“Okay now, Harry?” Casey called.
“Okay. Come on, Hayama. Just you and me.”
Hosato advanced slowly to meet him.
Harry was lying. It wasn’t just the two of them. It was becoming increasingly apparent to Hosato that if he succeeded in killing Harry, one of the other brothers would gun him down, rules or no rules. He had been afraid something like this would happen. That’s why he had a small, flat two-shot blaster secreted in his pocket. Casey had timed his move well, however, and there was no way to reach the weapon without drawing fire from the other two brothers.
Harry plunged forward again. Hosato parried and bounded backward, ignoring his chance for a fatal riposte.
“Not so good with your left hand, are you, Hayama?” Harry sneered.
“Get him, Harry!” Tom called from the side.
As a matter of fact, Hosato was almost as good with his left hand as he was with his right, but he didn’t dare act. Tom’s shout fixed the third brother’s location in his mind, though, and gave him the germ of an idea.
Steeling himself, Hosato darted forward, on the attack. Harry batted the lunge clumsily aside, but didn’t attempt a counterthrust as Hosato slipped past him.
“Pretty fancy, Hayama,” he admitted grudgingly.
Hosato mentally heaved a sigh of relief. The move had been risky. If Harry had been an experienced fencer, he wouldn’t have dared try it for fear of the reflexive counterthrust. But he had gambled, and it worked. Now he was in position. Harry advanced again, but this time Hosato gave ground, backpedaling away from his opponent.
“Ready, Moabe?” he called.
“Ready for what?” Tom demanded.
For a reply, Hosato whirled and plunged his epee into Tom’s chest.
“Hey!” shouted Casey.
That was all the distraction Moabe needed. Dropping to the ground and drawing his blaster in one smooth motion, he cut Casey down with one shot.
Harry had dropped his sword and was drawing his own blaster as Casey fell. “You bastard!” he screamed, leveling the weapon at Moabe’s back.
Hosato’s shot took him as he squeezed the trigger stud, the two blasts sounding as one.
Silence echoed over the field.
“Moabe?” Hosato called at last.
“He has ceased to function,” Suzi informed him.
Hosato hung his head in fatigue and sorrow. He had liked Moabe, however short their acquaintance had been.
Suzi retrieved Harry’s sword and floated silently to his side. Hosato sighed and began to secure the weapons in her storage compartment. He didn’t chide Suzi for not assisting in the fight. However human she seemed at times, she was still a robot, and therefore incapable of killing or injuring a human.
“Someone’s coming,” Suzi announced.
Hosato raised his head and saw a man approaching from the spaceport. This man was of a different cut than most, his conservative clothes, like a uniform, identifying him as a corporation man. He gave the strewn bodies no more than a casual glance, striding purposefully toward the survivor.
Hosato studied him with mild curiosity as he approached. He had been hired as a duelist by corporate men before, but not often.
The man came to a halt at a slight distance. “May I ask whom I am addressing?” he inquired.
“I am Hayama,” Hosato replied.
A vague ripple of relief crossed the man’s face. “Excellent. My name is Reilly. I represent the Raven-steel Corporation, and we are interested in retaining your services.”
Hosato’s eyebrows went up. “Am I to understand it would be the corporation and not yourself individually who would be retaining my skills?”
“That’s right. Why. Is something wrong?”
“No. I just can’t imagine why a corporation would require the services of a duelist.”
“We don’t.” Reilly smiled. “You see, we at Ravensteel are aware that despite your obvious abilities, dueling is not your main livelihood, just as Hayama isn’t your real name. Your name is Hosato, and you are a freelance spy and saboteur, one of the best, according to our sources. Ravensteel needs a saboteur, and we need one badly. The fact you can fence is merely frosting on the cake.”
“Mr. Mathers?”
The bartender turned at the sound of Hosato’s voice. “Hayama!” he exclaimed.
“It is settled,” Hosato said quietly.
“They accepted my apology?”
“No.”
“But you said… Oh.”
“Harry Scale will not trouble you again. Neither will his two brothers.”
Mathers stood regarding Hosato with a new respect.
“I see. Well, I guess you want the rest of your money.”
He went to the cash register, and returned with a handful of bills. Wordlessly he counted them onto the bar counter in front of Hosato.
Hosato picked them up without checking the count and started to stash them in his tunic; then he hesitated. “Did you know Moabe?” he asked.
“The Negro. No, I didn’t know him and didn’t want to. The Scales always had a couple darkies hanging around with them. Never could warm up to them, myself.”
“I see,” said Hosato.
“Hey, nothing personal, you understand. You Orientals are all right. You’re quiet and polite. But Negroes well.you know how they are.”
Mathers smiled and winked knowingly.
Hosato regarded him for a moment, then put away the money and turned to leave.