1

It was ironic, thought Odal, that they were using the dueling machine to torture him. For it was torture, no matter what they called it or how they smiled when they were doing it.

He sat there in the cramped cubicle, staring at its featureless walls, the blank view screen, waiting for them to begin.

The price of failure was heavy, too heavy. Kanus had made Odal the glory of Kerak while he was a success, while he was killing the enemies of Kerak.

Now they were killing him.

Not that they caused him any physical harm. He was not even under arrest, technically. Merely assigned to experimentation at Kor’s headquarters, the Ministry of Intelligence: a huge, stone, hilltop castle, ancient and brooding from the outside; inside, a maze of pain and terror and Kor’s swelling lust for victims.

In the dueling machine, the illusion of pain was no less agonizing than the real thing. Odal smiled sardonically. The men he had killed died first in their imaginations. But soon enough their hearts stopped beating.

Now then, are you ready? It was a voice in his mind, put there by the machine’s circuitry through the neurocontacts circling his head.

We are going to probe a bit deeper today, in an effort to find the source of your extrasensory talents. I advise you to relax and cooperate.

There had been three of them working on him yesterday, from the other side of the machine. Today, Odal could tell, there were more. Six? Eight? A dozen, possibly.

He felt them: foreign thoughts, alien personalities, in his own mind. His hands twitched uncontrollably and his body began to ache and heave.

They were seizing his control centers, battering at sensory complexes. Muscles cramped spasmodically, nerves screamed in anguish, body temperature soared, ears shrilled, eyes flashed flaming reds and unbearable star bursts. Now they were going deeper, beyond the physical effects, digging, clawing away through a lifetime of self-protective neural patterns, reaching down with a searing, white-hot, twelfth-power probe into the personality itself.

Odal heard a terrified voice howling, They’re after ME. They’re trying to get ME. Hide! Hide!

The voice was his own.

Despite its spaciousness, Leoh thought, the Prime Minister’s office was a stuffy antique of a room, decorated in blue and gold, with the weight of outmoded traditions and useless memories hanging more heavily than the gilt draperies that bordered each door and window.

The meeting had been small and unspectacular. Martine had invited Leoh for an informal chat; Hector was pointedly not invited. A dozen or so aides, politicians, and administrators clustered around the Prime Minister’s desk as he officially thanked Leoh for uncovering Kerak’s attempt to use the dueling machine as a smoke screen for their war preparations.

“It was Star Watch Lieutenant Hector who actually uncovered the plot, not me,” Leoh insisted.

Martine waved away the words impatiently. “The Watchman is merely your aide; you are the man that Kanus fears.”

After about ten minutes of talking, Martine nodded to one of his aides, who went to a door and admitted a covey of news photographers. The Prime Minister stood up and walked around his desk to stand beside Leoh, towering proudly over the old man, while the newsmen took their pictures. Then the meeting broke up. The newsmen left and everyone else began to drift out of the office.

“Professor Leoh.”

He was nearly at the doorway when Martine called. Leoh turned back and saw the Prime Minister sitting at his tall desk chair. But instead of his usual icy aloofness, there was a warm, almost friendly smile on Martine’s face.

“Please close the door and sit down with me for a few minutes more,” Martine said.

Puzzled, Leoh did as the Prime Minister asked. As he took an armchair off to one side of the desk, he watched Martine carefully run a hand over the communications panel set into his desk top. Then the Prime Minister opened a drawer in the desk and Leoh heard the tiny click of a switch being turned.

“There. Now I’m sure that we’re alone. That switch isolates the room completely. Not even my private secretary can listen to us now.”

Leoh felt his eyebrows rising toward his scalp.

“You have every right to look surprised, Professor. And I should look apologetic and humble. That’s why I had to make certain that this meeting is strictly private.”

“This meeting?” Leoh echoed. “Then the meeting we just had, with the others and the newsmen…”

Martine smiled broadly. “Kanus is not the only one who can put up a smoke screen.”

“I see. Well, what did you want to tell me?”

“First, please convey my apologies to Lieutenant Hector. He was not invited here for reasons that will be obvious in a moment. I realize that he wormed the truth out of Odal, although I’m not convinced that he knew what he was doing when he did it.”

Leoh suppressed a chuckle. “Hector has his own way of doing things.”

Nodding, Martine went on more soberly. “Now then, the real reason for my wanting to speak to you privately: I have been something of a stubborn fool. I realize that now. Kanus has not only outwitted me, but has actually penetrated deeply into my government. When I realized that Lal Ponte is a Kerak agent.…” The Prime Minister’s face was grim.

“What are you going to do with him?”

A shrug. “There’s nothing I can do. He has been implicated indirectly by Odal. There’s no evidence,” despite a thorough investigation. But I’m sure that if Kanus conquered the Acquataine Cluster, Ponte would expect to be named Prime Minister of the puppet government.”

Leoh said nothing.

“Ponte is not that much of a problem. He can be isolated. Anything that I want from his office I can get from men I know I can trust. Ponte can sit alone at his desk until the ceiling caves in on him.”

“But he’s not your only problem.”

“No. It’s the military problem that threatens us most directly. You and Spencer have been right all along. Kerak is building swiftly for an attack, and our defensive building is too far behind them to be of much use.”

“Then the alliance with the Commonwealth.…”

Shaking his head unhappily, Martine explained, “No, that’s still impossible. The political situation here is too unstable. I was voted into office by the barest margin… thanks to Ponte. To think that I was elected because Kanus wanted me to be! We’ve both been pawns, Professor.”

“I know.”

“But, you see, if Dulaq and Massan and all their predecessors never allied Acquatainia with the Commonwealth, then for me to attempt it would be an admission of weakness. There are strong pro-Kerak forces in the legislature, and many others who are still as blind and stubborn as I’ve been. I would be voted out of office in a week if I tried to make an alliance with the Terrans.”

Leoh asked, “Then what can you do?”

“I can do very little. But you can do much. I cannot call the Star Watch for help. But you can contact your friend, Sir Harold, and suggest that he ask me for permission to bring a Star Watch fleet through the Cluster. Any excuse will do… battle maneuvers, exploration, cultural exchange, anything.”

Leoh shifted uneasily in his chair. “You want me to ask Harold to ask you…”

“Yes, that’s it.” Martine nodded briskly. “And it must be a small Star Watch fleet, quite small. To the rest of Acquatainia, it must appear obvious that the Terran ships are not being sent here to help defend us against Kerak. But to Kanus, it must be equally obvious that he cannot attack Acquatainia without the risk of killing Watchmen and immediately involving the Commonwealth.”

“I think I understand,” said Leoh, with a rueful smile. “Einstein was right: nuclear physics is much simpler than politics.”

Martine laughed, but there was bitterness in it.

2

Kanus sat in brooding silence behind his immense desk, his thin, sallow face dark with displeasure. Sitting with him in the oversized office, either looking up at him at his cunningly elevated desk, or avoiding his sullen stare, were most of the members of his Inner Cabinet.

At length, the Leader spoke. “We had the Acquataine Cluster in our grasp, and we allowed an old refugee from a university and a half-wit Watchman to snatch it away from us. Kor! You told me the plan was foolproof!”

The Minister of Intelligence remained calm, except for a telltale glistening of perspiration on his bullet-shaped dome. “It was foolproof, until…”

“Until? Until? I want the Acquataine Cluster, not excuses!”

“And you shall have it,” Marshal Lugal promised. “As soon as the army is re-equipped and…”

“As soon as! Until!” Kanus’ voice rose to a scream. “We had a plan of conquest and it failed. I should have the lot of you thrown to the dogs! And you, Kor; this was your operation, your plan. You picked this mind reader… Odal. He was to be the express instrument of my will. And he failed! You both failed. Twice! Can you give me any reason for allowing you to continue to pollute the air with your presence?”

Kor replied evenly, “The Acquataine government is still very shaky and ripe for plucking. Men sympathetic to you, my Leader, have gained important posts in that government. Moreover, despite the failures of Major Odal, we are now on the verge of perfecting a new secret weapon, a weapon so powerful that…”

“A secret weapon?” Kanus’ eyes lit up.

Kor lowered his voice a notch. “It may be possible, our scientists believe, to use a telepath such as Odal and the dueling machine to transport objects from one place to another—over any distance, almost instantaneously.”

Kanus sat silent for a moment, digesting the information. Then he asked: “Whole armies?”

“Yes.”

“Anywhere in the galaxy?”

“Wherever there is a dueling machine.”

Kanus rose slowly, dramatically, from his chair and stepped over to the huge star map that spanned one entire wall of the spacious room. He swept the whole map with an all-inclusive gesture and shouted:

“Anywhere! I can strike anywhere. And they will never know what hit them!”

He literally danced for joy, prancing back and forth before the map. “Nothing can stand in our way now! The Terran Commonwealth will fall before us. The galaxy is ours. We will make them tremble at the thought of us. We will make them cower at the mention of my name!”

The men of the Inner Cabinet nodded and murmured agreement.

Suddenly Kanus’ face hardened again and he whirled around to Kor. “Is this really a secret, or is someone else working on it too? What of this Leoh?”

“It is possible,” Kor replied as blandly as he could, “that Professor Leoh is also working along the same lines. After all, the dueling machine is his invention. But he does not have the services of a trained telepath, such as Odal.”

Kanus said, “I do not like the fact that you are depending on this failure, Odal.”

Kor allowed a vicious smile to crack his face. “We are not depending on him, my Leader. We are using his brain. He is an experimental animal, nothing more.”

Kanus smiled back at the Minister. “He is not enjoying his new duties, I trust.”

“Hardly,” Kor said.

“Good. Let me see tapes of his… ah, experiments.”

“With pleasure, my Leader.”

The door to the far end of the room opened and Romis, Minister of Foreign Affairs, stepped in. The room fell into a tense silence as his shoes clicked across the marble floor. Tall, spare, utterly precise, Romis walked straight to the Leader, holding a lengthy report in his hand. His patrician face was graven.

“I have unpleasant news, Chancellor.”

They stood confronting each other, and everyone in the room could see their mutual hatred. Kanus—short, spare, dark—glared up at the silver-haired aristocrat.

