Some are born to greatness, others achieve
the rulership of systems—but Merssu
wanted to be a god. All he needed
was a million years and a little luck!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Rocket Stories, July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Your Majesty!"
D'hai Merssu, Emperor of All the Suns, Protector of the Galaxy, lookedup calmly as his prime minister burst into the room. His lean, broodingface did not change expression as he watched the pale and perspiringman cross the flagstoned floor with a sharp, nervous patter of leather.
"Gently, Tors, gently," he said quietly, his eyes mocking under theiroverhang of dark eyebrow. "You're Prime Minister now—remember that.A prime minister doesn't come blundering into the palace looking asthough the sky was falling. It creates unrest in the population. Try toremember that we're no longer a pair of obscure rabblerousers, tryingto overthrow the Crown. We are the Crown now. Try to act like it."
"D'hai, the sky is falling!" Tors burst out unheedingly, "I have wordthat the Earthmen are driving beyond the Rim and into the heart of theEmpire itself! Their ships are irresistible. They're winning battleafter battle! And the people are restless! They say it's time the FalseEmperor's rule was overthrown. Some of the garrisons are rebelling!"
Still the Emperor's expression did not change. "So," he said calmly,"the Earthmen were not bluffing when they said they'd maintain therights of the old Emperor."
"Yes! You said they wouldn't, D'hai. What are we going to do?"
"I was wrong, Tors," Merssu said evenly. "No matter. As for whatwe are going to do, why, I suppose you'd better arrange for anotherbroadcast. Tell the people we have weapons ready if the situationbecomes serious, that they have nothing to fear."
"But the situation is serious! And what weapons?"
"No weapons, Tors," Merssu explained patiently. "But the story willserve to keep the people calm—and, perhaps, make them think twiceabout revolt. Now go. Hurry!"
The prime minister's feet pattered over the floor again. The door tothe room closed.
Merssu smiled quietly. He rose, and opened the concealed door behindhis chair. Closing it behind him, he slipped into a passage of whichno one knew, and ten minutes later he was in a private tubeway thatled half-way across the continent into the heart of an old and barrenmountain range.
As he sat comfortably in the padded upholstery of the tube car, Merssusmiled again. Poor Tors! So excitable. Always the hysteric—a perfectrabblerouser, perhaps, but not a clever man. No, never a clever man. Aclever man knew when the game was over. And Merssu laughed.
The game had been worth it. Five years ago, he had been arevolutionary, slinking through the alleys at night, always indanger—and always clever. Four years of that, and then—Empire.Absolute rule over the entire Greater Magellanic Cloud. Now he was onceagain in danger. But it was a danger he had long ago foreseen, andplanned for. And the past year had been worth it. He laughed again.Poor, addle-witted Tors! Left with the empty bag in his hands.
The spaceship rested like a crouching bullet in its chamber. As he slidthe tubeway door shut behind him, Merssu admired the savage sleeknessof its lines once again. Even more, he admired his cleverness in havingit built. A clever man always has a back door. He crossed the hangarfloor unhurriedly, and climbed into the ship.
The control room was small, but efficient. A hundred controls layclosely around the pad