by Ben Bova
terror for those whom he spokeagainst.
Marshal Lugal looked bored when Kanus spoke of politics, but his facechanged when military matters came up. The marshal lived for only onepurpose: to avenge his army's humiliating defeat in the war againstthe Acquatainians, thirty Terran years ago. What he didn't realize,Odal thought, smiling to himself, was that as soon as he hadreorganized the army and re-equipped it, Kanus planned to retire himand place younger men in charge. Men whose only loyalty was not to thearmy, not even to the Kerak Worlds and their people, but to thechancellor himself.
Eagerly following every syllable, every gesture of the leader waslittle Tinth. Born to the nobility, trained in the arts, a student ofphilosophy, Tinth had deserted his heritage and joined the forces ofKanus. His reward had been the Ministry of Education; many teachershad suffered under him.
And finally there was Romis, the Minister of IntergovernmentalAffairs. A professional diplomat, and one of the few men in governmentbefore Kanus' sweep to power to survive this long. It was clear thatRomis hated the chancellor. But he served the Kerak Worlds well. Thediplomatic corps was flawless in their handling of intergovernmentalaffairs. It was only a matter of time, Odal knew, before one ofthem--Romis or Kanus--killed the other.
* * * * *
The rest of Kanus' audience consisted of political hacks,roughnecks-turned-bodyguards, and a few other hangers-on who had beenwith Kanus since the days when he held his political monologues incellars, and haunted the alleys to avoid the police. Kanus had come along way: from the blackness of oblivion to the dazzling heights ofthe chancellor's rural estate.
Money, power, glory, revenge, patriotism: each man in the room,listening to Kanus, had his reasons for following the chancellor.
_And my reasons?_ Odal asked himself. _Why do I follow him? Can I seeinto my own mind as easily as I see into theirs?_
There was duty, of course. Odal was a soldier, and Kanus was theduly-elected leader of the government. Once elected, though, he haddissolved the government and solidified his powers as absolutedictator of the Kerak Worlds.
There was gain to be had by performing well under Kanus. Regardless ofhis political ambitions and personal tyrannies, Kanus rewarded wellwhen he was pleased. The medal--the Star of Kerak--carried with it anannual pension that would nicely accommodate a family. _If I had one_,Odal thought, sardonically.
There was power, of sorts, also. Working the dueling machine in hisspecial way, hammering a man into nothingness, finding the weaknessesin his personality and exploiting them, pitting his mind againstothers, turning sneering towers of pride like Dulaq into helplesswhipped dogs--that was power. And it was a power that did not gounnoticed in the cities of the Kerak Worlds. Already Odal was easilyrecognized on the streets; women especially seemed to be attracted tohim now.
"The most important factor," Kanus was saying, "and I cannot stress itovermuch, is to build up an aura of invincibility. This is why yourwork is so important, Major Odal. You must be invincible! Becausetoday you represent the collective will of the Kerak Worlds. To-dayyou are the instrument of my own will--and you must triumph at everyturn. The fate of your people, of your government, of your chancellorrests squarely on your shoulders each time you step into a duelingmachine. You have borne that responsibility well, major. Can you carryit even further?"
"I can, sir," Odal answered crisply, "and I will."
Kanus beamed at him. "Good! Because your next duel--and those thatfollow it--will be to the death."
IV
It took the starship two weeks to make the journey from Carinae to theAcquataine Cluster. Dr. Leoh spent the time checking over theAcquatainian dueling machine, by direct tri-di beam; the Acquatainiangovernment gave him all the technicians, time and money he needed forthe task.
Leoh spent as much of his spare time as possible with the otherpassengers of the ship. He was gregarious, a fine conversationalist,and had a nicely-balanced sense of humor. Particularly, he was afavorite of the younger women, since he had reached the age where hecould flatter them with his attention without making them feelendangered.
But still, there were long hours when he was alone in his stateroomwith nothing but his memories. At times like these, it was impossiblenot to think back over the road he had been following.