“Our embassy in Acquatainia,” Romis continued icily, “reports that Sir Harold Spencer has requested permission to base a Star Watch survey expedition temporarily on one of the frontier stars of the Acquataine Cluster. A star near our border, of course. Martine has agreed to it.”

Kanus went white, then his face slowly turned red. He snatched the report from Romis’ hand, scanned it, crumpled it, and threw it to the floor. For a few moments he could not even speak. Then the tirade began.

An hour and a half later, when the Leader was once again coherent enough to speak rationally, his ministers were assuring him:

“The Terrans will only be there temporarily.”

“It’s only a small fleet… no military value at all.”

“It’s a feeble attempt by Martine and Spencer…”

At the mention of Spencer’s name, Kanus broke into another half-hour of screaming tantrum. Finally, he abruptly stopped.

“Romis! Stop staring out the window and give me your assessment of this situation.”

The Foreign Minister turned slowly from the window and answered, “You must assume that the Terrans will remain in Acquatainia indefinitely. If they do not, all to the good. But your plans must be based on the assumption that they will. That means you cannot attack Acquatainia by military force…”

“Why not?” Kanus demanded.

Romis explained, “Because the Terrans will immediately become involved in the fighting. The entire Star Watch will be mobilized, under the pretext of saving their survey fleet from danger, as soon as we attack. The fleet is simply an excuse for the Terrans to step in against us.”

But Kanus’ eyes began to glow. “I have the plan,” he announced. Turning to Kor:

“You must push the development of this instantaneous transporter to the ultimate. I want a working device immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Leader.”

Rubbing his hands together joyfully, Kanus said, “We will have our army appear in the Acquatainian capital. We’ll conquer the Cluster from within! Wherever they have a dueling machine, we’ll appear and conquer with the swiftness of lightning! Let the Star Watch plant their hostages on the frontier… they’ll gather cobwebs there! We’ll have the whole Cluster in our fist before Spencer even realizes we’ve moved!”

Kanus laughed uproariously, and all his aides laughed with him.

All except Romis.

3

Professor Leoh slouched unhappily in a chair at the dueling machine’s main control desk. Hector sat uneasily on the first few centimeters of the desk edge.

“We have adequate power,” Leoh said, “the circuits are correct, everything seems normal.” He looked up, puzzled, at Hector.

The Watchman stammered, “I know… I just… well, I just can’t do it.”

Shaking his head, Leoh said, “We’ve duplicated the conditions of your first jump. But now it doesn’t work. If the machine is exactly the same, then there must be something different about you.”

Hector wormed his shoulders uncomfortably.

“What is it, my boy? What’s bothering you? You haven’t been yourself since the night you caught Odal.” Hector didn’t reply.

“Listen,” said Leoh. “Psychic phenomena are very difficult to pin down. For centuries men have known cases where people have apparently teleported, or used telepathy. There are thousands of cases on record of poltergeists#longdash#they were actually thought to be ghosts, ages ago. Now I’m sure that they’re really cases of telekinesis: the poltergeist was actually a fairly normal human being, under extraordinary stress, who threw objects around his house mentally without even knowing it himself.”

“Just like when I jumped without knowing it,” Hector said.

“Exactly. Now, it was my hope that the dueling machine would amplify the psychic talent in you. It did once, but it’s not doing it now.”

“Maybe I don’t really have it.”

“Maybe,” Leoh admitted. Then, leaning forward in his chair and pointing a stubby finger at the Watchman, he added, “Or maybe something’s upsetting you so much that your talent is buried, dormant, switched off.”

“Yes… well, uh, that is…”

“Is it Geri? I haven’t seen her around here lately. Perhaps if she could come… after all, she was one of the conditions of your original jump, wasn’t she?”

“She won’t come here,” Hector said miserably.

“Eh? Why not?”

The Watchman blurted, “Because she wanted me to murder Odal and I wouldn’t, so she’s sore at me and won’t even talk to me on the view phone.”

“What? What’s this? Take it slower, son.”

Hector explained the whole story of Geri’s insistence that Odal be killed.

Leaning back in the chair, fingers steepled on his broad girth, Leoh said, “Hmm. Natural enough, I suppose. The Acquatainians have that sort of outlook. But somehow I expected better of her.”

“She won’t even talk to me,” Hector repeated.

“But you did the right thing,” said Leoh. “At least, you were true to your upbringing and your Star Watch training. Vengeance is a paltry motive, and nothing except self-defense can possibly justify killing a man.”

“Tell it to her.”

“No, my boy,” Leoh said, pulling himself up and out of the chair. “You must tell her. And in no uncertain terms.”

“But she won’t even see me…”

“Nonsense. If you love her, you’ll get to her. Tell her where you stand and why. If she loves you, she’ll accept you for what you are, and be proud of you for it.”

Hector looked uncertain. “And if she doesn’t love me?”

“Well… knowing the Acquatainian temperament, she might start throwing things at you.”

The Watchman remained sitting on the desk top and stared down at the floor.

Leoh grasped his shoulder. “Listen to me, son. What you did took courage, real courage. It would have been easy to kill Odal and win her approval… everyone’s approval, as a matter of fact. But you did what you thought was right. Now, if you had the courage to do that, surely you have the courage to face an unarmed girl.”

Hector looked up at him, his long face somber. “But suppose… suppose she never loved me. Suppose she was just… well, using me… until I killed Odal?”

Then you’re well rid of her, Leoh thought. But he couldn’t say that to Hector.

“I don’t think that’s the case at all,” he said softly.

And he added to himself, At least I hope not.

In his exhausted sleep, Odal did not hear the door opening. The sergeant stepped into the bare windowless cell and shined his lamp in Odal’s eyes. The Kerak major stirred and turned his face away from the light. The sergeant grabbed his shoulder and shook him sternly. Odal snapped awake, knocked the guard’s hand from his shoulder, and seized him by the throat. The guard dropped his lamp and tried to pry Odal’s single hand from his windpipe. For a second or two they remained locked in soundless fury, in the weird glow from the lamp on the floor—Odal sitting up on the cot, the sergeant slowly sinking to his knees.

Then Odal released him. The sergeant fell to all fours, coughing; Odal swung his legs out of the cot and stood up.

“When you rouse me, you will do it with courtesy,” he said. “I am not a common criminal, and I will not be’ treated as one by such as you. And even though my door is locked from the outside, you will knock on it before entering. Is that clear?”

The sergeant climbed to his feet, rubbing his throat, his eyes a mixture of anger and fear.

“I’m just following orders. Nobody told me to treat you special.…”

“I am telling you,” Odal snapped. “And as long as I still have my rank, you will address me as sir!”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant muttered sullenly.

Odal relaxed slightly, flexed his fingers.

“You’re wanted at the dueling machine… sir.”

“In the middle of the night? By whose orders?”

The guard shrugged. “They didn’t say. Sir.”

Odal smiled. “Very well. Step outside while I put on my ‘uniform.’ ” He gestured to the shapeless fatigues draped over the end of the cot.

A single meditech stood waiting for Odal beside the dueling machine, which bulked ominously in the dim night lighting. Odal recognized him as one of the inquisitors he had been facing for the past several weeks. Wordlessly, the man gestured Odal to his booth. The sergeant took up a post at the doorway to the large room as the meditech fitted Odal’s head and torso with the necessary neurocontacts. Then he stepped out of the compartment and firmly shut the door.

For a few moments nothing happened. Then Odal felt a voice in his mind:

“Major Odal?”

“Of course,” he replied silently.

“Yes… of course.”

There was something puzzling. Something wrong. “You… you are not the…”

“I am not the man who put you into the dueling machine. That is correct.” The voice seemed both pleased and worried. “That man is at the controls of the machine, while I am halfway across the planet. He has a miniature transceiver with him, and I am communicating with you through it. This means of communication is unorthodox, but it probably cannot be intercepted by Kor or his henchmen.”

“But I know you,” Odal thought. “I have met you before.”

“That is true.”

“Romis! You are Minister Romis.”

“Yes.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I learned only this morning of your situation. I was shocked at such treatment for a loyal soldier of Kerak.”

Odal felt the words forming in his mind, yet he knew that Romis’ words were only a glossy surface, hiding a deeper meaning. He communicated nothing, and waited for the Minister to continue.

“Are you being mistreated?”

Odal smiled mirthlessly. “No more so than any laboratory animal. I suppose it’s no worse than having one’s intestines sliced open without anesthetics.”

Romis’ mind recoiled. Then he recovered and said, “There might be some way in which I can help you…”

Odal lost his patience. “You haven’t contacted me in the middle of the night, using this elaborate procedure, to ask about my comfort. Something is troubling you greatly and you believe I can be useful to you.”

“Can you actually read my thoughts?”

“Not in the manner one reads a tape. But I can sense things…and the dueling machine amplifies this talent.”

Romis hesitated a moment, then asked, “Can you… sense… what is in my mind?”

Now it was Odal’s turn to hesitate. Was this a trap? He glanced around the confining walls of the tiny booth, and at the door that he knew was locked from the outside. What more can they do? Kill me?

“I can feel in your thoughts,” Odal replied, “a hatred for Kanus. A hatred that is matched only by your fear of him. If you had it in your power you would…”

“I would what?”

Odal finally saw the picture clearly. “You would have the Leader assassinated.”

“how?”

“By a disgraced army officer who would have good cause to hate Kanus.”

“You have cause to hate him,” Romis emphasized.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? Can you fail to hate him?”

Odal shook his head. “I’ve never considered the question. He is the Leader. I have neither loved nor hated, only followed his commands.”

“Duty above self,” Romis’ thought returned. “You speak like a member of the nobility.”

“Such as you are. And yet you wish to assassinate the Leader.”

“Yes! Because a true member of the nobility puts his duty to the Kerak Worlds before his allegiance to this madman—this usurper of power who will destroy us all, nobleman and commoner alike.”

“I am only a commoner,” Odal replied, very deliberately. “Perhaps I’m not equipped to decide where my duty lies. Certainly, I have no choice in my duties at present.”

Romis recovered his composure. “Listen to me. If you agree to join us, we can help you escape from this beastly experimentation. As you can see, certain members of Kor’s staff are with us; so too are groups in the army and space fleet. If you will help us, you can once again be a hero of Kerak.”

If I murder Kanus and survive the deed, Odal thought to himself. And if I am not then assassinated in turn by your friends.

