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

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      And the Emperor nodded.

      "Guards!" he said. "Take this man—"

      It was a command that was never obeyed…an order never completed! For at that moment came interruption in the form of a violent blast that shook the entire council hall as a thatched shack trembles in a cyclone’s wake. A column of living fire blossomed in the room; eyes burned and eardrums throbbed to see and hear the tingling of an unleashed and unguessable force turned loose in their midst.

      And in the heart of this column, loose-girt in shining white, radiant as a goddess, but calm with the ominous quiet of powers unfathomable…stood the girl, Rima of Nadron!

      *

      It was Morris who first recovered sufficiently from the unexpected appearance to make a movement. A cry broke from his lips, "Rima! " He moved toward the girl. But her voice lifted in crisp warning.

      "Back, Dirk! To touch this flame means death!"

      Her words stopped not only Morris, but a group of the Imperial Guards who, as one, had now spun toward the visitant. They faltered, stopped dead in their tracks and turned to the Overlord for guidance.

      Graed Garroway’s black eyebrows were knit with rage and bafflement. He demanded hoarsely, "Who is this woman? And whence comes she, that she dares enter the stronghold of the Emperor?"

      It was incredible how forceful could be the tones of Rima. Her voice was dulcet sweet, but carried conviction.

      "I am of a race that ruled this world before your ilk was spawned, Black Garroway…a race whose least remembered knowledge so surpasses your own that you are as pawns with which we play at will.

      "I came because the evil in your heart has inspired you to do a great wrong…a wrong upon mankind that we, who once loved Earth, can neither condone nor allow. I came to free Dirk Morris, and to free Earth of a tyrant.

      "Dirk…bid the Emperor step from his dais. He no longer rules this city or this System."

      "No longer rules—" choked Garroway.

      "The city has fallen," said Rima. "While in this tower you plotted for the life of a rebel leader, you have lost an empire. Listen…or better yet, turn on your visi-screens. Therein you will see I speak the truth."

      In sudden, fumbling haste Graed Garroway turned to a vision-unit set in the auditorium wall. Instantly a section of the capital city sprawled before the gaze of those assembled. It was as Rima had foretold. No matter where the dial was swung, there reflected the same scene: people leaping, laughing, rejoicing in the streets…marching in vast, inchoate crowds, singing and cheering. Here and there were grisly evidences of the reason for their rejoicing…a knot of tumbled bodies garbed in the uniform of Garroway’s forces…a burning pyre which had been an Imperial blockhouse…a torn, stained militiaman’s cap lying in a gutter.

      And now, to further the evidence, came the sound of voices, running footsteps, through the tower itself. And into the council hall flooded a host of jubilant freedmen, led by a trio at sight of whom Dirk’s heart filled with gladness. The gigantic Vurrth, grinning from ear to ear and wearing a jacket snatched from a fallen foe…a jacket that had ripped up the back under the strain of the Venusian’s mighty muscles. Brian Shaughnessey, bellowing loud greetings. Neil Hardesty, grave and quiet as ever, even in this hour of triumph, as he spoke to his leader.

      "It is over, Dirk. You have succeeded here, too?"

      Dirk said ruefully, "I have succeeded, yes. But it was not of my doing. Rima—"

      "He has succeeded," interrupted the Nadronian girl. "The Emperor is deposed."

      Neil said gratefully, "We awaited your signal, Dirk. When it did not come we grew anxious. Then Rima—" For an instant his eyes sought those of the alien girl, and there was a curious humility in them, an almost worshipful admiration—"then Rima came to us; told us the hour had struck. We issued our rallying cry. It…it was easier than we had dared hope. The city was like a ripe plum, ready for our taking. At every street-corner new hordes joined us. Even Garroway’s hirelings abandoned their old leaders to follow the standard of the fabulous Galactic Ghost."

      "Thus, you see," said Rima so softly that only Dirk could hear her, "you did succeed, Dirk Morris. It was the Ghost whose spirit forged this rebellion. I but stepped in when the moment needed me."

      *

      Garroway, who had been standing at the vision plate, staring as a man transfixed at the image of his own downfall, now turned to his destroyers. His dark eyes were haggard, his sagging jowls suddenly no longer the harsh features of a ruler, but those of a defeated old man. He whispered:

      "This, then, is the end? Very well—" A burst of his former defiance flamed in him. He forced a laugh. "You have won, Dirk Morris. And the death I promised you lies in store for me? Well…so be it. It has been a long game, but one worth the playing. Of one thing you cannot rob me…the memory that once I ruled the mightiest empire known to man."

      But again it was Rima who spoke. Her voice was like a crystal bell.

      "Not death, Graed Garroway. It is the right of none to judge that ultimate penalty on another. Exile shall be your fate. Those who know your system better than I shall decide which planet…or planetoid far removed from Earth…shall be your final refuge.

      "Neil Hardesty—" She turned to the listening captain—"send him away. Your new government shall sit in judgment on him later."

      Hardesty nodded, motioned to Shaughnessey, and the erstwhile Overlord was led away. With him were herded from the room, none too gently, those who had been his companions in the attempt to trap Dirk. Within a matter of minutes the hall was cleared save for a handful: Dirk and Rima, in her glowing pillar of flame; Hardesty, the Princess Lenore.

      In the Princess’ eyes glittered a great defiance and a great sorrow. She asked, "And I? I join my father in exile?"

      Rima looked at Dirk.

      "Well, Dirk Morris?" she asked.

      Dirk’s throat was dry, his mind confusion. He said, "Must…must I, then, be the one to judge, Rima? She saved my life…or tried to. Were it not for her—"

      Rima said gently, "You love her. Isn’t that what you mean, Dirk?"

      Dirk’s head turned slowly; his eyes met those of the Princess Lenore. And what he found there forced the answer from his lips.

      "Yes, Rima. May the gods help me…I love her."

      "That," said the Nadronian girl, "I know. And this also I know…that she loves you. Does she love you enough to join you in the new world which is the only one whereon you now can live? Enough to join you on Nadron?"

      It was Lenore who answered that question. She said simply, "I do not understand your meaning, woman who dwells in a column of flame…but this much I do know. Where Dirk Morris dwells, there would I dwell also."

      Rima nodded, satisfied.

      "That, too, I had expected. It is well. She will make you a good mate, Dirk Morris. I wish—" There was a strange catch in her voice, a catch clenched teeth upon her lower lip could not quite stifle—"I wish you…much joy…in my lost, beloved СКАЧАТЬ