“I think I see….”
“Of course. The Acquataine government is paralyzed now, until the outcome of the duel is known. We cannot effectively intervene in the Szamo crisis until we know who will be heading the government next week. And, frankly, more than a few members of the Cabinet are now openly favoring Kanus and arguing that we should establish friendly relations with him before it is too late.”
“But that’s all the more reason for refusing the duel,” Leoh insisted.
“And be accused of cowardice in my own Cabinet meetings?” Massan shook his head. “In politics, my dear sir, the appearance of a man means much—sometimes more than his substance. As a coward, I would soon be out of office. But, perhaps, as the winner of a duel against the invincible Odal … or even as a martyr … I may accomplish something useful.”
Leoh said nothing.
Massan continued, “I put off the duel for a week, which is the longest time I dare to postpone. I hope that in that time you can discover Odal’s secret. As it is, the political situation may collapse about our heads at any moment.”
“I’ll take the machine apart and rebuild it again, molecule by molecule,” Leoh promised.
As Massan’s image faded from the screen, Leoh turned to Hector. “We have one week to save his life.”
“And, uh, maybe prevent a war,” Hector added.
“Yes.” Leoh leaned back in his chair and stared off into infinity.
Hector shuffled his feet, rubbed his nose, whistled a few bars of off-key tunes, and finally blurted, “How can you take apart the dueling machine?”