Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe Read online

  Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe

  Robert Asprin

  George Takei

  Hosato is killer — duelist — saboteur — whatever you pay him to be, and he always wins. Sent to sabotage a robot-manufacturing complex, Hosato discovers that the robots have turned into rampaging killers bent on the destruction of mankind!

  Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe

  Robert Asprin & George Takei

  He would have to fight the boy. All the argument thus far had proved was that the youth had no logical objections, but was making them up as he went along to support his own stubborn streak. The only way to end the discussion would be to teach the kid a lesson… physically.

  Having reached this conclusion, Hosato began to reassess the situation, specifically viewing the room as a battlefield, as he continued the discussion.

  “Be reasonable, James. I’ve been hired to do a job, like anyone else in this complex. That job is to teach you how to fence. It wasn’t my idea, it was your father’s, so instead of arguing, let’s get on with the job at hand.”

  “But I don’t want to learn to fence!” the boy insisted, his gray eyes glowering from beneath a sandy tousle of hair. “Why not?”

  The boy was tall, in his mid-teens, and broad for his age. He’d have the advantage of reach, since Hosato barely came up to his shoulders in height, but whatever edge his youth gave him in speed should be offset by his awkwardness.

  “It’s silly,” the boy grumbled. “Why should I waste my time learning something I’ll never use. Swords are obsolete… so are guns, for that matter, but at least a gun would train me for using a blaster.”

  “Are you carrying a gun or a blaster at the moment?” Hosato inquired politely.

  “No,” James admitted. “You aren’t allowed to carry an energy weapon inside the complex unless you’re a security guard.”

  “But you are wearing a sword.”

  From what Hosato could see, the boy’s sword had a slender blade roughly one meter long. The overly ornate hilt indicated it was more a decoration than a functional weapon. Probably no cutting edges, which would restrict his opponent to attacking with the point.

  “Of course I’m wearing a sword. Anyone of any station worth mentioning does.”

  “But you can’t see any reason for learning to use it?”

  The boy’s beige cotton-and-nylon jumpsuit would give him freedom of movement, though not as much as Hosato’s black fencing uniform. The soft-soled boots would give him traction, but the cloak was too long. With any luck, he’d trip over that cloak, or at least find it tangling his arm if he turned too suddenly.

  “No, I don’t,” the youth retorted. “Nobody actually fights with swords. They’re a fashionable status symbol. Two years ago it was spangle gloves, today it’s swords. Big deal.”

  Hosato abandoned his preparatory observations to make one last effort to convince the boy logically.

  “Look, James. Your father is one of the most important men in this complex—a complex, I might add, that is constantly feuding with another complex on Grunbecker’s planet. That makes you a prime target for kidnapping or assassination. Realizing that, can’t you see the value of learning to use the one weapon the laws let you carry?”

  “Let Security handle them.” The boy shrugged. “That’s what we pay them for.”

  The tile floor of the rec room would give them decent footing, though not ideal. The far end of the room was still in darkness, but the X aisle here between the four pool tables would be well lighted enough to work in. Having completed his survey, Hosato moved to set up the confrontation.

  “Security will handle them.” He sneered, mimicking the boy’s voice. “And what if they don’t. What will you do then. File a complaint. Or would you be forced to do your own fighting for a change?”

  The main vulnerability of youth is not inexperience, it’s pride. The boy’s head came up with a snap as he reacted to the slight.

  “I can take care of myself if I have to.”

  “Is that a fact?” Hosato stung the boy with a patronizing smile. “Tell you what, James. If I can prove to you that you can’t handle yourself in a fight, will you agree to study what I have to teach you?”

  “That wouldn’t be fair,” the youth protested. “I didn’t say I could cross swords with a fencing master and win. But there aren’t that many fencing masters around. I can hold my own against the kind of opponent I’d be likely to have to fight, though.”

  Hosato smiled. “It seems there are a few misconceptions here we should clear up. First of all, I’m not a fencing master. I’m a professional duelist. I’m supposed to teach you to fight, not score points in a tournament. Second.”—he showed a few more teeth— “I didn’t say I’d cross swords with you. I’m betting you’re sloppy enough with that weapon I could defend myself without using a sword.”

  The boy started to reply angrily, but caught himself.

  “No deal,” he said suspiciously. “You’ll probably use karate or something.”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t know karate,” Hosato lied easily.

  “Why not?” asked the boy. “I mean, you’re Oriental.”

  “That’s right. I can’t use chopsticks, either.” Hosato caught himself before his annoyance grew. The boy had inadvertently touched a nerve, but it wouldn’t do to go into this fight mad.

  “We’re getting off the subject. I’m proposing a little contest. You use a sword, and I don’t. If you can draw blood on me in five minutes, I’ll go to your father and tell him you don’t need lessons. Is it a deal?”

  The boy hesitated. “What if I kill you?” he asked.

  “Then I’ll be dead and you won’t have to take lessons.”

  “I mean, what would I tell my father. With you dead, there’d be no one to say it was an exercise. I’d look like a murderer.”

  Hosato smiled to himself. The boy was bright enough. Maybe he’d make a fencer after all.

