Planet Stories Super Pack #2. Ray Bradbury, Nelson S. Bond, Leigh Brackett

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      Garroway laughed harshly.

      "The trapped rabbit uses strong language still. You have profited little by your experience, I see, Dirk Morris."

      "On the contrary," retorted Dirk, "I have profited much. And the measure of my profit lies in the dissolution of your empire…as you have learned in this past fortnight."

      Garroway said, "True, you have caused me trouble. I acknowledge it. But that trouble is ended, now, for I have discovered—at last, but fortunately not too late—the true nature of the machine in which I had thought to execute you. It was not a disintegrating machine, but one that distorted the atoms of your body, rendering you invisible."

      Dirk’s heart leaped; he struggled to maintain the impassive mask which was his face, revealed to the Overlord in a hundred reflecting surfaces of quartz. Then not yet had Garroway learned of the existence of Nadron, of the adjacent universe. That, at least, was something to be thankful for.

      He said, "It was a clever trap you set for me, Garroway. You announced a council meeting which you knew I must attend; you surround yourself not with your generals, as was expected, but with guards. You listened to the advice of your daughter, used rock-quartz to make my body visible—"

      "—and," added Garroway complacently, "prepared an electric wave-transmitter that disrupted your own instrument, trapped you in our presence, and makes it impossible for you to escape.

      "Well—" His voice changed abruptly—"your puny attempt to overthrow me has failed, Morris. As a fighter, I cannot restrain a certain degree of admiration for your effort, but as Emperor of the System, there is one thing I can, and must, do. Guards—! "

      His voice was a thin snarl.

      But as hulking stalwarts moved forward to perform his bidding, another slighter figure hastened before them to confront her parent. The Princess Lenore.

      "Wait!" she commanded. "What means this, my parent? Why do you call the guards?"

      "Return to your apartment, Lenore!" ordered Garroway sternly. "You have served your purpose. It is not seemly you should witness the judgment on this rebel."

      "Have you forgotten your promise?" raged the woman. "You cannot kill this man. You pledged me his life!"

      "Forget this foolish whim!" bade her father. "He is but an underling. Surely there are other men—"

      "I want this one!" insisted Lenore. For a moment her dark, vivid eyes touched Dirk’s with lingering ferocity…and despite the tenseness of the moment, the peril of his situation, Dirk Morris could not restrain the quick thrill of admiration and…something else which burned through him. His brain tossed in a turmoil of conflicting emotions. He understood, now, why an ungovernable impulse had caused him to sweep this girl into his arms that night in her apartment. It was because she was…she was his type of woman! A hard, gallant, ruthless fighting-woman who knew what she wanted and would adopt any measures to get it.

      There was Rima on Nadron…true. He respected her. For her he felt—though he had known her but a short time—a great tenderness and affection. But it was not true love. It was a brotherly feeling; a comfortable confidence in her presence and companionship.

      This girl, the Princess Lenore, alone could stir his veins to running fire; she alone quickened a hungry spark within him. It was mad…it was impossible…but true. He loved—and the knowledge of it struck Dirk Morris with brutally staggering force—he loved an enemy and the daughter of his bitterest foe!

      Stranger yet…she loved him!

      Now she was talking again, hurriedly arguing a case to win his life.

      "It is not necessary to kill this man, my parent. It would be folly to do so. Think! On all this world…in all this universe…there are few men worthy of the name of man! Your court is a melange of smirking nincompoops and weaklings. Who amongst them can match in strength and vigor the spirit of Dirk Morris? Which can compare with him in audacity and daring?"

      "That," responded her father darkly, "is why he must die. I cannot allow so dangerous a foe to live—"

      "No? Have you forgotten the medical science of which your attendants are capable? Think, my father…were it not better to make slight alterations in this man’s brain, converting him to a true and faithful servant, than to destroy forever the bravery in his heart?"

      The words struck home. Garroway frowned thoughtfully.

      "It is true," he mused. "A slight operation…a period in the Mental Clinic to erase from his brain-passage all thoughts of rebellion…would make him a new man. But it is too great a chance. Were anything to go wrong—"

      The Princess Lenore gazed at him scornfully.

      "I see. Very well, then—" With slow, deliberate movements she reached up, stripped from her raven hair the glittering imperial emblem which designated her a member of the Family Royal—"if such must be your decision, so be it? But I…I shall no longer confess myself a Garroway. If the word of the Emperor is so lightly to be given...."

      And this time she was triumphant. Her scorn hit the Overlord in his one most vulnerable spot…his colossal vanity. His dark eyes flamed with petulance. He snarled, "Oh, let be! No man shall say the Overlord retracted a pledge. If you must have this man—" He turned to Morris—"Well, what say you, rebel? Are you too proud to buy your life at the expense of rebellion? Or will you accept life at the price of a new existence of loyalty…to me?"

      *

      Dirk wavered, sorely tempted. Until this moment his life had been consecrated to a single Cause…the overthrow of Garroway’s cruel empire. But now, suddenly, strangely, singingly, had entered into it another influence…love for a woman of matchless courage and beauty.

      His attempts to destroy Garroway had failed. He was hopelessly ensnared, his cohorts could not save him. Years might pass before another Dirk Morris arose to lead malcontents in rebellion. Neil Hardesty was a good man, a strong and faithful friend…but he lacked the spark of genius that leads lost causes to success.

      Perhaps it would be better, in the long run, to accept defeat…and in accepting it, accept also such share of happiness as this world had to offer. As the mate of Lenore he would live a new life, all rebellious thoughts exiled from his brain by the surgery of Garroway’s physicians....

      So he hesitated, and for those tense moments the fate of a world hung in the balance. But then…honor won! With infinite sadness, but with courage too, Dirk Morris made his answer. It was symbolic that he made it to the Princess.

      "I am sorry, my Princess," he said quietly. "I know a great wonder, and a great pride, that you have made this plea for me. But…I cannot accept life on such terms. For me there is but one clear and unavoidable path…to go on. This path I must choose to glory or…the grave."

      "Don’t be a fool!" cried the girl. "Don’t you see you can gain nothing by this gesture. You have no choice!"

      Her words were sharp…but her voice was fearful. Dirk, recognized this as he said, still softly, "Yes, that, too, I see. And, believe me, Princess, I am deeply sorry. But I have made my choice."

      For an instant that seemed eternities the Princess Lenore, she who had until a fortnight since known passion for nothing save costly baubles, stared СКАЧАТЬ