by Joseph O'Day
“Well, I don’t think we can wait,” Abby said with a grimace. “I’m going to try to draw their fire away from you two.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Manazes said, grabbing her arm as she started to get up. “You won’t—”
Manazes’s remark was cut short as four flyers screamed down the street wreaking fiery havoc in their wake. Lasers boiled the air, and the explosion of concussion bombs blanketed the area.
Mogul’s men returned fire, but they were soon overwhelmed by Mizpala’s. All died but two. Those two were seriously wounded and taken to a secret clinic, where they would be treated until strong enough to have truth scans administered to them. But first Manazes, Abby, and Willum were hustled into a flyer and taken to a maximum-security military hospital.
19
“Now look who’s loafing around,” joked Brogan. “I guess you got your wish, huh?”
Manazes grimaced in response. “Touché! I suppose I deserved that. But from where I’m sitting right now, I’d rather be in your shoes.”
“Not much fun, is it?”
Manazes shook his head. “At least I didn’t get my ticket punched and you got back in one piece. Say, how’s your girl anyway?”
Brogan smiled self-consciously at the reference. “She’s fine. A hot shower and clean clothes, and she’s good as new. Running through a storm drain system isn’t anything to write home about.” Brogan looked up at the ceiling as he made a clucking sound with his tongue. “But it did have its high points.”
“Ha! I’ll bet. But you’re not going to tell me about it, are you?”
Brogan shook his head with a smirk.
“Figures.” Manazes changed subjects abruptly. “You know, I’m sure getting tired of being shot at on your account.” He looked down at his injuries. “So what’re we going to do about these gun-crazy Moguls?”
“Hey, I didn’t come here to talk business. I came to see how you were doing.”
“Fine. You’ve seen me. Now let’s talk business.”
Brogan sat down with a sigh. Then he crossed his legs and started drumming the right arm of the chair with his fingers.
“Let’s look at this objectively,” he said finally. “One.” He stabbed with his index finger emphatically. “The Moguls are not likely to quit till I’m dead. In fact, by this time they’re probably pretty fed up over their failures. Which means, two, they’ll plan their next attempt so well and so massively that the only possible outcome will be my death. Mizpala and General Calderon can give me all the protection in the world, but sooner or later the Moguls will succeed. Which brings us to number three.”
Brogan pushed himself out of the chair and began to walk around the room as he talked. “If things continue as they are, I’m a dead man. So I’ve got to throw a wrinkle into their plans.”
He stopped and faced Manazes. “I’ve got to fight Josh now. It’s the only solution I can come up with.”
Manazes nodded. “I agree,” he said simply, but his eyes betrayed his reluctance. “But you’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”
“I know.” Brogan looked at his biopack and rubbed it with his hand. “But even though my arm’s not healed, I’ve got to go ahead with it. I’ve got absolutely nothing to lose. The threat of my eventual duel with Josh is not the only reason the Moguls want me dead. But it’s one of ’em. And if I arrange to fight him now with the use of only one arm, maybe they’ll be confident that Josh will save them the trouble of further assassination attempts. That’ll give both Adriel and me a brief reprieve. And who knows? Maybe if I win, it’ll shake something loose for us.”
“Maybe if you win? Nothing like going into a hopeless situation with confidence,” Manazes grunted as he stirred in his bed. “Well, I don’t want to see you fight this duel with only one arm, but I also don’t see as you have much of a choice.”
“I don’t either. But there’s a fourth thing.” Brogan frowned even more and knitted his normally level brows. “I’m going to have to send Adriel back to Cirrus ASAP.”
Understanding showed on Manazes’s face. “Ah, yes. She’s a danger to herself and to us as long as she stays on Earth.”
“Right. As long as she’s in immediate reach of the Moguls, she’s in as much danger as I am. When I began recruiting for the IAD, two of my prerequisites were that a candidate had to be single and from off-planet. With no close relatives on Earth they would be harder to blackmail. The same needs to hold true even more for me. I don’t want to lose Adriel now that I’ve found her, but I have no choice.”