To Romis he asked, “And if I don’t agree to join you?”

The Minister remained silent.

“I see,” Odal answered for himself. “I know too much now to be allowed the risk of living.”

“Unfortunately, the stakes are too high to let personal feelings intervene. If you do not agree to help us before leaving the dueling machine, the medical technician and sergeant are waiting outside for you. They have their orders.”

“To murder me,” Odal said bluntly, “and make it seem as though I tried to escape.”

“Yes. I am sorry to be brutal, but that is your choice. Join or die.”

4

While Odal deliberated his choice in the midnight darkness of Kerak, it was sunset in the capital city of Acquatainia.

High above the city, Hector circled warily in a rented air car that had been ready for the junk heap long ago. He kept his eyes riveted to the view screens on the control panel in front of him, sitting tensely in the pilot’s seat; the four-place cabin was otherwise empty.

Part of his circle carried him through one of the city’s busier traffic patterns, but he ignored other air cars and kept the autopilot locked on its circle while homeward-bound commuters shrieked into their radios at him and dodged around the Watchman’s vehicle. Hector had his radio off; every nerve in his body was concentrating on the view screens.

The car’s tri-di scanners were centered on Geri Dulaq’s house, on the outskirts of the city. As far as Hector was concerned, nothing else existed. Cars buzzed by his bubble-topped canopy and apoplectic-faced drivers shook their fists at him. He never saw them. Wind whistled suspiciously through what should have been a sealed cabin; the air car groaned and rattled when it should have hummed and soared. He never noticed.

There she is! He felt a charge of electricity flash through him as he saw her at last, walking through the garden next to the house.

For an instant he wondered if he had the nerve to go through with it, but his hands had already nudged the controls and the air car, shuddering, started a long whining descent toward the house.

The reddish sun of Acquatainia was shining straight into Hector’s eyes, through the ancient photochromic canopy that was supposed to screen out the glare. Squinting hard, Hector barely made out the menacing bulk of the house as it rose to meet him. He pulled back on the controls, jammed the brake flaps full open, flipped the screeching engine pods to their landing angle, and bounced the car in a shower of dust and noise and wind squarely into Geri’s flower bed.

“You!” she screamed as he popped the canopy open.

She turned and ran to the house. He went to leap out after her, but the seat harness yanked cuttingly at his middle and shoulders.

By the time Hector had unbuckled the harness and jumped, stumbling, to the ground, she was inside the house. But the door was still open, he saw. Hector sprinted toward it.

A servant, rather elderly, appeared on the walk before the door. Hector ducked under his feebly waving arms and launched himself toward the door, which was now swinging shut. He got halfway through before the door slammed against him, wedging him firmly against the jamb.

Hector could hear someone panting behind the door, struggling to get it closed despite the fact that one of his arms and a leg were flailing inside the doorway. Hoping it wasn’t Geri, he pushed hard against the door. It hardly budged. It’s not her, he realized. Setting himself as solidly as he could on his outside leg, he pushed with all his might. The door gave slowly, then suddenly burst open. Hector sailed off balance into the husky servant who had been pushing against him. They both sprawled onto the hard plastiwood floor of the entryway.

Hector groped to all fours and caught a glimpse of Geri at the top of the wide, curving stairway that dominated the main hall of the house. Then the servant fell on him and tried to pin him down. He rolled over on top of the servant, broke loose from his clumsy grip, and got to his feet.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” he said shakily, holding his hands out in what he hoped was a menacing position. Another pair of arms grappled at him from behind, but weakly. The old servant. Hector shrugged him off and took a few more steps into the house, his eyes still on the husky one, who was now crouched on the floor and looking up questioningly at Geri.

All she has to do is nod, Hector knew, and they’ll both jump me.

“I told you I never wanted to see you again!” she screamed at him. “Never!”

“I’ve got to talk to you,” he shouted back. “Just for five minutes… Uh, alone.”

“I don’t… your nose is bleeding.”

He touched his upper lip with a finger. It came away red and sticky.

“Oh… the door… I must’ve banged it on the door.”

Geri took a few steps down the stairway, hesitated, then seemed to take a deep breath and came slowly down the rest of the way.

“It’s all right,” she said calmly to the servants. “You may leave.”

The brawny one looked uncertain. The old one piped, “But if he…”

“I’ll be all right,” Geri insisted firmly. “You can stay in the next room, if you like. The Lieutenant will only be here for five minutes. No longer,” she added, turning to Hector.

They withdrew reluctantly.

“You ruined my flowers,” she said to Hector. But softly, and the corners of her mouth looked as though they wanted to turn up. “And your nose is still bleeding.”

Hector fumbled through his pockets. She produced a tissue from a pocket in her dress.

“Here. Now clean yourself up and leave.”

“Not until I’ve said what I came to say,” Hector replied nasally, holding the tissue against his nose.

“Keep your head up, don’t bleed on the floor.”

“It’s hard to talk like this.”

Despite herself, Geri smiled. “Well, it’s your own fault. You can’t come swooping into people’s gardens like… like…”

“You wouldn’t see me. And I had to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Putting his head down, his neck cracking painfully as he did, Hector said:

“Well… blast it, Geri, I love you. But I’m not going to be your hired assassin. And if you loved me, you wouldn’t want me to be. A man’s not supposed to be a trained pet… to do whatever his girl wants him to. I’m not…”

Her expression hardened. “I only asked you to do what I would have done myself, if I could have.”

“You would’ve killed Odal?”

“Yes.”

“Because he murdered your father.”

“That’s right.”

Hector took the tissue away from his face. “But Odal was just following orders. Kanus is the one who ordered your father killed.”

“Then I’d kill Kanus, too, if I had the chance,” she snapped angrily.

“You’d kill anybody who had a hand in your father’s death?”

“Of course.”

“The other soldiers, the ones who helped Odal during the duel, you’d kill them too?”

“Certainly!”

“Anybody who helped Odal? Anybody at all? The star-ship crew that brought him here?”

“Yes! All of them! Anybody!”

Hector put his hand out slowly and took her by the shoulder. “Then you’d have to kill me, too, because I let him go. I helped him to escape from you,”

She started to answer. Her mouth opened. Then her eyes filled with tears and she leaned against Hector and began crying.

He put his arms around her. “It’s all right, Geri. It’s all right. I know how much it hurts. But… you can’t expect me to be just as much of a murderer as he is… I mean, well, it’s just not the way to…”

“I know,” she said, still sobbing. “I know, Hector. I know.”

For a few moments they remained there, holding each other. Then she looked up at him, and he kissed her.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, very softly.

He felt himself grinning like a circus clown. “I… well, I’ve missed you, too.”

They laughed together, and she pulled out another tissue and dabbed at his nose with it.

“I’m sorry about the flowers.”

“That’s all right, they’ll.…” She stopped and stared toward the doorway.

Turning, Hector saw a blue-anodized robot, about the size and shape of an upended cargo crate, buzzing officiously at the open doorway. Its single photoeye seemed to brighten at the sight of his face.

“You are Star Watch Lieutenant Hector H. Hector, the operator of the vehicle parked in the flower bed?” it inquired tinnily.

Hector nodded dumbly.

“Charges have been lodged against you, sir: violations of flight safety regulation regarding use of traffic lanes, failure to acknowledge radio intercept, unauthorized flight patterns, failure to maintain minimum altitude over a residential zone, landing in an unauthorized area, trespass, illegal and violent entry into a private domicile, assault and battery. You are advised to refrain from making any statement until you obtain counsel. You will come with me, or additional charges of resisting arrest will be lodged against you. Thank you.”

The Watchman sagged; his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Geri barely suppressed a giggle. “It’s all right, Hector. I’ll get a lawyer. If they send you to jail, I’ll visit you. It’ll be very romantic.”

5

Odal sat in the darkness of the dueling machine booth, turning thoughts over and over in his mind. To remain as Kor’s experimental animal meant disgrace and the torture of ceaseless mind-probing. Ultimately an utterly unpleasant death. To join Romis meant an attempt to assassinate the Leader; an attempt that would end, successful or not, in death at the hands of Kanus” guards. To refuse to join Romis led again—and this time immediately—to death.

Every avenue of choice came to the same end. Odal sat there calmly and examined his alternatives with a cool detachment, almost as though this was happening to someone else. It was even amusing, almost, that events could arrange themselves so overwhelmingly against a lone man.

Romis’ voice in his mind was imperative. “I cannot keep this link open much longer without risking detection. What is your decision?”

To stay alive as long as possible, Odal realized. Hoping that thought didn’t get across to Romis, he said, “I’ll join you.”

“You do this willingly?”

A picture of the armed guard waiting for him outside flashed through Odal’s mind. “Yes, willingly,” he said. “Of course.”

“Very well, then. Remain where you are, act as though nothing has happened. Within the next few days, a week at most, we’ll get you out of Kor’s hands.”

Only when he was certain that contact was broken, that Romis and the relay man at the machine’s controls could no longer hear him, did Odal allow himself to think: If I round up Romis and all the plotters against the Leader, that should make me a hero of Kerak again.

Hector was all smiles as he strode into the dueling machine chamber. Geri was on his arm, also smiling.

Leoh said pleasantly, “Well, now that you’re together again and you’ve paid all your traffic fines, I hope you’re emotionally prepared to go to work.”

“Just watch me,” said Hector.

They began slowly. First Hector merely teleported himself from one booth of the dueling machine to the other. He did it a dozen times the first day. Leoh measured the transit time and the power drain each time. It took four picoseconds, on the average, to make the jump. And—according to the desk-top calculator Leoh had set up alongside the control panels—the power dram was approximately equal to that of a star ship’s drive engines pushing a mass equal to Hector’s weight.

“Do you realize what this means?” he asked of them.

Hector was perched on the desk top again, with Geri sitting in a chair she had pulled up beside Leoh’s. Drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the control panel for a moment, Hector replied, “Well… it means we can move things about as efficiently as a star ship…”

“Not quite,” Leoh corrected. “We can move things or people as efficiently as a star ship moves its payload. We needn’t lift a star ship’s structure or power drive. Our drive—the dueling machine—can remain on the ground. Only the payload is transported.”

“Can you go as fast as a star ship?” Geri asked.

