"Look at it," Crawford Bell said. "It's the second time I've seen it. Look at it."
It was a spectacle, all right. The polite dancing men, the wailing bagpipes, the bodies that never touched, never even brushed lightly. But MacFarland wasn't enjoying it. He knew how close he was to defeat. He didn't like the danger created when heated men from different nations faced each other on the battle field. So far no one had forgotten the discipline of the non-violent fighter, but the old beast still lived in the human psyche. One shove by a Belderkan or a mercenary and the tiger would roar on the plain.
His hand gripped the side of the car. Beside him Lauchstein said something. Then he heard Doctor Umbana.
"Childish," Doctor Umbana snorted. "Ridiculous. When are people going to outgrow these silly games?"
"Probably never," Lauchstein said. "You can't change human nature."
The bagpipes screamed triumph. Sabo had outmaneuvered the Belderkans. MacFarland's driver switched on the fans and the car leaped between the lines of running men. Outside the double line, Belderkan soldiers ran to block the exit from the human alley. They were too late. When the car shot out the front of the line, the Belderkans were yards behind.
"The crowd's got us blocked," Crawford Bell said. "It took too long."
Sabo's men were climbing onto the decks of their carriers. The crowd stretched between the convoy and the airport. Moving on a short radius, it could block them no matter how widely they circled.
MacFarland glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. "What have you got, Crawford?"