Holding the broadsword aloft, Hector charged toward Odal, who stood dogged, short-breathed, sweat-streaked, waiting for him. The broadsword was quite heavy, even for a two-handed grip. And Hector never noticed his own battered helmet lying on the ground between them.
Odal, for his part, had Hector’s charge and swing timed perfectly in his own mind. He would duck under the swing and bury his ax in the Watchman’s chest. Then he would face the others. Probably, with their leader gone, the duel would automatically end. But, of course, Hector would not really be dead; the best Odal could hope for now was to win the duel.
Hector charged directly into Odal’s plan, but the Watchman’s timing was much poorer than anticipated. Just as he began the downswing of a mighty broadsword stroke, he stumbled on the helmet. Odal started to duck, then saw the Watchman was diving face-first into the ground, legs flailing, and that heavy broadsword was cleaving through the air with a will of its own.
Odal pulled back in confusion, only to have the wild-swinging broadsword strike him just above the wrist with bone-shattering impact. The ax dropped out of his hand and Odal involuntarily grasped the wounded forearm with his left hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.
Shaking his head in bitter resignation, Odal turned his back on the prostrate Hector and began walking away.
Slowly the scene faded, and Hector found himself sitting in the booth of the dueling machine.
The door opened and Leoh squeezed into the booth. “You’re all right?”
Hector blinked and refocused his eyes on reality. “I think so….”
“Everything went well? The Watchmen got through to you?”
“Good thing they did. I was nearly killed anyway.”
“But you survived.”
“So far.”
Across the room, Odal stood massaging his forearm while Kor demanded, “How could they possibly have discovered the secret? Where was the leak? Who spoke to them?”
“That’s not important now,” Odal said quietly. “The primary fact is that they’ve not only discovered our trick, but they’ve found a way to duplicate it.”
The glistening dome of Kor’s bullet-shaped head- which barely rose to the level of Odal’s chin-was glowing with rage.
“The sanctimonious hypocrites,” Kor snarled, “accusing us of cheating, and then they do the very same thing.”
“Regardless of the moral values of our mutual behavior,” Odal said dryly, “it’s evident that there’s no longer any use in calling on telepathically guided assistants. I’ll face the Watchman alone during the second half of the duel.”
“Can you trust them to do the same?”
“Yes. They easily defeated my aides, then stood aside and allowed the two of us to fight by ourselves.”
“And you failed to defeat him?”
Odal frowned. “I was wounded by a fluke. He’s a very .. . unusual opponent. I can’t decide whether he’s actually as clumsy as he appears, or whether he’s shamming and trying to confuse me. Either way, it’s impossible to predict what he’s going to do.” To himself he added, Could he be telepathic, also?
Kor’s gray eyes became flat and emotionless. “You know, of course, how the Leader will react if you fail to kill this Watchman. Not merely defeat him. He must be killed. The aura of invincibility must be maintained.”
“I’ll do my best,” Odal said.
“He must be killed.”
The chime that marked the end of the rest period sounded. Odal and Hector returned to their booths. Now it was Hector’s choice of environment and weapons.
Odal found himself enveloped in darkness. Only gradually did his eyes adjust. He was in a spacesuit. For several minutes he stood motionless, peering into the darkness, every sense alert, every muscle coiled for instant action. Dimly he could see the outlines of jagged rock against a background of innumerable stars. Experimentally, he lifted one foot. It stuck, tacky, to the surface. Magnetized boots. This must be a planetoid.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness he saw that he was right. It was a small planetoid, perhaps a mile or so in diameter, he judged. Almost zero gravity. Airless.
Odal swiveled his head inside the fish-bowl helmet of his suit and saw, over his right shoulder, the figure of Hector- lank and ungainly even with the bulky suit. For a moment, Odal puzzled over the weapon to be used. Then Hector bent down, picked up a loose stone, straightened, and tossed it softly past Odal’s head. He watched it sail by and off into the darkness of space, never to return. A warning shot.