“Seemingly faster, if these tests mean anything,” Leoh answered.

“Am I traveling in subspace,” Hector wanted to know, “like a star ship does? Or what?”

“Probably ‘what,’ I’d guess,” said Leoh. “But it’s only a guess. We have no idea of how this works, how fast you can really go, how far you can teleport, or any of the limits of the phenomenon. There’s a mountain of work to do.”

For the next few days, Hector moved inanimate objects while he sat in one booth of the dueling machine. He lifted weights without touching them, and then even transported Geri from one booth to the other. But he could only move things inside the dueling machine.

“We may have an interstellar transport mechanism here,” Leoh said at the end of a week, tired but enormously happy. “There’d have to be a dueling machine, or something like it, at the other end, though.”

The pain was unbearable. Odal screamed soundlessly, in his mind, as a dozen lances of fire drilled through him. His body jerked spasmodically, arms and legs twitching uncontrolled, innards cramping and coiling, heart pounding dangerously fast. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could only taste blood in his mouth.

Romis! Where is Romis! Why doesn’t he come? He would have told his inquisitors everything, anything, just to make them stop. But they weren’t even asking him questions. They weren’t interested in his memories or his confession.

Jump!

Transport yourself to the next booth.

You are a trained telepath, you must have latent teleportation powers, as well.

We will not ease up on this pressure until you teleport to the next booth. Indeed, the pressure will be increased until you do as you are told.

JUMP!

Hector sat in the dueling machine in Acquatainia and concentrated on his job. A drawerful of papers, tapes, and holograms was in the other booth. Hector was going to transport it to a dueling machine on the other side of the planet. This would be the first long-distance jump.

It wasn’t easy to concentrate. Geri was waiting for him outside. Leoh had been working him all day. A stray thought of Odal crossed his mind:I wonder what he’s up to now? Is he working on teleportation too?

He felt a brief tingling sensation, like a mild electric shock.

“Funny,” he muttered.

Puzzled, he removed the neurocontacts from his head and body, got up, and opened the booth door.

The technicians at the control desk gaped at him. It took Hector a full five seconds to realize that they were wearing Kerak uniforms. A pair of guards, looking equally startled, reached for their side arms as soon as they recognized the Star Watch emblem on Hector’s coveralls.

He had time to say, “Oh-oh,” before the guards shot him down.

On Acquatainia, Leoh was shaking his head unhappily as he inspected the pile of materials that Hector was supposed to teleport.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It didn’t work at all.” His puzzled musing was shattered by Geri’s scream. Looking up, he saw her cowering against the control desk, screaming in uncontrolled hysteria. Framed in the doorway of the farther booth stood the tall, lithe figure of Odal.

“This is absolutely fantastic,” said Sir Harold Spencer.

Leoh nodded agreement. The old scientist was at his desk in the office behind the dueling machine chamber. Spencer seemed to be on a star ship, from the looks of the austere, metal-walled cabin that was visible behind his tri-di image.

“He actually jumped from Kerak to Acquatainia?” Spencer still looked unconvinced.

“In something less than a second,” Leoh repeated. “Four hundred and fifty light years in less than a second.”

Spencer’s brow darkened. “Do you realize what you’ve done, Albert? The military potential of this… teleportation. And Kanus must know all about it, too.”

“Yes. And he’s holding Hector somewhere in Kerak. We’ve got to get him out… if he’s still alive”

“I know,” Spencer said, absolutely glowering now. “And what about this Kerak assassin? I suppose the Acquatainians have him safely filed away?”

Nodding again, Leoh answered, “They’re not quite sure what to do with him. Technically, he’s not charged with any crimes. Actually, the last thing in the world anyone wants is to send him back to Kerak.”

“Why did he leave? Why come back to Acquatainia?”

“Don’t know. Odal won’t tell us anything, except to claim asylum on Acquatainia. Most people here think it’s another sort of trick.”

Spencer drummed his fingers on his thigh impatiently. “So Odal is imprisoned in Acquatainia, Hector is presumably jailed in Kerak—or worse. And I have a survey fleet heading for the Acquataine-Kerak frontier on a mission that’s now obviously hopeless. Kanus needn’t fight his way into Acquatainia. He can pop into the midst of the Cluster, wherever there are dueling machines.”

“We could shut them down, or guard them,” Leoh suggested.

Frowning again, Spencer pointed out, “There’s nothing to prevent Kanus from building machines inside every Kerak embassy or consulate building in the Cluster… or in the Commonwealth, for that matter. Nothing short of war can stop him from doing that.”

“And war is exactly what we’re trying to prevent.” “We’ve got to prevent it,” Spencer rumbled, “if we want to keep the Commonwealth intact.”

Now Leoh was starting to feel as gloomy as Sir Harold.

“And Hector? What about him? We can’t abandon him… Kanus could kill him.”

“I know. I’ll call Romis, the Foreign Minister. Of that whole lot around Kanus, he’s the only one who seems capable of telling the truth.”

“What can you do it they refuse to return Hector?”

’They’ll probably offer to trade him for Odal.”

“But Odal doesn’t want to go,” Leoh said. “And the Acquatainians might not surrender him. If they hold Odal and Kanus keeps Hector, then the Commonwealth will be forced into…”

“Into threatening Kerak with armed force if they don’t release Hector. Good Lord, this lieutenant could trigger off the war we’re trying to avert!”

Spencer looked as appalled as Leoh felt.

6

Minister Romis left his country villa punctually at dawn for his usual morning ride. He proceeded along the bridle path, however, only until he was out of sight of the villa and any possible spies of Kor’s. Then he turned his mount off the path and into the thick woods. After a hard climb upslope, he came to a little clearing atop a knoll.

Standing in the clearing was a small shuttle craft, its hatch flanked by a pair of armed guards. Wordlessly, Romis dismounted and went into the craft. A man dressed identically, and about the same height and build as the Foreign Minister, came out and mounted the animal and continued the ride.

Within moments, the shuttle craft rose on muffled jets and hurtled up and out of Kerak’s atmosphere. Romis entered the control compartment and sat beside the pilot.

“This is a risky business, sir,” the pilot said. “We could be spotted front the ground.”

“The nearest tracking station is manned by friends of ours,” Romis said tiredly. “At least, they were friends the last time I talked with them. One must take some risks in an enterprise of this sort, and the chief risk seems to be friends who change sides.”

The pilot nodded unhappily. Twelve minutes after liftoff, the shuttle craft made rendezvous with an orbiting star ship that bore the insignia of the Kerak space fleet. A craggy-faced captain met Romis at the air lock and guided him down a narrow passageway to a small, guarded compartment. They stepped in. Lying on the bunk built into the compartment’s curving outer bulkhead was the inert form of Star Watch Lieutenant Hector. Nearby sat one of the guards and a meditech who had been at the dueling machine. They rose and stood at attention.

“None of Kor’s people know about him?” Romis’ voice was quiet, but urgent.

“No, sir,” said the meditech. “The interrogators were all knocked unconscious by the power surge when Major Odal and the Watchman transferred with each other. We were able to get the Watchman here without being detected.”

“Hopefully,” Romis added. Then he asked, “How is he?”

The meditech replied, “Sleeping like a child, sir. We thought it best to keep him drugged.” Romis nodded.

“At my order,” the captain said, “they’ve given the Watchman several doses of truth drugs. We’ve been questioning him. No sense allowing an opportunity like this to go to waste.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The captain murmured approval.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Romis nodded.

“You wish to exchange him for Major Odal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s important for us to know.”

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

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

“Help you? How?”

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

Leoh suddenly found that he had run out of words. It seemed clear that Odal was not going to volunteer to help anyone except himself.

Rising, he said, “I’d like you to think about these matters. There are many lives at stake, and you could help to save them.”

“And lose my own,” Odal said as he politely stood up.

Leoh cocked his head to one side. “Very possibly, I must admit.”

“You regard Hector’s life more highly than my own. I don’t.”

“All right then, stalemate. But there are a few billion Kerak and Acquatainian lives at stake, you know.”

Leoh started for the door. Odal remained standing in front of the lounge. Then he called:

“Professor. That girl… the one who was so startled when I arrived at your dueling machine. Who is she?”

Leoh turned. “Geri Dulaq. The late Prime Minister’s daughter.”

“Oh, I see.” For an instant, Odal’s nearly expressionless face seemed to show something: disappointment, regret?

“She hates me, doesn’t she?” he asked.

“To use your own words,” said Leoh, “why not?”

7

Hector scratched his head thoughtfully and said, “This sort of, well, puts me in a… um, funny position.”

The Kerak captain shrugged. “We are all in an extremely delicate position.”

“Well, I suppose so, if… that is, I mean… how do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

The captain’s blunt, seamed face hardened angrily for a moment. They were sitting on the bridge of the orbiting star ship to which Hector had been brought. Beyond the protective rail, on the level below, was the control center of the mammoth vessel. The captain controlled his rage and replied evenly:

“A Kerak officer does not tell lies. Under any circumstances. My—superior, let us say—has spoken to the Star Watch Commander, as I explained to you. They reached an agreement whereby you are to remain on this ship until further notice. I am willing to allow you free rein of the ship, exclusive of the control center itself, the power plant, and the air locks. I believe that this is more than fair.”

Hector drummed his fingers on the chart table next to him. “Guess I’ve got no choice, really. I’m sort of, well, halfway between a prisoner and, um, a cultural exchange tourist.”

The captain smiled mechanically, trying to ignore the maddening finger-drumming.

“And I’ll be staying with you,” Hector went on, “until you assassinate Kanus.”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” The Captain almost leaped into Hector’s lap and clapped a hand over the Watchman’s mouth.

“Oh. Doesn’t the crew know about it?”

The captain rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. “How… who… whatever gave you the idea that we would… contemplate such a thing?”

Hector frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t really know. Just odds and ends. You know. A few things my guards have said. And I figure that Kanus would have pickled my brain by now. You haven’t. I’m being treated almost like a guest. So you’re not working for Kanus. Yet you’re wearing Kerak insignia. Therefore you must be…”

“Enough! Please, it is not necessary to go into any more detail.”

“Okay.” Hector got to his feet “It’s all right for me to walk through the ship?”

