Massan thrashed about, trying to shake off whatever it was. No use.
Then his detector screen was lifted slowly from the viewplate. He felt something vibrating on his helmet. The oxygen tubes! They were being disconnected.
He screamed and tried to fight free. No use. With a hiss, the oxygen tubes pulled free of his helmet. Massan could feel the blood pounding through his veins as he fought desperately to free himself.
Now he was being pushed down into the sea. He screamed again and tried to wrench his body away. The frothing sea filled his viewplate. He was under. He was being held under. And now ... now the viewplate itself was being loosened.
No! Don’t! The scalding cold methane ammonia sea seeped in through the opening viewplate.
“It’s only a dream!” Massan shouted to himself. “Only a dream. A dream. A—”
XI
Dr. Leoh stared at the dinner table without really seeing it. Coming to this restaurant had been Hector’s idea. Three hours earlier, Massan had been removed from the dueling machine—dead.
Leoh sat stolidly, hands in lap, his mind racing in many different directions at once. Hector was off at the phone, getting the latest information from the meditechs. Odal had expressed his regrets perfunctorily, and then left for the Kerak Embassy, under a heavy escort of his own plainclothes guards. The government of the Acquataine Cluster was quite literally falling apart, with no man willing to assume responsibility ... and thereby expose himself. One hour after the duel, Kanus’ troops had landed on all the major planets of the Szarno Confederacy; the annexation was a fait accompli.
And what have I done since I arrived on Acquatainia? Leoh demanded of himself. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have sat back like a doddering old professor and played academic games with the machine, while younger, more vigorous men have USED the machine to suit their purposes.