The Duellist

He followed her eyes. "I guess market forces and environmental concerns were never supposed to meet."

"They already did, Jay," she said slowly. "You're looking at the result."

He stared at the planet. For a time the silence lay on them, quiet against the gentle sounds of other diners' conversation, the clink of cutlery. After a while he said, "So, do you want to be a hawk or a dove?"

She smiled. "I thought I was a trophy?"

"Well, whatever you are," he said steadily. "I want to fuck you."

"I thought you'd never ask..." She gestured for the waiter.

******

"Do you think he'll go for it?"

Emma sighed, rolled over, the bed creaking. "Wim, it's half past one..."

"I know, I know. But will he go for it?"

She pushed her hair back from her forehead, paused for a moment. "No."

"Shit." He rubbed his hands over his face. After a moment he sighed, his voice becoming resigned. "We were so close, so fucking close."

She propped herself up on her arm, pushing the duvet down, faced him. The room was dim but not completely dark, her eyes able to see enough to pick out his face, his expression in the bed next to her. "There'll be other chances."

"I know. I thought we had them, I really did. We were so close this time, closer than we've ever been." He looked at her, his eyes shining in the shadows. "Emma, if we can get just one to come on board..."

"I know, Wim, you've said." She rubbed his arm, trying to keep impatience from her voice. "It'll happen, don't lose faith."

"But when? How long can the planet last while all these corporate Neanderthals stand by talking money and profit and investment returns?"

She stifled a yawn. "It's lasted this far."

Wim lay still, staring off a the ceiling. For a long while he said nothing, then, "What's it like... Seeing him again?"

"Who, Jayden?" she said, stalling, buying time, the question unexpected.

"Who else?"

She allowed herself to lie back on her pillow, not trusting herself to keep looking at him while she answered. "Strange," she said.

"Yeah?" She felt his eyes on her. "He doesn't seem your type..." he said tentatively. "I find it hard to believe you almost married him. What did you see in him?"

Again the silence stretched. "He was a fun guy," she said at last.

"Fun? That's a bit shallow for you. Guy's a Neanderthal."

"Wim," she said, cautionary. "Don't make me defend him, I'm not the villain here."

"Why would you defend him?" he said.

She could feel the new tension in the room, settling slowly on them both. Recognised the signs of another fight brewing between them. They spent more time fighting than fucking these days, she thought.

She sighed, resigned to it now. "I loved him once."

"Once, maybe. Look what he's become?"

Despite herself, she found she wanted to defend him, felt herself getting angry for him. All of a sudden she felt like she was back home, rehashing the same arguments she'd had with her father all those years before.

"What? He's twenty seven years old and he's senior executive at Achilles. What's so bad about that?"

"He's a killer, Emma, remember? His road to the top is stained with blood."

Emma laughed. "Oh, fucking spare me. I haven't forgotten, but that's the society we created, Wim. He didn't invent duelling, you can't blame him for being good at it."

"There are other paths..." he said, his self-satisfied voice, looking at her oddly.

Emma felt a flush of annoyance, propped herself up again. "Fucking other paths, Wim? He's from the reclamation estates, what chances has he had? How many guys on your team are from the reclamation estates? What, none? Well, there's a fucking surprise..."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, Wim, in case you hadn't noticed, that your team is made up of self-satisfied kids from good backgrounds. There's not a one of them has made it there from the reclamation estates, not a fucking one."

He sighed. "You sound just like him, you know."

"What?" she said evenly, anger evaporating.

"When you're angry, you sound like him," he said quietly.

"Do I?" She lay back, thought about that for a moment. "Go to sleep, Wim, I'm tired."

"Yes, okay," he said, his voice as tired as she felt. Then, after a moment, "I'm sorry, Emma. You were right, I shouldn't have made you defend him, I shouldn't have said anything."

The silence built between them. Emma wondered if it was her imagination, but there seemed to be a new distance in it, a new separation that hadn't been there a few days before. She shrugged it off. It was just a feeling, it would pass...

"I guess I was upset at having him back in your life," Wim said finally. "Bit of Neanderthal jealousy." He tried for a self-deprecating laugh, it sounded forced.

"It's okay. No harm done," she lied.