“Yes; with the exceptions I mentioned.” The captain rose also. “Oh, yes, there is one other forbidden area: the computers. I understand you were in there this morning.”

Hector nodded. “The guards let me go in. I was taking my after-breakfast exercise. The guards insisted on it. The exercise, that is.”

“That is irrelevant! You discussed computation methods with one of our junior programmers…”

“Yes. I’m pretty good at math, you see and…”

“Please! I don’t know what you told him, but in attempting to put your so-called ‘improvements’ into the computer program, he blew out three banks of logic circuits and caused a shutdown of the computer for several hours.”

“Oh? That’s funny.”

“Funny?” the captain snapped.

“I mean odd.”

“I quite agree. Do not enter the computer area again.”

Hector shrugged. “Okay. You’re the captain.”

The young Star Watchman turned and walked away, leaving the captain seething with frustration. He had not saluted; he had not waited until dismissed by the superior officer; he just slouched off like… like a civilian! And now he was whistling! Aboard ship! The captain sank back into his chair. That computer programmer was only the first casualty, he suddenly realized. Romis had better act quickly. It is only a matter of time before this Watchman drives us all insane.

The bridge, Hector found, connected to a series of technical stations, such as the navigation section (idle now that the ship was parked in orbit), the communications center (well guarded) and—most interesting of all—the observation center.

Here Hector found a fair-sized compartment crammed with view screens showing almost every section of the ship’s interior, and also looking outside in various directions around the ship. Since they were orbiting Kerak’s capital planet, most of the exterior views were turned on the ground below.

Hector soon struck up an acquaintance with the men on duty. Despite the Star Watch emblem on his cover-alls, they seemed to accept him as a fellow-sufferer in the military system, rather than a potential enemy.

“That’s the capital city,” one of them pointed out.

Hector nodded, impressed. “Is that where they have the dueling machine?”

“You mean the one at the Ministry of Intelligence?

That’s over on the other side of the planet. I’ll show it to you when we swing over that way.”

“Thanks,” Hector said. “I’d like to see it… very much.”

Every morning Odal was taken from his underground suite of rooms to the enclosed courtyard of the Justice building for an hour of sunshine and exercise. Under the cold eyes of the guards he ran endless circles around the courtyard’s manicured grass, or did push-ups, knee-bends, sit-ups… anything to break the monotony and prevent the guards from seeing how miserable and lonely he really felt.

Romis, he thought, is no fool. He won’t need me until all his plans are finished, until the actual moment to kill the Leader arrives. What could be better for him than to leave me here, and then offer the Watchman—at precisely the right moment—in trade for me? Spencer will have me shipped back to Kerak, too late to do anything but Romis’ bidding.

There were stately, pungent trees lining the four sides of the courtyard, and in the middle a full, wide-spreading wonder with golden, stiff leaves that tinkled like glass chimes whenever a breeze wafted them. As Odal got up, puffing and hot, from a long set of push-ups, he saw Geri Dulaq sitting on the bench under that tree.

He wiped his brow with a towel and, tossing it over his shoulder, walked slowly to her. He hadn’t noticed before how beautiful she was. Her face looked calm, but he could sense that she was working hard to keep control of herself.

“Good morning,” he said evenly.

She nodded but said nothing. Not even a smile or a frown. He gestured toward the bench, and when she nodded again, he sat down beside her.

“You’re my second visitor,” said Odal.

“I know,” Geri replied. “Professor Leoh told me about his visit to you. How you refused to try to help Hector.”

Allowing himself a smile, Odal said, “I thought that’s what you’d be here for.”

She turned to face him. “You can’t leave him in Kerak! If Kanus…”

“Hector is with Romis. He’s safe enough.”

“For how long?”

“As long as any of us,” Odal said.

“No,” Geri insisted. “He’s a prisoner, and he’s in danger.”

“You actually love him?”

Her eyes had the glint of tears in them. “Yes,” she said.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Odal asked, “How can you love that bumbling, tongue-twisted…”

“He’s stronger than you are!” Geri flashed. “And braver. He’d never willingly kill anyone, not even you. He let you live when everyone else on the planet—including me—would have shot you down.”

Odal backed away involuntarily.

“You owe your life to Hector,” she said.

“And now I’m supposed to throw it away to save his.”

“That’s right. That would be the decent thing to do. It’s what he’d do for you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Of course you do. You don’t know what decency is.”

He looked at her, carefully this time, trying to fathom the emotions in her face, her voice.

“Do you hate me?” Odal asked.

Her mouth started to form a yes, but she hesitated. “I should; I have every reason to. I… I don’t know… I want to!”

She got up from the bench and walked rapidly, head down, to the nearest exit from the courtyard. Odal watched her for a moment, then went after her. But the guards stopped him as he neared the door. Geri went on through and disappeared from his sight without ever turning back to look at him.

“Cowards!” Romis spat. “Spineless, weak-kneed old women.”

He was pacing the length of the bookshelf-lined study in his villa, slashing out words as cold and sharp as knife blades. Sitting next to the fireplace, holding an ornate glass in his hand, was the captain of the star ship in which Hector was being held.

“They plot for months on end,” Romis muttered, more to himself than the captain. “They argue over the pettiest details for days. They slither around like snakes, trying to make certain that the plan is absolutely foolproof. But as soon as some danger arises, what do they do?”

The captain raised the glass to his lips.

“They back down!” Romis shouted. “They place their own rotten little lives ahead of the welfare of the Kerak Worlds. They allow that monster to live, for fear that they might die.”

The captain asked, “Well, what did you expect of them? You can’t force them to be brave. The army leaders, maybe. But they’ve all been arrested. Whole families. Your politician friends are scared out of their wits by Kor. It’s a wonder he hasn’t picked you up.”

“He won’t,” Romis said, smiling strangely. “Not until he finds out where Odal is. He fears Odal’s return. He knows how well the assassin’s been trained.”

“Well, you won’t be getting Odal back from Spencer unless you give up the Watchman. And once he goes, you can expect Spencer to hover over us like a vulture.”

“Then what must I do? Kill Kanus myself?”

“You can’t.” The captain shook his head.

“Why not? You think I lack…”

“My old friend, don’t lose sight of your objectives. Kanus is the monster, yes. But he’s surrounded by lesser monsters. If you try to kill him, you’ll be killed yourself.”

“So?”

“Then who will take over leadership of the government? One of Kanus’ underlings, of course. Would you like to see Greber in power? Or Kor?”

Romis visibly shuddered. “Of course not.”

“Then put the idea of personally performing the execution out of your head. It’s suicide.”

“But Kanus must be stopped. I’m certain he means to attack Acquatainia before the month is out.” Romis walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. “I suppose we will have to ask for Odal’s return. Even if it means giving back the Watchman and having Spencer poised to invade us.”

“Are you sure?”

“What else can we do? If we can pull off the assassination quickly enough, we can keep Spencer out of Kerak. But if we hesitate much, longer, we’ll be at war with Acquatainia.”

“We can beat the Acquatainians.”

“I know,” Romis replied. “But once we do, Kanus will be so popular among the people that we wouldn’t dare touch him. And then the madman will attack the Terrans. That will pull the house down on all of us.”

“Hmmm.”

Romis turned to face the captain. “We must return the Watchman and get Odal back here. At once.”

“Good,” said the captain. “Frankly, the Watchman has been a royal nuisance aboard my ship. He’s disrupting everything.”

“How can one man disrupt an entire star ship?”

The captain took a fast final gulp of his drink. “You don’t know this one man.”

As the captain approached his star ship in his personal shuttle craft, he could sense something was wrong.

It was nothing he could see, but the ship simply did not seem right. His worries were confirmed when the shuttle docked inside one of the giant star ship’s air locks. The emergency lights were on, and they were very dim at that. The outer hatch was cranked shut by two spacesuited deck hands, and it took nearly fifteen minutes to bring the lock up to normal air pressure, using the auxiliary air pumps.

“What in the name of all the devils has happened here?” the captain stormed to a cringing junior officer as he stepped out of the shuttle.

“It… it’s the power, sir. The power… shut off.”

“Shut off?”

The officer swallowed nervously and replied, “Yessir. All at once… all through the ship… no power!”

The captain fumed under his breath for a moment, then snapped, “Crank the inner hatch open and get me to the bridge.”

The deck hands jumped to it, and in a few minutes the captain, junior officer, and lower ratings had deserted the air lock, leaving the shuttle empty and unguarded.

Out of the pressurized control compartment at the far end of the lock stepped Hector, his thin face wary and serious, but not without the flickerings of a slightly self-satisfied smile.

They should be finding the cause of the power failure in a minute or two, he said to himself. And as soon as the main lights go on, out I go.

Hector tiptoed around the lock, making certain adjustments to the temporarily inert air pumps and hatch control unit. Then he climbed into the little shuttle, sealed its hatch, and studied the control panel. Not too tough… I think.

It had been a ridiculously easy job to cause a power breakdown. All Hector had needed was a little time, so that the guards would begin to allow him to roam certain parts of the ship alone. He had spent long hours in the observation center, learning the layout of the mammoth ship and pinpointing his ultimate objective—the Ministry of Intelligence, where a dueling machine was.

An hour ago, he had taken one of his customary strolls from his quarters to the communications center. His guards, after seeing Hector safely seated among a dozen Kerak technicians, relaxed. Hector waited a while, then casually sauntered over to the stairwell that led down to the switching equipment, on the deck below.

Hector nearly fouled his plan completely by missing the second rung on the metal ladder and plummeting to the deck below. For a long moment he lay on his face, trying to look invisible, or at least dead. Finally he risked a peep up the ladder. No one was coming after him; they hadn’t noticed. He was safe, for a few minutes.

He quickly found what he wanted: the leads from the main power plants and the communications antennas. He pulled one of the printed circuit elements from a stand-by console and used it to form a bridge between the power lead connectors and the antenna circuit. While the rules of physics claimed that what he was attempting was impossible, Hector knew from a previous experience on a Star Watch ship (he still shuddered at the memory) exactly what this “accidental” misconnection would do.

It took about fifteen seconds for the power plants to pump all their energy into the short circuit. The effect was a quiet one: no sparks, no smoke, no explosion. All that happened was that all the lights and motors aboard the ship went off simultaneously. The emergency systems turned on immediately, of course. But in the dim auxiliary lighting, and the confusion of the surprised, bewildered, angry men, it was fairly simple for Hector to make his way along a carefully preplanned route to the main air lock.

