They came around again, and once more Leoh had outguessed his younger opponent. He trained his guns on Hector’s ship, then hesitated with his hand poised above the firing button.
Don’t kill him again, he warned himself. His mind can’t accept another defeat.
But Leoh’s hand, almost of its own will, reached the button and touched it lightly. Another gram of pressure and the guns would fire.
In that instant’s hesitation, Hector pulled his crippled ship around and aimed at Leoh. The Watchman fired a searing blast that jarred Leoh’s ship from end to end. Leoh’s hand slammed down on the firing button, whether he intended to do it or not, he did not know.
Leoh’s shot raked Hector’s ship but did not stop it. The two vehicles were hurtling directly at each other. Leoh tried desperately to avert a collision, but Hector bored in grimly, matching Leoh’s maneuvers with his own.
The two ships smashed together and exploded.
Abruptly, Leoh found himself in the cramped booth of the dueling machine, his body cold and damp with perspiration, his hands trembling.
He squeezed out of the booth and took a deep breath. Warm sunlight was streaming into the high-vaulted room. The white walls glared brilliantly. Through the tall windows he could see trees and people and clouds in the sky.
Hector walked up to him. For the first time in several days, the Watchman was smiling. Not much, but smiling. “Well, we broke even on that one.”
Leoh smiled back, somewhat shakily. “Yes. It was ... quite an experience. I’ve never died before.”