Thorp tore up the serf's tunic, bound his wrists and ankles, tied them
together so that he arched backward like a bow.
"Don't forget me," the serf pleaded. "I'll rot here in the walls."
But Joel was gone.
* * * * *
Subdued indirect lighting illuminated the top floor. Joel paused behind
a mirror with Thorp at his elbow. He glanced into Governor Cameron's
suite. The rooms were gutted, empty.
He said, "There's only one other apartment up here. That's Priscilla's.
He must be there."
"Emperor!" Disgust was heavy in Thorp's voice. "What does he think this
is, the pre-Atomic age?"
Joel didn't reply. He was conscious of Tamis' alien scent as he
threaded his way between the walls. He could see guards lounging before
Priscilla's door.
"That's where he is!" he said savagely. He was trembling, he realized.
He drew his paralyzer.
But when he reached the salon, it was empty. He ran through the passage
to Priscilla's bedroom, halted, icy fingers squeezing his heart.
Through the one-way mirrors, he could see Priscilla sitting in a
relaxer. There was a frightened, defiant expression on her face. And
she was staring up at Fredrik Roos.
The lean saturnine chief of the Asgardian police was bending over the
green haired girl, saying furiously, "After what I've done, do you
think I'd hesitate to kill you?"
Priscilla shivered.
Behind Joel, Thorp said, "The Emperor, Fredrik I of Asgard. He's going
to have the shortest reign in history!"
"Shut up!" said Joel. "He's talking."
Roos said, "I don't need the mutants; they need me! Look what happened
to Eden. Nelsville and Nuvenice will fall the same way. But you can
save thousands of lives if you persuade them to cooperate."
Joel said, "I'm going to take him," and touched the switch.
The panel made a faint squeak as it slid back. Joel leveled the
paralyzer, touched the stud.
Roos jerked around, his eyes widening. Then he leaped aside
spasmodically. The yellow flame splashed harmlessly against the
opposite wall.
Before Joel could catch the police chief in his sights again, the room
was plunged into darkness. Priscilla screamed.
"Stay back, Thorp!" Joel yelled. "He can see in the dark!"
Something snatched his paralyzer. He struck out blindly, felt his fist
crunch against flesh and bone. The paralyzer clattered on the floor.
Joel's eyes were adjusting. He could make out a dim gray silhouette
dancing in front of him. He struck at it. The shadow bobbed. Joel's
fist whistled through air.
He struck again and missed. Then a barrage of fists exploded in his
face. He was driven back against the wall.
He could see the elusive Roos more clearly, a weaving, bobbing
silhouette. He swung and missed, swung and missed.
Roos hit him in the mouth, in the solar plexus.
Joel sagged gasping to his knees. Roos kicked him viciously in the
kidneys. It was like the searing thrust of a knife.
He thought, I'm being licked. Once he'd seen a Histrofilm of a
prizefight. That was why he couldn't hit the police chief. Roos was a
skilled boxer.
He pulled himself groggily to his feet, lunged for him. He could see
him quite clearly now but in varying shades of gray like a black and
white photograph.
Roos danced aside, clipped him behind the ear. He was grinning. "Ox!"
he said.
Joel felt like a bear attacked by a slashing pack of wolves. He shook
his head, shuffled after Roos cautiously. He took three hard punches in
the face without faltering, kept closing in.
Roos backed up. Joel crowded him in the corner, letting the police
chief hit him with everything he had.
At the last moment Roos guessed Joel's purpose. He tried to duck and
slide clear.
Joel grabbed him by the collar and belt. With a grunt, he heaved him
over his head.
The police chief kicked, squirmed frantically. The muscles in Joel's
shoulders cracked. But he held him aloft, began to walk deliberately
toward the crystal doors leading to the terrace.
Roos cursed, wrenched, flailing wildly with arms and legs. Joel kicked
the doors aside.
Alpha Centauri A was flooding the terrace with a clear dawn light.
Roos began to beg for his life.
[Illustration: _The pseudo-Emperor cursed, struggled, begged for his
life._]
Joel's face was a grimace of triumph. He reached the parapet, heaved
the pseudo-Emperor over the edge.
A single piercing scream came up to him.
* * * * *
Joel didn't look down. He gripped the railing, staring out over the
gutted city. He heard a step behind him, felt Priscilla cover his hand
with hers.
"I knew you'd come. But Joel, we mustn't waste time!" Her voice was
tremulous. "Please hurry before the alarm is given!"
"No," he said. "We'll wait here."
"Joel! Roos' death won't stop the revolt. There'll be a dozen men to
take his place. Maybe the Ganelons will take us in!"
"Look," he said simply, and pointed out over the parapet.
In perplexity the girl glanced down on the city spread out below. Then
she gave a little scream, clapped her hand over her mouth.
Slowly, inexorably, the encircling jungle was enveloping the city!
Already the outlying districts were submerged beneath a wave of
thrashing greenery.
Joel saw a band of ant-like men trying to stem the advance of the nigel
trees with ray projectors. Then they broke and ran.
Someone began to pound on the door to Priscilla's suite and shout for
the Emperor. Then he went away.