Almost, I was able to smile. Suzi knew the signs—as did all the rest of the reporters—she'd seen too many meets not to know when a gladiator was using his last iota of strength and was on the verge of collapse. She knew—possibly even better than I—how long I could keep up this pace. And then—
Seeing her, recalled her way of finding a slogan, a quotation of the ancients, for almost every situation that arose.
And in the recalling one came to me!
Meet fire with fire.
The Centaurian was emerging from the crater where its most recent charge had taken it. I ran with what speed I could muster to the Judges' stand and grasped one of the sacred Venusian torches that flanked the Judges' bench. I turned then and sped toward the enemy in hopes of getting him as he climbed over the crater edge.
He saw me coming and tried ineffectively to scorch me with his flaming breath, but he was either growing weak, or had utilized all the fuel his body produced for the effort. The flame leaped out a mere six or eight feet.
Holding the torch in hand, I dashed straight at him. As I had hoped, one of the lobster claws darted at me. I leaped nimbly to one side, bounced up upon the claw and scampered up it toward the four glaring eyes. I thrust the torch out and into them, hearing as though from a great distance, the cheer of victory that went up from the stands.
Then sliding, falling, tumbling, I was on the ground again and hurrying as fast as possible from what I expected to be the painful, blinded throes of the thing.
I turned and stared. It stood there, watching me. Showing no signs of distress.
It rumbled, finally, angrily, "You can't fool me all of the time, Terran. Soon you will tire, then I will get you—"