Pebble in the Sky by Isaac Asimov (best novels of all time .txt) 📗

friend Balkis and the Galactic Council, or the survivors thereof. You may then have the honor of handing the wretched remnants of the crumbs of the Empire to Balkis in return for antitoxin, which may or may not reach sufficient worlds in sufficient quantities in sufficient time to save a single human being.”

Ennius smiled without conviction. “Don’t you think you’re being ridiculously overdramatic?”

“Oh yes. I’m a dead man and you’re a corpse. But let’s be devilishly cool and Imperial about it, don’t y’know?”

“If you resent the use of the neuronic whip—”

“Not at all,” ironically. “I’m used to it. I hardly feel it any more.”

“Then I am putting it to you as logically as I can. This has been a nasty mess. It would be difficult to report sensibly, yet as difficult to suppress without reason. Now the other accusers involved are Earthmen; your voice is the only one which would carry weight. Suppose you sign a statement to the effect that the accusation was made at a time when you were not in your—Well, we’ll think of some phrase that will cover it without bringing in the notion of mental control.”

“That would be simple. Say I was crazy, drunk, hypnotized, or drugged. Anything goes.”

“Will you be reasonable? Now look, I tell you that you have been tampered with.” He was whispering tensely. “You’re a man of Sirius. Why have you fallen in love with an Earthgirl?”

“What?”

“Don’t shout. I say—in your normal state, could you ever have gone native? Could you have considered that sort of thing?” He nodded his head just perceptibly in the direction of Pola.

For an instant Arvardan stared at him in surprise. Then, quickly, his hand shot out and seized the highest Imperial authority on Earth by the throat. Ennius’s hands wrenched wildly and futilely at the other’s grip.

Arvardan said, “That sort of thing, eh? Do you mean Miss Shekt? If you do, I want to hear the proper respect, eh? Ah, go away. You’re dead anyway.”

Ennius said gaspingly, “Dr. Arvardan, you will consider yourself under ar—”

The door opened again, and the colonel was upon them.

“Your Excellency, the Earth rabble has returned.”

“What? Hasn’t this Balkis spoken to his officials? He was going to arrange for a week’s stay.”

“He has spoken and he’s still here. But so is the mob. We are ready to fire upon them, and it is my advice as military commander that we proceed to do that. Have you any suggestions, Your Excellency?”

“Hold your fire until I see Balkis. Have him sent in here.” He turned. “Dr. Arvardan, I will deal with you later.”

Balkis was brought in, smiling. He bowed formally to Ennius, who yielded him the barest nod in return.

“See here,” said the Procurator brusquely, “I am informed your men are packing the approaches to Fort Dibburn. This was not part of our agreement. . . . Now, we do not wish to cause bloodshed, but our patience is not inexhaustible. Can you disperse them peaceably?”

“If I choose, Your Excellency.”

“If you choose? You had better choose. And at once.”

“Not at all, Your Excellency!” And now the Secretary smiled and flung out an arm. His voice was a wild taunt, too long withheld, now gladly released. “Fool! You waited too long and can die for that! Or live a slave, if you prefer—but remember that it will not be an easy life.”

The wildness and fervor of the statement produced no shattering effect upon Ennius. Even here, at what was undoubtedly the profoundest blow of Ennius’s career, the stolidity of the Imperial career diplomat did not desert him. It was only that the grayness and deep-eyed weariness about him deepened.

“Then I lost so much in my caution? The story of the virus—was true?” There was almost an abstract, indifferent wonder in his voice. “But Earth, yourself—you are all my hostages.”

“Not at all,” came the instant, victorious cry. “It is you and yours that are my hostages. The virus that now is spreading through the Universe has not left Earth immune. Enough already saturates the atmosphere of every garrison on the planet, including Everest itself. We of Earth are immune, but how do you feel, Procurator? Weak? Is your throat dry? Your head feverish? It will not be long, you know. And it is only from us that you can obtain the antidote.”

For a long moment Ennius said nothing, his face thin and suddenly incredibly haughty.

Then he turned to Arvardan and in cool, cultured tones said, “Dr. Arvardan, I find I must beg your pardon for having doubted your word. Dr. Shekt, Miss Shekt—my apologies.”

Arvardan bared his teeth. “Thank you for your apologies. They will be of great help to everybody.”

“Your sarcasm is deserved,” said the Procurator. “If you will excuse me, I will return to Everest to die with my family. Any question of compromise with this—man is, of course, out of the question. My soldiers of the Imperial Procuracy of Earth will, I am sure, acquit themselves properly before their deaths, and not a few Earthmen will undoubtedly have time to light the way for us through the passages of death. . . . Good-by.”

“Hold on. Hold on. Don’t go.” Slowly, slowly, Ennius looked up to the new voice.

Slowly, slowly, Joseph Schwartz, frowning a bit, swaying a bit with weariness, stepped across the threshold.

The Secretary tensed and sprang backward. With a sudden, wary suspicion, he faced the man from the past.

“No,” he gritted, “you can’t get the secret of the antidote out of me. Only certain men have it, and only certain others are trained to use it properly. All these are safely out of your reach for the time it takes the toxin to do its work.”

“They are out of reach now,” admitted Schwartz, “but not for the time it would take the toxin to do its work. You see, there is no toxin, and no virus to stamp out.”

The statement did not quite penetrate. Arvardan felt a sudden choking thought enter his mind. Had he been tampered with? Had all this been a gigantic