Their eyes met for a long moment. Then slowly Aki drew himself up and bowed.
Kumo sprang to his feet, his face livid. He barked an order at Aki. Still in the bow, Aki raised his head and looked at Kumo, then at Tidwell, then back at Kumo, and shook his head.
Clancy tensed, his hand going to his waistband. Tidwell caught his eyes and shook his head in a firm negative.
Kumo screamed a phrase in Japanese at Aki, then snatched the sword from his sash and started across the platform at Tidwell.
Tidwell watched coldly as the sensei took three steps toward him, then stood up. As he did, the leg he had been kneeling on flashed forward and kicked the knife like a placekicker going for an extra point. The point snapped off and the knife somersaulted forward, plunging hilt-deep into the chest of the charging swordsman. Kumo stopped, went to one knee, tried to rise, then the sword slipped from his grasp and he fell. For several minutes there was silence. Then Tidwell turned to address his force.
"A great man has died here today. Training is canceled for the rest of the day that we might honor his memory. Assembly will be at 0600 hours tomorrow to receive your new orders. Dismissed."
In silence, the force rose and began to disperse. Tidwell turned to view the body again. Aki was kneeling before his fallen sensei. In silence Tidwell picked up the sword, removed the scabbard from Kumo's sash and resheathed the weapon. He stared at the body for another moment, then turned and handed the sword to Aki. Their eyes met, then Tidwell bowed and turned away.
"Jesus Christ, Steve. Have you ever used that placekick stunt before? In combat?"
"Three times before. This is the second time it worked."
"I saw it but I still don't believe it. If I ever mouth off about your knives again, you can use one of them on me."
"Yeah, right. Say, can you be sure someone takes care of Aki's arm? I just want to go off and get drunk right now."
"Sure thing, Steve. Oh, someone wants to talk to you."
"Later, huh? I'm not up to it right now."
"It's the straw bosses."
Clancy jerked a thumb toward the row of company officials.
"Oh!"
Tidwell turned and started wearily toward the men because they were his employers and he was a mercenary.
11
"Willard?"
"Yeah, last night." Eddie Bush was visibly shaken as he lit a cigarette.
"I just got the call from Personnel. They got him in a movie theater."
"I'll tell the troops. Damn! You think they'll be more careful."
"I know what you mean. He wasn't even on the 'kill list'."
"No, I mean I thought he'd be more careful. On the 'kill list' or not, anyone who wears a kill-suit is fair game. They're asking for trouble, all of them. They shouldn't be surprised when it finds them."
"Hell, Pete. I wear a kill-suit. So does half the corporation staff now. It's a style, a fad, a status symbol."
"Well, I don't think that people are taking it seriously enough." Pete ground out his own cigarette viciously.
"Haven't we lost enough people already without playing games with the assassin teams?"
"Most of those were on the first day. It was kind of sudden, you know."
"The hell it was. There were memos and meetings going around for over a month. Did you ever get an accurate count of how many we lost the first day?"
"Seventeen, with six near misses. I guess nobody really stopped to think it through."
"That's what I mean about people not taking it seriously. Who came up with this crackpot scheme anyway?"
Bush made a face.
"As near as I can tell we did, but damned if I know why."
"There's some solid talk going around that it was an under-the-table agreement between the corporation hierarchies to weed out some of the management deadwood."
"The 'forced retirement' bit? Yeah, I've heard that, but I don't believe it. Corporations pull some pretty sleazy moves when it comes to personnel management, but I can't believe they'd sink that low. Three years on half-pay would really be rough. I'm not sure I could take it. Oh well, I suppose it could be worse. They could be using real bullets."
"That's happened, too," Pete retorted.
"It was in the rules at the start. After four shots with the quartz-beams, the assassin can use live ammo. If the players don't turn on their kill-suits, it's their own fault."
"Is yours turned on now?"
Eddie ran a hand inside his jacket to check the controls.
"It sure is."
"But you had to check to be sure."
"Yeah, I see what you mean."
"Besides, I wasn't talking about those kills. I was talking about the others. Did you hear what happened to Brumbolt?"
"Just a few rumors."
"They shot him down. With live ammo and real blood. You know why? Because he went to the theater the same night as a couple execs from his old department. They swear they didn't even know he was going to be there. In fact, they haven't even talked to him since he was `killed' and went on half-pay, all according to the rules. The assassins who spotted him thought he was trying to pass some notes or something, and cut him down in the parking lot. That's the kind of real-kill I'm talking about."
Eddie pursed his lips in a silent whistle.
"I haven't heard about that. That's weird. It's like...like..."
"Like we were in a war-that's what I've been trying to say. The big question is, what are we going to do about it?"
Eddie stiffened, his features hardening into a mask.
"Are we going to get into that again, Pete?"
"You're damn right we are. I mean, we are still on a team to submit recommendations, aren't we?"
"Only until we can be reassigned. The project is dead, Pete."
"But..."
"But nothing! It's dead! Marcus has already submitted his recommendations and they've been accepted. The corporation has already sunk a hunk of money into the new weapons, and they won't be looking for new ways to raise costs."
"Eddie..."
"So we are going to sit down and shut up because I don't want to make an ass of myself backing a set of recommendations that won't be followed."
"That's the part I don't buy. I think we'll be making bigger fools of ourselves if after spending all this time and money on our team, we don't come up with anything."
"But the cost..."
"Cost, hell. If there's one thing I've learned in my years with this corporation, it's that there's always money to be had for a good idea."
"And if there's one thing you haven't learned, it's when to keep your mouth shut. If you had, then I'd be answering to you instead of you to me. In theory you're right, but we're dealing with reality, and like it or not, that's the way it is. Now I'm telling you to back down!"
The two men glared at each other for several moments; then Pete forced a deep breath.
"Tell you what, Eddie. I'll make you a deal-no, hear me out. I've got something in my car that I think will change your mind. If it doesn't, then I'll shut up and go along."
Eddie considered him for a moment.
"All right, bring it in. But I honestly can't think of anything you can come up with that will change my mind."
"You'll have to come with me. It's too bulky to bring in."
"Okay, anything to get this thing settled."
He rose, and the two men headed out into the executive corridor. Stepping onto the conveyor, they rode along in silence for several minutes. Finally Eddie cleared his throat.
"Sorry about blowing up in there, Pete. I guess I just don't understand why you're fighting this so hard. There'll be other assignments."