“That’s rough, sir.” Manazes pursed his lips, and Brogan rubbed his biopack absently. “Well,” Manazes said, breaking the silence, “first things first. Make sure you beat the Mogul whelp. I don’t feel like breaking in another commander.”
*
The bodyguard assigned to Adriel answered the door. Waiting to be admitted, Brogan stood between the Imperial Guardsmen stationed on either side of the entrance. Adriel’s heart leaped to see him, her body keeping pace as she veritably launched herself off the sofa. But she managed enough self-control to wait where she stood.
The bodyguard stood aside, and as Brogan walked in he said to her, “You may take a break, Private. I’ll send for you when I leave.”
“Thank you, sir.” Adriel smiled as the bodyguard disappeared into the hallway and Brogan turned from closing the door.
“Hi,” she said coyly.
“Hi! How are you doing?”
“I’m OK. I’m not used to so much protection, though. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”
Brogan walked into the room and continued past Adriel to take a seat when she grabbed him, swung him around, and kissed him on the lips. “It’s good to see you again,” she said as she released him, smiling.
“Likewise,” Brogan replied, a slight smile curling his lips. He pulled her back and embraced her in another kiss. Then he said, “Why don’t you join me on the couch?”
Brogan ushered her to the sofa with his arm around her, and they sat. Adriel snuggled into the crook of his arm, enjoying his nearness. She took his hand, and they caressed each other’s palms with their fingers. Adriel closed her eyes and felt the warmth of love fill her. After several minutes had passed this way in silence, she forced herself back to the urgency of the present.
“What’s going to happen to me, Timothy? And what about the rest of the med team . . . and Willum?”
“Well, I have some great news!” His whole face smiled as he looked down at her. “First Minister Mizpala has arranged an Imperial pardon for the entire med team. You are all to be reinstated as third-class citizens. Mizpala convinced Henry that punishing a religious agency for giving humanitarian aid was not in the spirit of his governmental policies.”
“That’s great!” Adriel squealed as she gave him a hug.
“Oh, and Willum has had his citizenship restored as a reward for saving the life of an officer of the Imperial Guard.”
A tear started to Adriel’s eye. She hid it by wiping it on Brogan’s uniform. “I’m so happy for him. He’s been in the lower levels for so long!”
Brogan looked at her. “He seems to have quite a few admirable qualities.”
“He was my best friend in the lower levels. I’ll never forget him. He was always there when I needed him.” She looked up at Brogan with the unspoken question in her eyes: Will you always be there when I need you?
Brogan seemed to read her thoughts and shifted uncomfortably.
“What is it, Timothy?”
Brogan cleared his throat and scratched his cheek absently. “Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news to go along with the good.” He cleared his throat again.
Adriel sat up and faced him. “What is it, Timothy? Tell me.” She searched his face.
Brogan put his hand in his lap and stared at it. With a choked voice he said, “I have to send you back to Cirrus. It’s too dangerous for you here.”
“What do you mean ‘too dangerous’?” Adriel asked shrilly. “You rescued
me! I’m safe now! I have bodyguards!”
Brogan shook his hand in front of his face. “What I mean is, I can’t keep you safe indefinitely. And it’s not only your life that’s in jeopardy. I can’t concentrate on protecting myself or doing my job of arresting and prosecuting corrupt Imperial Guardsmen when I have to constantly think about your safety. The only solution I can think of is to send you back to Cirrus with a bodyguard.”
Adriel felt the tears welling up in her eyes. “Timothy, it’s not fair!” She balled her hands into fists and hit her legs with them to emphasize each word of her next sentence. “I want to be with you. We haven’t had any time together since we found out we loved each other. I won’t go!” Again her fists hit her legs in rhythm with her words.
Brogan reached out and took hold of one of her wrists gently. He would have taken them both in his hands, but his biopack prevented him. “You should know by now that life isn’t always fair,” he said quietly. “Sometimes we’re forced to do things we don’t want to. Don’t you think I want you to stay? But I can’t let you.”
