Chapter Five

The Duel

Petersen was there, eating at a table rather than standing behind the counter. He smiled, but when Tankar walked up, he stood and said, “I’m sorry, planetary, but it’s best we not be seen together. Not yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”

Tankar sat at a remote table and started to eat, but a friendly “Hello, Tankar!” had him turn around. Orena and Pei and a third guy, big and tall, walked in. Tankar waved, and Orena sat down next to him, bringing in the other two.

One protested, “No way, Orena. Not with the Earth rat.”

“You forgot I’m a free woman, brother?”

“Come on, Orena. Don’t be an idiot. You’re living in a fantasy world.”

“Our fling wasn’t meant to last, Pei. I’m no more accountable to you than you are to me. When it comes to my fantasy world, that’s my business. Worried?”

“Come on, guys. You’re not gonna fight over an Earther?!”

“Not the issue, Hank. I resent Pei treating me like he owns me. That kind of thinking is planetary. Who knows? Maybe Earth is past it too. Tankar?” Orena leaned over toward Tankar, smiling.

“I’ve not much experience, Orena, but I think some people think that way, at least among the commoners. Don’t argue with your friends on my account,” he added. “I’m certainly not worth it and will always be only Earth trash to them.”

“Earth trash or not, I’m having dinner with you tonight. And those two morons can go hang elsewhere.”

“Fine, goodbye, Orena. Come on, Hank. Leave her to her gigolo. They deserve each other.”

Tankar did not know what was going on but, from the shocked look on Orena’s face, he guessed she had been seriously insulted. He stood and grabbed Pei by the neck. “I don’t know what you just said, but you’re going to take it back right now.”

Pei’s friend moved closer and looked Tankar right in the eyes. “Gigolo!” Tankar slapped him. Instantly, Pei’s friend jumped Tankar’s back. Tankar shook him off in no time, and Pei’s friend crashed onto a table. Both men stood and shouted, “We’re claiming our due. Did you see this, brothers?”

Petersen spoke up. “We saw it, and we also heard your insult.”

“You’re not going to defend him, are you?” Pei asked. “The Tilsin will be clean again when this one’s corpse rolls into space!” He pointed at Tankar.

“I don’t think a duel will be necessary, and, in any event, Orena needs to second the motion since you also inexcusably insulted her. Scram, or you’ll insult me as well, and I’ll claim my due,” Petersen calmly replied.

He turned to Tankar. “So, planetary, you sure don’t do things by halves. Two at once. Will you take his side, Orena?”

“Me? No way. But if they do him in, I’ll reclaim my due. I’m not worried,” she added with a look at Tankar. “I won’t need to.”

“What does all this mean?” Tankar asked.

“You hit them, so you’ll have to fight them.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let them insult me?”

“What you should’ve done is launch a preemptive strike and threaten a duel; then you would’ve faced Pei only. Now you face them both.”

“Fine.” Tankar stood resigned. “When, where and how?”

“Tomorrow, after lunch in Park 12. Since the blows came in response to insults, you’ll be able to select your weapon. Your choice. You can’t choose a fulgurator; they make too much of a mess.”

Tankar shrugged. “I could use a javelin as easily as a cannon. That was my job. But my disadvantage, and that’s a big one, is that I don’t know the site.”

“We’ll go inspect it tomorrow morning. I’ll wait for you at 9 a.m. at Gate 3.”

Once Petersen left, Tankar turned to Orena. “You’d have been much better off not talking to me.”

“Why? Are you afraid?” she prodded.

“Do you believe that my life here is so wonderful that losing it concerns me?” He finally asked, “What’s a gigolo?”

“There’s no such word in interspatial.”

“Go on.”

“I’d prefer not to translate,” Orena admitted with a blush. “Ask Petersen.”

“You Stellarans are a strange people. Are these duels common?”

“Pretty much. We’re a hot-blooded people. I’ve been in three.”

“That’s right! I heard you killed three men.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Orena demanded.

“Because you’re a woman,” Tankar reasoned.

“Women don’t fight in the Empire?” Orena wondered.

“Very rarely.”