******

The shuttle bay was located beneath the domed city, cut into the bedrock underneath, sealed from the vacuum with enormous airlock doors. There was too much risk to the domes from a rogue shuttle to allow the port to have been located on the upper surface - all orbital cities following the same pattern.

Located above it, the terminal building sprawled at the edge of the geodesic, within the city but as close to the edge as could be. It was a low, thick walled structure with a massive over-preoccupation with security. Plate glass doors let Jayden into a sprawling foyer done out in industrial grey with little attempt at comfort and musty with the smell of too many people and too little air. Dotted about the hall were a variety of pieces of commonplace artwork - surrealist sculpture, an occasional mural - displaying an almost reckless lack of imagination. All about were hovering boards crammed with departure details, arrival times, the names of domes and travel estimates. Very few, he noticed, went to Earth.

There was a covered booth selling coffee near the entrance, a cream and brown striped awning reaching down to give it a false intimacy in the soulless surroundings. He bought himself a double-shot cappuccino in a cardboard cup, paying the exorbitant price with only a raised brow for protest. For a time he loitered near the entrance, sipping the bitter liquid, watching people coming and going.

He was surprised when Emma emerged from the crowd, looking about until she saw him, walking over to meet him in the foyer. He smiled at her as she approached - she seemed to have changed her look, he thought. She was wearing a smart charcoal trouser suit cut duellist style - tight about the body, loose on the limbs -, her hair scraped back into a bun, big sunglasses and a Gucci bag completing the look. Classy. Sexy.

"Hi," she said, smiling at him a little warily.

"Hi Em," he said easily, pausing to admire her. Smiled. "You look sensational." She flushed a little, her smile less guarded. He looked about. "No Wim?"

"No. He's gone on ahead. We'll meet him there."

He nodded, looking at her. A group of people passed close by, their voices loud, braying. After a moment she said, "What?" Looked herself up and down, smiling.

"Nothing..." He grinned. "Do we need tickets or something?" he said.

"What, oh, uh, I've got your ticket, Jay," she said, starting, reaching into her Gucci bag. "Come on, the elevator is over here..."

He followed her through the terminal, weaving through the crowds of travellers, dodging luggage or running kids. A series of openings were set along the side of the corridor, each one numbered, each one closed off with a set of sliding doors in aluminium. A number were open, disgorging or swallowing passengers depending on whether it was an arrival or a departure. They stopped outside number twenty three. Emma handed him his ticket, a small plastic chip card. There was a small crowd gathered by the doors, mostly people in the casual clothes of off-duty scientists and activists - the de-rigeur fleeces and jeans, chunky boots - a couple of suited business types. No families. To one side a small desk had been set up, a couple of uniformed shuttle staff waiting nearby.

They didn't have long to wait. In a matter of a few minutes the doors opened and a similar small group disembarked, moving noisily through the foyer towards the main terminal. Once they were away, the staff became more animated, beckoning them forward, checking tickets, cramming them into the elevator.

The shuttle bay had more presence, he thought. The elevator opened into a cavern lit by myriad spotlights set about its natural rock walls and floor. Sitting in the centre of the cavern was the sleek outline of the shuttle itself - gleaming white, its body connected to any number of umbilicals, a set of steps pressed against the side. Around it people in overalls busied themselves with a thousand tasks, each one apparently requiring at least two people to check, ticking items off on a handheld terminal.

"It shouldn't be crowded," Emma said, walking alongside him. "The Earth flights rarely are."

"You been down often?"

"Uh-huh. With, uh, with Wim." For some reason she felt unreasonably unwilling to mention him - as if she was bringing a ghost to the feast.

"Right."

They crossed the cavern, climbing the steps into the cabin. Emma was right, there were many more seats than people, the interior not large but easily capable of seating twice the number present on its cramped accommodation.

"You'll want a window seat if you've not seen it before," she said, smiling.

"Okay." He shuffled along the narrow aisle, taking a seat just forward of the stubby wing.

Emma pushed her Gucci bag into the overhead locker. She hesitated, looking unsure about which seat to take. Finally she shuffled into his row, taking the seat next to him. It was cramped and close, her arm brushing his as she sat, hands so close they were almost touching on the seat's arms. They both affected not to notice.

