Free Murray Leinster (Duke Classic SiFi) by Space Platform Page B

it!"
    "Yeah," said Braun in the same odd voice. "You wanna finish it now?"
    Haney said formidably: "I'm not dodgin' any fight. I didn't dodge it
then. I'm not dodgin' it now. You picked it. It was crazy! But if you
got over the craziness—"
    Braun smiled a remarkably peculiar smile. "I'm still crazy. We finish,
huh?"
    Haney pushed back his chair and stood up grimly. "Okay, we finish it!
You coulda killed me. I coulda killed you too, with that fall ready for
either of us."
    "Sure! Too bad nobody got killed," said Braun.
    "You fellas wait," said Haney angrily to Joe and the rest. "There's a
storeroom out back. Sid'll let us use it."
    But the Chief pushed back his chair.
    "Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. "We're watchin' this."
    Haney spoke with elaborate courtesy: "You mind, Braun? Want to get some
friends of yours, too?"
    "I got no friends," said Braun. "Let's go."
    The Chief went authoritatively to the owner of Sid's Steak Joint. He
paid the bill, talking. The owner of the place negligently jerked his
thumb toward the rear. This was not an unparalleled request—for the use
of a storeroom so that two men could batter each other undisturbed.
Bootstrap was a law-abiding town, because to get fired from work on the
Platform was to lose a place in the most important job in history. So it
was inevitable that the settlement of quarrels in private should become
commonplace.
    The Chief leading, they filed through the kitchen and out of doors. The
storeroom lay beyond. The Chief went in and switched on the light. He
looked about and was satisfied. It was almost empty, save for stacked
cartons in one corner. Braun was already taking off his coat.
    "You want rounds and stuff?" demanded the Chief.
    "I want fight," said Braun thickly.
    "Okay, then," snapped the Chief. "No kickin' or gougin'. A man's down,
he has a chance to get up. That's all the rules. Right?"
    Haney, stripping off his coat in turn, grunted an assent. He handed his
coat to Joe. He faced his antagonist.
    It was a curious atmosphere for a fight. There were merely the plank
walls of the storeroom with a single dangling light in the middle and an
unswept floor beneath. The Chief stood in the doorway, scowling. This
didn't feel right. There was not enough hatred in evidence to justify
it. There was doggedness and resolution enough, but Braun was deathly
white and if his face was contorted—and it was—it was not with the
lust to batter and injure and maim. It was something else.
    The two men faced each other. And then the stocky, swarthy Braun swung
at Haney. The blow had sting in it but nothing more. It almost looked as
if Braun were trying to work himself up to the fight he'd insisted on
finishing. Haney countered with a roundhouse blow that glanced off
Braun's cheek. And then they bore in at each other, slugging without
science or skill.
    Joe watched. Braun launched a blow that hurt, but Haney sent him reeling
back. He came in doggedly again, and swung and swung, but he had no idea
of boxing. His only idea was to slug. He did slug. Haney had been
peevish rather than angry. Now he began to glower. He began to take the
fight to Braun.
    He knocked Braun down. Braun staggered up and rushed. A wildly flailing
fist landed on Haney's ear. He doubled Braun up with a wallop to the
midsection. Braun came back, fists swinging.
    Haney closed one eye for him. He came back. Haney shook him from head to
foot with a chest blow. He came back. Haney split his lip and loosened a
tooth. He came back.
    The Chief said sourly: "This ain't a fight. Quit it, Haney! He don't
know how!"
    Haney tried to draw away, but Braun swarmed on him, striking fiercely
until Haney had to floor him again. He dragged himself up and rushed at
Haney—and was knocked down again. Haney stood over him, panting
furiously.
    "Quit it, y'fool! What's the matter with you?"
    Braun started to get up again. The Chief interfered and held him, while
Haney glared.
    "He ain't going to fight any more, Braun," pronounced the