“What do women do when someone insults them?”

“Their father or husband defends their honor, of course.”

“Ah, I see. In your world a woman is either on her own and defenseless or in a long-term relationship.”

“Exactly.”

“Not a place where I belong,” she confessed, reaching out to take his arm. “Come along.”

“Where?”

“To my place, of course.”

“No, Orena. Tonight I need to sleep.”

Orena shrugged. “Sweet dreams, then. Tomorrow morning go to the battle provost and choose your weapon. I suggest a mark three carbine. As you have two opponents, you’ll be entitled to 10 bullets.”

Tankar slept well, ate a hearty breakfast, and walked over to Park 12. Petersen was there. “Not too worried?” his friend asked.

“Not particularly. Putting my life on the line was my profession. Waste of time and effort to fight over something so trivial.”

“You’re not so proud. Gigolo!”

“What does that mean? Orena didn’t want to explain.”

“I get that. I’m surprised you don’t know it as it’s an old Earth term. It’s a slander no Stellaran would forgive.” Petersen explained before describing what would happen later.

They stopped in front of a clear level field banked by bushes. “Here. This is where the provost will place you. Your opponents will be at the other end of the park, one on the right and the other on the left. At the signal, you’ll walk toward each other. From then on anything goes, except weapons other than those provided. A judge in that cabin up there –” he pointed, “– will count your shots. Any hint of cheating means death by expulsion into space.”

“Have you fought here?”

“Only once. Come on! We have just three hours for you to get the lay of the land. Your opponents know the terrain well…especially Hank.”

At noon Tankar went to the provost’s and selected a short, high-caliber carbine. Its initial speed was very high, and it greatly resembled the guns used by the Empire fusiliers. Petersen joined him at the cafeteria where they saw Orena. Much to Tankar’s surprise, several of the customers waved to him.

“They’ll all be there later. As will I, of course,” Petersen said.

“So it’s going to draw a crowd?”

“Life here can be extremely dull, Tankar.”

People are the same everywhere, Tankar mused. On Earth, the emperors organized circus games similar to prehistoric ones, which he’d heard other people talk about. So even Stellarans, surely the most sophisticated civilization in this part of the galaxy….

For the first time someone other than the Teknor or Orena referred to him by name rather than the snippy ‘planetary’…or worse. He sat with his two friends, eating little and drinking water instead of beer. A passerby asked if he expected to survive. Tankar smiled. “Why not? Orena, why is everyone being so nice to me?”

“You’re taking on two guys at once. That doesn’t happen often, and they’re all hoping you succeed in defending yourself.”

“The show must go on, huh?”

“It’s more than that,” Orena insisted. “We appreciate bravery, especially when it’s foolhardy. Hank is not a popular guy.”

“I’m not foolhardy, Orena. I’d never have provoked those guys if I’d had a choice. Then again, I’ve done battle under far worse conditions.”

“Watch out for Hank,” Petersen warned. “He’s the more dangerous. Pei isn’t a very good shot.”

“Not to worry. I think it’s getting to be time.”

Tankar presented himself at the gate to Park 12. A motley crew of men and women were waiting. He held his head high and walked past them, holding the carbine in his right hand. The provost was waiting, as were his two opponents and the judge.

“In accordance with the law of the People, you will now do battle to erase the insults. Names!”

“Pei Kwang, technician.”

“Hank Harrison, pilot.”

“Tankar Holroy—”

Someone interrupted, shouting, “Planetary!”

“Lieutenant in the Stellar Guard of His Majesty Emperor Ktius VII.” He spoke calmly.

“Even though one man dueling against two is unusual, nothing in the law prohibits it. Each of you will have five cartridges per opponent. You, Holroy, will have 10. As soon as the rocket’s smoke rises, the duel may commence. Only the deaths of one side or the other will end the fight. You may use the weapon of your choice in the manner of your choice. Here’s your ammunition. Take your positions!”

Tankar remained immobile. He already was in position. The judge took the elevator to the little cabin suspended over the park that would be his lookout post for the alleyways and grove below.