Lift off was far less dramatic than the name suggested. In keeping with his previous experience of inter-orbital flight, the shuttle seemed to just fall out of the launch tunnel, requiring barely any thrust to clear the orbital's gravity once the generated field was breached. From his window he saw the star field emerge, slowly shifting to bring the orbital into view as the shuttle's ion thrusters ignited.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, staring at the city receding behind them. A collection of towering buildings, a splash of green, all contained in a gigantic crystal dome, its surface the million facets of a diamond, set on a base of cold rock, for all the world as if a city had been scooped wholesale from Mother Earth.

Emma leaned across, her face close enough that he felt her breath tickle his cheek. "Yes. Wait until you see Earth."

In the distance he could see the flashes of other orbitals, winking in the sun's light, an occasional shuttle glinting like a fish as it moved between them. Gradually the distance between the shuttle and the orbital increased, New York fading to a simple bright spot in the dark sky.

"Why did you give up duelling?" she said after a while.

He turned, meeting her bright blue eyes - mere inches from his. He could see the pulse in her neck, her soft skin trembling slightly. He shrugged, looked away. " I haven't given up, I still duel."

"You know what I mean. Stopped being a professional, became an executive?"

"It's self-limiting." He didn't turn around. "Duellists have a limited life, what happens to you when you lose the edge? At least as an executive you can choose your own duels."

He turned back, faced her again. She hadn't moved, staring at him. The scent of her perfume was strong, sexy. He swallowed. "What about you. How did you end up..." He tailed off, the thought unfinished.

This time it was her that looked away. She shrugged. "When I... When Alex and I separated I got involved with a few causes. You know what I'm like." She smiled.

He nodded. "And Wim, of course."

"Yes," she said guardedly. "And Wim."

He said nothing for a while then, thinking. Finally he said, "Do you believe it can be done?"

"Make the Earth suitable for rehabitation?" She looked past him, out of the window of the shuttle. "Honestly, I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I mean the problems are huge, overwhelming. In the face of that it's easy to feel powerless, to give up."

"You don't seem like someone who's given up."

Her eyes flicked back to him, staring into his. "No, I haven't. I believe that I've got to do what I can, make the differences I can make, hope I influence others by my example and trust others to do the same." She grinned shyly, suddenly self-conscious, looked away. "I guess I haven't changed much from when I was in college."

He smiled. "I guess not."

Beyond the portal the Earth was swinging into view. From space the green seemed less vivid, more the colour of a fading bruise than an emerald.

"Sad, isn't it?" she said, leaning across him.

He shrugged, saw her look at him from the corner of his eye.

"Don't tell me you're not affected by that?" she said, looking at him curiously. "I mean, look at it, that's our home..."

"Emma, I didn't say I wasn't affected," he said slowly. "I think it's terrible, awful. So are a lot of things... So are the reclamation estates. But I'm not an activist, I'm a businessman. Being affected doesn't make it a good investment."

She sighed. "It's not all about money, Jay."

"Not all, no," he said carefully. "But this is."

For a long time they were quiet, staring together at the Earth as it grew in size beyond the small window. Gradually the shuttle shifted position, preparing for reentry, placing the Earth directly underneath them - so large it filled the sky.

"Why did you leave me in the church?" he said quietly, looking out of the window.

Emma stared at him, swallowing. Shrugged. "We..." she stopped, was quiet for a long time. Then: "I was too young, Jay. We both were. I wasn't ready, not really."

He turned to face her. "It took you until the day of the wedding to figure that out?" he said, voice tight. He saw the tension at the corner of her eyes.

"Jay, it was eight years ago." She looked down, not turning away but not meeting his eyes, either. "I'm not proud of what I did. I wish it could have been otherwise."

He nodded slightly. "Eight years, Em. Eight years. And in all that time I never heard from you. Not a word. No explanation. No apology. Nothing."

For a long time she said nothing, the silence tight about them. Finally she said, "You want an apology, Jay?" She lifted her eyes, met his. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you in the church, I'm sorry I never contacted you, never explained. I never wanted to hurt you."

Jayden watched her, not sure how he should feel, not sure if it should make a difference or not. "Yeah, we're all sorry," he said eventually, turned away.

