The Early Asimov. Volume 1

by Isaac Asimov

  Tymball shook his head vigorously, “They’re mopping up already. Once the young fellow disappeared, the crowd lost its spirit, anyway.”

  “There will be many killed or hurt, but- Well, bring in the young firebrand.” Kane seated himself behind his desk and composed his face into a semblance of tranquility.

  Filip Sanat was in sad shape as he kneeled before his superior. His tunic was in tatters, and his face scratched and bloody, but the fire of determination shone as brilliantly as ever in his fierce eyes. Russell Tymball regarded him breathlessly as though the previous hour’s magic still lingered.

  Kane extended his arm gently, “I have heard of your wild escapade, my boy. What was it that impelled you to do so foolish an act? It might very well have cost you your life, to say nothing of the lives of thousands of others.”

  “For the second time that night, Sanat repeated the conversation he had overheard-dramatically and in the minutest detail.

  “Just so, just so,” said Kane, with a grim smile, upon the conclusion of the tale, “and did you think we knew nothing of this? For a long time we have been preparing against this danger, and you have come near to upsetting all our carefully laid plans. By your premature appeal, you might have worked irreparable harm to our cause.”

  Filip Sanat reddened, “Pardon my inexperienced enthusiasm-”

  “Exactly,” exclaimed Kane. “Yet, properly directed, you might be of great aid to us. Your oratory and youthful fire might work wonders if well managed. Would you be willing to dedicate yourself to the task?”

  Sanat’s eyes flashed, “Need you ask?”

  Loara Paul Kane laughed and cast a jubilant side-glance at Russell Tymball, “You’ll do. In two days, you shall leave for the outer stars. With you, will go several of my own men. And now, you are tired. You will be taken to where you may wash and treat your cuts. Then, you had better sleep, for you shall need your strength in the days to come.”

  “But-but Loara Broos Porin-my companion at the Flame?”

  “I shall send a messenger to the Memorial immediately. He will tell Loara Broos of your safety and serve as the second Guardian for the remainder of the night. Go, now!”

  But even as Sanat, relieved and deliriously happy, rose to go, Russell Tymball leaped from his chair and grasped the older Loarist’s wrist in a convulsive grip.

  “Great Space! Listen!”

  The shrill, keening whine that pierced to the inner sanctum of Kane’s offices told its own story. Kane’s face turned haggard.

  “It’s martial law!”

  Tymball’s very lips had turned bloodless, “We lost out, after all. They’re using tonight’s disturbance to strike the first blow. They’re after Sanat, and they’ll have him. A mouse couldn’t get through the cordon they’re going to throw about the city now.”

  “But they mustn’t have him.” Kane’s eyes glittered. “We’ll take him to the Memorial by the Passageway. They won’t dare violate the Memorial.”

  “They have done it once already,” came Sanat’s impassioned cry. “I won’t hide from the lizards. Let us fight.”

  “Quiet,” said Kane, “and follow silently.”

  A panel in the wall had slid aside, and toward it Kane motioned.

  And as the panel closed noiselessly behind them, leaving them in the cold glow of a pocket Atomo lamp, Tymball muttered softly, “If they are ready, even the Memorial will yield no protection.”

  New York was in ferment. The Lhasinuic garrison had mustered its full strength and placed it in a state of siege. No one might enter. No one might leave. Through the key avenues, rolled the ground cars of the army, while overhead poised the Strato-cars that guarded the airways.

  The Human population stirred restlessly. They percolated through the streets, gathering in little knots that broke up at the approach of the Lhasinu. The spell of Sanat lingered, and here and there frowning men exchanged angry whispers.

  The atmosphere crackled with tension.

  The Viceroy of New York realized that as he sat behind his desk in the Palace, which raised its spires upon Washington Heights. He stared out the window at the Hudson River, flowing darkly beneath, and addressed the uniformed Lhasinu before him.

  “There must be positive action. Captain. You are right in that. And yet, if possible, an outright break must be avoided. We are woefully undermanned and we haven’t more than five third-rate war-vessels on the entire planet.”

  “It is not our strength but their own fear that keeps them helpless. Excellency. Their spirit has been thoroughly broken in these last centuries. The rabble would break before a single unit of Guardsmen. That is precisely the reason why we must strike hard now. The population has reared and they must feel the whip immediately. The Second Drive may as well begin tonight.”