Adriel reached up and touched his cheek. “I know you want me to stay. It’s just that”—she sighed, trying to quell the trembling in her voice—“it looked like everything was going to work out—like in a fairy tale. You know, ‘And they lived happily ever after.’”
“I know,” replied Brogan. “I know. Come here.”
For a few minutes they held each other in silence. Adriel was heavy with the ache of the approaching departure, and the tears flowed freely. But she knew Timothy felt the same way.
Who knows if we will even see each other again? She could not help the remorse and self-pity she felt.
Eventually Adriel sat up and dried her face. Brogan stroked her hair. “Will you wait for me?” he asked.
Adriel turned to look at him, “Of course I will, you big dummy.” They both smiled in spite of themselves.
But then Brogan pushed himself off the couch and paced away. Adriel stood up too. Brogan dragged his hand through his curly hair. “I’m afraid that’s only part of the bad news.”
“Oh, no,” Adriel groaned as she sank back onto the couch and put her face in her hands.
Brogan sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve decided to fight Josh Mogul as soon as I can arrange it.”
Adriel’s mouth dropped open and her face went slack. She was speechless.
Brogan laughed at her expression. “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”
“Yes, you have,” Adriel said, recovering her composure. “But this is no laughing matter. You have only one good arm. How can you fight a duel with one good arm?”
“I have some ideas. But first I have to consult with the doctors.”
Adriel felt trapped and desperate. “Timothy! This is crazy! You’ve got to wait!”
Brogan shook his head. “If I don’t fight him now, I’m as good as dead anyway. The Moguls have tried to have me killed three times now. Next time they may succeed.”
Adriel put her face in her hand. The fight went out of her as she began to grasp the big picture. But she was not convinced that jumping out of the fire and into the frying pan was going to keep him from getting burned.
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Will you try to kill him?”
Brogan looked away. “If I have to. I hope it doesn’t come to that. But if it does, I have to do what I have to do. Whatever my motivation, Josh will be fighting to kill me. If I hold back, I’ll be the one dying, not Josh. I can’t take that risk.”
“I know you can’t, and I don’t want you to. I only hope you don’t have to.”
“Me too.” Brogan’s smile was strained. “If the court sets an early date, I don’t think you—or I—will be in much danger until after the duel. The Moguls wouldn’t be foolish enough to try anything with the duel date set. And they’ll probably be confident that Josh will kill me in the amphitheater and solve their problems that way. Nevertheless, don’t take any unnecessary chances. OK?”
“OK. I’ll be a good girl.”
“You couldn’t be anything but.” Brogan grinned, and Adriel kissed him.
“You are so handsome when you smile. That’s what first attracted me to you years ago.”
“Really? I never knew that.” He ran his hand through her hair. “After your stunning good looks, I think it was your spunk that attracted me to you.”
“My spunk? Well, I hope I have enough spunk to get me through all this.” A frown creased her face. “And even if everything turns out alright, I won’t see you for months, maybe years.”
Brogan nodded his head in sympathy. “I know. It’s hard. But Adriel, whether you come to the duel or not, you must be packed and ready to go the second the fight is over. If I win, we must get you to your ship without delay. There’s no telling what the Moguls may have planned. If I don’t . . . win, it won’t matter. But your passage home has been paid for. Whatever happens, you’re going home.”
*
Brogan flexed his biopack. The new elbow joint moved freely. Boy, that feels good, he reflected. Weak and strange, but good.
His specialist had decided that Brogan’s arm had healed sufficiently to install a new biopack—one that bent at the elbow. He cautioned Brogan not to overdo it, however, for his newly grown muscles were not accustomed to being stretched. Though they needed careful exercise, and they could be used, he was advised to take it easy.
That was good news to Brogan, who felt that it was essential to be able to have some mobility with his left arm if he was going to fight this duel. But it worried him how weak his new arm was and how quickly it tired.
