“Got it,” Harry said. “I can hit anywhere? Aren’t they worried about someone losing an eye?”

Schmidt asked. “He says that if you manage to take an eye, then it counts. Every hit or attack with a tip is fair.” Schmidt was quiet for a moment as the judge spoke at length. “Apparently the Korba can regenerate lost limbs and some organs, eventually. They don’t see losing one as a huge problem.”

“I thought you said there were rules, Hart,” Harry said.

“My mistake,” Schmidt said.

“You and I are going to have a talk after all of this is done,” Harry said.

Schmidt didn’t answer this because the judge had started speaking again. “The judge wants to know if you have a second. If you don’t have one he will be happy to provide you one.”

“Do I have a second?” Harry said.

“I didn’t know you needed one,” Schmidt said.

“Hart, please make an effort to be useful to me,” Harry asked.

“Well, I’m translating,” Schmidt said.

“I only have your word for that,” Harry said. “Tell the judge that you’re my second.“

“What? Harry, I can’t,” Schmidt said. “I’m supposed to be sitting with the Ambassador.”

“And I’m supposed to be in a bunk on the Clarke reading the first part of The Brothers Karamazov,” Harry said. “Clearly this is a disappointing day for both of us. Suck it up, Hart. Tell him.”

Schmidt told him; the judge started speaking at length to Schmidt, chest and neck plates shifting as he did so. Harry glanced back over to the seating area provided the Colonial Union diplomats and Clarke crew, who shifted in their rows. The stands were half-sized for humans; they sat with their knees bunched into their chests like parents at a pre-school open house. They didn’t look in the least bit comfortable.