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Valentine raised his voice in return. "What kind of sword is hanging over your head, General? How thick's the thread? You don't get us off this hill in hip-hop time and they'll haul you off, I bet. Brass ring or no. I saw one taken once. They jerked the ring right off, along with the owner's finger-"
Xray-Tango's eyes widened as he thought through the implications. "Balls," he howled. Xray-Tango's left fist exploded toward Valentine's jaw.
Valentine slipped under it, and just dodged a right cross that he only saw coming at the last split second. Xray-Tango moved fast for a big man. A jab by Valentine bounced off a beefy triceps. Xray-Tango paid it no more attention than a plowhorse did a fly.
Xray-Tango squared on him and the Cat's vision exploded into dueling rainbows; all the colors of the spectrum and a few Valentine didn't know existed danced to the ringing in his ears. He brought his forearms up to cover his face and saw a fuzzy apparition between his parallel radii.
Xray-Tango took the opportunity to work Valentine's stomach, the blows like the kicks of an entire team of mules. Valentine lashed out, but it only left him open for a combination that left him looking at the grass.
He fought for breath, took one and the mists cleared. He heard men shouting as he rolled to his feet.
Xray-Tango advanced, his fists turning tight circles in front of his massive shoulders. "Should have taken your dose and gone down, Valentine."
Valentine saw men from both sides gathering, emerging from tueir holes and trenches and piled-rubble redoubts to watch the fight. Even those who stayed behind with their weapons stood atop headlogs and sandbags to see the action.
Valentine tried a combination, but the big arms came up and he just missed losing part of his jaw to Xray-Tango's riposte.
"Who do you really wanna hit, General?" Valentine said.
Xray-Tango stepped in with lethal speed and tried the uppercut that had started the music still echoing in Valentine's ears, but me Cat stepped out of the way. The blows came like an artillery barrage, but every time the general's fist cut nothing but empty air. Valentine sidestepped, back-stepped, but there were no ropes to pin him, just an ever-shifting circle of soldiers.
"Shadowboxing, General. You're shadowboxing," Valentine gasped between breaths. "Quit fighting me and fight them!"
"They're fighting for the hill," someone in the crowd shouted as others came up. "A duel. General Extasy's winning against the Red Renegade!" An excited murmur went up from the crowd; every soldier's fantasy seemed to be coming true-the two big bugs fighting, instead of all the little worker ants.
Xray-Tango began to pant. "How are you going to win if you never hit back?"
Valentine bent under another combination, slipped under Xray-Tango's reach and came up behind the general, and tapped him on me shoulder.
"Did she ever ask you to desert, Scottie?"
"Narrr!" Xray-Tango bellowed, swinging laced fingers as though he held a sword to take Valentine's head off. Valentine ducked under it and the momentum of his blow carried Xray-Tango off balance. Valentine helped him to the ground with a cross.
The audience roared with excitement. "Southern Command is winning!"
"Extasy's a champ, you dunks," a sergeant from the other side shouted.
Xray-Tango rolled to his feet with the same grace that seemed so out of place in his big frame. Suddenly his feet were against Valentine's chest as he launched himself at Valentine with a two-heel kick, and Valentine felt something snap as both opponents fell backward to the ground.
The general rolled, got a hold of Valentine's leg and it was a ground fight. Against most other men Xray-Tango's weight would have ended the contest, but Valentine was a veteran of dozens of Zulu Company wrestling matches, often ending with Valentine facing the old top sergeant, Patel, before Patel won and went on to regimental competition. Valentine got a hold of an elbow and kept Xray-Tango's face in the dirt so he couldn't breathe. He forced the arm up, up-
Clack!
The arm suddenly gave way with horrid ease. Valentine sprang to his feet, let the general up.
"You're done," Valentine said.
"So are you," Xray-Tango answered. "We're going to roll up your men like-"
Valentine raised his voice toward the assembled Quisling soldiery. "The general lost. You're to retreat west, home to Texas or Oklahoma."
Dozens of faces suddenly brightened. An end.
"No!" Xray-Tango roared. "That wasn't what this was about."
"He's trying to back out of it," Valentine shouted over his shoulder to his soldiers. It was all lies; his men deserved more than lies, but if he could take the heart out of the Quislings, make them feel that their lives were being sacrificed after the general's loss of a duel-
"Back to your posts. Back to your posts. Open fire on this rabble," Xray-Tango shouted.