  “Yes,” the Viceroy grimaced wryly. “We are caught offstride, but the-er-rabble-rouser must be made an example of. You have him, of course.”

  The captain smiled grimly, “No. The Human dog had powerful friends. He is a Loarist, you know. Kane-”

  “Is Kane standing against us?” Two red spots burnt over the Viceroy’s eyes. “The fool presumes! The troops are to arrest the rebel in spite of him-and him, too, if he objects.”

  “Excellency!” the captain’s voice rang metallically. “We have reason to believe the rebel may be skulking in the Memorial.”

  The Viceroy half-rose to his feet. He scowled in indecision and seated himself once more, “The Memorial! That presents difficulties!”

  “Not necessarily!”

  “There are some things those Humans won’t stand.” His voice trailed off uncertainly.

  The Captain spoke decisively, “The nettle seized firmly does not sting. Quickly done-a criminal could be dragged from the Hall of the Flame itself-and we kill Loarism at a stroke. There could be no struggle after that supreme defiance.”

  “By Vega! Blast me, if you’re not right. Good! Storm the Memorial!”

  The Captain bowed stiffly, turned on his heel, and left the Palace.

  Filip Sanat re-entered the Hall of Flame, thin face set angrily, “The entire Sector is patrolled by the lizards. All avenues of approach to the Memorial have been shut off.”

  Russell Tymball rubbed his jaw, “Oh, they’re not fools, They’ve treed us, and the Memorial won’t stop them. As a matter of fact, they may have decided to make this the Day.”

  Filip frowned and his voice was thickly furious. “And we’re to wait here, are we? Better to die fighting, than to die hiding.”

  “Better not to die at all, Filip.” responded Tymball quietly.

  There was a moment of silence. Loara Paul Kane sat staring at his fingers.

  Finally, he said, “If you were to give the signal to strike now, Tymball, how long could you hold out?”

  “Until Lhasinuic reinforcements could arrive in sufficient numbers to crush us. The Terrestrial garrison, including, the entire Solar Patrol, is not enough to stop us. Without outside help, we can fight effectively for six months at the very least. Unfortunately it’s out of the question.” His composure was unruffled.

  “Why is it out of the question?”

  And his face reddened suddenly, as he sprang angrily to his feet, “Because you can’t just push buttons. The Lhasinu are weak. My men know that, but Earth doesn’t. The lizards have one weapon, fear! We can’t defeat them, unless the populace is with us, at least passively.” His mouth twisted, “You don’t know the practical difficulties involved. Ten years, now, I’ve been planning, working, trying. I have an army; and a respectable fleet in the Appalachians. I could set the wheels in motion in all five continents simultaneously. But what good would it do? It would be useless. If I had New York, now-if I were able to prove to the rest of Earth that the Lhasinu were not invincible.”

  “If I could banish fear from the hearts of Humans?” said Kane softly.

  “I would have New York by dawn. But it would take a miracle.”

  “Perhaps! Do you think you can get through
the cordon and reach your men?”

  “I could if I had to. What are you going to do?”

  “You will know when it happens.” Kane was smiling fiercely. “And when it does happen, strike!”

  There was a Tonite gun in Tymball’s hand suddenly, as he backed away. His plump face was not at all gentle, “I’ll take a chance, Kane. Good-bye 1”

  The captain strode up the deserted marble steps of the Memorial arrogantly. He was flanked on each side by an armed adjutant.

  He paused an instant before the huge double-door that loomed up before him and stared at the slender pillars that soared gracefully upwards at its sides.

  There was faint sarcasm in his smile, “Impressive, all this, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Captain!” was the double reply.

  “And mysteriously dark, too, except for the dim yellow of their Flame. You see its light?” He pointed toward the stained glass of the bottom windows, which glinted flickeringly.

  “Yes, Captain!”

  “It’s dark, and mysterious, and impressive-and it is about to fall in ruins.” He laughed, and suddenly brought the butt end of his saber down upon the metal carvings on the door in a clanging salvo.

  It echoed through the emptiness within and sounded hollowly in the night, but there was no answer.

