Ben Bova – Dueling Machine. Part two

Hector tried to smile at the old man’s musings, but looked worried instead. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay in Acquatainia too long. I mean, well . . . the Kerak people might still be after you. Odal was going to challenge you before I … that is. …”

“Before you saved me.”

The Watchman’s face colored. “Well, I didn’t really mean . . . that is, it wasn’t. . . .”

Leoh chuckled. “Don’t be so flustered, my boy. You’re a hero. Surely Geri regards you as such.”

“Urn, yes, I guess so.”

Changing the subject, Leoh asked, “And how are your quarters? Comfortable, I hope.”

“Sure.” Hector nodded. “The Terran embassy’s almost as plush as this apartment.”

“Not bad for a junior lieutenant.”

Hector fidgeted from the window waif to the couch, then sat on the edge of a web chair.

“Are you nervous about Sir Harold’s visit?” Leoh asked.

“N . . . nervous? No, sir. Terrified!”

Laughing, Leoh said, “Don’t worry. Harold’s a pleasant enough old grouse . . . although he tries his best to hide it.”

Nodding without looking convinced, Hector got to his feet again and went back to the window wall. Then he gasped, “He . . . he’s here!”

Leoh heaved himself up from the couch and hurried to see. A sleek ground car with Star Watch markings was pulled up at the building’s entrance. Official Acquatainian escort cars flanked it.

“He must be on his way up,” Leoh said. “Now try to relax and act. . . .”

The simple-minded door computer announced in a tinny monotone, “Your expected guests are here.”

“Then open up,” Leoh commanded.

The door slid open to reveal a pair of sturdy, steel-eyed Watchmen, a half-dozen Acquatainian honor guards, and- in their midst-the paunchy, jowly figure of Sir Harold Spencer, dressed in a shapeless gray jumpsuit.

The Star Watch Commander in Chief broke into one of his rare smiles. “Albert, you old scoundrel, how are you?”

Leoh rushed to the doorway and grasped Spencer’s outstretched hand. “Harold … I thought we’d never see each other again, in the flesh.”

“Considering the amount of flesh between the two of us, perhaps we’re violating some basic law of the universe by being in the same room together.”

They laughed and walked into the room. The door slid shut, leaving the guards outside. Hector stood transfixed beside the window wall.

“Harold, you look wonderful. …”

“Nonsense. I’m a walking geriatrics experiment. But you, you ancient schemer, you must have transferred to another body since I saw you last.”

“No, merely careful living. …”

“Ahah. My downfall. Too many worries and too much wine. It must be pleasant to live the university life, free of care….”

“Of course. Of course. Oh … Harold, I’d like to introduce Junior Lieutenant Hector.”

Hector snapped to attention and saluted.

“Stand easy, Lieutenant. No need for formality. So, you’re the man who beat Kerak’s assassin, are you?”

“No, sir. I mean yessir … I mean, Professor Leoh is the one….”

“Nonsense. Albert told me all about it. You’re the one who faced the danger.”

Hector’s mouth twitched once or twice, as though he was trying to say something, but no sounds came out.

Spencer stuck a massive hand into his pocket and pulled out a small ebony box. “This is for you, Lieutenant.” He handed the box to Hector.

The Watchman opened it and saw inside, against a jet-black setting, two small silver pins in the shape of comets. The insignia of a full lieutenant. His jaw dropped open.

“The official notification is grinding through Star Watch processing, Lieutenant,” Spencer said. “I thought there was no sense letting you wait until the computers straight­ened out all the records. Congratulations on a well-earned promotion.”

Hector managed a half-strangled, “Thank you, sir.”

Turning to Leoh, Spencer said, “Now then, Albert, let us recount old times. I assume you have some refresh­ments on the premises?”

Several hours later the two old men were sitting on the air couch, while Hector listened from the web chair. The room’s color had shifted to reds and yellows now, and the scent was of desert flowers.

“And what do you intend to do now?” Sir Harold was asking the Professor. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you’re going to luxuriate here and then return to Carinae, in the midst of the deepest political crisis of the century.”

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