Now he sat in the captain’s shuttle, waiting for the power to return. The main lights flickered briefly, then turned on to full brightness. The air-lock pumps hummed to life, the outer hatch slid open. Hector nudged the throttle and the shuttle edged out of the air lock and away from the orbiting ship.

The Kerak captain needed about ten minutes to piece together all the information: the deliberate misconnection in the switching equipment; Hector’s disappearance; and, finally, the unauthorized departure of his personal shuttle.

“He’s escaped,” the captain mumbled. “Escaped. When we were just about to send him back.”

“What shall we do, sir? If the planetary patrols detect the ship, he won’t be able to identify himself satisfactorily. They’ll blast him!”

The captain’s eyes lit up at the thought. But then, “No. If we lose him, the whole Star Watch will pour into Kerak.” He thought for a moment, then told his aides, “Have our communications men send out a flight plan to the planetary patrol. Tell them that my shuttle and an auxiliary boat are bringing a contingent of men and officers to the Ministry of Intelligence. And get one of the boats ready for immediate departure. Take your best men. This mess is going to get worse before it gets better.”

8

Odal paced his windowless room endlessly: from the wall screen, around the lounge, past the guarded door to the outside hall, to the bedroom doorway, back again. And again, and again, across the thick carpeting.

He was trying to use his mind as a dispassionate computer, to weigh and count and calculate a hundred different factors. But each factor was different, imponderable, non-numerical. And any one of them could determine the length of Odal’s life span.

Kanus, Kor, Romis, Hector, and Geri.

If I returned to Kerak, would Kanus restore me to my full honors? I hold the key to teleportation, to a devastating new way to invade and conquer a nation. Or has Kanus found other psychic talents? Would he regard me as a traitor or a spy? Or worst of all, a failure?

Kor. Odal could report everything he knew about Romis’ plot to kill the Leader. Which wasn’t much. Kor probably already had that much information and more.

What about Romis? Is he still bent on overthrowing the Leader? Does he still want an assassin?

And the Watchman, that bumbling fool. But a teleporter, and probably as full talented as Odal himself. I can impress Leoh and Spencer by rescuing him. It would be risky, but if I do it… it will impress the girl, too.

The girl. Geri Dulaq. Yes, Geri. She has every reason to hate me, and yet there is something other than hate in her eyes. Fear? Anger? They say that hate is very close to love.

The view screen chimed, snapping Odal from his chain of thought and pacing. He clapped his hands and the wall dissolved, revealing the bulky form of Leoh sitting at his desk in the dueling machine building. The machine itself was partially visible through the open doorway behind the Professor.

“I thought you should know,” Leoh said without preliminaries, his wrinkled face downcast with worry, “that Hector has apparently escaped from Romis’ hands. We received a message from one of Romis’ friends in the Kerak embassy that he’s disappeared.”

Odal stood absolutely still in the middle of the room. “Disappeared? What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Leoh replied, “According to our information, Hector was being kept aboard an orbiting star ship. He somehow got off the ship in a shuttle craft, presumably heading for the Kerak dueling machine. The same one you escaped from. That’s all we know.”

“That machine is in Kor’s Ministry of Intelligence,” Odal heard himself saying calmly. But his mind was racing: Kor, Hector, Romis, Geri. “He’s walking straight into the fire.”

“You’re the only one who can help him now,” Leoh said.

Geri. The look on her face. Her voice: “You wouldn’t know what decency is.”

“Very well,” said Odal. “I’ll try.”

He had expected to feel either an excitement at the thought of pleasing Geri, or a new burden of fear at the prospect of returning to Kor’s hands. Instead he felt neither. Nothing. His emotions seemed turned off-or, perhaps, they were merely waiting for something to happen.

It was late at night when Odal, closely guarded, arrived at the dueling machine. He was wearing black from his throat to his boots, and looked like a grim shadow against the antiseptic white of the chamber.

Leoh met him at the control desk. The Acquatainian guards stood back.

“I’m sorry it took so long to get you here. Every minute’s delay could mean Hector’s life. And yours.”

Odal smiled tightly at the afterthought.

The old man continued, “I had to talk to Martine for two whole hours before he’d permit your release. And I roused Sir Harold from his sleep. He was less than happy.”

“If I recall the time differential correctly,” Odal said, “it’s nearly dawn at Kor’s headquarters. An ideal time to arrive.”

“But is their dueling machine on?” Leoh asked. “We can’t make the jump unless the machine on the receiving end is under power.”

Odal thought a moment. “It might be. When Kor was… experimenting with me, they used the machine early each morning. It was always turned up to full power when I arrived for the day’s testing. They probably turn it on at dawn as a matter of routine.”

“There’s one way to find out,” said Leoh, gesturing to the dueling machine.

Odal nodded. The moment had come. He was returning to Kerak. To what fate? Death or glory? To which allegiance? Kor or Romis? Kill Hector or save him?

And the picture he held in his mind as they adjusted the neurocontacts and left him in the dueling machine’s booth was the picture of Geri’s face. He tried to imagine how she would look smiling.

It was late at night, dark and wind swept, when Hector skidded the stolen shuttle craft to a bone-rattling stop deep in a ravine a few kilometers from the Intelligence Ministry.

He had come in low and fast, hoping to avoid detection by Kerak scanners. Now, as he stood atop the dented shuttle craft, feeling the wind, hearing its keening through the dark trees in the ravine, he focused his gaze on the beetling towers of the Intelligence building, silhouetted darkly atop a hill against the star-bright sky.

Looks like an ancient castle, Hector thought, without knowing that it was.

He ducked back through the hatch into the equipment storage racks, pulled out a jet belt, and squirmed into it. Then he went forward to the pilot’s compartment and turned off all the power on the ship.

Might need her again, in case I can’t get to the dueling machine.

It took him ten minutes to grope his way back to the hatch in darkness. Ten minutes, three shin-barkings, and one head-banging of near concussion magnitude. But finally Hector stood outside the hatch once more. He took a deep breath, faced the Intelligence building, and touched the control stud of the jet belt.

In the quiet night, the noise was shattering. Hector’s ears rang as he flew, squinting into the stinging wind, toward the castle. Maybe this isn’t the best way to sneak up on them, he suspected. But now the battlements were looming before him, racing up fast. Cutting power, he tumbled down and hit hard, sprawling on the squared-off top of the tallest tower.

Shaking his head to clear it and get rid of the ear-ringing, Hector got to his feet. He was unhurt. The platform was about ten meters square, with a stairway leading down from one corner. Did they hear me coming?

As if in answer, he heard footsteps ticking up the stone stairway. Shrugging off the jet belt, he hefted its weight in his hands, then hurried over to the top of the stairs. A man’s head came into view. He turned as he ran up the last few steps and started to whisper hoarsely, “Are you here, Watchman? I…”

Hector knocked him unconscious with the jet belt before he could say any more. As he struggled into the Kerak guard’s uniform, pulling it over his own cover-alls, Hector suddenly wondered: How did he know it was a Watchman? Maybe he’s been alerted by the star-ship captain. If that’s the case, then these people are against Kanus.

Once inside the guard uniform, Hector started down the steps. Three more guards were waiting for him at the bottom of the flight, in a stone-faced hallway that curved off into darkness. The lighting wasn’t very good, but Hector could see that there men were big, tough-looking, and armed with pistols. He hoped they wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t the same man who had gone up the stairs a few minutes earlier.

Hector grinned at them and fluttered a wave. He kept walking, trying to get past them and down the corridor.

“Hey, you’re the…” one of the guards started to say, in the Kerak language.”

Hector suddenly felt sick. He could barely understand the Kerak tongue, much less speak it. He kept his grin, weak though it was, and walked a bit faster.

The second guard grabbed the first one’s arm and cut him short. “Let him through,” he whispered. “We’ll try to get the word to our people downstairs and get him into the dueling machine and out of here. But don’t get caught near him by Kor’s people! Understand?”

“All right, but somebody better cut off the scanners that watch the halls.”

“Can’t do that without running the risk of alerting Kor himself!”

“We’ll have to chance it… otherwise they’ll spot him in a minute, in a guard uniform four sizes too small for him.”

Hector was past them now, wondering what the whispering was about, but still moving. As he rounded the corner of the corridor, he saw an open lift tube, looking raw and new in the warm polished stone of the wall. The tube was lit and operating. Hector stepped in, said, “Dueling machine level” in basic Terran to the simple-minded computer that ran the tube, and closed his eyes.

The computer’s squeaky voice echoed back, “Dueling machine level; turn left, then right.” Hector opened his eyes and stepped out of the tube. The corridor here was much brighter, better lit. But there was still no one in sight.

It was almost like magic. Hector made his way through the long corridors of the castle without seeing another soul. He passed guard stations where steaming mugs sat alone on desk tops, passed open doors to spacious rooms, passed blank view screens. He saw scanning cameras set high up on the corridor wall every few meters, but they seemed to be off. Once or twice he thought he might have heard scuffling and the muffled sounds of men struggling, but he never saw a single person.

Then the big green double doors of the dueling machine chamber came into view. One of them was open, and he could see the machine itself, dimly lit inside.

Still no one in sight!

Hector sprinted into the big, arched-ceiling room and ran straight to the main control desk of the machine. He started setting the power when all the lights in the chamber blazed on blindingly.

From all the doors around the chamber, white-helmeted guards burst in, guns in their hands. A viewscreen high above flashed into life and a furious man with a bald, bullet-shaped head shouted:

“There he is! Get him!”

Before Hector could move, he felt the flaming pain of a stun bolt smash him against the control desk. As he sank to the floor, consciousness spiraling away from him, he heard Kor ordering:

“Now arrest all the traitors who were helping him. If they resist, kill them!”

Hector’s head was buzzing. He couldn’t get his eyes open all the way. He seemed to be in a tiny unlit cubicle, metal-walled, with a blank view screen staring at him. Something was on his head, something else strapped around his chest. He couldn’t see his hands; they were down on his lap and his head wouldn’t move far enough to look at them. Nor would his hands move, despite his will.

