Nirvana Effect by Craig Gehring Page B

Nockwe had stopped his lunging, had stopped even his circling, and instead just rotated in place as Dook worked around him, looking for an opening.  Dook wasn’t worn at all, despite the bleeding from his left arm, and he looked ready to make his kill.  Nockwe coughed spasmodically.
    Dook finally leaned to make his first strike.  Nockwe feigned to the left, and then swung his body savagely to the right.  Dook missed him, but Nockwe caught Dook’s left arm near the first gash and again drew blood.  Dook cried out and swung again, but Nockwe ducked his blow and kicked out with all his force, landing his foot squarely into Dook’s abdomen.  The smaller man flew backwards and landed in the dirt. 
    All eyes were on Dook as he flew, but then went rapidly back to Nockwe.  The chieftain hadn’t gotten up from his flying kick.  Instead, he trembled on the ground. 
    Nockwe strained to lift himself, only to collapse again.  Dook was back onto his feet, grabbing his daggers from the ground.  Hi s lips curled into a savage smile.  The illness had finally overcome Nockwe, as the poison had overcome Tien.  Still hunched over from the blow to his stomach, Dook swaggered as best he could to the chieftain.  His time had come to claim Nockwe’s flag .
    Nockwe managed to roll himself up to his hands and knees and made a grab for his dagger in the dirt. 
    It was to no avail .  Dook idly kicked Nockwe in the head.  Dook was showboating.  The dagger flew back out of Nockwe’s hands as he collapsed again the ground.  He pushed the dirt , struggling to get back up .  His muscles trembled but would not move him. 
    Dook laughed, checking out the horrified crowd.  He wasn’t getting the response he wanted, but he was certainly enjoying himself. 
    Dook grabbed Nockwe by the hair.  “Stand up!” he shouted as he yanked Nockwe into a standing position.  Nockwe used the momentum to lunge at Dook, but to no avail.  Dook simply threw him by the hair back into the dirt.
      Dook wielded his knife once more to finish the job.
    “ At’tan!  At’tan! ”
    Edward had made an instantaneous calculation of hundreds of factors.  Much of his calculation involved the future and his survival chances.  The course he chose had many possible dead-ends, most of them i mmediately , but he felt he had to choose it.  He would not have Nockwe’s blood on h is hands.  Nockwe had spared Edward’s life.
    Mahanta is not able to help - he’s no match for Dook physically.   Only one person had a chance at interceding successfully for Nockwe.  It was the only person under trance.
    Under the nirvana effect, the present was crisp and real to Edward.  The past was just as definite.  He could move his consciousness to any moment of it. 
    He could move his consciousness to the future, as well, and calculate.  It was much less real.  It lay across many paths, many probabilities.  Most real was the present and the few seconds leading from it.  Less real lay the infinitude of survival patterns or deaths that lay ahead of Edward and his allies.  Many portals led to his goals, his dreams, and survival.  Few doors were open past this encounter.
    And still, Edward yelled the words of intercession.
    Mahan ta turned abruptly to Edward in shock .
    Dook froze.  Nockwe craned his neck up to see his benefactor.  The hundred voices of the crowd all started jabbering at once.  Edward could pick out every single one.  “The white man intercedes!  He’ll surely die.  Thank the gods.  Nockwe might live.  He can’t do that.  That’s Manassa ’s slave.”
    Mahanta grabbed his arm.  “You’re still trancing?”  Edward nodded slightly.  “That’s no assurance of victory.  And the trance will end any time now.  You were meditating for a while before I disturbed you.”
    Tell me something I don’t know.
    Mahanta slid a long dagger into his hand.  The Jesuit gripped th e handle.  Smooth, well-sanded wood gave some weight to the