* * * * *
Albert Robertus Leoh, Ph.D., Professor of Physics, Professor ofElectronics, master of computer technology, inventor of theinterstellar tri-di communications system; and more recently, studentof psychology, Professor of Psychophysiology, founder of Psychonics,Inc., inventor of the dueling machine.
During his earlier years, when the supreme confidence of youth wasstill with him, Leoh had envisioned himself as helping mankind tospread his colonies and civilizations throughout the galaxy. Thebitter years of galactic war had ended in his childhood, and now humansocieties throughout the Milky Way were linked together--in greater orlesser degree of union--into a more-or-less peaceful coalition of stargroups.
There were two great motivating forces at work on those humansocieties spread across the stars, and these forces worked towardopposite goals. On the one hand was the urge to explore, to reach newstars, new planets, to expand the frontiers of man's civilizations andfound new colonies, new nations. Pitted against this drive to expandwas an equally-powerful force: the realization that technology hadfinally put an end to physical labor and almost to poverty itself onall the civilized worlds of man. The urge to move off to the frontierwas penned in and buried alive under the enervating comforts ofcivilization.
The result was inescapable. The civilized worlds became constantlymore crowded as time wore on. They became jampacked islands ofhumanity sprinkled thinly across the sea of space that was still fullof unpopulated islands.
The expense and difficulty of interstellar travel was often cited asan excuse. The starships _were_ expensive: their power demands werefrightful. Only the most determined--and the best financed--groups ofcolonists could afford them. The rest of mankind accepted the ease andsafety of civilization, lived in the bulging cities of the teemingplanets. Their lives were circumscribed by their neighbors, and bytheir governments. Constantly more people crowding into a fixed livingspace meant constantly less freedom. The freedom to dream, to runfree, to procreate, all became state-owned, state-controlledmonopolies.
And Leoh had contributed to this situation.
He had contributed his thoughts and his work. He had contributed oftenand regularly--the interstellar communications systems was only theone outstanding achievement in a long career of achievements.
Leoh had been nearly at the voluntary retirement age for scientistswhen he realized what he, and his fellow scientists, had done. Theirefforts to make life richer and more rewarding for mankind had madelife only less strenuous and more rigid.
And with every increase in comfort, Leoh discovered, came acorresponding increase in neuroses, in crimes of violence, in mentalaberrations. Senseless wars of pride broke out between star-groups forthe first time in generations. Outwardly, the peace of the galaxy wasassured; but beneath the glossy surface of the Terran Commonwealththere smoldered the beginnings of a volcano. Police actions fought bythe Star Watch were increasing ominously. Petty wars betweenonce-stable peoples were flaring up steadily.
Once Leoh realized the part he had played in this increasingly tragicdrama, he was confronted with two emotions--a deep sense of guilt,both personal and professional; and, countering this, a determinationto do something, anything, to restore at least some balance to man'scollective mentality.
Leoh stepped out of physics and electronics, and entered the field ofpsychology. Instead of retiring, he applied for a beginner's status inhis new profession. It had taken considerable bending and straining ofthe Commonwealth's rules--but for a man of Leoh's stature, the rulescould be flexed somewhat. Leoh became a student once again, then aresearcher, and finally a Professor of Psychophysiology.
Out of this came the dueling machine. A combinati
on ofelectroencephalograph and autocomputer. A dream machine, thatamplified a man's imagination until he could engulf himself into aworld of his own making.
Leoh envisioned it as a device to enable men to rid themselves ofhostility and tension safely. Through his efforts, and those of hiscolleagues, dueling machines were quickly becoming accepted devicesfor settling disputes.
When two men had a severe difference of opinion--deep enough towarrant legal action--they could go to the dueling machine instead ofthe courts. Instead of sitting helplessly and watching themachinations of the law grind impersonally through their differences,the two antagonists could allow their imaginations free rein in thedueling machine. They could settle their differences personally, asviolently as they wished, without hurting themselves or anyone else.On most civilized worlds, the results of properly-monitored duels wereaccepted as legally binding.
The tensions of civilized life could be escaped--albeittemporarily--in the dueling machine. This