The crowd pulled back behind a makeshift barrier. To the sound of applause, Pei and Hank ran to their positions. A shout cut through the noise. “Kill him, Stellarans! Kill him!”

Tankar swiveled to see the Teknor’s redheaded niece in the front row, her head rising up above the rest of the crowd. Hank saluted her.

Gradually the hubbub died down. Tankar checked that his weapon was ready to fire with nine bullets in the magazine and one in the barrel. He walked slowly toward the grove, his actual starting point, and waited, eyes toward the sky.

As always before a battle, Tankar felt calm. This idiotic show was nothing compared with the dangers he had faced in the past. The only thing he missed having was a brother-in-arms. He felt alone among these hostile people except for two individuals he still wasn’t sure about. Was he just a plaything for Orena? Did the friendly chemist have a hidden agenda?

The smoke bomb went off with a bang and shot straight up to the vaulted ceiling. It almost reached the metal roof and disappeared before it deployed its parachute, which dropped and fluttered toward him. He had two options. One – hide and wait; or two – approach the two men directly. He opted for the second: more to his taste. He slid to the left, mindful not to brush against the leaves; their movement would betray him. Then he crawled in a straight line toward a stream that ran in a closed circuit. All the while, he listened intently and peered through the foliage until he reached a long diagonal alleyway.

They’ve not reached here yet. The stream runs between the two walls, so they’ll have to come this way. I’ll wait.

Cloaked in thick grass, Tankar remained stationary for a long while, gun cocked, scanning both sides. About a hundred meters away he heard rustling in the grove and focused his senses on that point. Something white moved. Checking his surroundings every five seconds, Tankar aimed at the grove. In a flash, a head appeared then vanished like a turtle pulling back into its shell.

He knew it: Pei! Tankar calculated the clear space at a distance of 15 meters, figured the artificial gravity at 0.9 grams, and guessed at Pei’s physical abilities. With no momentum it would take the man two seconds at least to cross. His bullets had an average velocity of 800 mm per second, so it would be tight but doable. He aimed for the far edge of the grove.

Pei surfaced. At the last instant, just as he was about to shoot, Tankar changed his aim. He could not kill this man who disappeared through the brush. Did I miss? he wondered. He did not think so. As a Guard, he had been a champion archer, top-ranked in all firearms categories, and he had hit much trickier targets than Pei. He crawled away at speed with a smoke cloud to his rear.

Pwiououn!

The bullet passed to his right, way too high. He scanned the area and noticed a blue balloon dissolving in the air. He fired three times in a fan formation and kept on crawling.

Unless Pei was badly hurt or the other guy had shot at him, Tankar had only six bullets left to their four, but he knew that Hank could not use Pei’s weapon; it was against the rules.

He walked toward the place where he thought Pei had fallen but kept the alleyway in his sights. As he approached he was surprised to see a figure suddenly standing before him, weapon cocked, no more than 20 meters away. Tankar quickly rolled onto his side and heard a projectile dig into the ground near him. Gravel popped all around him as he shot without aiming and rolled behind a stand of trees. In between the trunks he spotted Hank racing away at a diagonal, but the branches obstructed his aim. He leaped away in the other direction and saw a spray of pebbles just as he dove into the tall grass.

Five bullets to three. Thankfully, Pei was no better than an amateur. Tankar continued to crawl, careful not to brush up against the bushes that provided cover. He thought that Hank wasn’t much of a shooter either, even if he was good on the approach. How did he manage to blind me to everything? he wondered.

To his right, he saw a little ravine only a half meter deep. This is why it’s good to know the lay of the land. If one man can do it, another can too. But does Hank know the terrain well enough to spot this ditch? I’ll give it a go!

He returned to the alley where the trench veered into a pipe too narrow for him to pass through. He took out a handkerchief, silently ripped it to shreds and made himself a rope that he hooked on to a slender tree. He then gently pulled the rope from below and the tree shook slightly. Nothing. He waited, pulling now and again on the rope. The minutes ticked by.

An explosion close by made him jump. He lifted his head and shot into the smoke without aiming. A resounding scream pierced the silence. He rose on his elbows and felt a pain in his shoulder. He heard the shot a moment later.