******

Jayden's first view of the Earth's surface was disappointing. When the shuttle levelled out following reentry - its ramjet screaming to life as it bit on the atmosphere - it was raining, the skies leaden, as dark as twilight. Below them he could just make out the surface of the sea, boiling in the downpour, waves swaying it sluggishly, more like a thick broth than water. The shuttle streaked across its surface, making for a distant slash of brown against the horizon.

"Where are we heading?" he said. They were the first words spoken since orbit, the atmosphere tense between them.

"The Congo," she said. He thought she sounded relieved.

"The Congo?"

"Yes, uh, Wim says Achilles has big concerns in Congo. He wanted to make his pitch personal."

Jayden nodded, smiled, breaking the tension between them. "Does Uhwim know anything about business?"

She chuckled slightly. "Not a lot, no."

He grinned, found her grinning back.

Wim was waiting for them when they landed.

In contrast with the orbital shuttle bay the Earthside bay was in the open, the shuttle port no more than a converted airport - a rather poor one at that, Jayden thought. They taxied to a vacant bay, a long metal arm dotted with rust reaching out to dock with the shuttle doors at the rear of the craft. Through the window he could see Wim, standing passive behind the glass of the shuttle port window.

With most of the other passengers already queuing at the back, Jayden made to stand. Emma's hand touched his arm, resting lightly on the back of his hand. He looked at her. She stared back, her face uncertain - as if she wasn't sure how he would react. "It's okay, there's no hurry. Why don't we wait until they've gone," she said.

"Okay." He relaxed, sitting back in his seat. She didn't remove her hand so he turned his over, letting his fingers slip between hers, holding her hand gently. She turned to face him, swallowing.

The doors opened with a metallic hiss, swinging out into the waiting umbilical. Slowly the passengers filed out, an occasional comment or conversation piece audible as they passed.

"There you are," Wim said eventually, from the back of the shuttle.

Emma's hand shot away as if she'd been scalded, she almost leapt from the seat.

"Uh, yes, hi... We were just coming." She looked flustered. Jayden smiled, standing slowly.

Wim looked at them oddly, glancing at Emma's outfit nonplussed.

"So, I've had Emma proselytising all the way down, are you going to give it your best shot now, Wim?"

"I'm going to do my best," he said, smiling. "Follow me." He waited for Emma, took her hand, leading her away. As they reached the door she looked back, shot him a grateful look.

Jayden smiled, getting Emma's Gucci from the overhead locker before following behind.

There was a window in the side of the umbilical, it afforded a view over the shuttle port into the country beyond. Jayden paused, vaguely aware of the other two walking away deep in a hushed conversation.

Below him the concrete of the port was broken and cracked, great rain filled craters scattered across its surface, beyond it a broken and rusted chainlink fence and then what was left of the jungle, he supposed. From where he was standing it was impossible to be sure - a great sea of mud stretched away as far as he could see, dotted within it an occasional tree, or the skeletal remains of the same - drowned or poisoned, he thought. On the horizon he could just make out a series of plumes of smoke or gas and the silhouette of what could have been a building. At least the rain had stopped, he thought.

"Oh, my bag," Emma said. "Thanks, Jay." She took it from him. "I completely forgot..."

"Not a pretty sight is it," Wim said.

Jayden shrugged. "That's why we moved out, Wim," he said. He glanced between the two of them. "Look, if you two have got things you want to discuss, I can make my own way back."

"No. It's okay, we have nothing to discuss, Jayden," Wim said, glancing at an uneasy looking Emma. "Come on, there's more to see than that."

******

Like the shuttle port, the helicopter was sealed against the atmosphere, the doors shutting with a reassuring hiss. It had been painted white, a big UN in black stencilled on the side, but it was obviously former military gear - its look industrial and uncomfortable. A number of masks were located about the cockpit, big bulbous respirators in white. Jayden looked at them dubiously.

"A few decades ago you could breathe the air without concern," Wim said, strapping himself in opposite Jayden. Emma secreted herself near the cockpit, behind Wim, staring thoughtfully out of the window. "Now, if we have to go outside, you'll want one of those."

"I know you're dying explain," Jayden said, resigned.

Wim chuckled. "Oh you can breathe the air, or what passes for it, Jayden. Millions of people around the globe still do - those too poor to join your orbital utopia. The legacy is chronic illness, birth defects, infertility. Use the mask, eh?"

"Sure."