment in our plans. An adjustment, Minister Kor? After your duel tomorrow, your next opponent will be the eminent Dr. Leo, Kor said. Chapter 10 The mists swirled deep and impenetrable about ferned Massan. He stared blindly through the useless view-plate in his helmet, then reached up slowly and carefully to place the infrared detector before his eyes. I never realized a hallucination could seem so real, Massan thought. Since the challenge by Odal, he realized the actual world had seemed quite unreal. For a week he had gone through the motions of life, but felt as though he were standing aside, a spectator mind watching its own body fern. From a distance. The gathering of his friends and associates last night, the night before the duel, that silent funeral group of people it had seemed completely unreal to him. But now, in this manufactured dream, he seemed vibrantly alive. Every sensation was solid, stimulating. He could feel his pulse throbbing through him. Somewhere out in those mists he knew was Odal and the thought of coming to grips with the assassin filled him with a strange satisfaction. Massan had spent a good many years serving his government on the rich but inhospitable high-gravity planets of the Aquitaine Cluster. This was the environment he had chosen. Crushing gravity, killing pressures, atmosphere of ammonia and hydrogen laced with free radicals of sulfur and other valuable but deadly chemicals. Oceans of liquid methane and ammonia. Solid ground consisting of quickly crumbling eroding ice. Howling super-powerful winds that could pick up a mountain of ice and hurl it halfway around the planet. Darkness. Danger. Death. He was encased in a one-man protective outfit that was half armored suit, half vehicle. There was an internal grab-field to keep him comfortable in 3.7 Gs but still the suit was cumbersome and a man could move only very slowly in it, even with the aid of servo-motors. The weapon he had chosen was simplicity itself. A hand-sized capsule of oxygen. But in a hydrogen-ammonia atmosphere oxygen could be a deadly explosive. Massan carried several of these bombs. So did Odal. But the trick Massan thought to himself is to know how to throw them under these conditions. The proper range, the proper trajectory. Not an easy thing to learn without years of experience. The terms of the duel were simple. Massan and Odal were situated on a rough-topped iceberg that was being swirled along one of the methane-ammonia ocean's vicious currents. The ice was rapidly crumbling. The duel would end when the iceberg was completely broken up. Massan edged along the ragged terrain. His suit's grippers and rollers automatically adjusted to the roughness of the topography. He concentrated his attention on the infrared detector that hung before his view-plate. A chunk of ice the size of a man's head sailed through the murky atmosphere in a steep glide peculiar to heavy gravity and banged into the shoulder of Massan's suit. The force was enough to rock him slightly off-balance before the servos readjusted. Massan withdrew his arm from the sleeve and felt the inside of the shoulder seam. Dented, but not penetrated. A leak would have been disastrous, possibly fatal. Then he remembered, of course, I cannot be killed except by direct action of my antagonist. That is one of the rules of the game. Still, he carefully fingered the dented shoulder to make certain it was not leaking. The dueling machine and its rules seemed so very remote and unsubstantial compared to this freezing, howling inferno. He diligently set about combing the iceberg determined to find Odal and kill him before their floating island disintegrated. He thoroughly explored every projection, every crevice, every slope working his way slowly from one end of the burg toward the other, back and forth, cross and re-cross, with the infrared sensors scanning 360 degrees around him. It was time-consuming, even with the suit servo motors and propulsion units motion across the ice against the buffering wind was a cumbersome business. But Masan continued to work his way across the iceberg, fighting down a gnawing, growing fear that Odal was not there at all. And then he caught just the barest flicker of a shadow on his detector. Something or someone had darted behind a jutting rise of the ice off by the edge of the iceberg. Slowly and carefully Masan made his way toward the base of the rise. He picked one of the oxy bombs from his belt and held it in his right-hand claw. Masan edged around the base of the ice-cliff and stood on a narrow ledge between the cliff and the churning sea. He saw no one. He extended the detector's range to maximum and worked the scanners up the sheer face of the cliff toward the top. There he was. The shadowy outline of a man etched itself on the detector's screen, and at the same time Masan heard a muffled roar, then a rumbling, crashing noise, growing quickly louder and more menacing. He looked up the face of the ice-cliff and saw a small avalanche of ice tumbling, sliding, growling toward him. That devil set off a bomb at the top of the cliff. Masan tried to back out of the way, but it was too late. The first chunk of ice bounced harmlessly off his helmet, but the others knocked him off balance so repeatedly that the servos had no chance to recover. He staggered blindly for a few moments as more and more ice cascaded down on him, and then toppled off the ledge into the boiling sea. Relax, he ordered himself. Do not panic. The suit will float you. The servos will keep you right side up. You cannot be killed accidentally. Odal must perform the coup de gras himself. Then he remembered the emergency rocket units in the back of the suit. If he could orient himself properly, a touch of a control stud on his belt would set them off, and he would be boosted back onto the iceberg. He turned slightly inside the suit and tried to judge the iceberg's distance through the infrared detector. It was difficult, especially since he was bobbing madly in the churning currents. Finally he decided to fire the rocket and make final adjustments of distance and landing site after he was safely out of the sea. But he could not move his hand. He tried, but his entire right arm was locked fast. He could not budge at an inch and the same for the left. Something or someone was clamping his arms tight. He could not even pull them out of their sleeves. Masson thrashed about trying to shake off whatever it was. No use. Then his detector screen was lifted slowly from the view plate. He felt something vibrating on his helmet. The oxygen tubes. They were being disconnected. He screamed and tried to fight free. No use. With a hiss the oxygen tubes pulled free of his helmet. Masson could feel the blood pounding through his veins as he fought desperately to free himself. Now he was being pushed down into the sea. He screamed again and tried to wrench his body away. The frothing sea filled his view plate. He was under. He was being held under. And now, now the view plate itself was being loosened. No. Don't. The scalding cold methenomonia sea seeped in through the opening view plate. It's only a dream. Masson shouted to himself. Only a dream. A dream. A... End of Part 2 of The Dueling Machine by Ben Bova and Myron R. Lewis.