  “Don’t worry about it, James,” he said confidently. Hosato pulled a small flat box from where it was clipped inside his tunic. He thumbed a dial and lifted the unit to his lips.

  “Suzi!” he said.

  From the depths of the darkened end of the rec room came the whir of small high-speed motors, and a strange shape emerged into the light.

  It was obviously a robot, but a very specialized robot. It stood six feet high, floating on a cushion of air, and was shaped like a rectangular metal box stood on end. One side was a rough manikin form, and had a jointed mechanical arm dangling from it.

  “Meet Suzi,” Hosato said. “My combination equipment closet and fencing assistant.”

  “So what?” said the youth, unimpressed.

  Hosato spoke into the control box again. “Suzi. Display replay camera three two minutes back.”

  In response, the machine pivoted about to reveal a view screen mounted on the end opposite the arm. A picture sprang into focus, of Hosato and James in conversation.

  “draw blood on me in five minutes, I’ll go to your father—”

  “Stop, Suzi!” Hosato turned to the boy. “There’s your witness.”

  The youth was craning his neck to peer around the room.

  “Have you got cameras in here?” he asked.

  “Yes. I tape all my lessons,” Hosato replied. “They’re spaced around the room to make sure the action is captured from all angles.”

  He pointed to a small black box no bigger than a matchbox, perched on the pool table by the boy’s el-bow.

  “How many cameras are there, Hayama?” a new voice inquired, using Hosato’s alias. It came to them from the other end of the room as a new figure stepped into view.

  Sasha. Hosato fr
owned to himself as he recognized the svelte figure of the security chief. He was going to have trouble with this lady. She was too efficient and moved a bit too quietly for his comfort.

  “Half a dozen,” he answered, forcing a smile. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  “You weren’t supposed to,” she replied without smiling. “Go ahead, Master James. I’ll be your witness that you attacked your teacher at his own request.” She draped herself casually over a folding chair next to the robot.

  James looked uncomfortable for a moment, then grudgingly drew his sword. Hosato felt a quick wave of sympathy for the boy. He had run out of excuses and was now forced into doing combat with a fencing coach in front of an attractive woman. To say the least, it was an unenviable position.

  Reluctantly the boy raised his sword into an awkward initiation of an en garde position.

  Instead of responding in kind, Hosato simply stood facing him squarely, arms folded across his chest. They watched each other intently for a few moments; then Hosato cocked an expectant eyebrow.

  The youth, suddenly realizing Hosato wasn’t going to do anything more in preparation, began to edge cautiously forward. Hosato remained motionless. Finally the boy screwed up his courage and poked his sword forward in a quick jab.

  Without moving his hands, Hosato stepped leisurely backward, and the attack fell short.

  He continued sauntering backward, and raised the control box to his lips once more. “Suzi!” he said loudly. “Give us a buzzer in five minutes, starting now!”

  Tucking the box back inside his tunic, he reversed his field and approached the boy once more.

  “Okay, James,” he said in a barely audible murmur. “Try it again, and this time act as if you mean it. We’ve got an audience!”

  The boy flushed and sprang forward, not waiting for Hosato to stop moving. The blade darted toward his tormentor’s chest, but encountered only thin air. The target disappeared as Hosato pulled his left shoulder back, twisting his torso parallel to the advancing blade. The point passed harmlessly by, scant inches from his chest.

  “Much better!” he said, retreating easily up one of the aisles. “A few more like that and I’ll have to start treating you seriously.”

  The boy pressed forward, on the attack again, only to find Hosato had changed his track. He was standing sideways now, his right hand extended leisurely, as if holding an invisible sword.

  Puzzled, the boy jabbed at the hand and missed again as the hand drifted back to its original position. Annoyed now, the boy stepped forward and tried to thrust past the hand at Hosato’s body. The blade was batted disdainfully aside by the hand that now seemed to be blocking the path of attack.

  Hosato drifted sideways, putting the pool table between himself and the stalking youth. The boy paralleled his motion, sword extended over the width of the table, watching Hosato’s movements as a lynx watches a rabbit. Again he jabbed with the sword, only to find he had again misjudged the distance.

  Hosato moved neither foot nor hand in defense, laughing at the boy’s frustration as the pool table brought his attack up short.

  Suddenly the control box inside Hosato’s tunic started to tingle against his body. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Sasha was standing with her back to them, closely examining the robot.

  There was a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, and Hosato snapped his attention back to the fight. Too late. During his moment of distraction, the boy had slipped around the end of the pool table and was sprinting at his tormentor with his sword at full extension.

  Hosato was caught flatfooted. The sword point was scant inches from his body and there was no way he could defend himself—legitimately.

  Reflex action took over. Hosato dropped to the floor under the speeding sword point. As he did, his foot lashed out in a vicious kick. In that flashing moment, his conscious mind regained partial control but not in time. He checked the main force of the kick and moved the point of impact from the diaphragm to the stomach, but that was all he could do.

  The kick landed, and the boy doubled over and collapsed on the floor. The sword slipped from his fingers and clattered noisily away as he gasped for breath.

