hine swung a clubbed metal arm. Barrent
couldn't avoid the blow completely. The club struck his left shoulder,
and he felt his arm go numb.

Max was selecting again. Barrent threw himself on its smooth, rounded
back. At the very top he saw two tiny holes. Praying that they were air
intake openings, Barrent plugged them with his fingers.

The machine stopped dead, and the audience roared. Barrent clung to the
smooth surface with his numbed arm, trying to keep his fingers in the
holes. The pattern of lights on Max's surface changed from green through
amber to red. Its deep-throated buzz became a dull hum.

And then the machine extruded tubes as alternative intake holes.

Barrent tried to cover them with his body. But the machine, roaring into
sudden life, swiveled rapidly and threw him off. Barrent rolled to his
feet and moved back to the center of the arena.

The contest had lasted no more than five minutes, but Barrent was
exhausted. He forced himself to retreat from the machine, which was
coming at him now with a broad, gleaming hatchet.

As the hatchet-arm swung, Barrent threw himself _at_ it instead of away.
He caught the arm in both hands and bent it back. Metal creaked, and
Barrent thought he could hear the joint beginning to give way. If he
could break off the metal arm, he might disable the machine; at the very
least, the arm would be a weapon....

Max suddenly went into reverse. Barrent tried to keep his grip on the
arm, but it was yanked away. He fell on his face. The hatchet swung,
gouging his shoulder.

Barrent rolled over and looked at the gallery. He was finished. He might
as well accept the machine's next attempt gracefully and have it over
with. The spectators were cheering, watching Max begin its
transformation into another killing mode.

And the girl was motioning to him.

Barrent stared, trying to make some sense out of it. She gestured at him
to turn something over, turn it over and destroy.

He had no more time to watch. Dizzy from loss of blood, he staggered to
his feet and watched the machine charge. He didn't bother to see what
weapon it had extruded; his entire attention was concentrated on its
wheels.

As it came at him, Barrent threw himself under the wheels.

The machine tried to brake and swerve, but not in time. The wheels
rolled onto Barrent's body, tilting the machine sharply upward. Barrent
grunted under the impact. With his back under the machine, he put his
remaining str