He heard voices. Whether they were outside the cubicle or inside his head, he couldn’t tell.

“What do you mean, nothing? He must have some thoughts in his head!”

“Yes, Minister Kor, there are. But they are so random, so patternless…, I’ve never examined a brain like his. I don’t see how he can walk straight, let alone think.”

“He is a natural telepath,” Kor’s harsh voice countered. “Perhaps he’s hiding his true thought patterns from you.”

“Under the influence of the massive drug doses we’ve given him? Impossible.”

“The drugs might not affect him.”

“No, that couldn’t be. His physical condition shows that the drugs have stupefied him almost completely.”

A new voice piped up. “The monitor shows that the drugs are wearing off; he’s beginning to regain consciousness.”

“Dose him again,” Kor ordered.

“More drugs? The effect could be dangerous… even fatal.”

“Must I repeat myself? The Watchman is a natural telepath. If he regains full consciousness inside the dueling machine, he can disappear at will. The consequences of that will be fatal… to you!”

Hector tried to open his eyes fully, but the lids felt gummy, as though they’d been glued together. Inside the dueling machine! If I can get myself together before they put me under again.… His hands weighed two hundred kilos apiece, and he still couldn’t move his head. But through his half-open eyes he could see that the view screen was softly glowing, even though blank. The machine was on. They’ve been trying to pick my brain, he realized.

“Here’s the syringe, Doctor,” another voice said. “It’s fully loaded.”

Frantically, Hector tried to brush the cobwebs from his mind. Concentrate on Acquatainia, he told himself. Concentrate! But he could hear the footsteps approaching his booth.

And then his mind seemed to explode. His whole body wrenched violently with a flood of alien thought pouring through him.

9

One moment Odal was sitting in the Acquatainian dueling machine, thinking about Geri Dulaq. An instant later he knew he was in Kerak, and someone else was in the dueling machine with him. Hector! His mind was open and Odal could look deep.… A flash like a supernova explosion rocked Odal’s every fiber. Two minds exposed to each other, fully, amplified and cross-linked by the circuits of the machine, fused together inescapably. Every nerve and muscle in both their bodies arched as though a hundred thousand volts of electricity were shooting through them.

Odal! Hector realized. He could see into Odal’s mind as if it were his own. In a strange, double-visioned sort of way, he was Odal… himself and Odal, both at the same time. And Odal, sharing Hector’s mind, became Hector.

Hector saw long files of cadets marching wearily in heavy gray uniforms, felt the weight of the lumpy field packs on their backs, sweated under the scorching sun.

Odal felt the thrill of a boy’s first sight of a star ship as it floated magnificently in orbit.

Now Hector was running through the narrow streets of an ancient town, running with a dozen other teenagers in brown uniforms, wielding clubs, shouting in the night shadows, smashing windows of certain shops and homes where a special symbol had been crudely painted only a few minutes earlier. And if anyone came outside to protest, they smashed him, too.

Odal saw a Star Watch instructor sadly shaking his head at his/Hector’s attempts to command the bridge of a training ship.

Standing at attention, face frozen in a grim scowl, while the Leader harangued an assembly of a half-million troops and citizens on the anniversary of his ascent to power.

Running after the older boys, trying to get them to let you into the game; but they say you’re too small, too dumb, and above all too clumsy.

Holding back the tears of anger and fright while the captain slowly explained why your parents had been taken away. He was almost using baby talk. He didn’t like this task, didn’t like sending grown-ups to wherever it was that they put bad people. But Mother and Father were bad. They had said bad things about the Leader. And now he would become a soldier and help the Leader and kill all the bad people.

Playing ball in zero gee with four other cadets, floating in the huge, metal-ribbed, spheroidal gym, laughing, trying to toss the ball without flipping yourself into a weightless tumble.

Smashing the smug face of the upperclassman who called his parents traitor. His bloody, surprised face. Kneeing, clubbing, kicking him into silence. No one will mention that subject again.

Standing, shaking with exertion and fear, gun in hand, wanting to kill, wanting to please the girl who screamed for death, but looking into the face of the downed man and realizing that nothing, NOTHING, warrants taking a human life.

Clubbing the moon-faced Dulaq, smashing him down into shrieking blood as the six of you hammered him to death, telling yourself he’s an enemy, an enemy, if I don’t kill him he’ll kill me, if I don’t kill him the Leader will find someone else who will.

Half-thoughts, emotions, snatches of memory. A mother’s face, the special smell of your own room, the sound of laughter. The forgotten past, the buried past, the warmth of the fireplace at home after a day in the snow, the fragrance of Father’s pipe, the satisfied purring of the soft-furred kitten in your arms.

Leaving home saying good-by, Dad still unconvinced that you belonged in the Star Watch. Driving off with the captain, away from the house that was empty now. Fumbling, faltering through training, somehow passing, but always by the barest margin. Being the best, first in the ranks: best student, best athlete, best soldier. Always the best. Learning the real mission of the Star Watch: protect the peace. Learning how to hate, how to kill, and above all, how to revenge yourself against Acquatainia.

Meeting and merging, spiraling together, memories of a lifetime intertwining, interlinking, brain synapses flashing, chemical balances subtly changing, two lives, two histories, two personalities melting together more completely than any two minds had ever known before. Hector and Odal, Odal/Hector—in the flash of that instant when they met in the dueling machine they became briefly one and the same.

And when one of the Kerak meditechs noted the power surging through the machine and turned it off, each of the two young men became an individual again. But a different individual than before. Neither of them could be the same as before. They were linked, irrevocably.

“What is it?” Kor snapped. “What caused the machine to use power like that?”

The meditech shrugged inside his white lab coat. “The Watchman is in there alone. I don’t understand…”

Furious, Kor bustled toward Hector’s booth. “If he’s recovered and escaped, I’ll…”

Both doors opened simultaneously. From one booth stepped Hector, clear-eyed, straight-backed, tall and lean and blond. His face was curiously calm, almost smiling. He glanced across to the other booth.

Odal stood there. Just as tall and lean and blond as Hector, with almost exactly the same expression on his face: a knowing expression, a satisfaction that nothing would ever be able to damage.

“You!” Kor shouted. “You’ve returned.”

For half an instant they all stood there frozen: Hector and Odal at opposite ends of the dueling machine, Kor stopped in mid-stride about halfway between them, four meditechs at the control panels, a pair of armed guards slightly behind Kor. Kerak’s wan bluish sun was throwing a cold early-morning light through the stone-ribbed chamber’s only window.

“You are under arrest,” Kor said to Odal. “And as for you, Watchman, we’re not finished with you.”

“Yes you are,” Hector said evenly as he walked slowly and deliberately toward the Intelligence Minister.

Kor frowned. Then he saw Odal advancing toward him too. He took a step backward, then turned to the two guards. “Stop them…”

Too late. Like a perfectly synchronized machine, Odal and Hector launched themselves at the guards and knocked them both unconscious before Kor could say another word. Picking up a fallen guard’s pistol, Odal pointed it at Kor. Hector retrieved the other gun and covered the cowering meditechs.

“Into the prisoners’ cells, all of you,” Odal commanded.

“You’ll die for this!” Kor screamed.

Odal jabbed him in the ribs with the pistol. “Everyone dies sooner or later. Do you want to do it here and now?”

Kor went white. Trembling, he marched out of the chamber and toward the cell block.

There were guards on duty at the cells. One of them Odal recognized as a member of Romis’ followers. They locked up the rest, then hurried back upstairs toward Kor’s office.

“You take this pistol,” Odal said to the guard as they hurried up a flight of stone steps. “If we see anyone, tell them you’re taking us to be questioned by the Minister.”

The guard nodded. Hector tucked his pistol out of sight inside his coveralls.

“We’ve only got a few minutes before someone discovers Kor in the cells,” Odal said to Hector. “We must reach Romis and get out of here.”

Twice they were stopped by guards along the corridors, but both times were permitted to pass. Kor’s outer office was empty; it was still too early for his staff to have shown up.

The guard used Kor’s desktop communicator to reach Romis, his fingers shaking slightly at the thought of exposing himself to the Minister’s personal equipment.

Romis’ face, still sleepy-looking, took shape on the desktop view screen. His eyes widened when he recognized Odal.

“What?…”

Hector stepped into view. “I escaped from your ship,” he explained swiftly, “but got caught by Kor when I tried to get to the dueling machine here. Odal jumped back from Acquatainia. We’ve got Kor locked up temporarily.

If you’re going to move against Kanus, this is the morning for it. You’ve only got a few minutes to act.”

Romis blinked. “You… you’ve locked up Kor? You’re at the Intelligence Ministry?”

“Yes,” Odal said. “If you have any troops you can rely on, get them here immediately. We’re going to release as many of Kor’s prisoners as we can, but we’ll need more troops and weapons to hold this building against Kor’s private army. If we can hang on here and get to Kanus, I think most of the army will go over to your side. We can win without bloodshed, perhaps. But we must act quickly!”

10

Sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the two young blond faces on his bedside view screen, Romis struggled to put his thoughts in order.

“Very well. I’ll send every unit I can count on to hold the Intelligence Ministry. Major Odal, perhaps you can contact some of the people you know in the army.”

“Yes,” said Odal. “Many of their officers are right here, under arrest.”

Romis nodded. “I’ll call Marshal Lugal immediately. I think he’ll join us.”

“But we’ve got to get Kanus before he can bring the main force of the army into action,” Hector said.

“Yes, yes of course. Kanus is at his retreat in the mountains. It’s not quite dawn there. Probably he’s still asleep.”

“Is there a dueling machine there?” Odal asked.

“I don’t know. There might be. I’ve heard rumors about his having one installed for his own use recently…”

“All right,” Hector said. “Maybe we can jump there.”

“Not until we’ve freed the prisoners and made certain this building is well defended,” said Odal.

“Right,” Hector agreed.

“There’s much to do,” Odal said to the Foreign Minister. “And not a second to waste.”

“Yes,” Romis agreed.

The tri-di image snapped off, leaving him looking at a dead-gray screen set into the side of his bed table. Romis shook his head, as though trying to clear it of the memory of a dream.

It could be a trap, he told himself. One of Kor’s insidious maneuvers. But the Star Watchman was there; he wouldn’t help Kor. Or was it the Watchman? Might it have been an impersonator?