Stupid man. Triple idiot. How did I get taken in by that? Gooey, warm blood flowed down his left arm. He moved his shoulder and winced in pain.

Nothing broken. Just a flesh wound, he thought as he crawled quickly, expecting Hank and his gun to show up at any minute. A few meters on he stopped, turned around and listened. All he heard was a light swishing sound. He moved forward making sure his wounded arm did not stiffen. He reached the edge of the park near the see-through wall. Two impassive Stellarans watched him. One pointed to the widening red spot on Tankar’s jacket. He smiled at the two men and kept moving.

He stopped again at the diagonal alleyway and paused to think for a moment. Hank had one bullet left to his own four. If he could force Hank to fire, the enemy would be at his mercy. Cautiously Tankar removed his jacket, prodded his wound, a long stripe down his deltoids. It was still bleeding, and he had no way of bandaging it without freezing his arm.

He looked down the alleyway to his right. Nothing moved. He dug his toes into the earth and locked them in place then jumped up and down and disappeared into the grass. Unfortunately, he heard no shots. Nobody could have hit him from that spot. Had Hank shot, he would have missed.

Tankar followed the wall all the way back to his starting point. Behind the see-through barrier Anaena looked at him with contempt. He shrugged, winced in pain and lay down behind a thicket that had a landscaped hole cut through the center. He would wait.

He spun around by instinct. The woman behind him waved her arms and pointed at his hiding place. She stopped when she realized he was staring at her and casually walked away.

That little bitch! She’s giving away my location. Cold, terrible anger rose within him. So the Stellarans were loyal only to one another. He suddenly thought that Orena had provoked this dispute, and now others would finish the job. If Anaena were signaling to Hank, he couldn’t be far.

Tankar left his watch post and crawled with great effort. His muscles were cold, and a searing pain hit his shoulder. Another 30 meters and he heard the sound of a bush rustling. Going hell for leather, Tankar stood, then leaped up and spun around just as a shot was fired. As he fell he lunged toward the figure in the branches and fired. He stood up shakily and walked, weapon cocked, toward the bush. The thick heap on the ground confirmed that there was no doubt about it: it was Hank, dead from a bullet to the skull.

“That was lucky. But I didn’t need luck; I’ve still got three bullets.” Tankar had spoken out loud.

Fearlessly, he walked to where Pei had fallen. His digital readout showed less than two hours had elapsed since the duel had begun even though it felt like weeks. He easily found Pei hunched into a ball, groaning, his gun at his side. Tankar lowered his own gun and, in a fit of rage, ejected the cartridge. He leaned down to examine the wounded man and mumbled to himself, “If they don’t come for him soon, he’s lost. More’s the pity; he’s a really good painter.”

Tankar turned toward the gate. Several Stellarans stood in a circle around Hank’s corpse. He could not see Orena or Petersen, but the redhead was there, pale as death. He picked up the man’s body by the neck of his jacket and dragged it toward Anaena. An assistant tried to help, but Tankar gave him a ferocious look, so the man backed away. In a final effort, Tankar dumped the corpse at the redhead’s feet.

“Here’s your mate.” Tankar was intentionally vulgar. She blanched even more. “Now I understand the loyalty among you people.”

She glared at him, her eyes sparkling, and he couldn’t help himself admiring her. She’s as beautiful as a panther, he thought. “Will you denounce me?” she asked.

“What would happen if I did?”

Despite her self-control, her voice cracked as she answered. “I’d be cast into space.”

“You? The Teknor’s niece?”

“You don’t know Tan.”

He felt sorry for her. “I won’t speak of it. After all, your actions helped me more than they helped him.”

“And you expect gratitude?” she hissed. “I didn’t like you before; now I hate you.”

“So what?” He shrugged and winced. “Doesn’t bother me.” Tankar turned on his heel and walked toward the exit. Orena, Petersen, the provost and few other locals waited there.

“This is wonderful, Tankar! You got them both,” Petersen the chemist said, smiling broadly.

