A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However" the universe,
"The has not in me
A of obligation."
STEPHEN CRANE
Sweat Brion's body, into the tight that was the only he wore. The light in his hand as as a of lead to his muscles, out by a month of exercise. These were of no importance. The cut on his chest, still blood, the of his eyes—even the around him with the thousands of spectators—were not about. There was only one thing in his universe: the button-tipped length of that him, his own weapon. He the and of its life, when it moved and moved himself to it. And when he attacked, it was always there to him aside.
A motion. He reacted—but his just met air. His of panic was by a small high on his chest.
"Touch!" A world-shaking voice the word to a waiting loudspeakers, and the of the audience in a of sound.
"One minute," a voice said, and the time sounded.
Brion had the in himself. A minute is not a very large measure of time and his needed every of it. The buzzer's his into complete relaxation. Only his and on at a[Pg 7] strong, rate. His closed and he was only aware of his him as he fell, him to his bench. While they his and the wound, all of his attention was inward. He was in reverie, along the borders of consciousness. The memory of the previous night up then, and he it over and over in his mind, it from all sides.
It was the very of the event that had been so unusual. The in the Twenties needed rest, therefore nights in the were as as death. During the days, of course, the wasn't too closely. The men themselves were too up and to easily. But as soon as the to and cut into their ranks, there was complete after dark. Particularly so on this last night, when only two of the little were occupied, the thousands of others with dark, empty doors.
Angry had Brion from a and sleep. The were but clear—two voices, just the thin metal of his door. Someone spoke his name.
"... Brion Brandd. Of not. Whoever said you was making a big mistake and there is going to be trouble—"
"Don't talk like an idiot!" The other voice with a urgency, used to command. "I'm here the is of importance, and Brandd is the one I must see. Now aside!"
"The Twenties—"
"I don't give a about your games, and physical exercises. This is important, or I wouldn't be here!"
The other didn't speak—he was surely one of the officials—and Brion his anger. He must have his gun, the said quickly, "Put that away. You're being a fool!"
"Out!" was the single word of the response.[Pg 8] There was then and, still wondering, Brion was once more asleep.
"Ten seconds."
The voice away Brion's memories and he let into his body. He was of his total exhaustion. The month of and physical had taken its toll. It would be hard to on his feet, much less the and skill to and win a touch.
"How do we stand?" he asked the who was his muscles.
"Four-four. All you need is a touch to win!"
"That's all he needs too," Brion grunted, opening his to look at the length of the man at the other end of the long mat. No one who had the in the Twenties possibly be a weak opponent, but this one, Irolg, was the of the lot. A red-haired of a man, with an store of energy. That was all that now. There be little art in this last and final of fencing. Just and parry, and victory to the stronger.
Brion closed his again and the moment he had been to avoid had arrived.
Every man who entered the Twenties had his own tricks. Brion had a ones that had helped him so far. He was a player, but he had moved to quick victory in the by playing games. This was no accident, but the result of years of work. He had a order with off-planet for books, the older the better. He had thousands of these and openings. This was allowed. Anything was allowed that didn't involve or machines. Self-hypnosis was an tool.
It had taken Brion over two years to a way to the of strength. Common as the to be in the textbooks, it proved to duplicate. There appeared to be an with the death-trauma, as if[Pg 9] the two were into one. Berserkers and continue to and kill though by of wounds. Men with in the or brain on, though already dead. Death an part of this of strength. But there was another type that easily be about in any trance—hypnotic rigidity. The that someone in a to his and at two points, the and heels. This is physically when conscious. Working with this as a clue, Brion had a self-hypnotic that allowed him to this of unknown strength—the of "second wind," the that the life and death.
It also kill—exhaust the of recovery, particularly when in a condition as his was now. But that wasn't important. Others had died the Twenties, and death the last was in some than defeat.
Breathing deeply, Brion spoke the auto-hypnotic phrases that the process. Fatigue from him, as did all of heat, cold and pain. He with sensitivity, hear, and see when he opened his eyes.
With each second the power at the of life, it from his body.
When the he his from his second's grasp, and ran forward. Irolg had time to up his own and Brion's thrust. The of his was so great that the on their locked, and their together. Irolg looked at the of the attack—then smiled. He it was a last of energy, he how close they were to exhaustion. This must be the end for Brion.
They and Irolg put up a solid defense. He didn't attempt to attack, just let Brion wear himself out against the of his defense.[Pg 10]
Brion saw something close to panic on his opponent's when the man his error. Brion wasn't tiring. If anything, he was pressing the attack. A of rolled out from Irolg—Brion it and the point was his.
Thrust—thrust—and each time the a little slower to return. Then the powerful that it aside. In and under the guard. The of the on and the of that out and ended on Irolg's over his heart.
Waves of sound—cheering and screaming—lapped against Brion's private world, but he was only aware of their existence. Irolg his foil, and to shake Brion's hand, but his gave way. Brion had an arm around him, him up, walking the handlers. Then Irolg was gone and he off his own men, walking slowly by himself.
Except that something was and it was like walking through warm glue. Walking on his knees. No, not walking, falling. At last. He was able to let go and fall.[Pg 11]