The biopack’s flexibility was not its only novel feature. A circular retainer had been fitted onto the convex hand-end of the biopack. It was designed to receive the handle of the stiletto that Brogan would be using in the duel. That retainer in itself would be a huge, unexpected advantage for a one-armed fighter, but there was more.
Brogan smiled as he contemplated the secret capability of his new biopack that he had talked the technician into installing. Inside the gleaming exterior was a release mechanism that allowed Brogan to throw his stiletto should the need arise. His middle finger, which had not been severely injured in the explosion on Peru II, and the forearm muscles that worked it were completely healed and functional. Brogan was able to use it to trigger the release.
It had taken Brogan three days to obtain the new biopack, during which time he had presented himself at a special convening of the War Court to request the immediate appointment of the duel. Because Brogan was still hampered by his biopack, the court had at first objected to Brogan’s request. But when it learned of the three attempts against Brogan’s life, the judges relented and set the date two weeks hence.
For the next ten days Brogan had been busy. Each day he trained for hours in hand-to-hand combat. Then he spent at least an hour practicing his knife throwing. He had to assume that Josh would not fight fair, and he had to have something “up his sleeve,” an “ace in the hole.” But he also knew that, if he needed to throw his stiletto, he would have only one chance to make it good. So he had to practice until he could put the knife exactly where he wanted it every time.
It was hard on his arm. It got sore quickly, and he was almost always in pain from overusing it. He knew he was probably harming the healing process, but that could not be helped. Better short-term pain than long-term loss of life.
On the appointed day Brogan took some pain medication as usual, then set out to visit Adriel. When he arrived, she was meditating. She looked up as he came in. Her bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes showed the emotional strain, but she smiled to see him.
“Just praying about the duel today,” she said with a nervous laugh. Then she cast her eyes across the room and sighed.
“That’s a good idea,” said Brogan. “I need all the help I can get.”
Brogan saw the gratitude in Adriel’s eyes as he sat down beside her and took her hand. Brogan reflectively strok
ed her hand with his thumb. Adriel put her other hand on his.
“I’m sorry to have to put you through this,” Brogan said quietly.
“So am I. But let’s face it, it’s you putting your life on the line out there today, not me. So don’t think about my feelings. You go out there and concentrate on what you have to do and come back to me alive.”
She turned and put her arm around his neck and hugged him tightly. Brogan breathed deeply of her feminine strength and returned her embrace.
After awhile they separated, and Brogan asked simply, “Are you coming?”
Adriel took a deep breath and let it out. “My upbringing and my beliefs by themselves would be enough to keep me away. Even more is my fear that I would see you . . . die.” She paused. “But my love for you will not let me say no. I have to see this through with you, for better or worse.”
Brogan smiled weakly and gripped her hand tighter. “That means a lot to me.” He reached up and stroked her hair. “You are so beautiful, and I love you so much.”
Again they embraced. Then Brogan pushed her away and pulled her up off the couch as he stood. “I’ve got to go get ready. I’ll see you there. Remember. You must be ready to leave right after the duel.”
“Everything’s packed . . . what there is.”
“Good. I don’t think you have anything to fear until afterward. The Moguls will await the outcome of the fight before they try anything. So I’ll see you there.”
He gave her a lingering kiss, then turned to go.
*
When Brogan arrived at the duel site, he turned in a circle to survey the six-sided auditorium. The open floor comprising the combat area looked to have a diameter of about sixty meters. Six entrance hallways divided the six sides of the open expanse equally and gave easy access to the seating that extended the entire circumference. The duel monitors, six of them in all, were already standing at ease in front of the six sections, each facing toward the center of the arena.
The rows of seats rose from front to back to give the audience an unobstructed view of the action. Brogan had a few choice thoughts about that, but he was at least grateful that seating was limited. Each of the six sections contained only ten rows. The audience would not be overwhelming or distracting, but Brogan was still afraid that he would feel like a virus under a microscope or like a marionette forced to perform for the amusement of others.