“Mary,” he said, rolling the name softly on his lips.
“That’s right. Mary. Who are you?”
“Anthon. You will die.”
“You say the nicest things, Tony. But you didn’t say that fiercely now, did you? You said it like you didn’t care for the idea very much but it was inevitable.”
“No understand,” he said and he wanted her to take some more. He wanted very much to hear the sound of her voice.
“You’re the soft one of the group, aren’t you? The only one that doesn’t seem to get a crazy joy out of killing off the innocent.”
With his few words it was hard to tell her what he wanted to say. “If another way. If not die. Mary and Anthon.”
Her laugh was husky silver. “Bless him! I get it, Tony. If not die maybe you’re right. I like the look of you, lad.”
She stood up quickly as Joe shouted hoarsely. The other warrior stood in the mouth of the cave. Anthon saw the dangling end of vine and knew how the man had been outwitted by Kor.
Kor was between the savage man and the mouth of the cave. The man had no chance. The man fought bravely with his club, but Kor parried the blow, slashed the man across the face. The man, his face spurting blood staggered back.
With another slash of the sword Kor disemboweled him and the man toppled slowly over, fell out of sight. Anthon heard the crash as the man struck the floor of the valley below the cave mouth.
The girl, holding the crude spear rushed at Kor, trying to prod him over the edge. Anthon found himself wishing that she would be successful, wishing it so hard that his teeth almost met in his lower lip.
Kor twisted away from the thrust.
Anthon saw the ready blade and he screamed, “No! Don’t—”
His scream faded into a sob. The girl with the dark hair lay face down on the cave floor, coughed once and then was still.
Kor came smiling forward and said, “Rebel, you live to try your luck again. Why they kept you alive I’ll never know.”
With a flick of the sword blade he severed the thongs that bound Anthon. Anthon moved as though in a dream. He waited a moment until feeling came back to his numbed hands. He reached for his own sword, came up off the floor with a roar of rage, with inhuman strength born of fury.
The startled Kor parried the first blow but the second caught him at the angle of neck and shoulder. The blade severed bone. Kor dropped with the blade still in him.
Still blind with anger, Anthon spread his arms wide, looked up at the silver box above him and said, “Would that it was Shawn who received that blow. Shawn and every one of his assassins and his thieves and the criminals who surround him.
“It is time that we are done with Shawn and his brood. It is time that we were free. It is time for every man of courage to stand upright and fight off oppression. We are not as free as these poor savages who die on Lassa.”
And then Anthon realized that with his first words the scanner would have been turned off, that he spoke only to the empty cave of death. He walked two heavy paces, sank on his knees beside the body of the girl and began to sob hoarsely.
History records that the technician operating the scanner turned and fought with hare hands against the supervisor who would have turned it off. By the time the technician was killed, the damage was done.
No battle cry was ever broadcast so instantaneously to all parts of a vast empire.
Everyone had misjudged the strength of the forces of rebellion.
Entire space cruisers, almost to a man, revolted against Shawn. Those who remained loyal died suddenly. The rays of destruction crackled and spat and the air of many planets hummed with the blue fury of released power.
It is recorded that seven hundred millions died in that bloodbath. Shawn and his court died when the Palace of the Kanes became a wide pool of rock and molten metal which bubbled for many months like the crater of a somnolent volcano.
Earth, the mother of the race, was made the home of the new democratic government of the universe.
The organization of government, which has persisted to this day, was the Council of Seven. Anthon, as the man who sparked the rebellion, as the hero of billions, was elected to the original council, was immediately voted Chairman by the other six, who, it seemed, had been the leaders of the unintegrated groups seeking to overthrow Shawn.
For many months after he took over the Chairmanship Anthon was lethargic and depressed. He seemed to be a sick man. Many problems needed solution and there was talk for a time that Anthon, though a hero and a legend during his own lifetime, lacked the administrative ability to discharge properly his responsibilities.
We know, from the diary kept by Calitherous, that it was during a Council discussion of the greatest problem facing the race, that of the regression of procreative powers of the race, that Anthon came alive once more.
He whispered something so softly that no man could make out his words. Then, with eyes that flashed fire, he disbanded the meeting.
His manner was such that no man opposed him.
Anthon was closeted with his scientists for many weeks. One of the peculiarities of that period was the way he occupied himself during every free moment with the acquiring of skill in one of the archaic tongues.
Chapter VIII
Re-Run
Howard Loomis spun as he heard a woman cough.
She was a tall girl in a wine evening dress. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and she stood, her hands at her throat. She looked at something in the air in front of her which did not exist.
“Rick!” she gasped.
Howard Loomis began to laugh. He couldn’t control it. He staggered to the side of the vast luxurious room, furnished in a manner so strange as to give it the appearance of a dream, and laughed until the tears dripped ridiculously from the end of his sharp nose.
“Too… too much,” he gasped. “Now bring on the golden harps.”
“Who are you calling a harp?” the girl snapped.
The sound of her angry voice brought him out of it. He stared at her in silence. “Where is this place? Who are you?”
“Those are my lines, mister.”
“Is your name Mary?” Howard asked. “If so, there’s a guy here who—”
There was no need to finish the statement. The young man with the air of authority, with the golden toga that left his bronzed left shoulder bare, pushed by Howard Loomis and advanced toward Mary Callahan.
In his odd English, he said, “Mary, you are more beautiful than before.”
“Than before what, friend?”
Anthon took her hands in his. His eyes were warm. “There is much to tell you. There is much that you do not understand.”
“That, chum, is a perfect understatement.”
“All I have time to tell you right now, Mary, is that this is a world thousands of years ahead of yours. You were brought her once before. I met you then. Others will come after you. I promise you a full and rich life at my side. You and those like you are the hope of this world, Mary. Through you we will gain the strength and vigor of times long past.”
Mary Callahan tilted her head on one side. “Brother,” she said, “I’ve been propositioned before but this is the first time I ever heard this line.”
“Line?” he said. “All you have to do is to believe me and trust me.”