“No, just the one. I merely wounded Pei, but he won’t be worth much if you don’t collect him ASAP.”

The provost asked, “Why didn’t you finish him off? Custom usually—”

Then Tankar exploded. “May you and your customs go to hell! I don’t care about them; they don’t matter to me. One of your females set me up to fight two men at once. Well, I killed one man, but I won’t kill another. You finish it if you wish. Leave me alone.”

“Careful, Tankar,” Orena warned. “I didn’t set you up at all, and please don’t call me a female.”

“Really? You sure acted like a female with me and the other guys. And you tried to have Pei and Hank kill me.”

“Me? I would’ve challenged them both if they’d killed you!”

“That’s true, Tankar,” Petersen said. “I don’t think Orena is to blame. Hank told everybody he would challenge you and kill you, or cast you into the void as a coward if you refused to fight. Orena barely knew him. Hank was likely the one who got to Pei, a good guy but jealous as a caveman.”

Tankar was suddenly exhausted. “What does it all matter in the end? Your feelings and the way you think are beyond me. Please just leave me alone.”

He went home to his apartment. He sat down heavily, exhausted by the tension and the blood loss. He had not locked the door so Orena just walked in. “What do you want this time? I asked to be left in peace.”

“I want to look after you. Let me see the wound.”

“Why don’t you go to Pei? He needs help more than I do.”

“He’s in the hospital. They’re trying to save him.”

“That’s good news.”

“Why did you spare him? He would’ve killed you without flinching. And he’s just a technician; you’re a soldier.”

Tankar smiled sadly. “Maybe that’s why. I’ve killed so often that I’ve grown tired of bloodshed. I never enjoyed it. I didn’t choose the profession. Would I have killed Pei for one slight? What he said was a lot less troubling than some of the whispering I overheard on Earth. And some of it I deserved. Also, I like his work, his landscapes. He’s had a chance to develop his gifts, and I haven’t.”

“What would you have wanted to do?”

“Me?” He paused to think. “Pure math, maybe, and…. What does it matter?” He slumped down farther in his chair.

Gently, she bathed his scar. “You were very lucky. A few centimeters to the right and the bone would have been crushed, but it won’t be a problem. A few days R&R with some antibiotics I’ll leave here, and you won’t even have to go to the hospital. It’s done.”

“Orena, is it really true that you didn’t set those two poor fellows against me on purpose? Did you want to see the back of one of us?”

“Why would I have done that, Tankar? Your one night with me didn’t give Pei the right to want to kill you. I’m not his possession, and he knows that. Some of his views are outdated. I’m as free as he is. Hank and I weren’t even friends. But to those guys, you’re a planetary, not much more worthwhile than a cockroach. Their spite probably came from thinking I’d debased myself spending time with you. Instead of asking me about it, they wanted to act and to destroy the cause of my supposed dishonor.”

“If this circus starts up again, I might as well kill myself. It’ll be faster.”

“Now, everything has changed. By challenging you to a duel, they unwittingly began the process of accepting you. You’re sort of Stellaran now.”

“Okay. I’ll never fully understand that.” He looked up at her. “What am I to you, Orena? A new plaything?”

She thought for a moment. “In the beginning, maybe. But remember that my father was a planetary. To me you’re a guy like any other guy. A stranger. Let’s drop all the complicated stuff. I’m going to cook for you.”

She vanished into the kitchen, then returned with a furious look on her face. “This is all you have? I’m going to have to outfit your apartment for you. How will you be able to host when I come to visit?”

She puttered around, poked her head out the door occasionally and said a few words. Tankar felt his doubts ebbing away. After all, he had only been on the Tilsin for a few days, and some of the events that had occurred that he did not understand may have happened for a reason.

“Dinner!”

Orena had worked wonders with his meager supplies. Dinner was delicious. “You must be exhausted. Lie down. I’m going to stay here to check for fever. I’ll set up a camp bed.”

The vague remnants of his puritan sensibilities led him to protest meekly, but he gave in quickly, happy to have a friend, whatever that meant, however long it lasted. He fell asleep peacefully.