  Hosato rippled to his feet and was at the boy’s side in an eye blink. “Are you all right, James?” he asked, lifting the youth by his armpits to aid his breathing.

  All the while, he was cursing reflexes—his reflexes and his inattentiveness. To give himself away this early in the game.

  “What happened?” demanded Sasha, standing beside them.

  “He… he kicked me!” the boy gasped.

  “Nonsense!” Hosato snapped indignantly. “The boy got overenthusiastic and ran into the corner of the table there. Knocked the wind out of him.”

  “You said you wouldn’t use karate!” the boy whined accusingly, ignoring Hosato’s protest.

  “I told you I don’t know any karate!”

  “This can be settled easily enough,” Sasha interrupted. “Let’s see the replay on your cameras, Hayama.”

  Her voice was casual, but her eyes were studying Hosato with soft suspicion.

  “An excellent suggestion,” Hosato said, fishing the control box out of his tunic. “Suzi. Camera five. Display replay. One minute back.”

  The view screen winked obediently to life, and two figures swam into focus. Hosato waited, poised, as James circled wide around one end of the pool table the boy darted forward Hosato floated lightly behind the table again James tried to change his course, slammed into the corner of the table, doubled over, and rolled off onto the floor…

  “Interrupt, Suzi!” Hosato ordered.

  The screen went dark again.

  “You see. The boy just—”

  A raucous buzzer went off in the robot.

  “What was that?” Sasha demanded.

  “The signal that five minutes is up. I forgot to cancel the timing order.”

  Sasha ignored his answer and turned to the boy again. “Well, James. Was that what happened?”

  The boy was still sitting on the floor staring thoughtfully at the dark view screen.

  “Huh. Oh. Yeah, Sasha. I forgot about the cameras. I was just trying to get out of taking fencing lessons.”

  Now it was the boy’s turn to suffer the security chief’s piercing study.

  “In that case, I think you owe Hayama here an apology.”

  James lurched shakily to his feet and extended his hand.

  “I’m sorry, Hayama. All things considered, I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to take those lessons, if you’ll have me as a student.”

  The boy had given up too easily. There was a new depth in his gaze that hadn’t been there when they first met.

  “Certainly I’ll have you, James,” Hosato said, accepting the handshake. “If anything, I should apologize to you for putting you through such a rough first lesson.”

  The boy picked up his sword and resheathed it.

  “If it’s all right,” he said, “I think I’ll go lie down for a while. I’m still a little queasy from that accident.”

  “Go ahead.” Hosato smiled. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Right.”

  “Wait outside a minute, James,” interjected Sasha. “I’ll walk along with you.”

  The boy hesitated, then nodded and left.

  “We’ll have to have dinner together, Hayama. Sometime soon?”

  Sasha’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Hosato ignored the warning bells going off in the back of his mind.

  “Sure, Sasha,” he said, forcing a smile. “Any particular reason?”

  “Nothing special. You’re the newest person on the staff, and I know the least about you. I thought it might give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

  “I thought those application forms I filled out were pretty complete.”

  Sasha smiled as if at some secret joke. “Forms seldom tell the whole story.”

  “Well, how about tonight, then?”

  “There�
�s no hurry. No one leaves the complex without my approval.”

  She turned and followed James before Hosato could reply, which was fortunate, because he couldn’t think of one. He stared about the twosome for a few moments, then thoughtfully began to collect his remote cameras.

  “Suspicious bitch!” said Suzi.

  Involuntarily Hosato shot a darting glance around the room. “Someone might be listening, you know,” he said.

  “Sensors detect no human or electronic surveillance,” the robot retorted.

  Hosato grimaced. He should know by now the futility of arguing with his partner.

  “Come on, Suzi. Give me a hand with these cameras.”

  The robot floated over to him, but would not be distracted from her observations.

  “They’re both suspicious, you know. The security chief and the boy.”

  “I know, Suzi.”

  “Don’t underestimate the security chief just because she’s a female.”

  “If anything, I’m tracking her doubly close because she’s a female, Suzi.”

  “I thought so!” The robot sniffed haughtily.

  Hosato secured the last camera in the storage compartment and began unfastening his tunic. As he did, the door of the compartment slid shut, then reopened, exposing an entirely different storage area.

  “I wish you’d use the normal doors when we’re on assignment,” Hosato commented. “It’s supposed to be a secret that you can rearrange your internals.”

  “It is a secret,” the robot retorted. “I told you, no one’s watching.”

  Hosato ignored the rebuff. His attention was devoted instead to the two swords displayed in this compartment. The dueling epees. No matter how often he saw them, whether as a student or after the maestro had presented them to him, they always gave him a vague chill.

  The swords had been used over the centuries for sixty-three bloodings and thirty-one kills. A total of ninety-four duels—no, make that ninety-five. He had forgotten to include the latest duel, the one that immediately preceded this contract…

  It had all started on Mitchum’s planet There were four of them waiting by the designated rock. Even though they were still in sight of the spaceport, no crowd gathered to watch. Apparently duels such as this were not uncommon.