MacFarland tried to sleep on a cot beside the command car. Crawford Bell gave him a mild sedative but it didn't do much good. "Have you ever fought a duel?" Crawford Bell asked. "No. This is only my third raid." "What's happened up to now is a boy's game compared to that. That's for real." "You don't have to tell me. It makes me sick to think about it." "You don't have to do it. It's something no government can ask you to do." "No, but the UN Secretariat approves of it and every honest psychologist approves of it, too. Let me rest. You get the junk ready." He wondered if anything was worth a duel. The star ship wasn't. His career wasn't. So why bother? But he knew the answer and so did every soldier on the planet. Every duel fought made killing a little less likely; every duel decreased the danger modern knowledge, which hadn't been destroyed with the weapons it had made possible, would wipe out human life. It wasn't something you did for your own country. You did it for the whole human race and all the generations to come. At five he arose from his cot. He felt groggy but that couldn't be helped. In the chilly dawn he took off his jacket and shirt. Bare chested, he stepped into the space between his vehicles and the enemy line. Crawford Bell handed him a public address system. "Good morning," his voice boomed. "I hope you've had a better sleep than I got. It's easy to be brave when you know your opponent won't kill you. It's easy to stand in line and look heroic and patriotic when you know I don't dare run you over with my vehicles. But how brave are you? Are you really willing to suffer for your country? I think the men of Belderkan are cowards. I think you would still be running if we had fought an old fashioned war last night." * * * * * He paused and stroked his mustache. Then he gestured and Crawford Bell rolled the instrument forward. It was a pole on a wheeled platform. Four handles stuck out from the pole; above each handle was a set of four dials. "Do you know what a duel is?" He made himself look at the instrument. "Have you heard in this primitive country of the great duels fought all over the world these last few years? Have you heard of the champions produced by nations like Ghana, Israel, Costa Rica? Wouldn't you like to pretend you haven't?" The youth he had tried to tempt the night before stepped out of the line. "I accept your challenge." He doesn't know what he's doing, MacFarland thought. "We've got room for four at the pole. Who else accepts my challenge?" Another man stepped forward. "I'm not afraid. I'll die if I have to." The struggle on the faces of the men left in line was painful to watch. Three of them stepped forward at the same time. They looked at each other until, with a puzzled expression on his face, one of them waved the other two back.