  The adjutant at his left raised his televisor to his ear and caught the faint words issuing therefrom. He saluted, “Captain, the Humans are crowding into the sector.”

  The captain sneered, “Let them! Order the guns placed in readiness and aimed along the avenues. Any Human attempting to pass the cordon is to be rayed mercilessly.”

  His barked command was murmured into the televisor, and a hundred yards beyond, Lhasinuic Guardsmen put guns in order and aimed them carefully. A low, inchoate murmur went up-a murmur of fear. Men pressed back.

  “If the door does not open,” said the captain, grimly, “it is to be broken down.” He raised his saber again, and again there was the thunder of metal on metal.

  Slowly, noiselessly, the door yawned wide, and the captain recognized the stem, purple-clad figure that stood before him.

  “Who disturbs the Memorial on the night of the Guarding of the Flame?” demanded Loara Paul Kane solemnly.

  “Very dramatic, Kane. Stand aside!”

  “Back!” The words rang out loudly and clearly. “The Memorial may not be approached by the Lhasinu.”

  “Yield us our prisoner, and we leave. Refuse, and we will take him by force.”

  “The Memorial yields no prisoner. It is inviolate. You may not enter.”

  “Make way!”

  “Stand back!”

  The Lhasinu growled throatily and became aware of a dim roaring. The streets about him were empty, but a block away in every direction was the thin line of Lhasinuic troops, stationed at their guns, and beyond were the Humans. They were massed in noisy thickness and the whites of their faces shone palely in the Chrome-lights.

  “What,” gritted the captain to himself, “do the scum yet snarl?” His tough skin ridged at the jaws and the scales upon his head uptilted sharply. He turned to the adjutant with the televisor. “Order a round over their heads.”

  The night was split in two by the purple blasts of energy and the Lhasinu laughed aloud at the silence that followed.

  He turned to Kane, who remained standing upon the threshold. “So you see that if you expect help from your people, you will be disappointed. The next round will be aimed at head level. If you think that bluff, try me!”

  Teeth clicked together sharply, “Make way!” A Tonite was leveled in his hand, and thumb was firm upon the trigger.

  Loara Paul Kane retreated slowly, eyes upon the gun. The captain followed. And as he did so, the inner door of the anteroom swung open and the Hall of the Flame stood revealed. In the sudden draft, the Flame staggered, and at the sight of it, there came a huge shout from the distant spectators.

  Kane turned toward it, face raised upwards. The motion of one of his hands was all but imperceptible.

  And the Flame suddenly changed. It steadied and roared up to the vaulted ceiling, a blazing shaft fifty feet high. Loara Paul Kane’s hand moved again, and as it did so, the Flame turned carmine. The color deepened and the crimson light of that flaming pillar streamed out into the city and turned the Memorial’s windows into staring, bloody eyes.

  Long seconds passed, while the captain froze in bewilderment; while the distant mass of Humanity fell into awed silence.

  And then there was a confused murmur, which strengthened and grew and split itself into one vast shout.

  “Down with the Lhasinu!”

  There was the purple flash of a Tonite from somewhere high above, and the captain came to life an instant too late. Caught squarely, he bent slowly to his death; cold, reptilian face a mask of contempt to the last.

  Russell Tymball brought down his gun and smiled sardonically, “A perfect target against the Flame. Good for Kanel The changing of the Flame was just the emotion-stirring thing we needed. Let’s go!”

  From the roof of Kane’s dwelling he aimed down upon the Lhasinu below. And as he did, all Hell erupted. Men mushroomed from the very ground, it seemed, weapons in hand. Tonites blazed from every side, before the startled Lhasinu could spring to their triggers.

  And when they did so, it was too late, for the mob, white-hot with flaring rage, broke its bounds. Someone shrieked, “Kill the lizards!” and the cry was taken up in one roaring ululation that swelled to the sky.

  Like a many-headed monster, the stream of Humanity surged forward, weaponless. Hundreds withered under the belated fury of the defending guns, and tens of thousands scrambled over the corpses, charging to the very muzzles.

  The Lhasinu never wavered. Their ranks thinned steadily under the deadly sharp-shooting of the Tymballists, and those that remained were caught by the Human flood that surged over them and tore them to horrible death.

  The Memorial sector gleamed in the crimson of the bloody Flame and echoed to the agony of the dying, and the shrieking fury of the triumphant.