“Trap or not,” Romis said aloud, “we’ll never have another opportunity like this… if it’s real.”

He made up his mind. In three minutes he placed three tri-di calls. The deed was done. He was either going to free Kerak of its monster, or kill several hundred good men—including himself.

He got up from bed, dressed swiftly, and called for an air car. Then he opened the bed-table drawer and took out a palm-sized pistol.

His butler appeared at the door. “Sir, your air car is ready. Will you require a pilot?”

“No,” said Romis, tucking the gun into his belt. “I’ll go alone. If I don’t call you by noon, then… open the vault behind the bed, read the instructions there, and try to save yourself and the other servants. Good-bye.”

Before the stunned butler could say another word, Romis strode past him and out toward the air car.

Kanus was abruptly awakened by a terrified servant.

“What is it?” the Leader grumbled, sitting up slowly in the immense circular bed. The sun had barely started to touch the distant snow-capped peaks that were visible through the giant room’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

“A… a call from the Minister of Intelligence, sir.”

“Don’t stand there, put him through!”

The servant touched an ornamented dial next to the doorway. Part of the wall seemed to dissolve into a very grainy, shadowy image of Kor. He appeared to be sitting on a hard bench in a dimly lit, stone-walled cell.

“What’s going on?” Kanus demanded. “Why have you awakened me?”

“It has happened, my Leader,” Kor said quietly, unemotionally. “The traitors are making their move. I’ve been locked in one of my own cells…”

“What?” Kanus sat rigidly upright in the bed.

Kor smiled. “The fools think they can win by capturing me and holding the Intelligence Ministry. They overlooked a few details. For one, I have my pocket communicator. I’ve monitored their calls. Romis is no doubt on his way to your palace right now, intent on killing you.”

“Romis! And you’re locked up!”

Raising his hands in a gesture of calm, Kor went on.

“No need to be overly alarmed, my Leader. They are merely exposing themselves, at last. We can crush them.”

“I’ll call out the army,” Kanus said, his voice rising.

“Some parts of the army may turn out to be disloyal to you,” Kor answered. “Your personal guards should be sufficient, however, to stop these traitors. If you could detach a division or so to recapture the Ministry building, and have your own dueling machine there guarded, that should take care of most of it. Romis is flying into your hands, so it should be a simple matter to deal with him when he arrives.

“My dueling machine? They’re coming through my dueling machine?”

“Only two of them: the traitor Odal, and the Watchman.”

“I’ll have them killed by inches!” Kanus roared. “And Romis too!”

“Yes, of course. But it will be important to recapture the Intelligence Ministry and free me. And also, you should be ready to deal with any elements of the army and space fleet that refuse to follow your orders.”

’Traitors! Traitors everywhere! I’ll have them all killed!”

Kanus banged the control stud over his bed and the wall screen went dark. He began screaming orders to the cringing servant, still standing by the doorway. Within minutes he was robed and hurrying down the hallway toward the room where he had his own private dueling machine.

A squad of guards met him at the door to the dueling machine room.

“Keep that machine off!” Kanus ordered. “If anyone appears inside the machine, bring him to me at once.”

The guard captain saluted.

Another servant appeared at Kanus’ elbow. “Foreign Minister Romis has arrived, my Leader. He…”

“Bring him to my office. At once!”

Kanus strode angrily back to his office. Two guards, armed and helmeted, stood at the door. He brushed past them and stalked inside. Romis was already there, standing by the window alongside the elevated desk.

“Traitor!” Kanus screamed at the sight of the diplomat. “Assassin! Guards, cut him down!”

Startled, Romis reached for the gun at his waist. But the guards were already inside the office, guns drawn.

Romis hesitated. Then the guards took off their helmets to reveal two blond heads, two lean, grinning faces.

“We arrived at your dueling machine sooner than you thought we would,” Odal said to Kanus. “It was a simple matter to overpower the guards at the door and take their uniforms.”

“We left when your squad of guards arrived,” Hector added, “and came here, just a few steps ahead of you.”

Kanus’ knees boggled.

Romis relaxed. His hands dropped to his sides. “It’s all over, Chancellor. You are deposed. My men have seized the Intelligence Ministry; most of the army is against you. You can avoid a good deal of bloodshed by surrendering yourself to me and ordering your guards not to fight their countrymen.”

Kanus tried to shriek, but no sounds would come from his throat. Wild-eyed, he threw himself between Odal and Hector and dashed to the door.

“Don’t shoot him!” Romis shouted. “We need him alive if we’re going to prevent a civil war!”

Kanus raced blindly down the halls to the dueling machine. Without a word to the startled guards standing around the machine, he punched a half-dozen buttons on the control board and bolted into one of the booths. He slapped the neurocontacts to his head and chest and took a deep, long breath. His pounding heart slowed, steadied. His eyes slid shut. His body relaxed.

He was sitting on a golden throne at the head of an enormously long hall. Throngs of people lined the richly tapestried walls, and the most beautiful women in the galaxy sat, bejeweled and leisurely, on the cushioned steps at his feet. At the bottom of the steps knelt Sir Harold Spencer, shackled, blinded, his once proud uniform grimy with blood and filth. No, not blind. Kanus wanted him to see, wanted to look into the Star Watch Commander’s eyes as he described in great detail how the old man would be slowly, slowly killed.

And now he was floating through space, alone, unprotected from the vacuum and radiation but perfectly comfortable, perfectly at ease. Suns passed by him as he sailed majestically through the galaxy, his galaxy, his personal conquest. He saw a planet below him. It displeased him. He extended a hand toward it. Its cities burst into flames. He could hear the screams of their inhabitants, hear them begging him for mercy. Smiling, he let them roast.

Mountains were chiseled away to become statues of Kanus the Conqueror, Kanus the All-Powerful. Throughout the galaxy men knelt in worship before him.

They feared him. Yet more, they loved him. He was their Leader, and they loved him because he was all-powerful. His word was the law of nature. He could suspend gravity, eclipse stars, bestow life or take it.

He stood before the kneeling multitudes, smiling at some, frowning at those who displeased him. They curled and writhed like leaves in flame. But there was one who was not kneeling. One tall, silver-haired man, straight and slim, walking purposively toward him.

“You must give yourself up,” said Romis gravely.

“Die!” Kanus shouted.

But Romis kept advancing toward him. “Your guards have surrendered. You’ve been in the dueling machine for two hours now. Most of the army has refused to obey you. The Kerak Worlds have repudiated you. Kor has committed suicide. There is some fighting going on, however. You can end it by surrendering to me.”

“I am the master of the universe! No one can stand before me!”

“You are sick,” Romis said stiffly. “You need help.”

“I’ll kill you!”

“You cannot kill me. You are helpless…”

Everything began to fade, shrink away, dim into darkness. There was nothing now but grayness, and Romis’ grave, uncompromising figure standing before him.

“You need help. We will help you.”

Kanus could feel tears filling his eyes. “I am alone,” he whimpered. “Alone… and afraid.”

His face a mixture of distaste and pity, Romis extended his hand. “We will help you. Come with me.”

11

Professor Leoh squinted at his wrist screen and saw that it was four minutes before lift-off. The bright red sun of Acquatainia was near zenith. A warm breeze wafted across the spaceport.

“I hope he can get here before we leave,” Geri was saying to Hector. “We owe him .… well, something.”

Hector started to nod, then noticed a trim little air car circling overhead. It banked smartly against the cloud-puffed sky and glided to a landing not far from the gleaming shuttle craft that stood before them. Down from its cockpit clambered the lithe figure of Odal.

Hector trotted out to meet him. The two men shook hands, both of them smiling.

“I never realized before,” Leoh said to the girl, “how much they resemble each other. They look almost like brothers.”

Odal was wearing his light-blue uniform again; Hector was in civilian tunic and shorts.

“I’m sorry to be so late,” Odal said to Geri as he came toward her. “I wanted to bring you a wedding present, and had to hunt all over Kerak for one of these…”

He handed Geri a small plastic box filled with earth. A single, thin bluish leaf had pushed up above the ground.

“It’s an eon tree,” Odal explained to them. “They’ve become very rare. It will take a century to reach maturity, but once grown it will be taller than any other tree known.”

Geri smiled at him and took the present.

“I wanted to give you a new life,” Odal went on, “in exchange for the new life you’ve given me.”

Hector said, “We wanted to give you something, too. But with the wedding and everything we just haven’t had the time to breathe, practically. But we’ll send you something from Mars.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, then the loudspeaker summoned Hector and Geri to the ship.

Standing beside Leoh, watching the two of them walk arm in arm toward the ship, Odal asked, “You’re going to return to Carinae?”

“Yes.” Leoh nodded. “Hector will join me there in a few months, he and Geri. We’ve got a lifetime of work ahead of us. It’s a shame you can’t work with us. Now that we know interstellar teleportation is possible, we’ve got to find out how it works and why. We’re going to open up the stars to real colonization, at last.”

Looking wistfully at Geri as she rode the lift up to the shuttle’s hatch, Odal said, “I think it would be best for me to stay away from them. Besides, I have my own duties in Kerak. Romis is teaching me the arts of government…peaceful, law-abiding government, just as you have in the Commonwealth.”

“That’s a big job,” Leoh admitted, “cleaning up after the mess Kanus made.”

“You’d be interested to know that Kanus is being treated psychonically, in the dueling machine. Your invention is being turned into a therapeutic device.”

“So I’ve heard,” the old man said. “Its use as a dueling machine is only one possible application for the machine. Look what it did to you and Hector. I never realized that two men could be so dramatically drawn together.”

It was Odal’s turn to smile. “I learned a lot in that moment with Hector in the machine.”

“So did he. And yet,” Leoh’s voice took on a hint of regret, “I almost wish he were the old Hector again. He’s so… so mature now. No more scatterbrain. He doesn’t even whistle any more. He’ll be a great man in a few years. Perhaps a Star Watch commander someday. He’s completely changed.”

As they watched, Hector and Geri waved from the hatch of the shuttle craft. The hatch slid shut, but somehow Hector’s hand got caught still outside. A crewman had to reopen the hatch, glaring at the red-faced Watchman.

Leoh began laughing. “Well, perhaps not completely changed after all,” he said with some relief.