“And be accused of cowardice in my own Council meetings?” Massan smiled grimly. “In politics, my dear sir, the appearance of a man means much 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, hoping that in that time you might discover Odal’s secret. I dare not postpone the duel any longer; as it is, the political situation may collapse about our heads at any moment.”
“I’ll take this 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 avert a war, maybe,” 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?”
“Hm-m-m?” Leoh snapped out of his reverie.
“How can you take apart the dueling machine?” Hector repeated. “Looks like a big job to do in a week.”