  It was the first battle of the Great Rebellion, but it was not really a battle, or even madness. It was concentrated anarchy.

  Throughout the city, from the tip of Long Island to the mid-Jersey flatlands, rebels sprang from nowhere and Lhasinu went to their death. And as quickly as Tymball’s orders spread to raise the snipers, so did the news of the changing of the Flame speed from mouth to mouth and grow in the telling. All New York heaved, and poured its separate lives into the single giant crucible of the “mob.”

  It was uncontrollable, unanswerable, irresistible. The Tymballists followed helplessly where it led, all efforts at direction hopeless from the start.

  Like a mighty river, it lashed its way through the metropolis, and where it passed no living Lhasinu remained.

  The sun of that fateful morning arose to find the masters of Earth occupying a shrinking circle in upper Manhattan. With the cool courage of born soldiers, they linked arms and withstood the charging, shrieking millions. Slowly, they backed away; each building a skirmish; each block a desperate battle. They split into isolated groups; defending first a building, and then its upper stories, and finally its roof.

  With the noonday sun boiling down, only the Palace itself remained. Its last desperate stand held the Humans at bay. The withering circle of fire about it paved the grounds with blackened bodies. The Viceroy himself from his throneroom directed the defense; his own hand upon the butt of a semiportable.

  And then, when the mob had finally come to a pause, Tymball seized his opportunity and took the lead. Heavy guns clanked to the front Atomos and delta-rays, from the rebel stock and from the stores captured the previous night, pointed their death-laden muzzles at the Palace.

  Gun answered gun, and the first organized battle of machines flared into desperate fury. Tymball was an omnipresent figure, shouting, directing, leaping from gun-emplacement to gun-emplacement, firing his own band Tonite defiantly at
the Palace.

  Under a barrage of the heaviest fire, the Humans charged once more and pierced to the walls as the defenders fell back. An Atomo projectile smashed its way into the central tower and there was a sudden inferno of fire.

  That blaze was the funeral pyre of the last of the Lhasinu in New York. The blackening walls of the palace crumbled in, in one vast crash; but to the very last, room blazing about him, face horribly cut, the Viceroy stood his ground, aiming into the thick of the besieging force. And when his semi-portable expended the last dregs of its power and expired, he heaved it out the window in a last futile gesture of defiance, and plunged into the burning Hell at his back.

  Above the Palace grounds at sunset, with a yet-roaring furnace as the background, there floated the green flag of independent Earth.

  New York was once more Human.

  Russell Tymball was a sorry figure when he entered the Memorial once more that night. Clothes in tatters, and bloody from head to foot from the undressed cut on his cheek, he surveyed the carnage about him with sated eyes.

  Volunteer squads, occupied in removing the dead and tending to the wounded had not yet succeeded in making more than a dent in the deadly work of the rebellion.

  The Memorial was an improvised hospital. There were few wounded, for energy weapons deal death; and of these few, almost none slightly. It was a scene of indescribable confusion, and the moans of the hurt and dying mingled horribly with the distant yells of celebrating war-drunk survivors.

  Loara Paul Kane pushed through the crowding attendants to Tymball.

  “Tell me; is it over?” His face was haggard.

  “The beginning is. The Terrestrial Flag flies over the ruins of the Palace.”

  “It was horrible! The day has-has-” He shuddered and closed his eyes, “If I had known in advance, I would rather have seen Earth dehumanized and Loarism destroyed.”

  “Yes, it was bad. But the results might have been much more dearly bought, and yet have remained cheap at the price. Where’s Sanat?”

  “In the courtyard-helping with the wounded. We all are. It-it-” Again his voice failed him.

  There was impatience in Tymball’s eyes, and he shrugged weary shoulders, “I’m not a callous monster, but it had to be done, and as yet it is only the beginning. Today’s events mean little. The uprising has taken place over most of Earth, but without the fanatic enthusiasm of the rebellion in New York. The Lhasinu aren’t defeated, or anywhere near defeated; make no mistake about that Even now the Solar Guard is flashing to Earth, and the forces on the outer planets are being called back. In no time at all, the entire Lhasinuic Empire will converge upon Earth and the reckoning will be a terrible and bloody one. We must have help!”